Chapter Eighty-Eight:
Be Mine

Carly cringed as she listened to Nikolas’s third and final message left on her phone over the past hour and change. She hadn’t heard the phone, but she still should have called and let him know she was having a major bawling session with her mother. On the docks. In plain sight. Just to horrify the Cassadines further.

She was happy, however, to not have to go to Wyndemere. They’d probably be over there enough over the next few days and there was something very appealing about having the whole Guest House to themselves again. Their bedroom alone was about the size of her whole apartment at the Brownstone – and all she wanted to do tonight was curl up with Nikolas, allow dinner to magically appear and possibly watch some bad television.

If, in fact, the Cassadines had access to such a thing.

Also, she wanted a hug. And she wanted to tell him about what had happened with Bobbie. And then she wanted to sleep. There was no flaw in this plan.

The sun was just grazing the tops of the trees when she reached the front porch of the house, and she swung the door open without any caution what so ever. The house was silent, so she kicked her sandals off at the door and started up the stairs.

Carly stole along the hallway, pausing as she passed the door to the room that Nikolas had told her would be Michael's. She stopped and gazed into the room. They hadn't done anything to it. But if she got visitations, they were not going to be able to stay at the Brownstone, and really... She liked it here.

Nikolas was going to think this was Stefan's idea. But honestly, what else were they supposed to do? House hunt?

Gears already working on when, exactly, she would broach the subject of relocating back to the island, Carly turned and headed towards the bedroom. Maybe she'd get lucky. Maybe he'd suggest it first.

Or maybe he'd be a little less touchy tomorrow.

Speaking of which -- Nikolas was slouched in a chair by the window, staring fixedly into the middle distance. Brooding. Heavily. He didn't seem to have heard her approach so she tapped her nails lightly on the doorjamb.

He turned towards her like he was moving through water, staring at her with a disturbed, bleak look in his eyes. Rather than snapping out of it at the sight of her -- which was his usual response -- he just let his eyes flick over her. Like they wouldn't focus, like he couldn't quite look at her.

"Hey," she raised her eyebrows expectantly. "You were going to catch a nap."

He didn't say anything, just turned his attention back towards the bed. She followed his gaze this time, and noticed her overnight bag sitting on top of the bedspread. He was one step ahead of her, apparently.

"What's this?" she asked, crossing into his field of vision and sitting down on the bed beside her luggage. She was about to make a joke about settling in for the long haul, but he finally spoke.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

She frowned at him, then glanced over at the apparently offensive object. The bag was open, and a flash of light denim immediately caught her attention. “Oh my God!” She leaned over and pulled her favorite pair of jeans out from under a pile of socks and underwear. “Finally! I’ve been LOOKING for these, it was driving me crazy. Where did this come from?”

“Under the bed.”

“Under the bed?” She made a face. “Why?”

And then the penny dropped. It must have registered on her face because he could tell – He could tell that she knew exactly what the bag was and why it was under their bed. Her face heated. “Oh.”

He just looked at her. She couldn’t figure out exactly what was behind his eyes, but she knew it wasn’t good. He was upset. And there wasn’t actually any reason to be. She shook her head. “Nikolas, it’s not a big deal.”

“Ok, then what is it?”

There was no way to actually say this without it sounding like a big deal. But it wasn’t! It was a million years ago. It was a completely different planet from the one they were on now. He had to understand that. The look on his face didn’t give her a lot of hope, but then she heard her mother’s voice in her head – Don’t get insecure – and she took a steadying breath.

“I could lie about this,” she pointed out, and Nikolas very nearly smiled.

“No. You couldn’t.”

He might be right about that, but she still wanted points for going straight to the truth. “I had a bad … minute. Maybe two.” She took a deep breath and pushed through the rest. “But it was just a minute. It was JUST long enough…” to pack a bag. “I was freaking out, and for a second it seemed like staying here was a bad idea.”

“So you were leaving.”

“I was never leaving. I just had a flash of insanity. Temporary insanity.”

“And you packed a bag. And put it under the bed.”

