Chapter Eighty:
Introducing Caroline Cassadine

Nikolas really didn't like waking up alone. Reason could argue that he'd managed it just fine for the better part of two decades, but that didn't change the fact that he hated reaching out for someone who wasn't there. He particularly didn't like it when it happened while it was still dark outside. Mixed in with the vapors of a rapidly departing dream he hadn't been enjoying at all, and Nikolas's return to the world at Five-thirty that Wednesday morning didn't leave him feeling particularly charitable.

He opened his mouth to call out for her, but all that came out was air and a sudden realization that he just have the energy to say anything. He didn't even feel up to having a full reaction.

This is effort, he thought, crankily. He was getting sick of effort. Particularly five am effort. Forget it. He was going back to sleep.

Yeah. Right. That was going to happen.

He let out a growl and sat up in a sudden fit of irritation, only to be confronted by a startled and disturbed Carly, sitting in the arm chair, just two feet away from the end of the bed.

"Hey," she said, pulling her knees up a little closer to her chest. "You're awake."

"Yeah." He shook out his head. Nope. No good. He let his body drop back onto the bed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "What are you doing over there?"

"Thinking," she admitted, having turned back to the window. It was propped open and the air outside felt damp and cooler than it should have. It was that threatening early summer morning. Where the weather was still coiled tight in the earth, the air -- waiting to leap on you the minute you weren't looking.

"It's early for thinking."

"Hmm," she nodded in agreement. The sky was one big bruise. Carly couldn't remember being up early enough to see it like this. But about an hour ago, her eyes had opened and refused to close again. She'd drifted over here and stayed, curled up in the chair, alternately gazing at Nikolas and the garden outside, and trying to understand her Brave New Life. "Do you ever wonder why people hate pigeons, but like mourning doves?"

There was a heavy pause before Nikolas murmured "What?"

"Because they're almost the same bird."

"Carly."

"They make the same noise."

Nikolas sighed heavily, and stretched out one hand towards her. "Come here."

She looked at him a moment -- One hand over his face, the other reaching for her -- then let her legs drop to the floor. She pushed herself out of the chair and moments later, she was nestled back in the bed with him. On top of the bedclothes, but pulled up against his body, which had turned towards her, his arms both around his waist and holding her against him. She raised her face to his and they kissed, lethargically.

"It's just because they look nicer," she murmured, when he pulled away. He buried his face in her hair.

"Is this another metaphor?"

"No. I was just thinking about how, every damn morning I lived here, these stupid mourning doves would wake me up at the crack of dawn by sitting in that tree out there and moaning until I finally got up just so that I could go find a razor blade. Or a BB gun." She let out the remains of her breath. "I hate those things."

"Hmm," he lifted his hand and let his fingers comb back her hair. "Worried about today?"

"Back off, Nostradamus."

"It'll be ok."

"Right," she snarked into his chest. "It'll be a barrel of monkeys dipped in chocolate. I can hardly wait."

"Was that image supposed to be appetizing?"

"And they call them MOURNING DOVES!" Carly pushed herself up on her hands. "It's so soulful. Like they're crying for humanity -- but they SOUND LIKE FUCKING PIGEONS!"

It seemed distant to Nikolas, then, that only a few moments ago he'd waken into what he'd thought was a bad mood. Everything was relative.

"Did you want to take a walk?" he asked with newfound zen-calm.

"No," she scowled, falling back against him. "It's dark out. It's too early."

"Because I'm a little concerned about what might happen if lie here and wait for those birds to actually start singing."

She started to laugh, but muffled it by turning her face into his chest. She pressed a couple of quick kisses across his collar bone as he chuckled with her. "I'm sorry," she moaned into his ear. "Go back to sleep. I'll be good. I promise."

"No," he murmured, shaking his head. "I've had too much sleep already."

"You needed too much sleep. You didn't get any last night."

"It's physiologically impossible to catch up on sleep," he told her in a jumbled mix of condescension and weariness. "Once you've lost it, it's gone forever."

"That doesn't make any sense."

His eyes slid over to her. "If I sleep too much, then my brain feels like oatmeal all day."

