Chapter Seventeen: Michael

The tick of the clock was heavy in the room, the only sound, magnifying an already oppressive silence. It was amazing how quiet the mansion was when it's occupants were all in separate rooms. If they were home at all. There was a tendency, Carly was well aware, for them to scatter when they knew she was coming. Monica and Bobbie had a hard enough time not sharpening their claws on each other at the hospital without having to face each other and the hard truth of their present reality, on weekends.

Carly let her eyes flit around the room, avoiding touching things like the mantle. She knew every nauseating details of the photographs there, had spent too many hours staring at them. Particularly the center one -- enshrined, though no one in the house would admit it. Her eyes invariably settled on it, no matter how hard she tried to occupy herself with other thoughts. It was a curiosity to her, still. This family -- well dressed and dripping respectability... All smiling as if they didn't have a care in the world. It was hard to believe these people were the Quartermaines, and not some dopplegangers from an alternate reality.

No one more than Jason. This just couldn't be him. The smile, first of all... In all the time she'd know him, she'd never seen anything similar to that expression on his face. And then there was the hair, swept back, and hanging nearly to his shoulders... the sure sign of a boy scout trying to inject some "edge" into his image. It was laughable. If this guy had been in Jake's that day, she wouldn't have looked at him twice, unless it was to smirk.

AJ was easier to recognize -- standing at the extreme right, hands in his pockets, just a step further back than he should be for smooth composition... and not smiling. Looking at it, at how he just didn't fit in... she could remember, in a hazy sort of way, that in one specific moment, she and AJ had felt right. That when they'd kissed she hadn't felt guilt or anxiety, or anything except a sharp and palpable need. Desire. For AJ... Carly diverted her eyes, feeling sick. She'd never thought, then -- not even after she'd come to her senses and scurried back to Tony -- that she'd end up hating him this much.

Well, things change, she thought, pursing her lips. In her life? They could change on a dime, she thought as she pressed her hand against her breast bone. The edge of the gold band dug into her skin. Her wedding ring, something she'd had on her hand an hour ago and now had secured in her bra -- hidden so no one could see it. She hadn't really seen THAT twist coming, now, had she?

Carly could feel her features twisting into an unapologetically bitter and hurt expression and turned from the fireplace quickly, walking the length of the room, pushing her breath out in short bursts as she walked. Never mind, she counseled herself. Forget all about it, all about *him*. It's show time, girl. Great things are afoot, remember?

Carly spun on her heel, her skirt billowing out a bit, She swung her arms, her eyes flying around the room again, looking for something -- anything -- to focus her attention on. There had to be something. Something besides the settee she'd examined to death, or the vases that no longer held any interest. Something new...

Her eyes collided without warning on another photograph. It was set up on the table behind the couch, facing her, staring RIGHT at her. She took an instinctive step backwards, and the eyes followed her. There they were... Robin and Jason.

She'd seen this photograph... she even recognized the frame. It was the god damned engagement photo. One Robin had insisted on and had then given to the bridesmaids as a "thank you" gift. Which, Carly thought bitterly, was nice, since she'd been expecting cyanide. 

Robin's eyes were wide, like a Cupie doll from hell, and so real Carly was surprised she didn't see them blink. The way she was looking at her. It was creepy... Like she knew something. Like she was amused, or thought Carly's current predicament was particularly entertaining.

Robin. She'd had to be so nice to her the past few months. A part of her, deep inside, nearly choked on the realization that she didn't have to do that anymore. In fact, it was beginning to feel unfathomable that she ever had. God, the strange pitying way Robin had looked at her the morning of her wedding. It had given Carly a feeling of sinking, that she had suddenly become nothing more than a shadow, a non-issue. She'd been a lot of things in her life, but ineffectual wasn't one of them.

God, Carly thought, putting a hand to her head. I must have been out of my mind. At least the girl is out of my life now.

The room dipped violently, as soon as the words crossed her mind. Out of your LIFE? Why? Because you've finally grown a brain and found a guy who ISN'T head over heels in love with her? Gee you must be proud.

Carly felt her heart begin to race. God... Robin WAS everywhere. That hadn't changed. This last week, it hadn't felt real. It had FLOWN past and she had barely had time to register a single lucid thought. She hadn't let herself think about the fact that a week was all she was getting. That when Jason came back... Robin did too. And if her marriage felt shaky now, then what was going to happen when Nikolas laid his eyes on that wide-eyed innocent again?