“No!” THIS she had not done! She remembered now. “I didn’t – I started to pack, but then I realized how insane I was being and how completely horrible it would be to actually leave, and you came back into the room, so I just kicked the bag under the bed.” And then completely forgot about it. What the hell had happened that she’d completely forgotten about it?

“I came back into the room?”

She frowned, trying to remember. “You were in the shower.”

That really seemed to bother him. He actually stood up. “In the shower.”

Right. Yeah, that sounded... bad. “It was the morning after… that huge fight we had.”

“Which one?”

That was not entirely fair, because she was pretty sure that they had only had one huge fight in the bedroom. He was taking shallow breaths she noticed, and he asked “Was it after you spent the night in the guest room?"

Aaaand she had also forgotten she’d done that. That was awful. “No.”

“When I spent the night on the boat?”

Ok. Two huge fights in the bedroom. “No.”

She felt a wave of nausea hit her and she saw it register on his face at the same time. “It was when I told you…”

“Yes!” she leapt to her feet, cutting him off. She could honestly not stand to hear him finish that sentence. God, maybe this was why she’d been such a coward. Maybe she just didn’t want to give him the chance to be as horrible to her as she’d been to him. “You remember how crazy I was that night. You remember how I was, that whole week! I wasn’t thinking straight. I was a nightmare.”

“So the next morning, when I went to have a shower…”

“I was freaked out,” she said again. The words did not seem to be getting through.

“And when I came back –“

She opened her mouth to respond and there it was again – how completely she had managed to forget that this had happened. He had come back and she had hidden the bag and then tried to distract him. Tried to distract him in what turned out to be an incredibly cruel fashion. And he had not forgotten. It was written in the tension that moved into his body, the sudden brightness in his eyes.

“So… That morning. You didn’t want me. You just didn’t want me to know what you were doing.”

“I did want you,” she sounded weak and defensive – but it was true. She had. Nikolas shook his head slowly.

“Was that why you kissed me? Because you wanted me?”

The guilt had a mind of its own and Carly felt her eyes fill up with tears. LIE, she wanted to shake herself. LIE to him. It’s harmless, and you can’t let him believe that. But it was too late and he’d seen what he didn’t want to. He took a step back from her, shaking his head.

“Nikolas,” she reached out for him, but he pulled away, walking the length of the room like a caged animal. She felt her heart move into her throat. “It wasn’t LIKE that. I mean, maybe for a moment, but – It wasn’t just… I had been HORRIBLE to you!”

He turned back, glaring at her. “I was fine,” he bit out. “I was used to it.”

Wow. Direct hit. He probably hadn’t ever said something that deliberately provoking to her and she nearly choked on her surprise. “That…” she swallowed, hard. “That was all I had to offer.”

Nikolas just stared – pervasive, angry and hard. She tried again.

“You’d just… You’d just told me…” God, now she couldn’t even get these words out. “And I wanted to give you something –”

“No. You didn’t. You wanted to manipulate me.”

“NO!”

“THEN WHAT WAS IT?” He covered the space between them in seconds and grabbed her upper arms. “What did you want?”

“To…” He wasn’t holding her hard, but his closeness and anger was completely throwing her. She shut her eyes and tried to get the words out. “I wanted to feel close to you.”

She felt his grip on her loosen. “Then why did you tell me to stop?”

“Because I was scared,” she nearly whispered.

“Of me?”

“Of losing you!” She tried to reach out to him again, but he backed up immediately.

“I told you... I told you how I felt about you. I told you I’d take care of you. I told you I didn’t care –” He cut himself off. “You know what? Go.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to leave, then go. Leave now.” He walked past her and picked up the bag off the bed. She pivoted to watch him, in complete shock.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Here,” he zipped up the bag and held it out to her. “The rest of your stuff is at your mother’s. The timing is perfect.”

She stood stalk still in front of him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck. He does not mean it, her brain chanted at her. He can’t mean it. She looked down at the bag, then back up at him. Was this a test? “I… I’m not leaving,” she managed, unsteadily. “I’m not.”

“Even if I want you to?”

She would not let his words in. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Or, possibly, I’ve just found it.”

Carly rocked back like he’d physically hit her. She tried to catch her breath, but it wouldn’t come. This was it. This was what she’d been so terrified of. This was why she hadn’t wanted to believe he was for real.

