Chapter Sixty-One:
Gifts

"What the hell...?"

Carly stood agape on the landing just inside the front door of the cottage. It was late afternoon, Friday, and she and Nikolas had just made it back home. It had been almost a week since she'd seen the place, and while it had not been left in necessarily immaculate order, no part of her was prepared for the chaos that greeted her.

There was stuff everywhere. Packages. Crates. Some wrapped in brown paper, and covered with stamps, courier slips, words like "ce côté vers le haut" and "zerbrechlich" printed across the sides. Some with delivery instructions written in alphabets she couldn't read. She stepped down off the landing, mouth open, and walked along the only path in the wreckage. She heard the screen door snap shut, and spun to see Nikolas -- waylaid by one of the ubiquitous Spoon Island Yes Men -- entering the house.

"Whoa..." he stopped dead, surveying the scene before him.

"That's kinda where I am." Carly murmured, still turning. "What the hell is this?"

Nikolas shook his head, stepping down off the landing. "If I was going to take a wild guess?"

"Master Nikolas!" Mrs. Landsbury appeared suddenly from the kitchen, moving rapidly across the room, ever so slightly out of breath. "Mrs. Cassadine. Welcome home!"

Carly had about jumped five feet in the air at the woman's voice, and turned to find herself standing directly in front of the woman. She reflexively took a step back only to collide with Nikolas's chest. It seemed as good a place as any to just stay put.

"I'm sorry the place is such a disaster," Mrs. Landsbury was saying. "But frankly, there wasn't much to be done in your absence."

"That's ok," Nikolas said, a little apprehensively. "Wedding gifts?"

"I'm afraid so," The housekeeper grimaced. "We've rather run out of places to put everything that's arrived in the past week. Your marriage, it seems, has elicited a response from some far flung corners of the globe. I was keeping the gifts in a room off the foyer when this arrived," She gestured to a six-foot-tall Native War Mask leaning against the wall near the study, "It rather alarmed the staff."

Carly frowned, taking in the gaping mouth, the twisted nose. She shot Nikolas a look. "See what happens when you don't register?"

Nikolas ran a hand through his hair. "That's definitely a piece you decorate around."

"Leave it to me," Carly felt something in her blood start to cook. "I think I can make it work." A slow smile worked it's way onto her lips. "Actually, I think I like it." She glanced around, letting herself really absorb what was in front of her. Art work -- she could tell by the packaging. The larger crates, she had no idea. Ditto the small ones. It was like stumbling into an Egyptian Tomb. So much stuff to explore. She felt a surge of giddiness that mixed almost immediately with an equally powerful wave of suspicion. Ok. What's the catch?

"The study, I'm afraid, is scarcely accessible," Mrs. Landsbury was continuing. "Everything will have to organized as soon as possible. Mrs. Cassadine, there are certain furniture choices --"

Nikolas cleared his throat, pointedly, and Mrs. Landsbury's tone, expression, entire demeanor suddenly shifted.

"I'm certain it will all work out," she patted Carly's shoulder, smiling soothingly. It reminded her of nurses at Ferncliffe. "The staff is at your disposal as soon as you decide what you'd like to do."

"I'll have to figure out what all this stuff is," she was feeling lightheaded. Mrs. Landsbury tended to have that effect on her. She glanced back at the scene in front of her. She felt dwarfed by it. The sheer volume swept over her. She was going to have to do something with all of this. Her. It was her responsibility. "Why can't I just get away from the boxes?" she asked, throwing up her hands helplessly. "Every time I turn around, there are just more boxes!"

"Well," Mrs. Landsbury expertly took her cue. "I'll bring something cold and leave it in the kitchen for you when you're ready to eat. Just ring the main house if you need anything else."

"Thanks," Nikolas was gave her the most convincing smile he was capable of, at the moment. "I think we're just going to lay low tonight."

"Yes," she nodded, though a momentary flicker crossed her face -- no doubt at his choice of phrase. "Quite." She started to leave, then turned back, suddenly. "OH! Master Nikolas. The..." her eyes darted towards Carly momentarily. "Delivery you were expecting arrived yesterday."