Carly shook her head hard and turned away from the photograph before she made herself physically ill. She couldn't think about this now. She forced herself to focus and stared hard at the wall, the bookshelves with dark leather bound books lined carefully, evenly. She felt her eyes blur, her heart beat still. She measured her breath carefully, letting herself turn off, preparing for what always came next.

"Carly! You're early."

She let herself close her eyes for just a moment, gathering herself as best she could. She didn't have the luxury of falling apart now. She could go home and throw things later, if she had the energy. She forced her eyes open before turning dutifully towards the voice and pasting on a smile that she knew she couldn't sell. She'd always thought she could play any person who crossed her path -- When it really counted, when she really had to focus. Invariably the person she was out to snow fell for it hook line and sinker. It had worked with everyone, from Monica, to Tony, to everyone at Ferncliffe. Only Jason never fell for her act, and she'd decided a long time ago it was because he was too much like her. But this person before her... this creature... Carly wasn't sure if she held some unearthly bond with her or if she was just the devil in a powder blue power suit. Either way, she hated this woman with startling ferocity, considering they had never had a conversation. 

She'd met Christine "Call me Chris" Galloway only a few weeks after losing custody. It had been the final slap in the face. Not only had the courts taken her son away, they had sicced this woman on her. This perfectly groomed, wide-eyed, tight lipped, young woman whose feet didn't touch the ground when she walked. Not one word that passed her lips held the slightest truth or sincerity. And she was in charge of making sure that Carly didn't do anything to hurt her own child.

Somewhere, someone was feeling vindicated. But it sure as hell wasn't her.

"Only a few minutes," Carly's voice was breezy, as she took in her adversary. Christine was standing just inside the door, her heels together, hands clasping her briefcase, which she held in front of her. Her bone-straight blonde hair was curled under at her shoulders, and her silk blouse was undone at the neck just far enough to reveal the thin gold cross she wore on a chain. She blinked a few times before entering the room and briskly making a bee-line for the desk next to the French doors.

"Well, it's good to see you're making an effort. And your mother isn't here today?"

Carly dug her fingernails into her palms.

"No. I made the effort all by myself," she spoke carefully. 'Do I get a gold star?', she sneered inwardly 'Or just a pat on the head?'.

"That's wonderful," Chris's smile widened, her thin lips stretching in a way that made Carly queasy. She opened her briefcase with a sharp click, acting as an auditory exclamation point. "Especially since your visit was so short last week."

"There was a wedding." Carly's words came too fast. They were too defensive, too close to anger. She cleared her throat as if she had breathed down the wrong pipe. "It was too bad it couldn't be rescheduled." She tried to mimic Chris's tone measure for measure. 'Too bad you couldn't juggle your schedule against the Quartermaines just a *little*, you sanctimonious cow...' 

Chris removed a note pad from her case and closed it with one hand as she pivoted on her heel to face Carly.

"Well, these things can't always be helped!" she beamed, and after a moment, Carly managed to smile in return.

"I'd really like to see my son now," she managed to make the words sound non-threatening, though her jaw was snapped tight. Christine nodded.

"Oh, I told Reginald to let Mr. Quartermaine know you were here. He'll be bringing Michael down in a moment, I'm sure."

Carly turned away quickly. Moments lasted forever in this house. It was the land where time came to die. She always left feeling like she'd aged a decade. Except when Michael was there. Then, suddenly, everything sped up. Then, everything was too fast. 

Carly brushed her hair out of her face. "I'll wait for him in the garden". She walked out the doors without looking back. She didn't let herself breathe again until she was across the patio and onto the grass. God, she hated this place. Every brick, every blade of grass, every speck of dust that settled within it's vile gate. She couldn't make herself feel all right about Michael being raised here. If nothing else that picture on the mantle convinced her -- these people weren't living in the real world. What were they going to teach Michael that was really going to be of any value? And how was she supposed to rectify this when she wasn't even allowed to take him off the grounds? She just had to watch while they tried to mold her perfect child into the sort of Ken Doll Jason used to be, or pushed him until he ended up like any one of the substance abusers he was growing up around. 

Michael was hers. She'd always felt that way. She'd carried him, she'd fought for him in every way she knew how, given everything she had, for the right to love him. The actual father, while always of cataclysmic importance, had never had much to do with who Carly felt Michael was. He was a part of her, that was all that mattered. And there was no way any son of hers, anyone walking around with her genes, was going to thrive in this house. 

Mind over matter.... Mind over matter... Carly repeated the mantra to herself as she strode across the grass. She should have that down to a science, she thought miserably. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't done this before. It wasn't like it got easier, or less gut churning. So what the hell was her problem today? She just couldn't access that numb feeling she used to keep the Quartermaines and their minions at bay. She felt raw and unstable and nothing she did could make this feeling go away.