Because he wasn’t. And he was finished. And he wanted her to go.

“You’re …” she felt the grief bubble up in the pit of her stomach. Endless, horrified, screaming grief. And just the beginning of it, just the beginning of the end. A sudden sob ripped out of her and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

“Don’t cry,” he very nearly hissed and threw her bag down onto the floor. “DON’T.”

Oh, there was no stopping this. It was searing. She wanted him to feel it so badly, she wanted to be able to reach out and touch him and let him FEEL the crushing pain of it. Of every broken promise he had ever made, of every single thing he’d ever said to her turning into dust in front of her. She shook her head, hands still clamped over her mouth.

“I’m not falling for this again,” there were tears in his eyes now, too. “You’re not going to use me.”

Something in her snapped and she dropped her hands, shrieking “You have been BEGGING me to use you!” Her voice slid up the scale, nearly bloodcurdling. “You have been begging me for ALL of this!” She reached down to grab her bag, her hands shaking violently. “You’re pathetic! And a liar. You’re just a spoiled brat playing some kind of twisted make-believe prince charming, aren’t you?”

He wouldn’t look at her and she couldn’t stand it. She moved forward, holding the bag in front of her. “Here!” she shoved it at his chest so hard he backed up a step. “Keep it. Maybe in a few years you’ll get some kind of sick thrill going through the debris I left behind.” She should take off her ring – God, she couldn’t. She couldn’t even reach for it – “All this time – I felt SORRY for you. I thought you were such a victim. But the truth is, you DESERVE this. The only reason everyone leaves you is because they can’t stand to stay.”

Nikolas’s eyes snapped back to her and she felt the rush of having made her own direct hit – but the wave fell back immediately and she saw, clearly and finally, the hurt and agony in his eyes. He let the bag drop and stepped back from her.

And then she got it. This was the act. This was the insanity. The rest of it was real – but this… This was the hall of mirrors of Nikolas’s emotional landscape. And she had walked right into it with him.

The second that piece slid into place for her, he was gone. Turning and striding out of the room. She swore under her breath and decided in that second that she was in – she wasn’t going to get to stand on the sidelines deciding whether or not to play the game anymore, that was over. She either went after him now and restored him to sanity, or she might as well leave him forever.

Carly threw herself at the door to the bedroom, and sprinted after him. She reached him as he started down the stairs and called out this name, breathless. He didn’t stop. She flew down the stairs after him, pressing her body into the banister and ducking under his arm just as he reached the bottom. With the full force of her velocity, she threw herself against the front door just as he wrenched it open.

It slammed shut, leaving her panting right in front of him, eyes wide and horrified.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. He mirrored her terrified shock exactly and they stared into each other’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she tried again. “I didn’t mean that.”

He seemed to recover some part of himself, and she saw revulsion in his features before he turned away from her. He vaulted down the stairs into the living room and crossed the room, heading into the kitchen just as she managed to push herself off the door.

This relationship was an aerobic activity. It was an emotional decathlon. Her legs were quaking underneath her and she tried to come up with her next move.

She should follow him. She knew that. She thought she would probably fall down the stairs if she wasn’t careful, though. And he couldn’t LEAVE through the kitchen. As long as he didn’t leave, she could –

There was totally a secret passage in the kitchen.

“Damnit, Nikolas!” she breathed and threw herself after him for the second time in as many minutes. She took all of two steps after him when the door to the kitchen flew open and Nikolas came through like a freight train. He crossed to her in seconds, reaching out and grabbing her around the waist to lift her off the ground and into his arms. Carly let out a terrified sob and wrapped both arms and legs around him as tightly as she could manage. She could feel his body shake as she clung to him. She buried her face in his neck and let herself cry. With absolute, distilled relief.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was muffled, against her skin. She just nodded and held him tighter. She wasn’t at all certain how she was ever going to be able to let go of him, but gradually her arms and legs weakened and she felt her spike of energy start to slip away. Nikolas slowly let her slide down his body and onto the floor again.

She leaned into his chest a moment, then managed to find her feet and looked up at him in shock. “Oh my God. That was horrible.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just…”

“You went crazy!” she accused.

