Chapter Seventy:
Fallout

"What was that?" Alexis was half out of breath, walking on shorter legs and higher heels as she pursued her brother along the path that lead from the guest cottage back to Wyndemere. Stefan was ignoring her question, and she forced a quick burst of speed that allowed her to catch his jacked. "Hey!" He stopped dead in his tracks, but kept his eyes focused on the gothic manor in front of them. "Are you going to tell me what happened in there?"

"She's started," Stefan turned on his heel, facing his sister in his nearly apoplectic rage. "The slightest bit of encouragement, this is her reaction?"

Alexis felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes, you just don't want to believe the obvious. "You've said yourself, she's a walking land mine!"

"THIS --" he gestured back towards the house with disgust. "This is beyond anything I expected of her. Allying with Luke Spencer -- who had never given her more respect than the dirt under his shoe --"

"How do you know that?"

Stefan gave her a withering look.

"Ok. Never mind -- That's not important. The important part is -- what just happened there? What is she doing?"

"She is exacting revenge," Stefan deflated the moment the words were out of his mouth. "And Nikolas is going to be victim to it all."

"Ok," Alexis pulled in her breath at the drama inherent in the statement. "Ok. Then what are we going to do?"

Nikolas's eyes were locked on his wife -- dark, distant... and pervasive. It made Carly want to turn and run -- that look of detachment blended with rage. Her husband -- the walking paradox. Like she really had any room to judge at the moment.

She broke herself away, playing that little game -- if she didn't look at him, then maybe he wasn't looking at her anymore, either -- But she could feel his eyes on her while she ran her fingers through her hair. Went through little fussy motions like everything was just fine -- even though she could still feel his restraining arms around her waist.

So. What was she doing?

"I..." She really didn't have a good answer. There was the truth, of course -- but besides the fact that she never chose that as her lead, she was feeling a little blurry on what it actually was. However, all good lies had fled in the midst of her complete Stefan-induced meltdown. And her hands were still shaking. It was impossible to lie convincingly when your hands were shaking. "I just..." Stop stuttering. God! "I... Wanted..."

"I can make it easy for you."

Carly jumped at the tone of his voice. It was flat. Dead. She kept her attention studiously on the opposite wall. "It's a family thing."

"Which family? Not yours."

Her stomach clenched violently. Right -- because she was a little short on family at the moment, wasn't she? She turned around without thinking, hands clenched at her side in a desperate bid for a little self-control.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nikolas hadn't moved a muscle that she could tell, and he let a long and weighted silence pass before murmuring. "You haven't spoken to your mother lately, have you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Luke wouldn't come to you for a favor directly."

"Actually," she tipped her chin up, spitting out an ironic laugh. "He did."

Right. And she'd been so furious about it she'd taken off and... Well. Ended up in bed with Nikolas. Again.

"So what possessed you to indulge him?"

A ribbon of cold fear twisted it's way around Carly's spine and she drew her breath in. "Why are you talking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like your father."

That seemed to hit something in him. He turned his head away from her, letting out a bitter, half-laugh.

"Because, occasionally, I act like him," his eyes came back to her and they were filled cold fury and... Hurt. A dangerous, throat-constricting amount of hurt. "Usually when I least want to. It's a survival tactic."

"Well -- It's charming."

His lips curled up into something resembling a sneer and she felt her heart start to beat faster. "So this is why -- do I have that right? This is why the house looks like this. It's why we had my father over for dinner. It's why you wanted me home early --"

"No."

"No?"

"I wanted you home early because..." she stopped short of saying it. Because I go out of my skin when you're not around and I'm stuck HERE all day! Because the last time I spent the whole day alone in this house, all I did was stare at walls and sink deeper into myself. Because I wanted something to look forward to. Damnit! She felt herself tear up, and turned away from him, heading for the stairs. "Fine," she threw her arm out in a dismissive 'I'm done' gesture. "Believe what you want. You're going to anyway."

She was halfway up the stairs before she realized that she'd expected him to stop her. By the time she reached the top, it was obvious he wasn't going to.

Nikolas stood in the spot she left him for whole minutes after he'd heard the door to their bedroom slam. He was going to be sick.. Or he was going to break something. It was an equal probability, if he allowed himself to move. Or breathe. Or think. He swallowed, his tongue feeling thick and dry. This couldn't be happening. He was caught in the middle of a very bad worst-case-scenario daymare. Because something in him had, at some point, considered this. Not THIS. No -- this was about as expected as an anvil falling out of clear sky. But this feeling. This twist... He'd anticipated it in everything but the details.

