Chapter Sixty:
Strategies

Carly pressed a hand to her stomach, stood on tiptoe, and turned her body to the side so that she could get a better look at her profile. Not... bad. Really pretty good, actually. The dress -- it was nice. Sexy even -- light, flowing material, backless with the exception of the crisscrossing strands that laced across her back. The dress was held up by a tie at the back and she knew enough about men to know how effective that was. Wear anything that seemed to be held up with a lick and a promise -- or something that looked more complicated than a NASA launch -- and the guy in question usually ended up fixated on how to get you out of it. This dress was the perfect mixture of both.

She sighed and dropped back onto her heels. See? That was the problem. She'd always been able to do this. She could look at herself in the mirror and know, immediately, what she could attract. And that, she realized, was pretty much at the heart of how she chose her clothes. It was something she was doing automatically, now. Looking at herself in the mirror and wondering what Nikolas would think. How he would react. Which was fine -- they were in the middle of nowhere, with no one around. Nikolas's opinion was pretty much the only thing that counted. But they were going home soon -- and he was right. She couldn't live in tank tops and jeans forever. Not if she was really going to be his Mrs. Cassadine.

Yeah, Ok. She got it -- even if she hadn't, Nikolas had made it pretty damn clear. The scenario he had described at her urging was not something he wanted. It was not something that he thought would have made him happy. But...

But. It was beginning to sink in -- that this break from reality was not forever. That there were things about her life that she still hadn't figured out. And that, in the very near future, she was going to have to face it all again. She was going to have to go home.

The return to everything that had made her stomach hurt that Sunday morning when Nikolas had first suggested they get out of Port Charles. It had sounded like such a good idea at the time. But the week was almost up and she was going back to exactly the same mess -- only now, people were going to be even more upset, ticked off, up in arms... She knew she'd have to see some sort of therapist in the next few days or the court would be all over her -- Cassadine Husband or not. The house was still there to deal with. She had to finish unpacking. She'd probably have to meet with Mrs. Landsbury again. She had to risk running into Jason and Robin -- and baby -- when she left the island. IF she left the island. She closed her hand into a fist and felt her body sway at the sheer volume of practicalities waiting for her back home. How the hell was she going to do this?

The first step was to not have a break down in the change room, she told herself firmly. She'd had this talk with herself before. Breakdowns were not allowed anymore. They particularly weren't allowed after last week. Nikolas might not care that she didn't recite Keats and sing arias -- Hell. He might even respond to her checking out on him by telling her he loved her. Didn't mean she wanted to press her luck. The least she could do was try to provide him with some kind of emotional equilibrium. Really - how hard could that be?

She raised her eyes to her reflection and her opinion of the outfit descended rapidly. She'd transformed from fun and sexy to burnt out and trashy in a matter of seconds. She bit her lip, hard, and started to work her way out of the garment. She was badly cast here. No two ways about it. Out of place, confused, and sick to her stomach. This was turning out to be a stellar day.

"I'm back!" the cheery voice of the sales woman called to her. "I brought back some things you might be interested in -- and your husband wanted me to tell you he just stepped out to return a call. He told me to let you know he'd be right back."

Carly sighed, making a face at her reflection, pulled down the dress that the woman had hung over the door to the dressing room. It was red -- short -- another strappy sun dress.

"Thanks," she said dully, starting to pull it over her head. Wasn't she supposed to be enjoying this?

"How are you making out with the other choices?"

Carly wiggled into the dress and gazed at her reflection dolefully. She looked great. She always did in red.

"I don't know," she opened the door. "You tell me."

"Oh, you look fabulous!" the woman gushed. Carly gave a half smile, then turned back the mirror. It was a commission compliment, but in the past she'd always been very willing to take those.

"It's too short," she muttered, pulling on the hem. It was a good three inches longer than most of the dresses she owned.

"Oh, no, your husband will love it."

She smirked. "Yeah. He can be kind of easy to please."

"I noticed," the woman placed the clothes she was holding on a hook. "Newlyweds?"

Carly frowned, looking up from the sweater she'd been contemplating. "What?"

"You and your husband," she beamed, knowingly. "Under six months. Am I right?"

She looked at the woman like she'd just beamed in from another planet. "Two weeks."

"Oh," the woman cooed with a sort of happiness-for-others that Carly had never really been able to grasp. "That's so sweet!"

"Yeah," she choked on her laugh, and started to put on the light cardigan over the dress. "We're enough to give you a tooth ache."

She was being ironic, but the woman just grinned. "You're entitled. Here," she expertly helped Carly into the sweater, pulling it up over her shoulders. Carly glanced up at the mirror and winced.

"I look like Heidi."

"It's not you," the woman agreed. "Besides. It's summer. And you don't have any reason to hide." She started to pull the sweater back off.