He was out of words. He managed a slight nod. He could not seem to hold her gaze. She reached up and put a hand to his cheek, but he resisted turning his eyes to her. She raised herself up on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth before murmuring, “It’s ok.”

“It’s not.”

He was right. It shouldn’t be. But it was. Because for the first time, she understood what he kept telling her. She truly understood just how much they were the same.

It was amazing how little nearly breaking up your marriage did for a girl’s appetite. Carly knew she should eat something – particularly since she was eyeing the scotch decanter – but she just couldn’t believe that she’d be able to choke anything down. But she needed the scotch. Hell, she DESERVED the scotch.

She turned on the spot and padded off to the kitchen, her mind churning. Nikolas was not chatty. Apologetic, yes. Shell-shocked, somewhat. Consumed with self-loathing, absolutely. And a part of her felt a bit satisfied about that. Just a bit -- just the part that had seen her life flash before her eyes when he told her to leave. He SHOULD feel guilty about that, it was a shitty thing to say.

And so were a lot of the things she'd said to him over the months. So was packing that bag. So was doing... exactly what had upset him so much. But now, she felt like they were a little bit even.

More than that, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her -- something she hadn't even realized she was carrying around with her. The feeling like she had stumbled into something. Like he was perfect and wonderful and deigning to love her, and she had nothing to give back.

Well, she'd been wrong about that. She understood him. She understood his darker impulses, she understood the power of a crushing life-long insecurity. She knew what it was like to be broken. And Nikolas had told her and told her and told her that -- but until tonight, she hadn't really seen it alive and in Technicolor. And more than that, she’d seen a tiny snapshot of what Nikolas Cassadine was like without her. All that intensity, all the speeches and impassioned declarations, the promising he would never, ever feel differently about her – she’d told him it was naiveté, that he was just confused – but it wasn’t. It was something closer to desperation. As much as he’d tried to tell her how completely he never wanted to go back to his life before her, she’d always felt like that was because he’d been… bored. Or something. She hadn’t really believed him when he’d said he’d been miserable. She’d never seen any sign of it. Now that she had, she felt a strange peace settling over her. It had a distancing effect. If she really thought about what she was about to do, she might start to panic, so she just let it lie far away from her and went about the business of finding food.

That wasn’t hard. Mrs. Landsbury had anticipated them – or the kitchen was just always stocked – and she opened the fridge to find a few options for dinner.

If Nikolas would eat – which Nikolas generally would do – and if he would look at her. His entire existence at this moment was preoccupied with the single impossible task of not leaving the house. He wanted to. He wanted to get away from her desperately. But he always wanted her forgiveness – given, but apparently not thoroughly enough – and he wasn’t going to fight her on anything right now.

She leaned her head against the refrigerator door and let the cold soothe her. She finally gathered up some gourmet olives and cheese and went about pulling together a plate of something they could probably both keep down. Then she wandered back into the living room, pulled down a cut crystal glass and poured a generous triple of the scotch.

One of them was going to need alcohol for this. She was absolutely certain.

She found Nikolas on the balcony – the one place where he could be both in the house and entirely outside it. He was standing at the railing, head bowed, shoulders hunched. She set the glass and plate down and then stood

“I want to talk to you,” she sighed, eventually. Nikolas took a moment before he turned around. She watched him, struggle just to look at her.

“I need time.”

She nodded, but sat down on the deck chair that was set against the wall. She leaned back, pulled her legs up, and picked up her glass of Scotch. “Great. I’ll wait.”

He looked miserable. This was against pretty much every instinct he had and he’d said as much. She raised her glass towards him, murmured “Cheers,” and then took a small sip. It burned all the way down, and closed her eyes while the heat spread into her stomach.

“That night we had the fight about Luke and your father… When you went to the boat, what did you do?”

He took his time, but answered “Nothing.”

She opened one eye. “So you just… Suffer. In silence. Like this.”

“I just need to get my thoughts together.”

“Your thoughts aren’t together,” Carly pointed out. “They aren’t going to COME together. We just hit an iceberg.” She held out her glass towards him, and after moment he stepped forward and took it from her. Stared into it for awhile, and then took a drink.