Nikolas nodded. "Thank you, the dock men told me. It's all... in order?"

"Oh, yes," She smiled encouragingly. "In quite good form, from all reports. I'm sure you'll be pleased. Now, I'll leave you to your evening."

With that she turned and came back from where she came from. Carly watched, confused, as the woman disappeared into the kitchen. After a moment, she made the connection.

"I don't like that secret passage," she murmured to Nikolas when the woman was out of earshot.

"She won't abuse it," Nikolas assured her, moving to slide his arms around her waist. She sighed and leaned back into him. He pressed a few soft kisses along her shoulder, then buried his face against her neck. Well, he thought. This was going well so far. Home in one piece. No unfortunate run ins with the good citizens of Port Charles. Neither of them had been really been enthusiastic about leaving the cabin. It felt too short -- and Nikolas was well aware of the different between being alone with his wife in some far flung location vs. Being with her in Port Charles. And he'd been utterly prepared to be ambushed upon their return. He'd just hoped to protect Carly from any part of it -- let her slide back into her world exactly as they'd left it (only, hopefully, a little more stable). He had given exactly no thought to wedding gifts -- outside of his own. After all -- it wasn't like they'd had a lengthy guest list. And, of course, it wasn't like he was the prince anymore. Looking around the room, it seemed, son of the Prince sufficed.

"This is unreal," Carly breathed, still studying the room. "It's going to take forever to get through it all."

"We can have the staff --"

Her eyes widened and she spun around in his arms. "Are you nuts? I want to see what it is!"

Nikolas smiled at her enthusiasm. It was new for her -- she'd never been through the onslaught of Cassadine Ceremonial Gifts. He needed that, he realized. It made it feel new for him, too. Or, at the very least, manageable. Not arduous. Or bitter.

"Some of it's going to be ugly," he warned, locking his hands behind her back. "And some might bite."

Her head jerked back. "What?"

"Just fair warning."

She sighed, leaning her forehead against his chest. "You people don't get any more normal, do you?"

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Feeling overwhelmed?"

She let out a sharp laugh. "What the hell are we going to do with all of this?"

"Well, for today?" He straightened up. "We can ignore it."

Carly's eyes raised to look into his. "When are you going back to work?"

He felt himself warm. The way she was looking at him -- it was something he recognized. "Monday."

She cocked her head to one side, running her hands along his forearms. "So we have some time --"

"I'm not going to make you do it alone," he reassured her. "But we just drove seven hours..."

"Don't remind me," she groaned, dropping her head back. "Right now, all I want to do is get this car smell off me."

"Hmmm," Nikolas leaned down, taking her bottom lip between his just as the last word left her mouth. She responded immediately, bring her arms up to wind around his neck. He had a point, she thought hazily as he kissed her. It was more than tempting to just ignore the chaos. Actually, she could make an argument for ignoring the whole downstairs.

"Glad to be home?" she asked when he pulled back.

"Not in the least."

She smiled, her hand running through the short hair at the base of his neck while she looked at him pensively. Flipping through the list of things they probably weren't going to be able to avoid before the weekend was over. She frowned, something finally twigging in her brain. "Hey. What was the delivery Mrs. Landsbury was talking about?"

Nikolas made a face. "Ah. You caught that, huh?"

"Yeah, what's that about? 'Cause we're sort of lacking space all of the sudden."

"It's ok," he shifted his weight. Given what they'd just walked in on, he'd nearly convinced himself that it wasn't something he needed to address that night. Or, really, until the next day. The next evening, preferably. Through all of this -- idea to fruition -- he hadn't given much thought to presentation. Now that it was upon him, he was suddenly struggling with a powerful feeling of apprehension. An awareness that, while it might be something of a coup -- it also might set off some emotional land mines he wasn't prepared to handle.

And it was Friday.