"How could you tell we're newlyweds?" Carly asked, staring at the unfamiliar person in the mirror.

"Oh," the woman looked coy. "You've got that look to you. Did you try the one with the little stars on it? I think it would look darling."

"Yeah, it was good..." she turned in the mirror again, looking at herself from different angles. "Do you..."

She stopped. She didn't tend to ask sales women their opinion. Ever.

"Do you..." she exhaled. "You don't think this is.... Embarrassing, do you?"

The woman blinked, then stopped, taking a moment to take in her customer -- points for authenticity -- before responding "Embarrassing? You'd stop traffic!"

Carly shook her head. "My husband has kind of an important job. I just don't..."

"Oh, I know what you mean," she smiled, teeth gleaming. "These are all more intimate dinner for two -- not dinner party fare."

"Exactly."

"I've got some lovely ankle length summer dresses -- similar styles, but a little more..."

"Conservative?"

"Inconspicuous. You know -- With things like that -- it's not the men you have to worry about. It's their wives."

"Their wives?"

"You know," she was flipping through the dresses again. "You want to walk that line between being attractive -- but not making them jealous. You've got your work cut out for you..." she tisked her tongue as Carly stared at her. She never did well with wives. She rarely did well with women. Oh, God, she was having a Tony flashback. No -- no. This had to stop.

"Maybe just --" she shook her head. "Just something good for business-type stuff. Or..." she tried not to let the panic show on her face. "I don't know. Do you have anything you can show me?"

"I don't have anything here that's really going to work for that. I'll be right back." She started out of the dressing room.

"Could you..." Carly called after her. "Could you maybe ask my husband to come in?"

"click"

"To erase this message, press 7..."

"beep"

"Thank you. Next message."

"click"

Nikolas tipped the phone, flipping through the call display before returning to the voice mail. Spencer, L. Caller Unknown. Cassadine Inc. Caller Unknown. Caller Unknown. He was leaning against the exterior brick of the only shop in town that Carly had deemed suitable. Stealing a few minutes while she tried on what had to be half the store's stock. Not that it bothered him -- Watching Carly do just about anything wasn't something he tired of. But there was a limit to how long he could go without checking the phone. It was something that nagged at him ceaselessly -- only getting worse the longer they were gone. The closer they got to having to go home.

He put the phone to his ear again, confronted with another series of hang ups. He flipped through them, methodically erasing as he went. There were, regularly, a string of hang ups before, after and between all real messages. He didn't have to work too hard to figure out who they were from; only three people had this number. He was aware, distantly, that this could be construed as deceptive behavior. But they were hang ups. And he didn't see the point of reporting to her that Caller Unknown was hanging up on her voice mail at regular intervals.

He wondered if there was any point in changing the number.

It was work, pretending that it didn't bother him. That Jason had the number; that Jason was calling. But the great thing about physical distance -- it made avoidance so much simpler. He didn't have to think too hard about where the man was, or what he was doing. Really, he didn't have to entirely think about the fact that Jason was a large part of the reason Carly was acting the way she was. He didn't have to consider the change in her demeanor since she'd found out about the baby's birth. Didn't have to fantasize about ways to flush this presence out of his life forever.

Didn't have to. Was -- but didn't have to.

Hitting the dead end in the messages waiting, Nikolas disconnected the phone. It was acid. As much as he willed himself to do anything else, think about anything else -- there was no debating what was eating a hole in his gut right now. He was just trying too damned hard. To make things work, to make everything manageable. And it was coming together -- at least Cece's irritated messages told him that much. Everything he could control, he was controlling. Well. Apart from himself. His own thoughts and actions. Those were a little out of whack.

He really hated this feeling -- That ever-present cringing remorse that comes with feeling like you've said too much. He'd been suffering from it for a good two hours and it was unabating.

He hated talking about the Cassadine Way. Besides the innate absurdity, it made him tired. Just thinking about the fight that would have occurred if he'd actually stayed on the island. If he'd stayed the Prince. Doomed either to toe the family line or -- more probably -- the war of the worlds that would have resulted of what felt like an inevitable rebellion. Given how earlier Princely Rebellions had ended, the family wouldn't have taken to it. They were lucky to lose him in the end. He'd always resented the expectations. He wouldn't have followed their rules.

It was one of the great contradiction of his existence. In a lot of ways, his life was better for what he now knew of himself. Would he rather be Stavros's son? No. Would he rather be trapped in a constricting role dictated by centuries of tradition? Hell no. Did he feel any sense of relief at having escaped all of that?

No. Never. Until very recently, he hadn't even thought about it in terms of being a freedom. What had been was a part of who he was. Something he hadn't even considered his life without. Losing that, he'd lost something else. Something he wasn't sure he could explain to anyone else, since he'd never met anyone who'd been through the same thing. Not until Carly, who didn't even need it explained to her. Who he knew understood, because when it had happened to her, she'd stopped using her own name.