"Damn him," Carly finally spat under her breath. Angry tears were stinging her eyes as she stepped past the climbing roses that lined the trellis that marked the entrance to Lila's garden. She couldn't hold it back anymore. How dare he? Had she asked him to suddenly show up in her life and turn everything upside down? She'd been doing just FINE. Ok, not fine, but she'd been used to her life. She knew how to handle it. What had she been THINKING letting this man in to start twisting her up in knots, waking up feelings she thought she'd locked up securely and making her a whole new kind of crazy?

I hate him for this, she thought, sinking down onto the grass. I don't have room for this, I don't have TIME to feel this confused, and I have too much stuff to concentrate on as it is. Why hadn't she thought of any of this last night? God, had it been THAT long since she'd gotten herself messed up in something like this? Had she forgotten how dangerous stuff like this could be? Open yourself up an inch and suddenly all this baggage would stampede out and trample everything you were trying to do with your life. Relationships sucked. What was more... she sucked AT relationships. What, exactly, made her think this was going to work out?

Carly closed her eyes, trying her damnedest to talk herself in off this emotional ledge. Her gut was beginning to swirl and she could feel a breakfast she hadn't eaten start to rise in her throat. God... The stuff she'd told him. What had she been thinking? How could she have let him get to her like that? In a way, she could understand things like the actual decision to fly to Vegas and marry him more than she could the fact that she'd told him all that stuff about Michael and her depression. In the light of day, with some actual physical space between them, things felt different. She could feel reasonable thought -- or her version of it -- descending. He was just a GUY, for God's sake. A messed up guy at that.

A messed up guy who was now her husband. 

Oh, that was it. She had to stop doing this one night stand thing. It always got so damn COMPLICATED. 

"Mommy!"

Carly looked up sharply, shaking herself back to the here and now, and saw Michael appear in the framed entrance to the garden. The tension melted out of her as Michael's hand slipped from his father's grasp and he ran across the grass on three-year-old legs, hurtling himself into his mother's arms. Carly pulled him up onto her lap and clutched him tightly against her, pressing her cheek against his soft red hair. Don't cry, she warned herself. That inevitably confused and concerned Michael. And, if it was possible, she got the distinct impression it made him feel guilty. Or maybe it was just sad. Either way, she tried never to do it.

"Ohhh," she breathed, smiling sincerely for the first time in hours. "Michael, baby... It's so good to see you." She let her eyes open and glanced up to see the dark expression on AJ's face. His eyes bored into hers, suspicious and questioning. Her brow furrowed in response, confused about what she could have done this time that was so different from any other time she'd been here. She averted her eyes, focusing on the lush green carpet of the grass and caught sight of the white material of her dress spread out against it. She felt a sudden urge to laugh. Oh, yeah. Hell, she didn't know what to make of this thing, she couldn't imagine what AJ would think to see her come strolling in here like she just stepped out of some feminine protection ad.

A giggle bubbled up from deep inside her and she pulled back just as Michael started to struggle in her embrace, focusing her attack of amusement on him. She ran her eyes over him, quickly. He looked so much more like himself this week, and she gave an inner sigh of relief.

"Look at you," she grinned. "God, you didn't get bigger last week, did you?"

"I don't know," Michael shrugged. "I got a new ball," he said, opening his palm to reveal a small, multi colored Superball. Carly laughed. Edward must just love that.

"Where did you get THAT?"

"He can only play with it outside," AJ's voice cut through the air like a dirge, completely flat and without humor. Carly felt herself bristle at the sound, but forced it down. She focused on her son, pouring everything she had to give and more, into him. He was all that mattered. Not Christine, not AJ and not Nikolas. They could all play their stupid games, she didn't care. Not until six o'clock.

"Don't worry," she whispered in his ear. "We'll find a way to ditch the fun police, ok?"

Michael giggled and pressed his hand over her mouth. Carly, following her cue, buzzed her lips against his palm, and her son pulled his hand back, scrunching up his face and laughing. For the life of her, Carly couldn't' remember where that game had started, but Michael loved it. He shook his hand out and looked back at his father. 

"Are you staying?"

AJ was still eying Carly with distrust, and took a moment to answer.

"No. I'll be in the house if you need me."

Michael looked momentarily vexed and Carly felt a familiar flash of jealousy at the reminder that her son actually liked his father's company. He rallied quickly, though, and leaned against his mother, studying his ball.

"Ok".

"Don't...." AJ's eyes clouded as he struggled to find an acceptable end to the sentence. He cast a quick look at Christine, who reached over and patted his shoulder lightly.