"It's not exactly something you can keep inside," he admitted. He'd known Carly long enough to understand that once the ball was rolling, there wasn't much he'd be able to do to divert her attentions. Not in any lasting way, at least.

She frowned. "What is it?"

"Well," he pulled back, taking both her hands. He raised his eyes to hers and felt immediately unprepared. He was going to explain this to her how, exactly? He laughed, trying to relieve some of the tension. "You're going to make fun of me."

She was looking at him like he was nuts. "Why?"

"I wanted to get you something."

"Besides all the stuff that the dock men are going to have to haul up here?"

"For our wedding."

She felt her stomach flip -- with that queasy, now what excitement Nikolas tended to evoke. A good half dozen expressions moved across her face until she finally settled on happy confusion. "You're really unbelievable. What? Did you figure I needed some extra encouragement?"

He shook his head, drawing her into a long, slow kiss. "It was something I wanted you to have. That's all."

Carly, whose head was feeling no clearer for Nikolas's attentions, took a step back to study him critically.

"Something. That I can't keep in the house?"

"Well," he pulled in his breath. "No. Not in any practical way."

"Is it bigger than a bread box?" she frowned. The corners of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile. Carly gave a mock gasp. "It is bigger than that box?" She pointed to a coffin sized crate to their right.

"Carly --"

"Does it bite?"

He felt a twinge of excitement. Ok. So maybe he was looking forward to this. "It might."

She blinked. "Seriously?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "You'd have to tell me."

"What kind of --" she stopped dead, a sudden awareness washing over her. Her mouth half open, as if it still expected a completed sentence to make it's way into the world at large, she stared, eyes flicking over him -- He of the Unreadable Emotional Reactions. There was no point. He never gave anything away.

"Oh my God..." She stepped back, putting her hand up between them, while she fought between logic and the idea her brain had suddenly grabbed on to. Nikolas was frowning at her as she past him and went up the three steps up to the landing.

"Carly."

She stared out the screen door at the bright spring waiting beyond the porch, then pivoted back to him.

"I think I get it," she said it with caution.

"Ok," Nikolas started towards her. "But you have to --"

She cut him off. "Does it have a tail?"

"I think --"

"What about a mane?" She was having a hard time standing still, suddenly. She hadn't wanted to guess out loud in case she was wrong, but the look on his face gave her the answer. Bigger than a bread box. Teeth. Tail. Mane. Oh my God... "Is it here?"

"That's what they tell me."

If she'd had any idea what was really coming her way, she might have lost her ability to stand then and there. As it was, she could feel herself sway, suddenly.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I..." he smiled slightly. "Might be."

"Where is it?" her voice was unnaturally high in pitch.

"The stables."

She stared at him. The way he was looking at her was so strange. Almost insecure. She couldn't work it out, the math failed. Stables could only mean one thing. Right? She had to have this right. She had to. Her blank expression broke into a grin and she stepped back towards the door.

"Only one way to find out." She pushed the door open as he prepared to say something. "Race ya."

She turned on her heel without waiting for an answer -- and then she was gone. She couldn't feel the porch as she crossed it -- leapt down off the steps rather than descend them. And then she ran. Because she had to. She had to move. She had to see this. The idea of it was just too good. Too perfect. It was starting to sink in and wake up an ache in her that wanted to be satisfied. The thing she wanted to be real and knew she wouldn't truly believe until she saw it.

The stables were a quick sprint from their house. Around the hedge line, and up the slope towards Wyndemere, behind the garden. She could hear Nikolas behind her as she reached the door, tossed a quick nearly hysterical-with-giddy smile in his direction before ducking through the door.

There were six stalls in the Wyndemere stables and the one and only time she'd been here since they'd come to live on the island, there had only been three horses. Sheeba. Another tall black stallion, Stefan's. And Theos, a much less intimidating palomino. Carly's eyes ran across the stalls and stopped at the creature in the far stable. A deep brown -- almost red, the color was so rich. So beautiful and...

She couldn't breathe. For a moment, she wasn't even sure she could see.