“So what does that mean,” he rasped, putting down the glass. “Are we sinking?”

Carly shook her head. “No. But I need to tell you some stuff.”

“I think my capacity to take in new information has expired,” he pushed off the railing and headed back into their bedroom. Carly picked up her drink and trailed after him. She watched him stop in the centre of the darkening room, hands on his hips, head bowed. There was nowhere for him to go. She sighed and walked over to him, taking his hand.

“Come on,” she tugged on his hand and steered him over to the armchair in the corner. “Sit.”

“Carly.”

“Sit,” she over-enunciated the word, and Nikolas sank back into the chair with more than a little resignation. She handed him her drink, put a hand on his shoulder, and slipped onto this lap. He adjusted his position to accommodate her and she settled her head against her chest and swung her legs over the arm. She felt tired. Like she really could just fall asleep here in his reluctant embrace. She leaned her head on his shoulder and took back her glass, hugging it to her chest. “I regret a lot of things I’ve said to you,” she murmured, finally. “But I really regret that night. Because I fought you so hard, and I said so many nasty things to you.”

“You were scared,” his voice was flat. “You were upset about Michael.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “But you’re not made of stone, and you’re not an endless receptacle for whatever abuse I throw at you – and I threw a lot that night. I said a lot of really horrible things. Mostly lies.”

She could still feel the tension in his body, even as she lay against him. She raised the glass to his mouth, and he consented to drink. She was already starting feel that floating feeling that could come with the kind of drunk you got when you ingested hard liquor on an empty stomach. And in that moment, she was incredibly ok with that.

“I loved someone who didn’t love me back for a long time. I know you don’t want to hear about that – I totally get why. But it screwed me up, you know? I mean, I did everything. I stayed when he wanted me to stay and I left when he wanted me to go and I just… begged him to love me back. And it didn’t work.” She frowned. “I hate that I did that to you.”

“You didn’t do that to me.”

Carly shook her head. It was hard to explain that part – this slow realization, over the past few months, that Jason’s consenting to let her stay with him hadn’t helped anyone, much. It was what she’d wanted – desperately – at the time. Now, it just seemed kinda cruel. Because maybe Jason wasn’t completely in her past, but this was probably the first time since she’d shown up at the Penthouse nine months pregnant and in the middle of a Hail Mary pass, that she didn’t feel like Jason was her future. Not seeing him all the time probably had a lot to do with that.

“The only reason I packed that bag that morning was because I got it in my head that it was the right thing to do. The idea of staying and letting you love me and just being… Cold. Just taking and taking and leaving you with ... “ Bread crumbs, he’d called it once. What Robin did. But she didn’t want to evoke that name, either. “I didn’t know how to do that. So I panicked and I packed and … I couldn’t leave, either. Because I really did want to be with you. And yes, you came back right after I changed my mind, and I did not want you to see the bag, because –” She waved a hand. “Well. You can probably guess how that would have gone.” She took another swig of her drink – more now. Liquid courage if ever she needed it. “I did kiss you because I wanted … I wanted you to forget. Not just what was going on right then, but what I’d said, what I’d done to you the night before. I just… I knew you wanted me. I knew you hated that I wouldn’t touch you. And it felt dangerous – and I’m sorry, that’s how my brain works – It felt like a risk to go that long without giving you… What you wanted.”

“I wanted you,” there was a defensive edge in Nikolas’s voice. “I wanted you to be ok.”

“You wanted more than that.” Carly murmured, quietly. “I remember that morning, I remember how you were. And I remember feeling how much it must have hurt you to completely lose that part… of our connection. Because, yes, sex – whatever. But we always connected that way, right from the beginning. Whatever we might have been saying to each other, that was always pretty honest. I mean, it’s one thing to say,” she nearly stumbled over her next words, “to stay that I didn’t feel like you felt. But you add it refusing to even let you hug me – That was like almost a how-to handbook on losing your husband.” Nikolas didn’t respond. He didn’t disagree, either. She drew in her breath. “So I kissed you. And it was just way more everything than I was ready for. I stopped because I panicked. And I panicked because I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen when you got bored. What would happen when I couldn’t hold on to you anymore, and you realized how much you were wasting yourself –”

