Chapter Sixty-Three:
A Cunning Plan

"Ok. How many days?"

"Seven!"

"Right," Carly folded down one of the fingers she was holding up in front of her son. "and tomorrow it's six. And then it's five," the rest descended. "And pretty soon it's Saturday again."

Michael was grinning. His face was flushed -- red as his hair -- and Carly was sure he'd fall asleep in his dinner that night. She might, too, for that matter. It had been an active four hours. She wasn't sure who's fault that was. She'd waken up that morning -- late night interruptions aside -- with more energy than she could remember possessing in her whole life. It hadn't waned all day. Through breakfast -- through a meager-at-best attempt to address the wedding gifts -- through her very first time on a horse in years... Carly was on a high that just wouldn't quit. And Michael had done his very best to test it's limits. No book reading or puzzles on the agenda today. It had been all about the gymnastics. Though Michael was still reveling in his near mastery of the somersault, he was pretty taken with the possibilities, and desperately wanted to ascend to the next level -- cartwheels. Which was pretty ambitious for a kid who was still trying to work out the intricacies of whistling. On top of that, Nikolas had once again scored points by simulating the handstand experience for Michael by holding him over the grass by his ankles.

It had been a very good visit. Michael had even looked a bit startled when Nikolas had departed after the hour. At the very worst, Carly figured that meant Michael was getting used to having her husband around. At best... maybe he was beginning to actually want him around. Either idea made her giddy -- it was too good. Too close to being not-a-disaster. No doubt. Since she'd lost the custody battle over a year ago... This was the first time she'd been at the mansion feeling like anything close to a human being.

She opened her arms to her son, and felt that all-too-familiar tightness in her chest as he beamed up at her. He hurled himself into her arms and she hugged him tightly.

"Ohhh," she sighed, breathing in that clean Johnsons & Johnsons smell of his hair. "I love you, love you, love you, you know that?"

"Yeah," Michael pulled back and announced "Kiss!"

"Yep, kiss," she agreed as his small hands gripped her face as she bent to bestow the final good-bye kiss. This was all so much routine, now. Developed over their year apart -- count the days, I love you, kisses and hugs. They used to have different routines. Bedtime rituals, or singing edited Red Hot Chili Peppers songs while she got him dressed in the morning. He'd grown up so much since then. He was so different and he didn't even remember living with her.

Oh, God, this part never got easier.

She hugged him again. Then once more for good measure, all the while keeping an eye on Emily. Once again, AJ hadn't come to collect Michael from her -- and Emily didn't look all that thrilled with the job either. She was standing behind Michael, looking dutiful. And, also, looking determinedly at the floor. An arctic cold front, it was hard to miss, had moved in between Nikolas and the Lovely Miss Q. Carly couldn't say she was sorry to see it.

"Ok," she sighed, finally, pulling back. "You gotta go eat your diner."

"Yup," Michael confirmed for her. "You gotta go to your home with Nikolas."

Carly glanced up at her husband, who was waiting by the door, his hands causally sunk into his pockets. He, also, was looking determinedly away from Emily -- though she couldn't tell if that was because he didn't want to look directly at her, or if it had more to do with his careful guard of the social worker. Chris, for once in her life, had been a nonentity this visit. At times Carly had nearly forgotten she was there.

"Yeah," she nodded. "That's where I gotta go."

"When you come next time, can I go to visit it with you?"

Oh. So close. So close to no episode.

"Not... Yet," she said awkwardly, trying to walk a line between confused and placating.

"When?" he pressed. Carly noticed that Emily wasn't looking at the floor anymore.

"I don't know," she admitted. "we'll talk about it next time, Ok?"

"Ok," Michael didn't hide disappointment well. Or at all. But at least there wasn't a temper tantrum coming their way.

"One more hug," Carly felt like they'd traded places, as the words escaped her lips. One more hug -- endless delaying tactics he used to use to put off bed -- she now used to put off leaving him. She squeezed him tight enough to make up for each of the seven days that she wasn't going to be there.