She heard a noise behind her and jumped, turning around to see her husband standing in the doorway, watching her warily. They stared at each other a moment,

"You bought me a horse," she laughed suddenly.

Nikolas stepped through the door, still looking like something large and heavy was about to fall out of the sky and land right on top of him. He had a flash of an American action film he'd watched with Emily once. A man faced with a bomb -- absolutely certain that the right wire was the blue one. Absolutely convinced that if he snipped that one, he'd save himself and the building around him. But not so convinced that he wasn't aware he might be about to bring the whole thing down on his head.

"It's not just a horse," he spoke on shallow breath.

A hot prickling sensation crept up Carly's spine. She turned back and looked at the stable's new occupant. She took an unsteady step towards the stall, then stopped -- one hand awkwardly in mid air, reaching out, but holding back in the same moment. Her brain wouldn't absorb the information. Said it over and over again, but couldn't quite believe it.

"You..." The rest of the sentence died in her throat. It was too scary to ask. She just stared at the animal in front of her, eyes flicking over the details. The horse, head hanging over the edge of edge of the stall, snorted and shook out it's head. Ears and muzzle darker than the smooth rich brown that slid over his neck. The mane was lighter than the coat-- that soft sugar-brown. She let her eyes travel down the long neck, towards the muscular body. Arabian, she thought. 15 hands. Marks in white on the back right leg she didn't want to check. And the spice-colored mane and tail. That was where the name had been taken from. It was exactly the color of -- "Cinnamon."

She really really couldn't breathe. Choked out a nearly hysterical laugh and tried to shake off "It just... It looks just like --"

"It is."

That was when her knees gave out. She dipped and rose again like she was caught on a wave. Nikolas's arm tight around her waist, holding her up. She stared, open mouthed, at the sight in front of her. There were no words for what her mind was doing in that moment -- it came on in a rush -- a surge of fear-joy. Broke her off from her reality like she was standing outside of this, hearing the words, having the realizations, but unable to experience them as anything outside of a distant dream. Wish-fufillment. Effortless, unhoped for, unrequested... but wanted, so desperately. Missed. So unattainable that she'd never even tried to go about solving it for herself. There were so many other unattainable goals. She hadn't even seen it when this simple one had become possible.

She still couldn't believe it was possible.

"We found her in Phoenix," Nikolas spoke softly against her ear. Words coming on like they were just appearing inside her head. "She's been well cared for, she's in excellent health. But I thought it was time for her to come back where she belongs."

Her fingertips pressed against her still-parted lips, as she struggled to find words. But there were none. How could there be? All she could feel was her heart hammering in her throat and a hard, squeezing ache in her chest. Her eyes blurred and the inevitable sob kicked it's way out of her. She turned towards him, mumbling something completely incoherent to both their ears. She was dimly aware that he was the only thing in that moment, that could have turned her eyes away from that horse. But she had to see him. She had to make sure he was really there.

Blinded by tears, she reached out to him, touching him -- grabbing his shirt in fists, then letting go -- laying her hand flat on his chest, then darting her eyes up to his. Couldn't focus. She reached up and cupped his cheek, blinking rapidly. The tears would not stop coming. She felt his hand brush at the wet on her face.

"I hope that means you like it," he murmured, his eyes searching out hers. She bit back a sob and managed to nod before throwing her arms around his neck. She hugged him so tightly -- pulled herself as close as she could manage. Actually relieved when she felt him lift her off the ground. Her head swam. This could not be happening. She was going to wake up, back in her apartment, any moment now. Roll over in the thick heated air that smelt like the inside of someone's mouth, and come face to face with that pale yellow bridesmaid dress. It would be that morning again, none of this would have happened... In that moment she was incapable of remembering a moment with Nikolas that hadn't felt perfect. That hadn't been other worldly. He just kept hitting her with one thing after another. One perfect answer following a perfect question. A touch, a look. She'd tried not to admit how often he managed to do just what she needed him to do. But this -- there was no resisting it. It cracked through any defense she had. It was more than perfect. It was beyond fantasy. She'd never dreamed quite this good before.