“Carly—“

“Just let me finish.” She took another quick gulp of scotch, though she felt beyond the reach of it. “I hated feeling that way,” she rasped. “I hated feeling how much you loved me even when I’d been awful to you; I hated feeling like it was going to go away. And I just couldn’t. I couldn’t.” She lifted her head and tried to meet his eyes in the darkening room. “You are the only man who ever made me feel so much that I couldn’t actually… do that. For what that’s worth.” She felt her face flush, and she cleared her throat. “But I wasn’t using you. Manipulating – ok. I do that. I will do that again, probably. Though I’m not really good at using sex against you. Which, by the way, is a compliment.”

“Ok.”

“The problem was,” deep breath. “The problem was that I … was falling in love with you, too. And I was too screwed up to really notice.”

Her eyes scanned his face as her heart inched up into her throat. She couldn’t hold on to this anymore. Right now, she could find a reason to say it, she could finally understand, in a real way, the value those words might have to him. Feeling her heart pick up speed, she found her voice.

“I love you,” she let that hang in the air a moment. Nikolas’s expression didn’t alter. She found she didn’t need it to. “I really do,” her eyes dropped and she let her fingers reach up to play with the top button of his shirt. “And the next time I do something grossly stupid, I promise you, it might be horrible and it might be awful, but it’s also going to be because of how I feel about you.”

“Could you repeat that?” His voice sounded rough and unused. Carly couldn’t help it. She smiled.

“Which part?” He let her meet his eyes this time. He looked uncertain, possibly hopeful. She ran her fingers up his chest and along his neck, then leaned in and lightly brushed her lips over his. “I love you.”

“Since…”

He didn’t finish the thought because she kissed him again. Sliding her fingers into his hair and pulling him towards her – he didn’t respond at first. In shock or in denial or something, but she softened her mouth and moved it slowly and worshipfully over his, and she felt him sink under her spell. He moaned softly, and his arms moved around her, finally. He returned her kiss, and it was sweet and warm and GOD did she love him. She moved against him, twisting her body around so that she could be closer to him. He pulled away from her first, but his hands gripped her tightly, and he buried his head against her as he tried to reign himself back in.

“I can’t stand…” he swallowed and tried again. “I can’t take knowing I hurt you tonight, I can’t –“

“Well,” Carly breathed, moving to straddle him. “Luckily I’m an expert on living with having hurt people.” She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Just let it go. We both screwed up. It’s over.” She raised herself up on her knees and leaned into him. “I want to make up. Do you want to make up?”

He was in no position to deny her anything, and he let his eyes close, his head falling back. “I just want you,” he admitted. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Well, you really have me, now,” she shivered as the words left her mouth. She didn’t want to cry, but there was a certain inevitability to it. The relief was beginning to break over her. She’d said it. She’d let him know. And she didn’t even care what he thought or did about it – the important part was that he understood how serious she was. She sunk against him again, laying soft kisses on his face and neck. She let her lips graze his ear and then murmured, “That’s why I’ll never leave. That’s why I can promise you that. Because I love you, and I will never want to be anywhere else.”

She felt him tremble against her, and then felt something damp against her cheek. He was crying. Silently, and turning his face away from her – not the occasional tears she saw glisten in his eyes, not the short-lived moments of emotional frustration or hurt. It felt like a release, like too much bottled up for too long, and she knew he didn’t want her to see it. She stroked his hair lightly and stayed quiet. Waited until he regained his composure – even then he was quiet and still against her. She let one hand move to his cheek and brush away an errant tear. He blinked and shook his head.

“You know I love you, too,” he whispered, finally. She nodded.

“I actually really do.”

He reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re not –“

She knew what he was going to say and she cut him off. “I am not just saying this. If I was going to ‘just say this’, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“You’re rewarding bad behavior.”

Carly nodded absently, then lifted her head. She put her hand to his cheek and after moment met his eyes. He looked tired and uncertain and troubled. She leaned in and gave him a long, soft kiss, allowing the emotion that was coursing through her pour over him. When she pulled back, she let out a sigh and felt the sensation of peace settle over her. She shook her head.

“No. I’m not.”