He didn't, generally, talk about it at all. This was helped along by the fact that no one ever asked. And even if they did, his attempts to avoid answering didn't tend to be met with explosions of anger or hurled fruit. He smiled to himself. His life felt better for that. Less fractured. He seemed to make some sort of sense to her, even if he was still a blank when he looked at himself.

He should tell her about Caller Unknown. In the interest of honesty, in the interest of disclosure. In the interest of trust. He should absolutely tell her.

He wasn't going to. But he knew he should.

Ms. Galloway,

On behalf of the office of Nikolas Cassadine, I am writing to inform you that Mrs. Cassadine and her husband will be out of town for the next four business days. If there are any concerns regarding Mrs. Cassadine's son, please forward that information to Cece Monroe, at the number below.

In addition, we would like to set up a meeting with the head of your department and Mr. and Mrs. Cassadine's lawyers in the first half of July. We await your confirmation of this correspondence.

"Lovely," AJ sat on the edge of the unmade bed, examining the card Chris had just dropped in his lap. He flipped it out of his hand, letting it fall onto the bed. It landed insignia-side-up. Just in case he wasn't aware enough of who he was dealing with. "When were you planning on mentioning this to me?"

"Right about when I did," Chris said mildly, pulling on her pumps. AJ let himself free fall backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It started to spin on him, and he closed his eyes.

"What do you figure that means."

"I think it means they want to talk about something."

He heaved a sigh. "Like?"

"Off hand? I'd guess Michael."

"I know that," he snapped, sitting up again. "What about Michael?"

She shrugged, standing up and wandering over to the mirror. "They probably want to see the files. My reports, all that stuff. They have a right to it. Well -- some of it."

He rubbed his face with his hand. This wasn't happening. It wasn't -- it was just a card, it was just a request. He wasn't going to panic. He wasn't going to lose his head. He wasn't going to decide that the worst possible thing that could happen to him was starting to unravel. Stay in the now. One day at a time. You can do this.

"What are you not telling me?"

She paused in her primping, eyes meeting his in the mirror.

"Don't freak out," she said it with an edge of irritation.

"Chris."

"There's a review," she confirmed. "A custody review. Your case is about due."

He went cold. "What kind of review?"

"Just the circumstances," She turned back to him, giving him a smile that seemed to say 'what are you so worried about?'. It made him incredibly angry. "What her state of mind is, if there's any point in reopening the case."

He was on his feet. "Reopening the CASE?"

"Don't freak out," she instructed him again. "It's standard. It doesn't mean anything."

"Reopening the case to WHAT?" he pressed. "Just spit it out!"

"Just looking at the decision," she took a breath. "Reevaluating the visitation."

"What?" AJ stared at her. She looked back at him like she honestly couldn't believe he was being this dramatic. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I didn't see a reason to call it."

"Didn't --" He took a step back. Opened his mouth to say something else, then stopped. Took a few steps, then turned back to her, trying again. "Didn't see one..." his voice was low. "Or was thinking that you could let it slip through the cracks?"

Chris raised her chin defensively. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he shook his head out, mostly to make sure it was still there. The room was twisting around him. He could feel it trying to pull him in. Like everything around him was being sent down a dimensional drain. "Sometimes -- given our circumstances? I think it's amazing the stuff you manage to not tell me."

"Is there some reason I should?"

He didn't say anything. The mythology was supposedly that they were sleeping together out of some sort of mutual need. Affection. Something like that. They'd talked about it, once upon a time.

"You're accusing me of something?" Chris was pressing. "AJ -- I have always been on your side here, you know that."

"My side?" He gave a low laugh. "I thought you were supposed to be on Michael's side."

"Oh -- And that's what you want?" she turned now towards him, eyebrow arched. "Do you want me to look at this from a completely unbiased view point? I mean -- You tell me she's a psycho. But I've never seen her so much as snap at Michael."

"I never told you what to put in your report."

"No. But I bet your motives were just squeaky clean when you first came by my office. Offered to buy me dinner. None of that was about influencing me, was it?"

He glared at her. She had a point, but he really wasn't interested at the moment. "This isn't a situation that's going to make either of us look very good. Tell you the truth -- I gotta wonder if that's part of the appeal," he shook his head. "Because you sure don't seem to have much use for me, these days."

"Right," she spat. "I get off on this. This is just buckets of fun for me." She picked up her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll remember that the next time I get the urge to warn you about something."

"Is that was this is?" AJ gestured towards the card on the bed. "A heads-up?"

She snorted. "What else would it be?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

"You're getting paranoid," she said it so blandly that he couldn't help but get suspicious. "Ever since that thing with your grandfather --"

He cut her off. "Am I getting paranoid or getting wise?"