Speaking of rituals... if anything that happened over the span of two weeks could possibly qualify... there was something habitual about the way they left the mansion. Nikolas would take her hand as they walked out the door and they would leave the grounds in silence. Not talking until they reached the jag. This day, Carly flopped against the driver's side door just as Nikolas discharged the locks.

"That sucked."

Nikolas reached out to tuck her hair back behind her ear.

"You looked like you were having fun."

"I was."

He sighed, ruefully. "You're right. This sucks."

She managed a weak smile. "I'm Ok," she admitted. "In that I've been worse," she shook that off. Morose, morose. She didn't want to go there. "Never mind. I'm in one piece! Bright side and all that jazz. We have wedding gifts to unwrap, right?"

Nikolas's response was to kiss her -- softly, sweetly. One hand holding hers as the other threading through her hair to cup the back of her head. She let herself melt into him. There was no denying the calming effect he had on her. Stole that post-visit desperation tinged shakiness, and sought to bring her attention to the present. She let it, more than willingly. Not feeling like she was stripped raw -- it was too tempting. For so long, she'd grabbed onto the devastation with both hands after a visit with Michael. It had been her hair shirt. She'd feel the pain, sink into it like quicksand. Let it cover her, squeeze her breath. She hadn't had much else in her life. So why not make the pain her focal point? If nothing else, it was reliable.

It was scary, to let go of that so easily. Without even a fight. Stirred up things she didn't want. Fear, loneliness, weakness... Guilt. She pulled back from Nikolas a little too quickly and let out a sharp laugh.

"Ok," she ran a quick hand through her hair. "We should probably get out of here."

"You're leaning against my door."

"Oh!" she stood up. "Right. I'll just --"

"Carly," he caught her arm as she started to move away from him. "Wait a minute."

She frowned at him in confusion, then stopped, recognizing the hesitant expression. Uh oh. Nikolas had a plan. Again.

"What?" she tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

"I had an idea. For tonight," he put up a hand, warding off a protest that was not, in fact, coming. "Which you can veto. Anytime."

She frowned at him. "Does this involve handcuffs or food products?"

He laughed. Which was probably a good thing. "No. No -- it's a little more earthbound." Fortifying breath. "I talked to my aunt an hour ago. She's... Available for dinner."

It took Carly a minute to absorb the meaning of that statement.

"Your aunt, as in, your lawyer."

"As in our lawyer, yes."

She stared at him. Was this an ambush? Do people get veto power on an ambush? Did he EVER ask before questions?

"Tonight?"

"Well," he shifted his weight. "It's one way to make this 'suck' less."

Panic. Panic. She struggled to keep it inside, to not turn around and run. This was really happening. She was actually about to start fighting this war again. That's what this was. -- an invitation to plan the first attack. Something that had felt impossible a month ago and was, right now, scaring the life out of her with it's immediacy.

"What..." she was struggling to form a question. "What does that entail?"

Voice too high. Damnit.

"Dinner," he was pulling her back to him, "She's been looking at your case. I thought you might want to hear what she has to say."

His arms locked around her waist, holding her against his chest. Carly nodded, eyes fixed on the second button on his shirt.

"She hasn't decided it's hopeless?"

He kissed her again before saying "There's no such thing as hopeless when it comes to the law and Alexis."

"I remember," Carly let the words escape before her brain caught up to her mouth. She cringed as Nikolas pulled back, studying her closely.

"Remember."

Carly shrugged. "She got Tony off. After he --" she waved a hand in the direction of the mansion. That was, generally, about as close as she got to talking about that these days.

"She did." He kissed her forehead. "She does what she's hired to do."

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't shoot her, huh?" She winced at her own comment. "Sorry --" she started trying to pull away from him, only to feel his arms tighten around her. He pulled her tight against his chest, not allowing her to move away. She squeezed her eyes tight. "My sense of humor needs some tuning."

He didn't comment immediately. Just held her a long moment, his lips pressed to the top of her head. She let him sway with her -- gently rocking before he spoke.

"I can trust Alexis," he murmured to her. "With anything. And you could argue -- she owes you."

Carly let out a sharp yelp of shocked laughter. She pulled back from him, looking up at him in confusion. Never did he get predictable. Not entirely, at least.

"Yeah," she said, wryly. "I guess you could argue that."