He'd done everything in his power to try to stop it from happening. Everything he could think of -- he'd watched and listened and plotted and threatened and promised and... she ... she had... His mouth tasted sour, his head hot and buzzing. His wife. HIS wife. Center of his world. The most important thing. And Luke... Luke was... Luke was -- his brain stuttered over the thought until it finally broke free. Luke was going to take her away.

That was what finally did it -- he broke out of his reel, heading up the stairs in record time and pushing the door open hard enough that it hit the stop on the wall. Carly started from her place by the open balcony doors. She had been leaning against the door jamb, staring out the sky and trying like hell not to collapse into a fit of tears. She'd only half succeeded. Nikolas might have been nursing a dark sort of bitter downstairs, but as he stood in the doorway, the only way to describe him was livid.

"You're not going to work for him," he announced. Carly bristled.

"Why not?"

"Offhand?" he started across the room towards her. "He's LUKE SPENCER."

"He's my uncle."

"Yeah, and that's unfortunate --"

Carly's eyes grew large, feeling momentarily enraged despite her own feelings for her uncle. "Oh, like your family's so much better?"

Her offense threw him a moment, but he shook it off. "You're not working for my family."

"YOU work for your family!"

"CARLY," he shouted her down out of pure frustration. "That's not the same thing."

"They run a multinational. My family runs a bar --"

"LUKE runs a bar!" All appearance of detached control was gone now. "Luke -- who's threatened to kill you. Who made sure your mother thought you were DEAD, instead of just telling her who you were -- do I have that right?"

Carly crossed her arms, and glared at a spot over his shoulder. "What's your point?"

Nikolas's head spun a moment, trying to bring itself to some line of reasoning beyond this can't happen. It wasn't that he didn't have a point -- it was that there were just too many to decide which one to present first. He opted for "You hate him."

She shrugged. "His money is just as green as everyone else's."

Nikolas stared at her, incredulous. "You HAVE money!"

"No," she let out a laugh, and struggled against another wave of furious despair. "You have money. I have the end of Virginia Benson's life insurance and a mother who owns a big house and isn't asking for rent."

"Did you read those papers you just signed?"

"That's YOUR money --"

"We're married. It's our money."

"Right," she smirked. "You spend more time in Port Charles than I do. What do you figure people are saying now? I mean -- once it becomes obvious I'm not pregnant, they're going to be jumping to the next conclusion... I'm after your money. Because MONEY -- solves everything. And God knows, you guys have enough to spare."

Nikolas had started to shake his head about three words into her speech. "I don't care what Port Charles thinks."

"Of course not," she finally brought her eyes back to him. "You're not the gold-digging slut."

She couldn't be back on that again, Nikolas thought as he stared into her. The name calling, the defensive posture, the whole stupid, never-ending... No. No -- they had gotten past this. That morning, they had been miles away from what Port Charles thought, from her history, his history, from anything except the most basic elements of what they were. Hell -- even when he'd come home to this ambush, she'd still hadn't been like this. He felt the sick dread start to stir in his stomach again.

"What did he do?" he spoke too quietly.

She exhaled, heavily. "I told you -- he offered me a job --"

"NOT HIM!" He saw her jump at the change in volume and took another step towards her. "My father. My father -- What did he do?"

Carly gripped her arms tighter, trying to keep herself together. What had he done? Where could she even start? All Nikolas had ever said to her about his father, from the beginning, was stay away. She hadn't exactly shared a lot of details about their dealings together. Sometimes because it didn't seem important -- and sometimes because it did. And right now, it was pretty obvious that Nikolas had been right. Yay. She considered telling him -- in a flash of emotional instability. If she told him the truth, this would end. He'd stop yelling at her, he'd stop asking questions -- and hey, if she was lucky, he might even hold her and GOD did she want that right now. On the other hand -- he might say he'd told her so, and then she'd have to kill him.

She blinked rapidly. Didn't matter. Because she had maybe one, two cards -- which she probably let show when she lost her shit in the living room. She had to hang on to the little she had. There just wasn't any other choice. She straightened up, put her shoulders back and looked at him as impassively as she could manage.

"Nothing."

"You're lying," he tried the words again, working out how they felt -- because he had no doubt it was true. "You're lying to me."