"To what?" she raised her eyes to his. "Come on, AJ. I told you about this because I figured you'd want to know. And because... Yeah. Whether I think there's a point in doing a review or not -- they're going to do one. So be ready."

AJ turned away, pacing the room until he reached the window. His eyes scanned the horizon, darting back and forth. He had to do something. That simple. If he didn't, he was going to go right out of his mind within twenty-four hours. He didn't want to think about where that might lead.

"The review's due, you said?"

He heard her sigh. "A little past."

"Past?" he turned back to her, brow raised. Chris rolled her eyes.

"I didn't do it on purpose; I just didn't see the point. It doesn't look like she's made any major life changes

"Apart from getting married."

"Well," she shifted her weight. "That's a pretty recent development."

AJ nodded. "They're out of town. Right now."

"Yeah."

"So if you called the review now -- if you set it in motion before they got the meeting --"

Chris looked startled. "Now?"

"Yeah," AJ crossed the room towards her. "You said it was overdue -- They're going to ask about it -- then order it now. Before they have a chance to shine up Carly's reputation. Before they get around to paying anyone off." He cracked a smile. "The best defense is a good offense, right?"

Chris frowned. "I think that goes the other way around."

"Either way," AJ shook his head. "We're not going to get a lot of choice. And I'm not letting Carly take Michael away again. I'm not going to be some long-distance daddy. And I'm sure as hell not going to let my son get carted off to some country without an extradition treaty the millisecond he's out of my sight. That's what these people will do. Mark it, Chris. They'll stoop that low."

Something AJ couldn't read flickered through Chris's eyes. When she spoke, the words came slowly. "You actually want me to go ahead and order the review."

"It's our best chance," he felt truth in those words. "Besides," he gave a half laugh. "What do we have to hide?"

Cece depressed the release button on her speaker phone and leaned back in her chair. Occasionally this job had it's perks. To wit -- Minions. They were a good thing. She couldn't remember how she'd ever gotten along without them. She reached over and hit redial on her cell phone. It cut directly into voice mail again, but she wasn't even remotely irritated. Let Nikolas spend his evening trying to track HER down for once.

Things were definitely looking up.

"Are you sure this is all you want?"

Carly was staring through the display case, waiting on the sales woman. She had vanished into the back to wrap up the purchases a good ten minutes ago, and Carly was occupying her time by examining the jewelry laid out in front of her. She smiled slightly.

"It's like the preliminary round," she told him. "Next time I'll be able to go the distance."

"You're sure."

She nodded. It was all just too overwhelming, trying to work out what she really needed. She'd settled on representative outfits. A starting point -- things that she could see herself living in, given enough time. Or maybe just various identities she could pull on and discard at will. It was hard to tell. A pair of embroidered jeans that she could, conceivably, wear for the rest of their time out here... A jacket, a couple of tops, some camisoles. A thin, summer-weather cashmere sweater. The black crisscross sun dress because Nikolas had reacted to it exactly how she'd predicted. She'd rejected all the so called 'conservative' dresses because they made her feel sick. So wrong and out of place that all she'd wanted to do was get them off of her before she burst into tears. Since Nikolas really hadn't seemed to care one way or another... She decided to give herself time to work up to evening wear. She had settled, instead, on a suit. Simple, black -- something her lawyer would have liked her to wear to court. It made her look competent, untouchable. Just putting it on infused her with a sense of power. Infallibility. She'd caught Nikolas smiling at the expression on her face, and had stuck her tongue out at him, telling him she was just playing. He had insisted she get it anyway. That had almost made her cry, too.

She felt the heat of Nikolas's body behind her, and lifted her arms automatically to allow him room to wrap his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and followed her gaze with his own eyes.

"Nice," he observed. She nodded. It was -- funky, offbeat jewelry made mostly out of silver. Some gem pieces. Local artisan, the woman had explained. One-of-a-kind. "Like any of it?"

Carly smiled, mildly. "Just looking."

"No," his lips grazed her neck and Carly wondered if this kind of stuff was what gave up their newlywed status. "Tell me which piece you like."

She traced her finger tips over the glass. "I don't know. I just like the shapes." She tapped the glass and admitted. "That one."

She was pointing to a ring in the far right corner. She'd been trying to ignore it. Even then, she'd only told him out of some sort of compulsive inability to pretend it didn't exist. As much as she'd tried to move her eyes away, they kept wandering back to this one particular ring. She blamed a few things -- 1) Nikolas mentioning the lack of engagement ring. 2) the fact that it was raised, a little bit higher than the pieces around it, sitting in a black ring box. 3) It was, no word of a lie, stunning. A silver-sapphire ring -- the silver didn't meet in the middle -- instead the two ends of the metal twisted, like rolling waves, and hugged a round-cut single sapphire like it was at the center of a whirlpool. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't the sort of thing that would make someone gasp at the sheer audacious display of wealth -- which was something she kinda went for in material possessions -- but it was beautiful. She was embarrassed by how much she liked it.