"I --" she choked, grinding her head into his shoulder. She felt her feet brush the ground. "I --" she couldn't gather enough breath to get out more than one word at a time. "Love." Shook her head, helplessly. "Oh -- GOD!" She pulled him back to her, hugging him tight enough to cut off air.

It was just as well, because Nikolas was drowning in relief. Trying to deny the slight tremor he could feel in his arms. He'd known she'd want this. Hadn't given it a second thought. But that was before that week, and once he'd know the horse had arrived... he'd worried about what it might trigger. There was no doubt then, when she pulled back, liquid brown eyes gazing up at him in uncensored adoration. It made him lightheaded. She was smiling and crying and he really knew, finally, that he'd done the right thing. It was a constant risk with her -- he never knew when something was going to turn around to bite him. But she really made it worth the chance . What he got, looking at her in that moment, was worth any threat he could imagine.

He brought his hands up to cup her face and she let out a quick laugh, fingers sinking into the hair at the nape of his neck. She tipped her face up to his, and he descended on her without any further prodding. It was a good kiss. It felt so open. Like nothing was being held back -- He could feel the tumult she was in. The joy -- Amazement, shock, reverence. It sparked the same feelings off in him. Uncontrollable exhilaration. He'd brought her this. Saw something she was missing and brought it back to her. Which was nearly as powerful as the realization of why this felt so familiar. This was what she had done to him -- more times than he could count, at this point. He'd felt something dangerously similar to what appeared to be pouring out of her right now. Emancipation, more than anything else. Freedom. I'm not alone anymore. Someone else understands. Someone knows what I need and they're willing to give it. He had to pull away from her -- though it was almost habitual at that point. Something he'd gotten used to. That feeling in his chest like he was going to implode if he didn't sever the connection. Remember that he existed outside of it.

Gasping for breath, he slid his hand around to cradle the back of her head and drew her body into his. She was holding the front of his shirt in fists, and leaned into him gratefully, burying her face in his neck,

"You're happy, then?" he asked, breathlessly. He knew the answer. He just wanted to hear the words.

"This isn't happy," she was laughing and sobbing at the same time. "I don't even know what the word is for this."

He closed his eyes, holding her close to him. He knew his word for it. He wanted desperately for her to come to the same conclusion. Wanted it too much. He had to reign himself in. Had to -- and would the moment he worked out just how to accomplish that task.

"Do you -- " she started to say something, stepping back from him, then cut herself off with a startled "Oh!"

Nikolas, already reaching to pull her back to him, noticed that her eyes were fixed on something over his shoulder. Towards the door. He drew in his breath, wondering if he was really beyond ordering someone drawn and quartered as Carly raised a hand in greeting and pushed out a breathless "Hi."

He turned to see his father standing in the doorway to the stables, one hand on the door jamb, dark eyes and darker expression. Nikolas felt the muscles in his back turn to steel. Ah yes. Home -- with all that it entailed. He reached out for Carly, putting a protective arm around her, and pulling her back against him. "Father."

The word came out stilted and telling in it's complete lack. He had hardly seen Stefan in the week before their leaving. When he had, the conversation had been strained, or essentially nonexistent. Had been since he'd come home to find his father sitting with Carly on the couch, following Luke Spencer's visit. He had kept all thought of his father at arms length.

"Mrs. Landsbury informed me you'd returned," his father's voice emerged with less rough and more silk than Nikolas expected, given the tension radiating off of him. For Carly's benefit, entirely. "I felt I had to see it for myself."

"We've been back less than fifteen minutes," Nikolas spoke with more than a hint of defense. He resented this. Didn't bother to hide his irritation. If there had ever been a time when he was incapable of niceties, this was it. The lack of facade was mutual. His father was only barely concealing his own anger. But it only served to fuel his own. Cece's constant irritated messages had let him know what to expect when he came home -- but he'd refused to give it much more consideration. For just once in his life he wanted to act without having to deal with his father's inevitable judgment.