She giggled in spite of herself. "That should be interesting."

"Lumpy oatmeal. Lumpy cold oatmeal. With congealed milk. What use would I be to you then?"

"When did anyone dare to serve you lumpy cold oatmeal?"

"It only happened once," he yawned. "I had them drawn and quartered." He turned his head towards her. Breathed in the scent of her hair, spread across his shoulder, and brought his fingers up to gently stroke her temples. They lay there like that for whole moments, before he ventured, "I thought you liked Kevin."

Carly made a face, "I liked him. In that I didn't feel like clawing his eyes out."

"I think that's a good sign."

"Doesn't mean I won't want to today."

"He's just trying to help you."

Carly let out a low dangerous laugh. "Oh. Is that what he's trying to do?" She pulled away from him, struggling up onto her elbow. "You ever seen a therapist, Nikolas?"

She knew the answer to that. There was no doubt in her mind that what was good for the goose here, wasn't getting anywhere close to the gander. Nikolas would make a therapist weep.

He didn't answer immediately. Then he reached up and continued playing with her hair, his eyes focused on his fingers.

"I would. If it served a purpose."

"No, you wouldn't."

"In your circumstances, I would."

She shook her head, irritated. "What, the 'I'm crazy' circumstances?"

"The court order," he watched Carly's face contort, and tried to pull her down to him again. She shook her head, turning her back to him, legs drawn up to her chest. Nikolas placed his palm against the small of her back. "I know you hate it," he murmured. "I know that."

She shook her head. He could see her shoulders shake. Her head dropped down onto her knees and she hissed, "Its' just so pointless."

"It's not. Not this time."

"Why not?" she spit, twisting around so that she was looking at him over a bare shoulder. He didn't say anything. Just stroked her spine and watched her eyes. After a moment, she threw herself down on the mattress and tucked herself into a fetal position. Squeezed her eyes shut before she spoke again. "It's been pointless for over a year now, Nikolas. And now -- Sure. New therapist, new husband, new life -- Same old head case. Same old sitting in a chair, answering stupid questions and watching him fill up that file --"

"But it's not the same," he told her back. "It's different."

Carly, curled up into herself and staring into an empty closet that sat next to the bed where she'd wasted countless hours and streams of tears. She felt his breath, and swore the word brushed up against her, and then sunk, slowly, into her skin. She shivered.

"What if it doesn't work?"

He slide closer to her in a rustling of bed clothes. "What if it does?"

"Then everything is sunshine and lollipops," his arm came around her waist and she placed her hand over his. "What if it doesn't work?" She whispered to him, eyes wide and still turned away. "What if you just promised forever to someone who is never, EVER -- "

He pressed his forehead against the back of her head. "What makes you think you can't do this, Carly?"

"Experience. Mostly."

"Listen --" She started to pull away from him and he gently restrained her, folding her into a firm embrace. His chest pressed against her back, arms around her waist, lips right at her ear. She closed her eyes, and let out a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, but he ignored her.

"Listen," such soft, private words. "Listen, Caroline. You've told me what you're capable of. And you've shown me. You think mere mortals can come up with the things you do? Do you think our minds even bend in that direction?"

"Bent is a key word here."

"You're an evil genius," she let out a shout of laughter and squeezed her eyes shut just in time for the tears to come. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I'm serious. You apply that kind of energy and drive to this, and there aren't going to be any limits. You'll get everything you ever wanted and the rest of us will just have to stand back and watch. And we will be amazed. I promise you. You'll see."

Carly let out her breath, only to have her lungs pull it back in a gasp. She tried again. Then again. Then gave up, and turned herself around in his arms, hands pulling his face down to hers, as her body pressed itself up against his. She kissed him long and deep. When they broke apart she was short of breath and light headed. She tipped her head up to watch his eyes. "Personally," she sighed, brushing his hair back from his face, "I like the way you see things just fine."

Carly hadn't realized how accustomed she'd become to Nikolas's lifestyle until she'd started a day back in her old one. Sure, they'd been married three weeks and they hadn't managed to spend a whole lot of those weeks in the same place -- but it was amazing how fast you got used to convenience.