"You're due a good day in court."

She smirked. It was not as if she hadn't given this thought. It was filed, firmly, under 'suck it up, Caroline'. But, oh God, it was easier to do that at a distance. To keep those two topics -- Nikolas's Aunt and her son -- far, far away from each other. Once she started to bring them together... Well. Logical emotional reactions had never been her strong suit.

She took a step back from Nikolas, pulling in her breath, and rubbing her hands rapidly over her face. There had to be a grip lying around here some place.

"Oh-kaaaaay," she exhaled finally, looking up at him. "She's expecting us?"

"She's expecting a phone call."

Plans, plans, plans... how could she say no? How could she even want to? She ran her hands up and down Nikolas's sides while she looked for fortitude. Or whatever facsimile might get her through this evening. It was about that moment that Nikolas lowered his head, eyes catching hers, and said something that turned her blood cold.

"Three months," he promised, then held up seven fingers. "You could turn this -- " he dropped four and smiled slightly. "To this."

She stared at his hands. His thumb extended on one hand, two fingers on the other. In a 'V'. Like victory. Or peace. She couldn't help it. She smiled.

"What's her number?"

"They're gone."

AJ glanced up from the arms chair he was slouched in -- in the far corner of the study. He had a file -- London office numbers, hours of fun -- open in his lap, but he hadn't so much as glanced at. His sister was leaning against the jamb, arms crossed, looking pretty much the same way he felt.

"I heard."

"Michael's having dinner with Marie right now. It sounded like he ran Carly ragged today. Might be kinda mellow tonight."

AJ nodded slightly. "I promised him we'd watch The Emperor's New Groove."

Emily tried to grin, but it was an unconvincing attempt. "He might be asleep before the Emperor achieves Llama Status. But I'm up for it."

AJ smirked up at his little sister. "You're eighteen. On a Saturday night you want to stay in and watch Drug-addled Disney?"

"I like the evil chick. She's fun."

"Well --" AJ sighed, closing the file and standing up. "if Michael conks out, I'll probably try to get some work done --"

"Nuh-uh!" Emily protested, coming off the wall. "No work. You're going to give yourself a heart-attack."

"You're sweet," AJ slung an arm around her shoulder and started pulling her towards the door. "C'mon. Let's go make sure Michael's eating his vegetables."

Emily ducked out from under his arm and backed up, biting her lip. "AJ."

Her brother sighed dramatically and turned to face her. "If this is a lecture, I gotta say. I'm at my limit."

"Since when do I lecture you?"

"I'm sorry," AJ winced at Emily's wounded expression. "I've been getting it from all sides. You know that."

"I'm just worried about you. That's all."

"I'm fine, Emily. Really."

"No one in this house is fine."

He gave a weak and struggling smile. "Then it's business as usual."

It was one of the deeply strange things about Port Charles. A large city. Populated. With streets upon streets of residential neighborhoods. Towering apartment complexes. Mansions. Marinas. And people tended to recycle their homes, setting up in some place that five or six acquaintances had lived in previously.

Really. It was bizarre.

Alexis Davis, for instance, lived in a cottage. When Nikolas had turned down the road, Carly had sat in stunned silence and thought "Oh, you have got to be kidding me..."

"This is Robin's place," Carly said accusingly as Nikolas pulled down the lane that lead to the site of more than one territorial dispute. There was a pause before her husband answered.

"It was."

"Were you going to mention that?"

"To be honest?" He turned the wheel, as they turned into the driveway. "I'd forgotten. She's lived here for awhile."

"Yeah," Carly shot back. "'bout two years, huh?"

"Little less."

She stared at him as the car came to a stop. "How'd that happen?"

Nikolas had exhaled like he was breathing through some sort of pain and explained in a flat voice that, when Robin had been looking to sublet, Alexis had been in the midst of leaving Ned. Carly had to bite her tongue after hearing that. Realtor and pseudo-boyfriend all in one. It was remarkable, just how much hearing this stories made her loathe that girl even more. Remarkable, because she kept thinking there had to be a limit, at some point. How much could you really hate one person before you exhausted the well of disgust?