He watched Stefan nod, then turn his attention deliberately towards the more obvious mark. "Caroline."

Carly smiled slightly, wiping at her face. "Nikolas was just showing me..." her voice cracked, and she let out a self-depreciating laugh, leaning back into him. "It's a horse," she gestured towards the stall weakly, then turned her face into Nikolas's shirt, one hand over her eyes.

"Is there something you wanted?" Nikolas asked with some degree of disbelief. His incredulity only seemed to serve as a further irritant for his father, however.

"I left you messages. I presume you received them?"

"I --" Nikolas was cut off by Carly suddenly wrenching away from him. She stepped back from him quickly, looking at him with bright eyes.

"Oh, you know what?" she was still trembling, dabbing at her eyes with her shirt cuff. Her eyes darted "If you need to talk or something that would really be ok."

"Carly --"

"No -- I think um..." her eyes filled with tears again and she moved right back into him, placing both hands flat against his chest, face tipped up to his. "I could probably use five minutes to remember how to breathe."

He was going to kill him...

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"No, I'm ok," she was smiling at him, and her hand reached up to gently stroke his cheek. "I'm really very ok."

Nikolas looked down at her, struggling visibly. Her touch was soft. Instilling him with the awareness that even if she WAS fine, he didn't want to leave. It wasn't much competition -- go fight with his father, or stay here with her.

"Are you sure?" he fought to keep his voice even. This was fine. No big deal. So he'd rather severe a limb than be away from her right now... It wasn't like this was the first time they hadn't been on exactly the same emotional plateau.

"I'm fine," she reassured him, again. To make her point -- or maybe just because she wanted to -- she pulled him down to her, pressing her mouth insistently to his. It wasn't at all like the other times she'd kissed him in front of his father. Not edited, or pared down. Clean, clear, earnest. Like there had never been an interruption. He could feel the connection between them like a steady and flowing electrical current. He had to stop himself from pulling her right back when she moved away. "I'm good. You guys talk and I'll..." she waved a hand towards the new acquisition. "Get reacquainted."

She looked at him with an expression that contained somewhere in the vicinity of five or six dozen emotions. But she was smiling. On the other hand, she wanted him to leave.

"Ok," he gave up on trying to argue. If nothing else, it was an easy out in what was going to be, otherwise, a political nightmare. He ran his hand down her arm as he passed her, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Don't go anywhere."

Her response was just a high pitched squeak. He felt her fingers trail down his arm as he fixed his eyes on his father and started out of the stables. There was only one way to do this -- Band-Aid quick. He shot his father only the briefest of glances as he past him -- enough to know that he'd follow. Nothing was said, however. He walked no further down the path than he had to, then turned back. This was going to be quick, if he had to kill someone to do it.

"What do you want?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Stefan stared back at him, eyes making a thousand comments before answering with an appropriately bland statement. "She's pleased with your gift, I take it."

Nikolas shook it off with irritation. "I don't really feel like catching up right now."

"And when will you feel like it?" Stefan snapped, stepping into his space. "When do you think you can make time to fill me in on your activities?"

That really hadn't taken long. His eyes met his father's with challenge. "Some time when I'm not in the midst of a private moment with my wife."

"Ah. And how am I to anticipate when I'm intruding on something that occurs in my own stables? Perhaps a signal? Tying a necktie to the stable door."

He shrugged, tossing back the obvious rejoinder. "We can move, if that's a problem."

"I am growing rapidly weary of this behavior, Nikolas."

What am I doing here? -- Nikolas entertained the idea briefly. Not only in this conversation, but on this island as a whole. The whole conversation was making him feel incredibly territorial -- with the knowledge that he was, absolutely, on someone else's land.

"Do I get a vote in that?" he asked. "Behavior I've had enough of? Like your expectation that I clear my every move with you. That's what you're so angry about right now, isn't it?"

"You think it's unreasonable, to keep me apprised of your whereabouts."

"I left you a note."