"Don't worry, Mr. Quartermaine. We'll be just fine." The woman turned and gave another of her toothy grins to Carly. AJ nodded and crossed to Michael, grabbing him and hugging him from behind, bending down on one knee.

"Have a good afternoon, kiddo," he looked up, his dark eyes fixing on Carly's. "Be good."

Michael nodded, and AJ rumpled his hair quickly, then turned and walked out of the garden without another word. Carly, already feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise on end, watched him leave. He never got easier to deal with. Even after a year of this, the hatred emanated off of him. She stayed up nights, sometimes, wondering what kinds of things he said to Michael about her when she wasn't around. What the hell did he have to be so bitter about now, anyway? He'd won, hadn't he? 

Carly heard a slight cough and looked over to see Christine's watchful eyes trained on her. She turned her attention back to Michael, feeling as if she'd just been caught daydreaming in class.

"Ok, little man. Did you have a good week?"

Michael nodded, looking at her curiously. "Uh huh. Did you miss me?"

Carly reached out and gathered her son up in her arms, squeezing him tightly.

"Every minute of every day."

Stefan paced the length of the courtyard in slow, deliberate steps. Flowers were bursting into bloom in the garden, and their fragrance drifted on the warm air, along with the bird song and distant sound of waves crashing against the bluffs of Spoon Island. It was a peaceful afternoon, little to encourage anything but relaxation and contemplation.

Stefan's mood was in direct contrast to his surroundings. His brow was knit, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. As he made circles around the patio, his mind combed over events, both recent and long past, trying to come to some sort of solution.

Port Charles was wearing on him. He'd long discarded any plans he had for the town and now stayed here simply because it was the place Nikolas stood the greatest chance of being happy. He had rejected a return to Greece -- that had not been a surprise -- to stay here, so one had to believe he felt there was something here for him. Though with each passing day, it got harder for Stefan to fathom just what that might be. It was difficult to stand by and watch Nikolas let himself get hurt over and over again by the same people. The depths of Nikolas's resentment when he attempted to intervene knew no bounds, however, so here he was, hands bound, waiting once again.

"Stefan?" a voice calling from inside brought him back to reality. He blinked and turned to face the French doors as his sister stepped through them. "Ah. There you are." Alexis's manner was brisk, denoting she was most likely here on business. "I was about to send out a search party."

"My apologies," Stefan cleared his throat before crossing to her and extending a hand to take the folder she was holding. "I was not aware we had business today."

"Just some documents for you to sign," she sighed. "A feeble excuse at best." She pressed her lips together, studying his face. "I wanted to see how things were. After last week."

"You're referring to Nikolas."

"I'm referring to both of you," she frowned. "You look tired, Stefan."

Stefan shut heavy lids, acknowledging the truth in her statement. "Nikolas did not come home last night." 

Alexis blinked. "Nikolas?" she asked, incredulous. "Are you sure?"

Stefan turned to her, his expression hovering between surprise and insult. "Not only am I certain of that fact, Alexis, but it is the second time it's occurred this week."

"Do you have any idea where he might be?" she prodded. Stefan shook his head, staring off into space.

"Most probably at the marina."

"That would stand to reason," she mused, placing her brief case down on the wrought iron patio table. "I'd forgotten the boat was arriving this week."

"This does not provide an answer to his whereabouts after the Morgan Wedding, or where he might have been the other day when he missed dinner without a word."

"Wait a second..." Alexis approached Stefan cautiously. "You mean this is becoming a habit?"

"I mean," slight irritation entered Stefan's voice, "Something is happening. Something worrisome. And there is little I can do about it. Not without sparking some sort of confrontation."

Alexis nodded, spinning the lock on her briefcase idly. She looked up and crossed her arms, giving her brother a level look.

"Would that be a necessarily bad thing?"

Stefan closed his eyes momentarily. This was not a topic he and Alexis agreed on. Like Nikolas, she harbored some resentment at being out of the loop on this particular family secret. That was primarily her reason for resigning from Cassadine enterprises and becoming only Stefan's personal attorney. Part of the inevitable splintering of the Cassadine core that had occurred.

"I will not push him, Alexis."

Alexis cocked her head to one side, giving him a look that said it all better than words could have. She knew her brother too well to accept this as a choice he would have made if he wasn't, even after all these years, terrified that he was going to lose his only child.