A hell of a lot, apparently.

Things hadn't gotten a whole lot better from there. Though she kept trying to remind herself that the being here at all was something of a miracle -- she just couldn't feel it. Instead, what she felt, was out of her depth. The house -- the mere fact that Alexis had painted the damn thing made her like her just a little bit. Deep blues, cool grays -- that was a start. But it was still that house. Alexis herself seemed to be walking the fine line between warm and anxious -- which was, really, one hell of a balancing act. It was clear, though, that she was trying. They were all trying -- and that made it impossible to just relax.

So. Less than an hour after arriving bearing Thai Take Out, Carly was sitting at the dinning room table, trying very much not to care that she was the only person using a fork. Chop sticks weren't something she'd ever seen the point of, and she kept telling herself that she just didn't care that Nikolas and Alexis were freakishly efficient with the things.

She took another unapologetic gulp of red wine, and glanced towards Nikolas who had this uncanny ability to have at least one eye on her, no matter what he was doing. She gave him a weak smile, which he returned before speaking up -- his words directed at his aunt.

"Were you at the office this week?"

It was a segue Carly didn't entirely understand.

"If you mean Cassadine Enterprises," Alexis said with a smile. "I avoided it like the plague."

"Then my father didn't get a chance to pump you for information."

"Oh," she spoke just as she swallowed, and paused to sip her water. "Of course he did."

Carly shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Not a topic she wanted to discuss at any length, thanks.

"My apologies," Nikolas said it with a smile that screamed of shared joke. His aunt nodded her head, then pushed her plate aside, apparently done with her meal. Carly took stock and realized that she'd barely managed to make a dent in her dinner, while they'd both finished. With CHOPSTICKS. It was ridiculous -- she felt like she was this close away from having to use a booster chair and have her wine poured into a sippy cup.

"So," Alexis cut into her thoughts. "Carly. Has Nikolas talked to you at all about what he and I discussed before you left town?"

"I told her --"

She held up a hand, as if physically blocking off Nikolas's answer. "I just want to get your perception of things, at the moment, Carly."

"If you feel up to talking about it right now," Nikolas exhaled as he sat back in his seat. Carly glanced from him, back to Alexis, feeling very much like she could do with some subtitles. She didn't like the way Alexis was looking at her. Or the way Nikolas was looking at Alexis. Or the way her dinner was looking, for that matter.

"My perception," she spoke down into her plate, "is that you think you can help me get my son back."

"Well. I believe we can change things, yes."

There was that annoying 'believe' word again. No absolutes with these people.

"Does that involve getting my son out of that house?" Words came out sharper than intended.

"I told Nikolas that there were a few ways we could go about this," she started to explain, but Carly let her fork drop onto her plate and finally looked up at her.

"Dirty, less dirty, and squeaky clean. I heard."

Oh. This was good. She was just oozing charm.

Alexis frowned slightly, then shrugged with just one shoulder. "Squeaky clean aren't words I put near a court room. Let's just say... By the book."

"Whatever," Carly said heavily. "Nikolas told me all about it. I get it."

She occupied herself with trying to actually eat some of her dinner. She hated this topic. As much as she tried to embrace it -- to remember all the things Nikolas had said, the three fingers, all of it... it just made her angry and defensive to talk about it. The rest of the table, however, was silent. Great. Angry, defensive, and self-conscious.

"I've looked at your case," Alexis said, finally. "I've read the transcripts. I know what happened."

A lump squeezed it's way up her chest to take up residence in her throat. She tried to swallow. It didn't work, so she just kept chewing.

"I don't think it would take much doing to persuade a judge to open the case to reevaluation."

The words sounded strange. They weren't what Carly was used to hearing. She looked up at Alexis, frowning. With some effort, she finally managed to get her food down. Once that was accomplished, Alexis continued.

"I think the best way to proceed, though, is to start with visitation."

"That's what Nikolas said."

The words came out numb. Alexis, however, was nodding.

"Right. Because that's the most direct way to get you more contact with Michael. And that, I think, is the best place to focus. Once we've done that, reopening custody shouldn't be difficult. From there, we can use the results of the increased visitation in your favour."