She scoffed. Exactly the way people did when they wanted you to think you were being ridiculous. "What makes you think you'd even know when I'm lying to you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you laboring under the assumption that you're good at lying? Because from what I've gotten to see so far, you could use some work."

This time, when she laughed, it was in genuine shock. "It's my stock and trade Nikolas -- I think I know what I'm doing --"

He moved closer to her. "You haven't fooled me."

Carly felt oddly defensive at the implication. "I could have been taking you for a ride all along, how would you know? You spent all of what -- five hours with me before you married me? MOST of which, we weren't exactly locked in deep and meaningful conversation --"

"I've had a lot of practice!" He shot back at her. "With people who lie so easily, they probably don't even remember what the truth is."

His eyes were dark and glittering with rage. Carly felt pin pricks on her spine, leaning back into the wall, suddenly aware of how close he'd gotten. "Do you enjoy that?" she asked, her voice low and confidential. "Is that what the attraction is?"

His mouth tightened and he withdrew from her. Walked across the room, rubbing his hand over his face. He turned and looked back at her. Huddled into herself now -- a million miles from the sultry siren bit she'd tossed at him a minute earlier. And she wondered why he didn't buy her act.

"Why do you do this?" He asked it with an exhausted and bewildered honesty. She lifted her eyes and looked at him as if he was supposed to say something else. Clarify his remark, like they hadn't played out exactly this scenario thousands of times before. He kept his silence, stubbornly, forcing her to speak first.

"What?" she prompted, finally.

"Does it make you feel better? Or safer? -- What is it?" he asked with the same direct manner -- direct, but cold. "I'm asking you a pretty straightforward question and you come at me with all this ... garbage about how you married me for me money, or I wouldn't know if this were all..." He stopped dead, feeling his chest constrict. No. No, he was not getting pulled into this. "I'm not stupid. There are some things you can't fake."

She smiled, wryly. "There's nothing people can't fake."

"They're a lot more diabolical than you are."

She cocked her head at him. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

For a moment, she looked more sad than angry. And still beautiful in her black dress, her softly curled hair and flushed face. He shook his head, and sat down heavily on the hope chest at the foot of their bed. Stared down at his hands, and laughed humorlessly.

"Why?" he lifted his head and looked back at her. "WHY did you tell Luke you'd work for him?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How is that possible?"

"Look," Carly pushed herself up the wall -- head tipped back and looking up at the ceiling. "This isn't as big a deal as you and your family seem to think it is --"

"Yes. It is." He waited until she looked back at him before continuing. "I'm not sure why I have to make that clear -- but it is that big a deal. Luke Spencer hates me --"

"He hates me, too --"

"No. Not the same way."

She snorted. "Oh. Ok. It's a different kind of hate?"

Nikolas shook his head in amazement. "Why would you want to work for him?"

"Because I CAN," Carly spit out, feeling a surge of venom born of her own self-hatred. "Ok? Because -- this is a job I can get. and it's two or three shifts a week, it's not on weekends --"

"WHAT do you need a job for?"

Oh, the irony. How Gail would choke to see her now. A year -- a whole year of therapy where the job issue was discussed again and again and again. It had come up in what turned out to be their last session -- her funds were beginning to run dangerously low. She was isolating herself to an unhealthy degree, etc. There was a whole long list of psychobabble-istic reasons why her unemployment was a problem. And the second she gets a job? It's Armageddon.

"I don't know," she found herself feeling legitimately irritated at the question. "Because there's only going to be so many times I can rearrange the furniture? Because you go off to work EVERY DAMN DAY and just leave me here --"

Nikolas leapt to his feet. "I DO NOT go to work every damn day!"

"IT'S ENOUGH," she screamed back at him. "I mean - What do you think I do here all day? What do you think I'm GOING to do -- when there aren't any boxes to unpack and all the wedding gifts are unwrapped and I have my Cassadine-appropriate wardrobe? What do you want me to do? Join the Ladies Auxiliary? Organize auctions to save the spotted hunchbacked tree frog? Go to lunch with the dozens of friends I DON'T HAVE? Or is it enough if I just sit here all day, and wait for you to come home?"

The room felt unbelievably quiet when she stopped. She stood in shock at what she'd let herself say -- things she'd been keeping determinedly to herself because... Because she thought it would hurt him. And from the way he was looking at her, she was right.

Nikolas took a step back from her, trying to sort through the quiet accusation in what she'd just said to him. "What -- what about your appointments with Kevin?"