"This can't go on, Stefan." Alexis's voice gave no room for argument. She saw Stefan's shoulders tensed, all the same. There was a time she would not have pursued this conversation for anything. But that time was long past. "It's ridiculous. He's not happy, you're not happy... you're both stuck here in this enormous house, circling all of this unfinished business like dogs. You can't ask me to stand back and watch this!"

Stefan's mouth twitched and he brought a finger up, pressing it against his lips. He stood perfectly still for a long moment, then turned to his sister carefully, controlled.

"You are in no position to judge my relationship with my son." 

"Nikolas and I have our own independent relationship. I know how he feels about all of this. I know how quiet and introspective he's becoming. You can't tell me you don't feel it! He's pulling away -- not just from you! From everything! From his life! I can't watch him do it and I don't know how you're managing either."

Stefan stiffened and Alexis saw the anger flash in his eyes before he dropped his hand, revealing the tight knot his mouth had twisted into.

"You don't think I understand this? You think that I'm ignorant to the type of pain he must be feeling right now? I have spoken to him about Miss Scorpio at LENGTH. He resents my interference," Stefan began to shake with the pent up frustration. "He tells me I'm wrong, he tells me I don't understand, he dismisses my every gesture. I have done everything in my power to distract him. I have ensured he has met MANY available and suitable women -- there is nothing I can DO!" 

Stefan turned away, fumbling with the handkerchief in his pocket, and bringing it back up to his mouth as if it would assist in helping him stem the flow of words. Alexis, unintimidated by the explosion, clenched her hands at her sides, and took in a deep breath, before striding across the patio to stand behind him.

"I know you've never had anything but Nikolas's best interests at heart. You've more than proven that. But everything we've tried hasn't worked. It's time to do something else."

Stefan brought his hand down and stared at it, at the slight tremor in his fingers, the sharp crest on his ring.

"I can't much do anything," his voice was low and thick, "if I cannot find him."

Alexis frowned, then moved around Stefan to stand in front of him, her eyes searching out his, unrelenting.

"Stefan?" Her brother's eyes flitting away from hers, settling on the horizon over her head. "You... You don't think he's at the Marina, do you?"

He didn't respond.

Alexis closed her eyes, old instincts stirring. There was nothing she could do, she knew that. As a child she'd been pushed aside, made unimportant. Just a step above the servant children. Perhaps not even that. She had, following Stavros's death and Helena's banishment, made absolute certain that Stefan would find her services crucial in all matters. She'd succeeded beyond her intentions. And now, even hardened by disillusionment, it was hard to fight the pull to be the person Stefan could rely on. To step in and clear away the debris once again. 

"I could run a very discreet check on his credit cards."

She lay the offer in front of Stefan, annoyed at herself for submitting to his rules in this particular game. She didn't agree with this, didn't think it was healthy or productive for Nikolas any more than it was for Stefan. And the proof was in Stefan's eyes as he slowly met her gaze and then nodded, turning away.

"Please."

 
 

"Have you considered Ritalin?"

Nikolas started and sat up slightly in his chair on the Quartermaine patio.

"Ritalin..." he repeated the word, trying to attach it to the conversation he hadn't been following in the first place.

"You know," Emily said, folding up her portfolio and laying it across her lap. "For your problems with concentration? It's becoming epic." 

Nikolas winced. He was really batting minus several million with Emily lately. He'd never really been clear on why she put up with it, since his focus was notoriously split most of the time and she had a tendency to slip through the cracks. And right now, when he should really be concentrating on her, his brain was fixated on something else entirely.

"I'm sorry," the words sounded irredeemably lame to his own ears. "I..."

"Have a lot on your mind," Emily complete the thought on his behalf, shifting her position in her chair, and staring out at the lawns. "I can tell. I'm expecting to see smoke start pouring out your ears".

Nikolas laughed, to his own surprise, and put his head down on the table. At least she wasn't going to hold it against him. "Give me a minute, I'll probably get there."

"I'll wait...." Emily let her voice trail off, taking advantage of Nikolas's dropped guard, to run her eyes over him. She was both confused and encouraged by his behavior. Nikolas was, no doubt about it, acting odd. He seemed off center, almost dizzy in his movements. And she couldn't help but notice the decidedly rumpled appearance of his clothes... his shirt was loose and he wore it with the cuffs rolled up and an extra button undone. On top of that, the fact that he'd actually called? A day early? It was all strange. But definitely a strange she could handle.

Nikolas's brain was heavy with the thoughts that had been plaguing him since before he'd arrived at the mansion. This was supposed to be simple. It had been a quick decision, something that made sense, a way to work out what Carly wanted with the way things had to happen. Now that he was here, everything was beginning to feel complicated.