"You mean, the fact that I didn't lose him or get him blown up or anything."

A momentary cloud passed over Alexis's eyes. "I know they used a lot of Michael's early life against you --"

"Postpartum," Carly spit out the word. "The kidnapping. The fact that I wasn't sure about his paternity. The fact that I had been exposed to HIV. Ferncliffe."

Her voice shook on the last word and she felt Nikolas's hand on hers and immediately grabbed it. Without thought.

"That's quite a list," Alexis admitted.

She let out a quick laugh. "You really think you can make all of that not matter?"

"You're fighting the Quartermaines," was her answer. Carly looked up at her, sharply.

"Yeah. So?"

Alexis gave a slight smile. "There is no other family in town that has them beat for sheer dysfunction. The rest of us are just rank amateurs."

She stared at the woman for a long time. "Have you met my uncle?"

Alexis laughed. Actually laughed, and glanced at Nikolas before nodding. "I've also met your mother."

Pin pricks marched up her spine. "My mother and I aren't really..." she shook her head. Didn't want to think about it. "Whatever. She didn't raise me."

"You got the genes." There was a long silence before she delivered her next words -- carefully considered, but a risk, all the same. "Your family has a history of finding redemption."

Her face heated immediately. "Yeah. Bobbie's a regular Mary Magdalene."

Nikolas's grip on her hand tightened.

"I only mean -- your past doesn't have to dictate your future. There are ways to make it work in your favor, if you're willing to let things be seen differently," she rocked her hand from side to side. "Sometimes the picture isn't one we like -- but if it gets us what we want... Well. We can learn to live with it."

"It's external," Nikolas spoke up, finally. "It doesn't matter."

Carly looked over at him -- at the concern etched on his features. He was paying intense attention to all of this, and for a second, she felt some relief. Her thoughts were ricocheting around her head at a speed that she couldn't seem to still. It made her feel inexplicably better to realize, for a moment, that it wasn't all up to her. Not this time. Someone else was watching her back.

For a second, she thought she might cry.

"How do we do that?" Carly mumbled, her eyes still on her husband.

"That's what we do tonight," she said, picking up her wine glass. "We start with the simple things. We start with what you can start to do tomorrow to make it look like you are ready and able to care for your son again."

"I was always ready --" Carly felt her spine turn to steel, her head snapping towards the woman.

"We know," Nikolas again. Soft and low. That weird rule by reason tone of voice he had, where it was hard for her to really believe there was anything he didn't know. "That's not in question."

Alexis held her nephew's gaze a moment, before turning back to Carly. "It's not in question for us," she was placating. There was no way she couldn't have been -- she'd spent maybe a total of one hour in Carly's company, and this was, really, their first conversation. "But it will be the only question that the authorities will be asking. Since they came up with the wrong answer last time, we have to make sure they come up with the right one now."

"How?"

"By filling in every obvious gap the Quartermaines are going to go for."

Obvious gap? Like... sanity. That was the big one. Her stomach was starting to do back flips -- getting into position. Ready, at any moment, to send her racing from the room.

"Like what?" her voice seemed a million miles away.

"Well," Alexis leaned forward, across the table. "What do you think is the biggest obstacle between you and getting what you want?"

"The Quartermaines."

She frowned at that. "Well -- We established that they're not going to be able to play a very convincing moral card. Their money isn't going to be much use --"

"They have what I want," she said, bluntly. She watched Alexis take that in.

"Yes," she agreed. "They do. But what weapon do they have to use against you?"

She averted her eyes. Looked towards the door. The hall of the hated house. A place where she and Michael were nearly forced to live. A place she'd never associated with anything other than bile.

"I'm the weapon," she said dully. She didn't bother to look to see Alexis's or Nikolas's reaction. But the felt him lift her hand. Press his lips against the back of her hand.

"There's a way to change that."

She snorted. "How?"

She knew the answer though, before he said it.

"Kevin Collins."

"Aha! I know... I'll turn him into a flea. A small, harmless, little flea. Then, I'll put that flea into a box, put that box into another box, send the box to myself, and when I get it, I'll smash it with a HAMMER!!!"

click

"Hey," AJ looked up from his side of the sofa. "I was watching that."