Breakfast was Bedlam. Her mother had to be at the hospital at seven am which always lead to the worst kind of mornings. Her usual nagging at Lucas escalated into full on warfare since she refused to leave the house before she knew he was out of bed and he viewed this as a particularly unfair example of his mother's lack of trust in him.

Which, as far as Carly was concerned, it mostly was.

That morning, she watched her mother rush around the kitchen, delivering a monologue of significant proportions about Lucas's schedule, her schedule, the absolute hell Lucas was putting her through and her sincere and strong desire to have Nikolas and Carly stay at the Brownstone 'as long as they wanted', and don't be ridiculous, she didn't need her to do anything. Carly has felt a sharp twist of bitterness as her harried mother had dashed out the door, begging Lucas to remember to pick up milk on the way home from summer school.

"I can pick up milk," Carly had muttered after the front door

Lucas, who had absorbed this whole thing sitting at the kitchen table, head resting on a place mat, lifted himself half an inch off the table to tell her not to worry about it.

She'd felt weirdly guilty when one of the Cassadine drones had shown up ten minutes later with clothes for the day. She'd asked Nikolas to get them to bring her the power suit she'd bought in Vermont. The man had arrived with that, two packed bags and a manila envelop from Alexis. She'd opened it the moment the door had closed and found inside a check book, two credit cards and a letter from her new bank.

That woman worked fast. She had to give her that.

She'd flipped open the check book and her eyes immediately found the name embossed in the upper left hand corner. Mrs. Caroline Cassadine. No address. No phone number. The name said enough. These checks wouldn't bounce. And they were hers.

She had absolutely no reaction to that whatsoever. She's walked back to the kitchen and smacked her brother on the back of the head with them. "Go get in the shower," she'd told him when he'd bolted up, complaining and exposing a cross-hatched pattern that had transferred onto his forehead. "We're going to Kelly's for breakfast."

They had. She'd drank coffee and stared out the front window, dressed like she was going to negotiate or business merger rather than have her past cracked open and examined yet again. She'd wanted this stupid suit because the last time she'd had it on, she'd felt capable. Unique sensation, and she'd wanted to get that back, artificially inspired or otherwise.

It had worked, too. Until she'd picked up her ragged sack purse and realized how completely out of her character this really was.

Still. She persisted. And Lucas was being pretty easy-going in the presence of Nikolas. No fights about anything. kind of quiet, but eventually he and Nikolas fell into a conversation about Magic Cards, and she'd let her mind drift miles out to sea.

It was still out there. Standing now in an elevator, her hand wrapped around her husband's, eyes fixed on the numbers as they rose out of the bowels of the parking garage.

"What floor is your office on?"

"Eight."

She sighed. Out-patient Psych. Admin. She should have guessed. "Convenient."

"Appropriate."

She let her head fall onto his shoulder as the elevator made a subtle shift that indicated a stop. "Don't make fun of the crazy people. You're married to one of them."

"I'm relating, not mocking. Not the same -- "

He stopped talking as the doors opened and Carly's eyes slid from the numbers to the ... Oh. God.

It was amazing. The clouds could part, the heavens could open, Carly could FINALLY gain a little bit of insight into her crazy life, and not twenty-four hours later, the Gods would provide her with enough of a smack down to let her know she wasn't off the hook.

Robin, at least, looked just as horrified to see her. And if she hadn't been at the crest of a wave of impatient staff, Carly doubted she would have gotten onto the lift at all.

She looked slight and harried -- in jeans and a t-shirt, with a diaper bag slung over her shoulder.

Carly instinctively pushed herself back into the corner only to collide with Nikolas. She felt his hand slip out of hers and Carly felt her stomach lurch. god, please, don't, don't, don't...

Her knees felt a little weak when his arms went around her waist. She leaned back against him, gratefully, as the doors slid shut.

It took two stops for the elevator to empty. The clinics were mostly on the first three floors and only the hopeless ventured any higher. Today, that included both her and Robin. God help her, she was not going to survive small talk.

"Will you come by when you're done?"