This house had never seemed THIS big before. But the fact was, he could be here all afternoon and not lay eyes on Michael. And he understood, he was sure he knew why she needed this so much. It made sense to him -- because exactly how do you start a life with someone when they aren't even acquainted with something that is such a big part of why you're living a life in the first place? He didn't have anything like that. Carly was the person who was going to fill up that void. That was the way it was supposed to work.

But... Carly didn't trust him. He could tell that. It had been written all over her face, it had been in the way she wouldn't quite meet his eyes again after he said he'd follow her... He knew she wanted to have faith in him. He held onto that. If she didn't, she wouldn't have kissed him again. She would have just walked away.

He couldn't come up with enough words, that was the problem. There probably WAS some magic thing he could have said to reassure her, but whatever it was, he couldn't grab hold of it. So all he could do now was wait and make sure he came through. This had to work out with a precision he didn't have time to ensure. The agreement to come and meet Michael had been made quickly and he didn't regret it. She needed this, that had been in her eyes when she'd asked him. But, rationally, it didn't make sense. Not this soon. Not when their family didn't know what had happened. He had to orchestrate a strong defense, one that protected her more than anything else. The Quartermaine Mansion wasn't the place to start. He didn't want to flash them a single card, give them a single direction to go in. This was the only way to handle this. It was the best way to take care of his wife. And that was his first priority, from this day on. 

Nikolas brow creased in a deep frown. He'd probably feel better, he realized, if he and Carly had talked about it more. Exactly why HADN'T they? Oh, right. Not a lot of talking had happened that morning. And he was feeling cloudy anyway. Like the effects of too much wine without having actually taken a drink. It was too easy to slip from the task at hand into remembering the heady, emotional place he and Carly had existed in last night. And once that came up, thinking straight became an impossibility.

"I'm talking too fast, aren't I?"

"What?" Nikolas lifted his head and blinked. "You're...."

"I'm talking too fast. Or too much. Or something. I'm geeking out, Nikolas -- admit it."

Nikolas shook his head, dazed. She hadn't actually been talking at all, he was sure of that.

"You're... fine. I'm... fine. Weren't you going to show me your portfolio?"

Emily grimaced and hugged the leather book to her chest. "Yes," the word came out in a squeak. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "Which would be why I'm talking about almost ANYTHING else."

Nikolas smiled fondly at his friend. She was so... incongruous. Nearly everyone he knew was reserved or impossibly guarded. Emily tended to bubble. It wasn't something she'd grown out of either. She had her moments of poise, she seemed to be able to charm with the best of them, but underneath it all, there was an undeniable enthusiasm for everything. Particularly her photography -- something he hadn't seen all the much of, considering how much of her life it was consuming.

He reached out his hand.

"Let me see."

Emily exhaled. "Wait just... a sec, Ok? I... I mean, we haven't talked about YOU yet..."

"You're stalling."

Emily glowered at him, dropping her grip on the book slightly. "So what if I am? Give me some kind of sign of a pulse before we get into this."

"I...." Nikolas exhaled, trying to come up with an answer. What was he supposed to say? "I'm not sure I have anything to tell you."

"Yeah... It's been a long week," Emily started to commiserate, then realized what topic they were in danger of colliding with, and wished she could suck the words back in. Emily, she scolded herself. Not now. He's on the rebound, for God's sake. Why don't you just light matches and stick them under this fingernails?

Much to her surprise, however, she realized Nikolas was laughing.

"It just keeps getting longer," he reached out and closed his hand around the edge of the book, pulling it away from her. Emily's eyes widened, caught off guard, and she tried in vain to pull the book back to her, making a high pitched cry of protest as he brought it over to his side of the table.

"Look..." he said, laying the book down. "I swear, as soon as I have something concrete to say out loud, we'll talk about it. I'm just.... In flux right now."

Emily, her stomach knotting violently at the more immediate prospect of Nikolas actually seeing her work, untangled her legs beneath her, and leaned forward, gripping the seat of her chair. She fixed her eyes on the portfolio, still closed on the table top.

"How so?"

"My life keeps getting away from me..." Nikolas sucked his bottom lip in thought. "I guess I'm realizing things work better if you just let go of the leash."

Emily felt an irritating tingling in the tips of her fingers and she brought them up onto the table top and threaded them together, clasping them tightly, until they began to hurt.

"Nikolas Cassadine goes spontaneous..." she let a teasing edge slip into her voice. "Film at eleven." 

Nikolas felt his insides twist at the statement. It was getting harder to kid himself that there wasn't something innately distasteful about this. He hated manipulating people. Particularly people he liked. He just hadn't been able to work another way around any of this.