"What about them?" Her eyes lit up in realization. "Oh -- or is that it? I'm too crazy to work?"

"What happens... If things get bad again."

"Somehow? I don't think he'll fire me."

For a brief and evil second, it made sense. Actual, logical sense. But that was only if you ignored the fact that the club was Luke's. And that there was no way in hell this was something she actually wanted.

"There are other things you can do," he muttered into the floor.

"Well -- I'm doing this one."

"No," he stubbornly put forward. "You're not."

"How do you think you're going to stop me?"

His head snapped up. "Do you really want me to answer that question?"

It was hard to tell who was more shocked at the statement. Nikolas stared at her, unmoving, as his mind flipped through solutions he'd wanted to pretend weren't there. But it was the truth -- depending on how much he needed this to stop, there were other choices available to him. He didn't have to accept her decision. Not if he didn't want to.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Carly asked, finally. Nikolas broke away from her, feeling a rush of shame that he didn't feel like sharing at the moment.

"Forget I said it."

"No --" Carly approached his turned back. "I am NOT changing my mind about this. Ok? It's just not happening -- so if you've got some kind of plan, you might as well just tell me what it is."

He pivoted back to her, hands reaching out and grabbing her face -- holding her close to him and forcing her eyes to look into his. "What if I asked you not to?" he nearly whispered the words to her. "Does that rate anything? If I said -- 'Carly -- as your husband, who loves you. Don't do this.'"

Carly felt the knot that had been sitting in her stomach since that morning start to tighten. Her throat closed up

"And what if I said -- I have to?"

He dropped his grip on her, pulling himself out of her reach. "WHY?"

"BECAUSE!" she let out a scream of frustration. "I just DO. Why isn't that good enough?"

"Because," he stepped back, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You're not telling me something. Something is going on here -- and Luke SPENCER knows what it is --"

"Luke doesn't matter!"

"HE HAS TO! IF you're doing this -- if you're turning to HIM"

"I am NOT turning to him!" Carly threw the words out with revulsion before realizing that... Well. She sort of was. And... Oh, God. The idea was disgusting. She was assaulted by that moment of clarity -- and it felt like an invasion. Utterly unwelcome and inconvenient -- but she saw it from Nikolas's side. She shook her head, stepping back. That didn't matter. It didn't matter -- because whether Nikolas understood it or not, this was FOR him. Even if she was the only person who really could see how. "If you think he's more important to me than you, you've got to be on something."

Nikolas lifted his eyes at those words. He wanted to ask her to repeat them. Just once. But his own neediness felt like poison and instead he stood up and walked away from her. "Then why is he a part of our lives?"

"Because..." Carly let out a low laugh. Oh God. Like there was a choice where Uncle Psychopath was concerned. "He just IS. He always is. My mother adores him --"

Nikolas felt a powerful wave of nausea. There really was a lot of that going around in this town.

"-- And he can do every horrible thing you can think of -- she's not going to stop being his sister. Which means I'm pretty much stuck being his niece. Which puts him right up in my face -- whether he likes it or not."

"Ah," Nikolas smirked, bitterly. "So why not make it easy for him?"

"If you would just LISTEN to me -- That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then -- please! Tell me what you're doing."

Carly brought her arms around herself again. Hugging herself tightly and hoping to GOD something would just let this end. If she had an answer to that question -- if she just had something to say to him.

"You wouldn't understand," she muttered. "It's just the way my family does things. It doesn't matter if you hate each other -- you just put up with it."

"Really?" Nikolas grabbed the handset off the phone that sat on her bedside table. "When was the last time you talked to your mother?"

Carly looked at the phone in horror. No -- No, she was NOT going to drag THAT into this. "You know why I'm not talking to my mother!"

"Because you don't like being blind sided."

"I don't like being blind sided by Robin."

"Right," he threw the phone across the bed -- where it bounced and then crashed down onto the floor. "Try to imagine how I feel right now. Knowing the Luke has something over me?"

"He doesn't!"

"He has you!" Nikolas bit out. "He has access to you -- You've given him that."

"It's ... It's just... It's family. That's all -- It's --"

"WHAT AM I?" His agony bled into his voice. "I'm you HUSBAND, don't I count as family? You promised me --" he stopped, feeling trapped in his own panic. He didn't want an answer to that. He didn't want to know. "You said," he started again. "You said you and I..."

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Carly yelled back at him. "I'm trying to be sane and normal and... and strong and capable enough to DO this!"