"It was a message, was it not?," his father raised his brow. The implication was unmistakable -- he thought this behavior was childish. "Your leaving like this. Without warning, without any hint of your location, should anything happen --"

"If anything had happened, I would have found out about it."

Stefan's mouth tightened. "You went to great lengths to keep your location hidden."

"You looked, then," Nikolas said pointedly.

"You had to know I would."

"This argument is turning futile," he pointed out, dropping his arms. "Which comes first? The chicken or the gilded cage?"

Stefan was not amused. "I am running out of patience for this, Nikolas," he spoke with barely contained fury. "You may insist that the loss of your title dramatically alters your position in the family -- but that is a truth that exists nowhere but in your own mind!"

"Really?" Nikolas let his doubt drip from the words. Truth, with his father, was so often mixed in with control, that it became difficult to understand what constituted danger anymore. "Have you spoken to Alexis about this? Because last time I checked, the stock on illegitimate Cassadines wasn't soaring."

"You are not infallible, Nikolas. You can not afford to vanish on any occasion just because --"

"BECAUSE WHAT?" he gave up on trying to keep his voice down. "Because my wife needed me?"

Stefan studied Nikolas, stroking his goatee while his eyes searched his son. Nikolas could feel the disapproval sinking into his skin. "Whatever her needs, I'm sure they could have been tended to here."

"Where you can keep an ever-mindful eye on her."

"You'd rather I have no contact with her at all, then."

Ideally, Nikolas thought. His jaw was so tight it felt ready to snap. He forced himself to breathe. To breathe and stay still. This conversation was careening steadily further out of his control. If he had ever had the slightest bit of control over it. "What is it going to take for you to understand how serious I am about this?"

"At what point have I behaved as if I believe you're not?" Stefan asked, dropping his hand. "Tell me, if you are so convinced that I'm ignoring your feelings. Since this marriage, I've shared scarcely a civil word with you. Yet your wife sees no reason to treat me with this much contempt."

"Well," he said, bitterly. "She doesn't know you like I do, does she?"

Stefan looked at him with undisguised injury and Nikolas struggled against everything in him not to feel guilty. Knee-jerk reaction, maybe. He was well trained. He could use that as an excuse, but the truth was... He was jealous. Deeply, contemptuously, jealous of the time his father had spent with Carly in the previous week. Aside from not trusting his motives... It had hurt. Salt on an open wound. He hadn't given it voice -- not to his father or Carly -- but knowing that she'd spent any time with his father, that she'd talked to him when she wouldn't even sleep in the same room as him...

"I really don't want to do this right now," he admitted, averting his eyes. He dug his hands deep into this pockets while Stefan straightened up, adjusting his cuffs -- Something about it -- the familiarity of the action, the way it was so completely inverted from what he was displaying that moment. That formal veneer over a conversation where -- Nikolas was aware -- he was nearly asking to be shaken. But that wasn't their way. They stayed still and they discussed. Particularly when others were close by. He wanted out of this moment so badly it hurt.

"Edward Quartermaine resigned his position on the board of directors on Thursday."

God damnit.

"I see."

There was an agonizingly long pause. "You aren't surprised."

Nikolas sighed, shifting his weight, "I thought he might."

"Do you care to share your reasons? He's held that position for more years than I can readily guess." Stefan waited until Nikolas stayed in stubborn silence. It wasn't like he needed the question answered. "We've spoken in the past, I'm sure you'll remember, about shows of brute force. Of the folly of wielding obvious power."

"Edward Quartermaine," Nikolas struggled to keep his voice empty. "Is as easy to manipulate as a puppet on a string. I'm sure you've noticed."

"Does that make this show of dominance necessary?"

"No," Nicholas stepped back from him. "No -- entirely unrelated occurrences made that show necessary," He raised his eyes and looked at his father directly. "I don't regret it."

Stefan's eyes trailed across Nikolas's face. He shook his head slightly, lips pressed together in the thin line.

"You worry me."

And that was it. The clear moment of honesty. His father's eyes were tired. His jaw tight, mouth drawn so exactly. Nikolas exhaled.