Her husband's voice surprised her, and she started against him. "What?"

He lowered his head to speak against her ear. "Come see me before you leave."

She wanted to shoot a quick glance at Robin, but somehow kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

"How long are you going to be stuck here?"

"I don't know. Into the afternoon, at least."

"Ok."

The car slowed again. Jerked a little as it came to sit at the seventh floor. Maternity. NICU.

Robin pushed herself off the wall. She glanced at them as she moved to the doors. Carly would bet big money that Nikolas nodded back. Amazingly, she didn't care. When the doors closed she turned in his arms. She looked up at him, warily.

"We just snubbed Robin Scorpio."

"I know."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you sprain anything?"

He shook his head. "Nothing else seemed appropriate."

Carly nodded, occupying herself with straightening the line of his tie. "Is the baby sick?"

"I don't know. Lucky said she was underweight."

"We probably should have asked."

"Probably. But I have a very narrow focus when you're around."

"I've noticed," she smiled slightly, then raised her eyes. "So, uh... You can be kinda a cold bastard when you want to be, huh?"

He considered that. "Want has nothing to do with it," he brushed his lips over hers quickly, as the car slowed again. "It just seems to happen."

The door opened on Carly's bemused expression.

"Come on," he took the hand resting on his chest in his and moved away from the wall. "I'll walk you to your appointment."

She held her wine glass pressed against her bottom lip and looked at him over the rim, unable to bring the glass up to take a sip... or put it down and close he mouth.

"I'm sorry," she cleared her throat, finally, and sat up in her arm chair. "What?"

"I said, I don't think this is a good idea."

"What part, exactly."

"The whole thing."

"I see," Chris turned her body to the side, ostensibly to put her glass down on the side table. "Any particular reason you're deciding this now?"

AJ stared into his glass of mineral water. Honestly? It was the drink. She always had a white wine spritzer first. Every single time. They would meet in the bar at the Port Charles Hotel and she would have her spritzer while they talked... and then they'd head upstairs. Separately. He'd taste just the hint of the alcohol on her mouth. Today he'd walked in and seen it and just thought "I gotta get out of this place".

"Things are getting complicated."

"You think so?"

"Apparently." He felt like he was running on a default setting. He didn't know what to make of the fact that his unconscious actions looked more admirable than his conscious ones.

"Don't you think this might be a really bad time to piss me off?"

"I don't think what I do matters where you're concerned." He was a little surprised he'd actually said that out loud. "I keep thinking about that visit just after Carly got married. how you were late. How my Grandfather had time to get her all to himself without even worrying that you were about to show up. It just... Makes a guy think, you know?"

"You think I'm doing something --"

"Unprofessional? Yeah, I think you might be."

It was startling, the way her delicate features hardened. He swore, he eyes turned black.

"Mr. Quartermaine," AJ wanted to shiver as she leaned into his personal space. "I think it would be best if you left."

AJ nodded, then downed the rest of his drink in once gulp. "The best, sweetheart," he slammed the glass down on the nearest table. "Is just what I'm going for."

Stefan was waiting in the office when Nikolas got there. He wasn't surprised. On some level, he was relieved. their last interactions had been wearing on him, and he hadn't wanted to let this stand. On the other hand, he was really reaching the end of his rope where heavy discussion was concerned.

He pushed the door closed behind him and dropped his briefcase into the nearest chair.

"Father."

Stefan nodded at his greeting. "You did not return to the island last night."

"Mrs. Landsbury was informed."

"You sent for Caroline's clothes."

"That can't be a big surprise."

"I'd prefer you tell me directly what your plans are."

Nikolas sunk into the couch. Regarded his father a moment, then relented. "I don't know."

There were phrases and behaviors that Nikolas generally avoided with his father. the verbal equivalent of waving a flag in front of a bull. That was very possibly the worst of all of them. he only used it now because it was the truth.

"You don't know."

"Not at the moment."

"And you find that acceptable?"

Disapproval. Nikolas let his eyes travel over the lines on his father's face, the set of his jaw. It was familiar, everything about this was so familiar. He thought about all the things Carly had said the night before, everything that had been revealed to him, and wondered how much of a difference it made.