"Do you want it?"

She let out a quick laugh. "No, I'm just --"

"Carly."

"Yes," she spun around in his arms, leaning back so that the edge of the display case cut into her back and her eyes could catch his. "I really, really want it."

"Then I really really want to buy it for you."

She couldn't help it. She grinned. "Well. If you want to. I think I could allow that."

He leaned forward -- closed that little bit of space between them and brushed his lips across hers.

"It would be my pleasure."

"Aunt Bobbie?"

Bobbie started from her place by the window of her daughter's room. She'd been staring out the window at her garden, lost in thought, for God knows how long. She checked her watch and flinched. Damnit!

"Aunt Bobbie..." Lucky's voice had taken on a cajoling tone. "Come out, come out wherever --"

"I'm here, Lucky," she called, walking quickly across the room and colliding with her nephew in the hallway. "You're back!" She said it with too much enthusiasm. He frowned, and she pushed past him. "I'm sorry, I lost track of time. I got the garden done, and then I thought I'd see if I could do anything with this place. Carly managed to leave this place looking like a bomb hit it!" Her voice cracked midway through the sentence. She shook her head, impatient with herself, and spun back to face Lucky who was standing at the mouth of the hall, looking at her critically. "Where's Lucas? How did he do?"

"Fine. Not a scratch on him."

"Better not be," she bubbled. "Don't think I won't check."

"It's nothing major, just showed him the ropes," he smiled slightly. "So to speak."

"Did he eat anything? How's his sugar?" she started towards the door. "He's so blasé about it sometimes, I just --"

"Hey," somehow Lucky had managed to make it from the hall to the apartment door, blocking her exit. He lowered his head, making sure her eyes met his. "Lucas is fine. He checked his sugar before we left the gym -- all systems go."

Bobbie exhaled, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. "Good. Good -- I know you'll take good care of him --"

"He takes good care of himself. You taught him well."

She smiled. Or tried to. The second the corners of her mouth twitched, her eyes filled up with tears and she turned away. She slammed her hand over her mouth but it did nothing to disguise the sob she choked out. She felt Lucky's hand on her shoulder and instinctively turned towards the warm touch. Even let Lucky hug her for a second before shaking her head, firmly.

"No," she pulled away from him, though tears were now streaming freely down her face. "This is ridiculous. You're my nephew, it's not your job to comfort me."

"Says who?"

"Damn it," she whispered to herself in frustration. "I don't want Lucas to see me cry! He can always tell -- but I don't want him to SEE it."

Lucky looked at her uncertainly, watching her wipe at her eyes. "You know..." he started back into the room. "My Dad makes it pretty much impossible for anyone to come to him with something Cassadine related..."

Bobbie let out a yelp. "You're telling me."

"So if you need a stand-in --" he offered.

"No," Bobbie insisted. "I need to get dinner on. I had no idea it was this late -- Lucas has to eat --"

"We'll grab some take-out -- Aunt Bobbie. Come on." he sat down on the arm of the couch. "Talk to me."

"You've had enough of this already," she argued, digging through her pockets for a Kleenex.

He smiled softly. "You think I can't take it?"

"I didn't say that."

"So come on," He took her hand and pulled her down onto the couch with him. There was still newspaper strewn across it and she sunk back against the cushions, ignoring the crackle. "What's up?"

Bobbie sighed heavily, staring across the room at the dirty windows. "Just the same thing. It's always the same thing."

"Carly."

"Carly. Nikolas." She shook her head. "Your father said something to me after this all started. He said I wanted this to work out so badly, I'd overlook about anything." She laughed humorlessly. "He's right. If I had one genie-in-a-bottle wish right now..." She let her voice trail off. Now that was a comforting idea. No matter how old she got, she still found herself wishing, occasionally, for that magic solution to everything. As much as it hurt. "You know I love Nikolas, Lucky --"

"But."

She smiled, wryly. "His father is going to be the death of me."

Lucky stiffened. "Stefan was here?"

"Oh yeah," she confirmed, unfolding her tissue. "In the flesh." She looked up at him, sternly. "Don't go Luke on me. He's not going to hurt me. He's just worried about Nikolas."

"And you're worried about Carly."

"I'm worried about both of them," she confessed. "And I just don't need him coming here and pushing all my buttons because he's not happy -- It's not my fault that Nikolas doesn't tell him anything!" she felt her anger taking on a good head of steam. It felt indescribably good to let it off. "It's not like Carly's been a font of information lately! But he stomps around here like it's Carly's bad influence and nothing HE'S done could possibly impact how Nikolas acts -- what he decides to do, or how he decides to do it -- You know, if Stefan wasn't so damned controlling, he'd probably spare himself a lot of grief. The way he treats Nikolas, it's a wonder he can breathe!" To prove her point, Bobbie found herself sucking in a deep breath herself. She felt a little lightheaded. She turned to see Lucky frowning at her. "I'm sorry. I told you not to get me started."