"It's absurd, I know," the words came out rough, edged with an emotion Emily didn't understand. She sat up quickly.

"I'm not saying that, I just --"

"No," Nikolas cut her off, making eye contact with her again. He didn't look mad or insulted, and Emily breathed a sigh of relief. "It's fine. But we're getting off track," He flipped the front cover of the book open and Emily felt her stomach drop to her feet. "Do you want me to look at these or not?"

"Ok, Ok," Emily stood up almost involuntarily and moved over to his side of the table, dragging her chair with her. "But you got to let me explain stuff, Ok? I mean... There's some stuff that's not in here, but that's because you're... you're supposed to show a variety and things like portraits, they aren't my strong suit, but --"

"Do I make you that nervous?"

Oh, you have no idea, Emily thought, looking down at him. She always ended up struggling valiantly to remain cool and detached whenever she hung out with Nikolas and it NEVER worked. He always threw her without even trying. When was she going to learn to just keep her distance? She knew far too well that letting herself think about Nikolas as anything but just a friend always landed her in trouble, but somehow it was a habit she just couldn't break.

She gave an affected and altogether nervous laugh.

"Why would you..." Emily dropped back into her chair. Oh, give it up, girl. "Nikolas, you've been taking photographs for how long? I've been at this a year and a half. Yes, you make me nervous."

"I'm sure they're great."

"You're only saying that because you like me." She reached out and put both hands over the front page of the book, the only thing lying between Nikolas's eyes and her photographs of tree branches and sunsets. "You have to PROMISE you'll be honest." Nikolas opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "BUT in a really nice way."

Nikolas felt a nice slow wave of guilt wash over him. He struggled a moment, looking into the depths of Emily's large brown eyes, seeing how rife with anxiety they were.

"I'll be as honest as I can be, Em. Really."

Emily felt herself go cold at the words, feeling the distinct indication that there was something behind them. She turned away quickly, knowing all too well from previous experience that looking at Nikolas for too long was like staring at the sun. She usually ended up dizzy, with spots floating in front of her eyes.

"Ok," she spoke as it she was standing blind folded in front of a firing squad. "Go for it."

She tried not to look at her friend looking at her photographs, but that game lasted roughed two page turnings before she turned back and forced him to go back, explaining in quick babbling streams of consciousness why she'd taken the pictures, what she'd been trying to do -- why some were in color and some in black and white, why she had focused on THAT part of the tree and not another. Why she had bothered to take a picture of a dead stump in the first place.

Nikolas, for his part, couldn't come up with much to say. Even without the monologue, the pictures were striking. It was like taking a guided tour of the inside of this girl's brain. The way she saw things, the things that stood out for her, the way she liked to bring small parts of large objects into sharp focus. He was, he had to admit, unprepared for it. There was so much of her on these pages... God, no wonder she was so nervous.

Silence had descended again, while he was staring at a picture of gnarled and entwined tree roots. Nikolas looked up to see Emily biting her lip, looking at him with great apprehension.

"You know... If you hate them, that's really Ok."

Nikolas laughed in spite of himself. "I'm sorry, Emily," he repeated, having long lost count of how many times he'd said this to her that afternoon. "Your work is beautiful, really. I'm impressed... it's entirely foreign to anything I've ever done. You've passed out of the realm of amateur."

Emily beamed at him, the anxiety melting away as she brought her knees up and hugged them to her chest.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"That's about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," Emily exhaled, letting herself repeat the words in her head several times. She had to remember this. Something to bring up for herself during particularly frustrating moments in the dark room. Nikolas smiled at her, relieved to have said the right thing. He turned the page without actually considering it and heard Emily suck in her breath sharply just as his eyes met with the next photograph.

They'd entered a new section of her work. Moving away from still lifes and nature photos. This was a picture of something human. A hand, in close up, against a background of draped velvet.

He knew that hand a little too well, even if he hadn't recognized the ring. He'd studied it in great detail over coffee, or during heavy conversations out on the cliffs at Spoon Island. Small and delicate fingers, porcelain skin... the picture seemed to highlight everything about it that made it familiar. He blinked.

"Robin."

Emily was pulling the book away from him and Nikolas didn't stop her. She snapped it shut quickly, inwardly cursing herself. Good one, Emily. Way to destroy what had been a really good moment there. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten about those pictures. They were something she'd stuck in the back of the book, mostly because they were different from the other work she'd done. And the basic fact of it was -- they were good. But they were the last thing Nikolas needed today. She wanted to cut off somebody part, suddenly, in penance.