None at all, he suspected.

"What I find acceptable doesn't seem to have much impact on my life at large." He straightened up before his father had a chance to respond. "Carly told me what happened."

His father's reaction was subtle, but undeniable. He was surprised.

"She had a change of strategy." The air of contempt swirling around him pricked at Nikolas's skin, but he didn't bother to let it in.

"So it would appear. Does this mean she's given up on her ridiculous plan to work for Spencer?"

"Not at the moment." He watched Stefan's eyes sharpen and couldn't help adding "She will if I ask her to."

He'd locked that promise up some place deep inside himself. Somewhere he wasn't likely to look, no matter what happened. He hated that promise, but it was valuable. He couldn't resist flashing a part of it in his father's direction, just this once.

"You're certain of that."

"Absolutely." He bit off the beginning of the word. Stefan frowned, giving Nikolas a strong suspicion of his next question. He spoke before his father had the chance to form new words. "Carly and I are fine. That's not the problem right now."

"No," Stefan spoke softly, after a moment. "No, I imagined it would not be."

"What if it had worked?" Nikolas asked in spite of himself. "What if she signed the annulment and taken the money? How were you going to present that to me?"

"I didn't believe she'd make that choice."

"So it was leverage, then."

His father just gazed at him.

"You just wanted her to sign a post-nuptual agreement," he answered for him. Nikolas shook his head. "Why? Why would you undermine something I have believed my entire life by asking her sign something completely extraneous? A nuptial agreement means nothing if you don't believe divorce is an option."

"Nikolas."

"Before you divorced her mother after less than a year of marriage, I believed divorce was -- what did you call it? A cataclysmic response to minute problems." He laughed slightly. "You know, that's what this feels like. Like you had a cataclysmic response."

"There's nothing minute about this particular circumstance."

"There's nothing catastrophic about it either." He murmured, frowning at his own words. He glanced back at his father. "You look tired."

Stefan smiled tightly. "I'm fine. I assure you."

"It's not like you to overshoot your mark so dramatically."

He let his father's eyes hold him. They had spelled it out in enough detail yesterday. The problem lay between the two of them and Nikolas really wished to God he knew a way around it. He knew what his father was going to want from this conversation. Assurances -- not of a repair between them, but of Nikolas doing what he felt was best. Remaining close by, being careful, protecting himself. Staying just within thumbs reach.

"Bobbie's offered us a place to stay at the Brownstone," he allowed, finally. "I think we'll stay there for now."

"At a boarding house."

"An apartment."

"Nikolas," it was a plea, so soft and private that he knew no other words would follow. There wasn't much for his father to say. Just that -- his name and the imbued meaning. Don't.

"What do you want me to do?" he put his arms out, at a loss. "What can I do? How can I bring her back there after what you did to her?"

"I was trying to protect you," Stefan smacked the palm of his hand against the wooden edge of the desk. "That was all I asked of her. To help me protect you!"

There was something about the way he formed the words. Something about the heat and frustration his father was showing. It hit Nikolas then, that there was more to this. That there was still something, in all that had been said, that his father just wasn't taking into consideration.

"You don't see it, do you?" He said the words quietly, with a sort of affinity he was surprised he was able to access in this time and circumstance. "Either that, or you just don't want to see it." He leaned back into the sofa and spoke his next words on his exhalation. "Father. You hurt her."

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"Drink?" Carly was sitting in a large armchair in Kevin Collins' office, her attention firmly focused on adjusting the hem of her skirt.

"Water, tea, juice..."

"Doesn't that interfere with the talking?"

"Not particularly. Unless you plan on gargling."

Carly shook her head. This was all very disconcerting. the decor, for starters, was utterly devoid of pastel. How was she supposed to feel vicious without pastels? The blinds were only half open. The room was lit with small table lamps instead of overhead flourescents and there were plants everywhere. There was even a perpetually running fountain contraption in the corner that bubbled and gurgled away in the corner. She'd already decided she was going to hate that thing.