Emily smiled slightly, glancing from AJ, to the sleeping child curled up beside him. "You were watching the top of Michael's head," she said in a hushed voice, "I saw you."

Her brother gave a half roll of his eyes. "Can you blame me? I've seen this thing about ten dozen times," he frowned. "It still doesn't make much sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Emily said, putting down the remote. "If you're mean and selfish, you'll get turned into a Llama. If you're kind and empathetic, someone might help you get turned back."

"That's not the moral at all," AJ muttered. "He's mean and selfish -- but he gets turned into a llama because his advisor is evil. He gets turned back because the big guy is pathologically decent. Really -- the Emperors whole fate is left up to the whim of others. All he has to do is try not to get killed in the meantime. WHICH, I think it's fair to say, he only succeeds in doing because he's a cartoon character."

"That's what I love about you. You can even make Disney look bleak."

"We all have our gifts," he shifted slightly in his seat, gingerly moving Michael's head from his arm, and laying it on his lap. Wincing, he rolled his shoulder as he regarded his sister. "So are you going to tell me what's got you so moody?"

"I'm not moody," Emily murmured, staring at her own leg as she kicked it restlessly.

"Pensive. Melancholy. Angsty. Pick your adjective."

Emily's leg stilled and she stared hard at the carpet. "I'm trying to figure something out," she said, quietly.

"What's that?"

"What's fair."

AJ snorted. "Let me know what you come up with --" he stopped, distracted when his son let out a grumpy moan, then cuddled closer to his father. He laid a hand on his pajama-clad back and rubbed comforting circles.

"I gotta get this kid to bed," he sighed.

"It's nice when he falls asleep on you like that, huh?" Emily said, wistfully, watching her sleeping godson. "It's like he's the most perfect being on the planet. All soft and cuddly."

"He's always the most perfect being on the planet."

"Not that you're biased."

"Not at all."

Emily scooted across the couch, bringing herself closer to them. She rested her head on AJ's shoulder, and lightly stroked Michael's hair.

"Em," AJ prodded. "Something on your mind?"

She sighed, softly. "I really love you guys, you know that?"

AJ shifted, twisting around and leaning back so that he could see the expression on his sister's face.

"Uh oh," he murmured. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she was speaking in a stage whisper now, and gestured towards the sleeping child. "I was just thinking."

"This is a lecture," he said, dropping his head back. "Em --"

"It's not." Still whispering. AJ shook his head, still looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah it is," he lifted his head. "You think I'm making a mistake."

Emily bit her lip. "I think..." she shook out her head. There was no way not to say this. It felt wrong not to. But it felt wrong -- like she was stirring things up, or taking sides -- to tell him, too. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Michael asked Carly something, Ok? He asked her when he was going to see where she lived."

She opened her eyes to see AJ staring at her.

"He what?" He spoke a little too calmly.

"I don't know what it meant," Emily tried to clarify. "I just... Carly looked sort of nervous when he said something. It just made me feel like... I don't know. Like maybe she's been telling him something that she hasn't been telling us."

"I'm shocked," AJ muttered, bitterly and a little too loudly. Against him, Michael squirmed and pressed his face into his father's shirt. "Hey," he turned his attention to Michael with sharp focus. Emily drew back, gathering her legs under her as AJ pulled his sleepy son into his lap. "Hey, time for bed, huh?"

Michael's response was incoherent.

"Ok," AJ answered his complaint by pulling himself up to his feet, Michael's body lying limp against him, head resting on his shoulder. "Let's get you to bed, huh?" He turned momentarily, towards Emily. "You can keep watching the movie -- I'll be awhile."

"Will you be back?" Emily asked as he started to the door. She didn't like the way he was acting. She could feel the fear coming off him -- it made her feel ill. "I mean -- we can talk. If you want."

"Nothing to talk about," he turned back to her, sending an unconvincing smile her way. "I've got it under control."

Emily wasn't convinced. "How can you control something like this?"

He let out a quick laugh and shook his head. "Any way you can." He adjusted his grip on his son, and stepped back towards the door. "Now I gotta go take care of my son."