"You have a hell of a way of going about it."

"Well -- WELCOME TO ME!" she tossed her arms out, laughing in her misery. "This is the way I do things. This is me TRYING to be what you need me to be --"

Nikolas shook his head, firmly. "I don't need you to be anything --"

"Now who's lying?" She tried and failed to catch his eyes. He wouldn't look at her and it just fed her fury. "You need me to be something besides this lump that lies in that bed and tries to pretend there isn't a world going on around her. You need that so much you..." She started to laugh as tears threatened again. "Talk about not being forthcoming with information! You just go out and change who my therapist is -- You didn't ask me about that. You didn't ask me what I wanted done with Edward Quartermaine, either. You didn't even let me set up my own cell phone -- the message is some chick I've never even MET -- But I figure -- Ok. Fine. You keep showing him what a nut you are, he's going to assume you can't tie your own shoes. I get the hint, Ok? And I CAN do one or two things on my own."

Nikolas went cold. "That's not --"

"Can you really swear to me that I know every single thing there is to know about my life right now? Because it seems like every time I turn around, you have a new surprise for me."

Nikolas kept his eyes fixed on the wall, though he couldn't feel the ground under him. He... He didn't know what to say next. What to come back with -- the criticism was sharp and it cut right into his gut the way nothing she'd ever said to him had managed to.

"I'm trying to help you," he mumbled, feeling himself start to shut down. His head didn't feel connected to his body. His extremities felt numb.

"I'm trying to help me, too." Carly blurted out, miserably. "I"m trying to help us."

"I don't need your help," he said, flatly, not looking at her. It sounded childish and he knew, in his gut, that he said it to hurt her.

Carly flushed at the brutal undertone in what he said to her. When she spoke, her voice was thin and fragile. "So what? Is that it? Is that the end of the discussion?"

He shook his head. It was the only move he had made since her outburst. "This isn't a discussion."

"No," Carly's voice broke and she finally just gave up on trying not to cry. "It's a fight. This whole stupid MARRIAGE is a fight." God, he STILL wouldn't look at her! "It always has been -- We're either fighting with our families, or we're fighting with each other, or we're just fighting with the world at large! I'm fighting to get out of bed in the morning. I'm fighting to have the strength... to go after my son again. To believe... " She faltered for a minute. This much honesty in any argument situation was utterly foreign in concept. "God. To believe this is going to work. To believe that you're not just going to turn around one day and suddenly see what been staring you right in the face --"

"What's that?" He spoke in that same, dull, lifeless tone.

"THIS IS A MISTAKE." She reached out and grabbed his arm, trying to turn him to her. "Everyone thinks so."

He finally looked at her. His eyes were blank and his voice was even, bordering on disinterested. "Do you?"

Carly opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She didn't have an answer. It wasn't something she thought about -- was this a mistake? She didn't know. How could she know that when things were just teetering on the edge like this? She'd know when he broke her heart. She'd know when he threw her out. But until then... She wanted to hope that it wasn't. And she wanted to know that he still believed. Because her faith was too fragile to stand up for itself.

He turned away from her before she could answer, moving past her, towards the door. Carly felt a sudden rush of panic.

"Where are you going?"

"Someplace that isn't here."

He sounded so mild -- like he was going out for cigarettes. She vaulted herself over the bed, and landed on the floor just in time to grab his hand as he passed. "NO you're NOT!"

He turned back to her, looking at his hand, and then back at her. "I don't have anything else to say."

"Well, you can not say it here." She dropped his hand and sat down, heavily, on the edge of the bed. Arms folded across her chest. "Right?"

"If that's what you want."

She looked at him defiantly... And he looked back at her like she wasn't even there. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't even give her a distinct facial expression. Just stared at her in silence until she felt her desperation start to build. Felt the need to scream start to bubble up inside of her until she couldn't sit still.

"FINE!" she stood up off the bed, shrieking directly in his face. "GO if you want to. I don't care!"

She turned on her heel and strode off to the bathroom -- for no other reason than it was there. She slammed the door shut and fell against the wall. She started to shake the moment the door closed -- the tears coming on immediately with so much force that she grabbed a towel off the rack and pressed it against her mouth to muffle the sobs. She heard the door close in the other room and slid down the tile, landing in a puddle on the floor.

An hour passed before she managed to pick herself up and stumble back into the bedroom. But it was well after midnight when she finally gave up on the idea that Nikolas was coming back.