Beyond that... the room was warm and cozy. Very nearly inviting. Put that all together and you got "Scary As Hell".

"Water," she answered dully, gazing at the large waxy leaves of an umbrella plant in the corner. "What's with the ambiance?"

"Ah," Kevin looked up from his mini-fridge. "I started to take another approach with my work when I came back after my..." he rolled his wrist in her direction "Leave of Absence."

"Psychotic Episode."

"Something like that," he smiled, winningly, and tossed her a water bottle that she barely managed to catch before he collided with her chest. "Would you like to talk about that?"

"About your psyche? Aren't you getting paid to talk about me?"

"I am," Kevin settled into the chair across from her, "But I need you to feel comfortable with me, Caroline."

"Talking about your stalking exploits might not be the best start," she winces as she twisted off the cap on her water. "And it's Carly."

"Right," Kevin glanced in the direction of her file. "That's a nickname, then?"

"What?"

"Carly."

She paused, cap in one hand, water in the other, and stared at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Your name. Where does it come from?"

Damn. That hadn't taken long.

"I started using it when I came here."

"So it's an alias."

She shrugged and sat back in the chair. "It's my name."

"You mentioned that it was your friend's name. The one that died."

"Yeah."

"So it's not your name."

"She wasn't using it."

She'd been wrong about lack of pastels impeding her ability to feel vicious. At that moment, she'd felt capable of tearing this self-satisfied smirky little man's head off at it's root.

"I'm going to call you Caroline," Kevin spoke with infuriating calm. "I think that will serve us better."

"You do whatever you gotta do, Bosco."

He smiled. A real smile, like she amused him. "Same goes for you, Caroline. Now. To make sure we're making a clean start -- do you have any questions for me about my break down?"

"Is that what she told you?"

His father's face had turned black at Nikolas's words, all vulnerability fleeing for the nearest apothecary. His spine had straightened, eyes turned hard, fists curled at his sides.

"She didn't have to. Your approval meant something to her. You must have noticed that."

Stefan turned and strode away from the desk. Nikolas watched the careful way he turned both his body and his gaze away from him.

"What do you think of her?" That, like most things in the last few moments, surprised him. His father too, because Stefan turned his head back inquiringly. His expression suggesting Nikolas might want to reevaluate his question. "Humor me. If she wasn't my wife, if she wasn't a a perceived threat. What would you think of her?"

His throat felt tight, and the rest of him felt stupid. But this was as close to blessing as he'd ever be able to ask for, and he wanted the answer.

"I would think she was troubled."

"She is," he answered quickly and felt a surge of emotion at hearing his own voice. A part of him desperately wanted to be able to share this with his father. Just the rough shapes and outlines. "Do you believe she cares about me?"

Such a needy question. There was only one person he could ask it of. He watched his father hold the words, weight them, before murmuring "Do you doubt that?"

His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. "I doubt everything."

It was as much as he could get out and he trusted his father to read the short hand. His judgment failed too often, and while his father's word was far from gospel, he trusted it more than his own perception.

"I would say..." Stefan did not look pleased by what he was to say. "She... cares for you. In her way."

He left it there. Nikolas could tell that he wanted to say more. He was sure he didn't want to hear it, so he asked another question.

"Did you know she liked you? did you know she wanted to make you happy?

His father turned away. "It couldn't be a consideration, Nikolas."

"You broke her -- " he cut off, shaking his head. "You bruised her heart. You did. And I can't ... I can't ask her to go back into a situation where that could happen again. I can't explain to her why it doesn't mean that she's not good enough... " He ran his hands over his face in frustration, and leaned back on the couch, dropping his hands to see his father gazing at him again. "I get it," he admitted. "I know what you were up to. I understand. But... Father -- I need to be with her. and I need to be worthy of her --"

Stefan flushed with irritation, moving back across the room. "How can you continue to talk like --"

"I need to be able to protect her!" Nikolas shouted over him, though he didn't move from his impassive position. "I need her to believe I can keep her safe. That -- What happened between the two of you, that was a failure on my part. And I can't bring her back to the island until I know, beyond any doubt, that it won't happen again." He exhaled, the hopelessness of this situation hitting him. "I don't want this, you realize that, don't you? I don't want to live in a situation where my father and my bride can't co-exist. But I knew what was coming when I married her. I knew it was asking too much for you to leave this alone." He sighed and sat up again. "I need to know if it's asking too much that you at least respect this decision. At least give us time. At least try not to hurt my wife again."