"It's ok."

"He's just so..." she searched for a word.

"Unrelenting?"

"Yes," She nodded resolutely. "Exactly. It's exhausting," she glanced over at him. "Has he come after you yet?"

Lucky smirked. "Now what would be the point of that?"

"Well. He noticed you have Nikolas's car."

"Ah. Yeah. That."

She raised her brow. "Do you want to tell me what that's about?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "He's not using it so I said I'd babysit it for him."

"Then what IS he using?"

"Aunt Bobbie," Lucky lowered his head, meeting her eyes. "I really don't know where he went. All I know is -- He really didn't want to be followed."

"But why?" she couldn't help but press. "Why does he have to be so secretive?"

"Because his father would wear out The Terminator. That's not enough reason?"

"Lucky," Bobbie's voice took on a warning edge. "Do you swear to me that the only reason Nikolas came to you about leaving town was because he wanted a break? Was that it?"

"He didn't even say that much," Lucky admitted. "That's just my best guess."

"Based on what?" Bobbie shifted on the couch to face him. "Lucky... I know you and Nikolas are closer than you used --"

"We're ok," Lucky cut her off. "Close isn't a word I'd put anywhere near us."

"But -- you know more about him than..." she tilted her head in concession. "Well. Than I would."

"Nah, that's fallacy," Lucky ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Why don't you tell me what you're spinning on. It looks like more than just Prince Cassadine making noise."

Bobbie opened her mouth, then closed it. She frowned, then grabbed her nephew's hand off the back of the couch. "You have to promise me something first."

Lucky jerked back. "Hey -- Wait --"

"No. What I'm telling you isn't anything I can't handle. I don't want your father getting in the middle of this, trying to save anybody."

Lucky smiled ironically. "You think I do? Come on."

Bobbie nodded, dropping his hand. "Ok. Alright," she took a breath. "Stefan said that Carly and Nikolas had a fight."

"Just one?"

"Some things were broken," Bobbie ignored his comment. "Which doesn't really make me nervous. Carly breaks things whenever she's frustrated. When we were packing up this place she shattered a plate to make a point." She smiled fondly at the memory, as only a Spencer Mom could. "That's somewhat foreign to Stefan."

"With a mother like Helena, I can't see how."

Bobbie blanched. "I don't think he'd find that comforting -- drawing a parallel to Helena."

"No, guess not."

"Lucky," she drew in her breath. "He saw... Marks. Bruises on --"

"Carly's wrist."

Bobbie looked up sharply. "You knew about that?"

He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face, then raised his eyes, looking over at Bobbie, ruefully. "Yeah. Yeah, I heard about that."

Bobbie leapt up off the couch. "Lucky Spencer!"

"Listen --"

"How long -- What's going --" finally, the words ripped out of her. "How could you not TELL me?"

"No, no, no," Lucky stood, trying to get a grip on an infuriated Bobbie -- It wasn't a possibility. "Aunt Bobbie. It has nothing to do with Nik."

She stopped, turning back to him. "I'd sure as hell hope not!"

"No. No -- come on. He'd take two in the chest before he'd touch her," Lucky took a quick breath. "Tell you the truth, I'm kinda surprised Edward Quartermaine didn't take something to the chest after Nik saw that."

Every fiber of Bobbie's being stilled. "Edward?"

"Yeah..." He winced, digging his hands into his pockets. "He and Carly had a run in at the mansion. Some point, he must have grabbed her wrist. Left a mark."

"I'll kill him." She started for the door again, at such speed that Lucky had to make a dramatic leap over the debris Carly had left behind just to catch her arm.

"Aunt Bobbie!" he managed to spin her back to him. "Nik's already on it."

"Is he still breathing?" she asked the question with mounting hysteria.

"From what I hear..." Lucky grimaced. "Barely. Nikolas got him to resign from the hospital board. For his health, I think."

"Oh...." she felt herself get pulled back down to earth, landing with a thump. She put a hand to her forehead. "Oh."

"Probably more to it, but I don't have the details."

"Oh," Bobbie repeated, letting her body lean against the door jamb. "How dare he..." the fury surged up inside her again, having trumped the brief wave of relief. "God, how dare he touch her!" She looked up at Lucky. "Where was Nikolas for all that? Why did Edward even get a chance --"

"I don't know. I didn't get any of this from the source."

"Then how do you --"

"Friends in low places."

"Emily." Bobbie put a hand over her stomach. "I can't believe I didn't know any of this." She reached out and smacked his arm halfheartedly. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

He shifted his weight. "I didn't... really see the point."

"You're as bad as your father!"