"I know."

Carly gripped the wood of the stall's gate with one hand, the other hovering just inches over Cinnamon's coat. The horse was looking at her -- big brown expectant eyes -- and she kept having to turn away, pace the stables, and then come back. She could not stop crying. She'd thought, maybe, given a few seconds on her own, the endlessly tears would stop -- but every time she turned back and looked at that horse...

She really couldn't believe this was happening. Her brain just couldn't comprehend it. Even though she could see it, touch it and -- hey, it was a horse -- smell it. She let her fingers lightly brush against the coarse hair. On cue, her eyes filled with tears. Her heart was beating in her mouth, her head was buzzing. She felt the best kind of sick to her stomach. She shot a quick look at the door. She really wished to hell that Nikolas would come back. She'd made that grand gesture in a fit of embarrassment. She was barely coherent, she didn't want his father to see her like that. She also wanted his father gone. Two birds, one stone, and how long had he been gone now?

She rested her head on the wood post of the stall. Gently, carefully, she stroked her hand, palm flat, along Cinnamon's neck. Carefully, with the grain. Like she had hundreds of times millions of years ago.

"Hey," she murmured softly. "Didn't think you'd see me again, huh?" she couldn't help but smile -- though another wave of tears was on her again. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again. Ever. I didn't even think..." She shook her head. "I missed you. You know that?" Wasn't much more that she could think to say. "I really really missed you."

"The feeling's mutual."

Carly started, looking towards the door where Nikolas must have just appeared. She laughed slightly, and turned towards him. "You speak Arabian?"

"Fluently," Nikolas smiled as he crossed the stables, though she noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You were missed. I promise you."

Carly let her body hang by the hand still gripping the stall door, meeting Nikolas as he approached. His arm came around her waist, pulling her against him before kissing her -- slow and careful. Her body sighed into him -- opened up without forethought. She brought one arm up to wrap around his neck, and when the kiss ended she let herself move with him. Sway, as he looked down at her -- content, it seemed, to just keep staring at her tear-stained face. She peered up at him, trying to work out what to say to him. She heard the horse snort, next to them, and glanced over laughing, before laying her head against his chest. She let out herself breathe for a minute, feeling the tension ebb out of her. Now that he was back, now that he was holding her... it felt safe. To let go the adrenaline and let herself drift a little.

"I never got to say good bye," she murmured, then looked up at him. "Did I tell you that?"

He shook his head. Pushing her hair back so that he could see her eyes better. She smiled up at him, weakly. "I mean, it's not like the Roberts sold her immediately -- but..." she pulled in an unsteady breath. "All of that changed when Carly died."

She stopped talking. Her throat was too tight, it just hurt too much to try to say more. He nodded, though, and pressed his lips against her forehead. He didn't say anything. Just seemed to wait until she was ready.

"They were like trying on a real family," she spoke with her eyes down, her hands holding his forearms. "They used to take me with them on family vacations and things -- so that Carly would have company. And then they let me ride Cinnamon in competitions like... Well. Like I was belonged with them." She blinked, saw large tears drop onto the material of his shirt, sink into the fabric. "When Carly died, that went away. Like that --" she raised one hand and tried to snap, but it was a feeble attempt. "It was all gone just as quick as Carly was." She pulled in a deep breath and forced herself to look up at him. He deserved this. It was about the only thing she'd been able to wrap her mind around. He deserved to know what this was to her.

"This is what you meant," she paused to wipe at tears, yet again. "When you said you could do things most people couldn't."

He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers softly before whispering. "Yes."

She nodded, eyes welling up yet again. It was ridiculous, but she was helpless to stop it.

"I never, ever, thought any part of it could ever come back to me," she choked. "You just... you can't know what it means. That you found her --" she let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "God, that you even looked."

She didn't wait for a response. She just threw herself against him, wound her arms around his neck. Hugging him for everything she was worth.

"Thank you," she said, finally, against his ear. "Just... Thank you for that."