His father stared at him. Just gazed, unblinking, for what felt like minutes. Then the corners of his mouth twitched towards a frown and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

"The least you ask today may be the most you've asked of me in your entire life."

Nikolas closed his eyes and didn't turn when the door to the office shut behind Stefan.

"It's a beautiful ring."

Carly glanced up from her study of her silver and sapphire band.

"I like it."

"As a piece of jewelry or as a distraction?"

"I was listening to you."

"I know. That's why I kept talking."

"I don't really see the point," she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I mean, if that's your sales pitch, it could use some work. But it's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Did you have anything you wanted to say?"

She laughed slightly. What the hell was he up to? She'd been here fifteen minutes and so far, Kevin had done most of the talking. Disturbing, occasionally disgusting, talking about his past exploits, his minimal Cassadine involvement, and how they'd brought him to where he was today. She'd hated listening to it, honestly. felt like she was supposed to deliver some sort of judgment. The fact was, she really didn't feel like she cared a whole hell of a lot. Which probably said way more about her moral compass than she was comfortable with.

"Do you still go for blondes?" she ventured, finally.

"Not particularly, no."

"Then I guess it's all good."

She returned to playing with her ring, and gazing down at the carpet.

"What is it you've been thinking about?" Kevin's voice assaulted her again. She sighed.

"Nothing much."

"Well, why don't you tell me, anyway?"

Carly exhaled and sat back in her chair. "Aren't we supposed to be talking about my childhood or something?"

"We'll get there. I'd rather hear about what's bothering you this morning."

"What makes you think something's bothering me?"

"Well. I'm bothering you, aren't I?"

"That's your job."

He smiled. "As naturally obnoxious as I may be, I sense something else is going on."

"You sense?"

"Am I right?"

Carly glanced away, fiddling with her ring in irritation. She really wanted to tell him to go to hell, but something was holding her back.

"Caroline. You told me you wanted this help."

Right. That.

"Ok, fine," she snapped her head back to him. "When did I see you? Sunday?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Since then, I've pissed off my father-in-law the Prince. or Duke or Count or whatever they're calling him this week. I've taken a job at a sleazy blues Club, I came about this close to completely ruining my marriage and I think I just moved back in with my mother -- who doesn't trust me to buy milk. To top that off -- They finally want to schedule the review with Michael. Sometime in the next two weeks. So what do you think? Any chance you can render me sane and respectable by then?"

Kevin frowned at her. He gave everything she'd said some degree of thought, so she was thrown when he responded "Well. You're dressing the part."

"Go to hell," she spit at him, without looking up. The second the words were out of her mouth, she cringed. "I'm sorry. Reflex."

"I was serious."

She twisted her mouth and glanced up at him. "What, the clothes make the harlot?"

His eyes held hers a moment before he continued as if she hadn't said anything. "I think we need to break this down into smaller pieces. Make it easier to digest."

She shrugged. "Be my guest."

"First of all -- there is a lot of things to review about your situation with your son. Agreed?"

"Yes."

"Things are better than they were, say, six months ago."

Carly snorted in response. "Yeah. Ok, yeah, they are."

"And -- I'm sorry, you're employed now?"

"Part-time. It's a long story."

"Alright," he nodded slightly, utterly unreadable in his reaction. "Alright, we'll get to that. How's your relationship with your mother?"

Carly choked. "I dunno. What time is it?" Kevin just raised his eyebrows and she relented. "Ok, I guess."

"Stable."

"What's that?"

Another slight smile. "You've done a year of therapy."

"More than a year."

"And you've gotten married. Which -- excuse my candor -- radically alters both your home and financial situation."

Carly felt herself flush. "Yeah," she said, brutally. "My gold-digging skills have really improved."