"Hey!" Lucky protested, sorely. "I'm doing my best here."

Bobbie felt herself soften. "I know. I know, Lucky. It' s just... hard." She groaned. "And now I'm going to have to track Stefan down and get him to take a breath --"

"Maybe..." Bobbie's head jerked up to see her nephew wincing. "Maybe you should let Nik handle that."

"Lucky."

"No -- seriously. It's his marriage, he's got half the town looking over his shoulder --" He wagged his head back and forth. "It's not really Stefan's business."

Bobbie frowned. "He's worried."

"He's always worried!" he argued. "Come on. It's amazing that he doesn't chew Nik's food for him."

She found herself nodding. It was hard to argue. "I can't just let him --"

"What? Think that things happen in Nik's life that he doesn't know about? The horror."

"He thinks that Carly might be..." she made a face. "Hurting Nikolas."

"I'm shocked."

Her head jerked up. "Hey!"

"No -- I mean..." he put his hand up. "Raise your hand if Stefan Cassadine has irrationally accused you of hurting Nikolas. You're talking to the guy who single-handedly gave the boy a stroke, remember?"

Bobbie's mouth twisted. "I'd forgotten about that."

Lucky dropped his arm. "You know, even if Carly was making Nik's life hell, that's his business. Radical concept but -- he's an adult. So is she. This isn't about anyone else."

"I'll think about it," Bobbie sighed, finally. "But I'm not making any promises if he comes back here."

"Sounds fair."

Bobbie closed her eyes. "I just wish they'd come home. You probably think I'm being just as bad as him -- "

"Nah, you're a mother. You're entitled."

She opened her eyes, smirking at him. "That's a double standard."

"Damn straight," he grinned. She smiled back, then saw his expression dim. He took a step back, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "You know Nik called me to task for not helping out more. When Carly was going up against the Quartermaines."

"Oh, Lucky," she shook her head. "That's not fair. You were --"

"Yeah, I was," he acknowledged. "I'm not anymore."

She took his meaning. "Oh. I..." she gestured uncertainly. "Thank you."

He gave her a half smile. "You're not the only one who wants this to work out, you know."

Bobbie couldn't help it. She laughed. "I didn't know you cared!"

"I think it'd be better for everyone," he said, heavily. "If they could work this out. I mean -- who knows. Maybe they could actually make each other happy."

Bobbie smiled weakly, leaning her head against the edge of the doorway.

"Stranger things have happened."

"Mr. Cassadine!" Mrs. Landsbury exclaimed in surprise as he appeared through the doors to the living room. "I wasn't expecting you home so early!"

"Have there been any messages?" Stefan responded curtly, not bothering to acknowledge the surprise that he'd returned while the sun was still up.

"Not from Master Nikolas," she took his coat. "The rest are in your study, if you wish to return them."

"Not at the moment," he sunk into the nearest chair. "I'll take dinner in my quarters tonight."

"Something light?"

He nodded. "That will do."

"Very well," she turned on a lamp at the nearest side table. "Ring to have it brought up when you're ready."

"Thank-you, Mrs. Landsbury," he murmured as she moved quickly from the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He sunk down in the chair, staring moodily at the mantle on the far side of the room. Eyes tracing over the artifacts there. He had been so accustomed to being surrounded, at all times, by the physical evidence of his legacy. It was something he'd kept close, over the past two decades, to keep him, always, aware of his job. Raising the Prince. Creating the next head of the family. Up until Nikolas's birth, Stefan had never embraced the ideals the family held so dear. If anything, he'd actively run from them. It felt so distant, now. That person he'd been, that life that hadn't been about his son.

There were no such artifacts at Cassadine Inc. The offices were sterile. Utterly devoid of history. Stefan suspected that was why Nikolas preferred to work out of that place. He knew there was a time when he would have understood that. But it was so far removed from him, now, he could do little more than focus on the starkness of his surroundings. Wonder, obsessively, just what message Nikolas was sending.

The space he'd spent the last three days pacing had represented rather more of his son than he wished, if he was honest with himself. For quite some time, Nikolas had been as unreadable as his impersonal office space. Cool, detached, unwilling to allow anyone to get under the surface. Stefan was aware that he still had influence over his son. He knew that he could see things in him that others could not. He knew that Nikolas shared more with him than he did with anyone else. But still. He knew that there was something -- something central and unspoken -- that Nikolas would not share. Not with him or anyone else. He had felt that distance for some time now. They could speak and behave as if nothing had changed between them... They both knew it to be a lie. And as time went on, Nikolas only seemed to get more unreachable.