"I'd do my best not to lead with that."

"Do you have a point here?"

"I always have a point. And at the moment, it's this: This review is going to be very rudimentary. I've taken part in them before. All they'll be looking for is a sign of change in the situation. For better or for worse, you've certainly achieved that. Any change is going to be reason for them to take a closer look. Closer looks, of course, take time. And during that time, you and I will be doing a lot of work." He looked at her pointedly. "Won't we?"

Carly exhaled and sat back in her chair, the full weight of what he was saying descending on her. "Yeah. I guess we will."

Nikolas sat with his chair turned towards the window, staring impassively at the skyline between staff assaults. Given his lack of attention over the past few weeks, and the state of the hospital overall, he was theorizing that his father had picked up a great deal of his slack. He kept turning that fact around in his mind, hoping some sort of emotion would attach itself to it. So far, no luck. Watching clouds float aimlessly in an otherwise blue sky, he found himself fantasizing about fast-forwarding to a day when all of this was solved. or, at the very least, a day when he knew what to do about it.

"Misery seeks company."

He pivoted in his chair, and allowed his morose mood to abandon him as his fell on his wife. She was leaning against the doorway, and waved at him halfheartedly before sighing, "Reporting in."

He regarded her a moment, then murmured "Come here."

She allowed a small smile, then pushed off the door jamb to walk purposely into the room. She kept her eyes on his as she rounded the desk, dropped her purse with a thump, and reached out with both hands to turn his chair to face her. That done, she climbed into his lap, tossing her legs over the side and twining her arms around his neck. He closed his arms around her as she lay her head in the crook of his neck.

"How're you feeling?"

"Drained," she admitted. Nikolas nodded and neither bothered to speak for several moments. "When I get the motivation to get up, I'll go home." She raised her head. "That's the Brownstone, this week, by the way."

"I'll write it on the back of my hand."

"We have a lifestyle problem." She dropped her head back onto this shoulder, and snuggled closer to him. He let his eyes close. She was warm. "Nikolas?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"He wants me to come three days a week."

"Who?"

"Dr. Sensible Psycho. Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He says he'll book two hours per session, but," she waved her hand limply. "That's just in case we need them."

"Sounds like a lot."

"Sounds like hell on earth." She reached out her hand, fingers splayed, and he watched while she placed each of her finger tips on along his knuckles. "Because of Michael and the hearing and... Because he thinks I need a 'big push', whatever that means."

"What do you think?"

"I think... I want to sleep forever." She raised her face and pressed her lips softly to the underside of his chin. "You smell good."

He let out a low groan. "You have no idea how much I want to go home with you right now."

"Then do it."

He shook his head, slightly. "I can't, I --" He cut off, sensing movement out of the corner of his eye. Jerked the chair around, Carly letting out a quick yelp as Nikolas turned to see the invading presence.

Lucky was leaning against the door jamb because that's what Lucky did. He never walked into rooms -- he just materialized slouched somewhere in their general vicinity. He gave a nod in their general direction. "Hey."

Nikolas exhaled. "Hi."

Carly rolled her eyes, then tried to straighten herself on Nikolas's lap. "I think that's my cue."

"No, hey," Nikolas protested, irritated by the sudden change in temperature. "Carly --"

"You're here to talk family stuff, aren't you?" she shot a look in Lucky's direction that bordered on a sneer.

"No," Lucky pushed the word around, drawling it to feed Carly's obvious hostility. "I'm dropping this off." His brother reached out of site of the doorway and yanked on the hood of a bright pink sweatshirt that contained a dark haired, grinning little girl. Nikolas opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Hi, Nikolas," Lulu sang his name is a teasing sing-song voice, glowing before she fully took in the dark-suited woman sitting on his knee. He watched a frown take the place of the glowing smile -- the frown that contained far more confusion than it did judgment. "Oh," she looked up at the brother that was standing behind her. "Carly," she reported. She said it like a small child would point out horses or cows on a car trip.

Her cousin regarded the girl a moment, then got to her feet. "Hey, Lulu," she muttered, picking up her purse. "I think I'm in your spot."