The last week before this sudden disappearance had been a perfect example. Outside of their talk the night of the Nurse's Ball, Nikolas had barely said two words to him that were not directly business related. He had ducked out of any inquiries about himself or Caroline. The wall around him had never been so unscalable. And now this. Without explanation. Without warning. Just gone -- Gone like someone who had something to hide from. He knew, on some level, that Nikolas was making a point. He didn't appreciate it. On another he questioned the necessity of the gesture. He questioned the role Caroline played in it. Mostly, he questioned Nikolas. What he'd known of the boy he'd raised. What he knew of the man that child had grown into. What little that man would allow him to know.

He sat up in his chair, and stared at the phone on the table next to him. He picked it up, and dialed a number from memory. Waited only a few seconds before the line was picked up.

"Yes," he confirmed his identity to the person on the other end of the line. "I have a job for you."

"Brussel sprouts."

"Everyone hates brussel sprouts."

"Then I'm not that abnormal -- Are you sure you want this?"

"Yep," Carly held out her piece of pizza and allowed Nikolas to transfer his rejected toppings over onto hers. They were sitting in the dark, on the steps of their cabin. Carly had bought dinner. It was a weird little spasm. She had, right now, about thirty-six dollars in her checking account. And about five hundred dollars worth of clothes in the back of the car. And the beautiful, heart-stopping, kept-checking-her-finger-to-make-sure-it-was-still-there ring... She was as aware as ever that she didn't have much to offer in return. The least she could do -- a phrase she kept using that day -- was feed him.

But, it was turning out, she couldn't even do that without incident.

"So," she continued. "Coffee, kiwis, pepperoni, mint --"

"Wintergreen. I don't mind mint."

"Wintergreen and brussel sprouts..." she paused to take a bite of her slice. "Any other weird food hates?"

He chewed thoughtfully, looking off into the distance, before coming up with "Honey."

"Honey?" she blinked. "Seriously?"

He shook his head. "It's the consistency. And the flavor. And if you spread it on toast, then the little crumbs stick to the knife and it's... It's just..."

"Sticky?"

"Not good."

She forced herself to take another bite -- chew and swallow -- before speaking again. There was no other way not to laugh at him.

"So what's the problem with pepperoni?"

"Everything. The texture --"

"Texture?"

"The flavor, if that's what you call it. The little flecks of white -- fat -- the whole..." he shook his head. "No. I'm losing my appetite just thinking about it."

"You're a picky eater."

"I am not," Nikolas protested. "You were adamantly against anchovies."

"Little fish? No. I don't like big fish, little fish or salty fish. Talk about gross."

"But smoked meat-stuff..."

"Is damn good," she slid down a step, and leaned her head against Nikolas's knee. There were crickets chirping. And light wind rustling the trees. She felt his hand slip into her hair, playing lightly with the strands. She smiled. "So. What do you like?"

"Like?"

"Yeah," she tipped her head up. "What's your favorite food?"

He looked, even in the dim light, startled at the question. "I don't... Have a favorite food."

"Everyone has a favorite food."

"Yeah? What's yours?"

"Uh," Carly's eyes widened, while she searched for an answer. "Pizza!" she finally answered, triumphantly. "With extra pepperoni." He rolled his eyes at her and took another bite of his slice. "See? Not so hard."

He nodded as he swallowed. "I like almost anything that's not pepperoni, kiwis or honey."

"You know, if you put all three of those together, I could totally give you that. It sounds disgusting."

"Thank you."

"And you didn't answer my question."

He sighed, putting down the pizza in favor of picking up a can of coke. "Avgolemono."

"Guzenteight."

"It's a soup."

"You're this obscure on purpose, aren't you?"

"Damn. You figured it out."

She lay her head back on his knee and stared down, inevitably, at her ring. He was still playing with her hair. Felt his fingers slide down to massage the base of her skull. She tipped her hand in the light... She'd put the ring on her left hand -- with the wedding band. It didn't entirely match the white gold... didn't entirely fit. But she liked it there. She liked the way it looked. The two sides of the ring reaching up and around. Trying to meet and not quite succeeding.

"Do you think we can stay like this?"

She was surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. He must have been, too, because it took him a moment to answer.

"I don't see why not."

"I do," she sighed, letting her eyes close. "There are probably a million little bombs set to go off when we get home."

"That's not about us."

"They can MAKE it about us."

"Not if we don't let them."

"You're so stubborn," she frowned.

"I know."

She let out her breath, letting herself revel for a moment in the feeling his hand gently massaging her neck. He had a point. Even if they were going to go home to disaster... this was pretty perfect. And for once in her life, she just wanted to stop waiting for the other shoe and feel pretty perfect. They might be going home to chaos and relatives and up-in-the-air therapists... But they were going home together. That felt like the important part.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly, opening her eyes.

"For what?"

She laughed, and looked up at him. "You want a list?"

He gazed down at her a long moment, then leaned forward, his hand cupping the back of her head. "I'll settle for a kiss."

She grinned. "You're so predictable."

"Comforting," he murmured, as he descended to kiss her. "Isn't it?"