"I-I-I'm sorry. I just... I forgot that was in there." She stopped dead. What was she supposed to do? Nikolas didn't TALK about things like this! He wasn't the sort of guy who ever let you know what he was feeling. You just sort of had to ... guess. And with Robin, it had been hard to miss. The way he looked at her, the undisguised longing... Robin seemed to be the only person who missed it and sometimes Emily had bitterly suspected that she didn't miss it so much as ignore it. But she had lectured herself repeatedly that was probably a suspicion bourn of jealousy.

Nikolas stared at the table top, trying to think of just what he was feeling. He felt completely removed from the circumstances, suddenly, as if he was watching them from a great distance. His brain felt like it was being pulled back, and up into the air behind him. Like he was looking down a long tunnel at thing that were really only a few inches in front of him. He shook his head slowly, a small smile appearing on his lips.

"Don't worry about it, Emily. Come on." He reached out and took the book again. "Let me see the rest".

Michael wound his arm around several times before nailing the Superball at the soft earth of Lila's garden. The ball bounced back up feebly, and Carly reached out and caught it between her hands.

"Michael..." she laughed slightly, tossing the ball in a soft throw back to her son. "These things don't really bounce on grass, sweetie."

Michael looked at her, his eyes wide. "Sure it does," he protested, picking the ball up from where it had landed. "Look."

Carly shook her head as he wound his arm around again, and made another impressive throw at the ground. The ball popped up again, to only a meager high, and Carly tried to catch it again, but missed. It bounced away from her and she looked at her son and sighed.

"Ok, you win. It bounces."

There was no point in explaining it to him. Innocence of a child. He didn't know the object's potential so he was perfectly content with what little return it was giving him for his efforts. She watched him scramble across the grass, and duck under the bench Chris was sitting on. The social worker slid down to the far side suddenly, colliding with the arm rest, and pulling her skirt down with one hand.

"Got it!" Michael announced, crawling out from underneath her. Chris gave him a dim smile.

"Good for you, sweetheart."

Carly gave the woman a look of disinterest as Michael ran back to her. Chris doesn't like kids, she though mildly. Odd, for a woman in this line of work. She wondered what on earth could have possibly attracted this woman into working with people. She didn't seem to care for them much.

Carly's thought were cut off again when she realized, much too late, that Michael had hurtled the ball at her again. Moving on instinct, Carly ducked, and the ball sailed past her and hit the climbing rose bush near the entrance to the garden, landing on the grass by the trellis.

"Michael!" Carly's voice held a far too motherly quality to it and she cleared her throat quickly. For some reason, actual motherly behavior was frowned on by Chris. She constantly had to stop herself from talking at her son the way she had when she had been the one raising him, when he had been hers in every sense of the word. It wasn't like she'd yelled a lot. But you had to speak sharply when you were across the room and a lamp was going down for the count.

Michael was looking at Carly with some amount of disappointment.

"You missed again!"

"You have to warn me... honey". Carly stood up, dusting the back of her skirt off, and reached out for Michael's hand. "Come on. Let's go get it."

Michael reached up and grasped his mother's fingers. He started to half walk-half hop beside her as they walked to the gate of the garden. "I'm BORED here," he announced. "Can we go down to the lake? I wanna see if my ball floats".

Carly felt her jaw tighten. The lake. The lake would be fun for him. They had played out the garden, that was for sure. She had no earthly idea what time it was, but she knew she'd been here for hours. It was getting late. Chris was going to start giving her those "one hour", "half an hour" "fifteen minutes" count downs like she was back in a high school exam any time. And Nikolas still wasn't here.

She was trying, with everything she had in her, not to care. But a part of her was raging beneath the surface. Didn't Nikolas understand this? She HAD to see them together. She had to know, she had to see what Michael thought. She had to see how Nikolas was with him. She wasn't going to have a single moment's peace until that happened. And it was robbing her of the few precious hours she had with her son, since she wasn't' as focused as she could have been. Forget it. Forget him. Michael was going to have fun today and she didn't CARE anymore if Nikolas had to work to find them. Served him right.

"Sure," she heard a bitter twinge in the word. "We can go wherever you want to.", She heard a slight sigh and a shuffling of papers behind her. "Right Chris?"

"Well," the lack of enthusiasm was evident. "How is the water today?"

Carly rolled her eyes and bent down in the grass to pick up the fallen ball. "Smooth sailing...." her voice trailed off as she glanced out the gate to the garden, across the lawn and towards the lake. She froze, one hand on the ball, the other around Michael's hand. Her son turned to see what his mother was staring at.

"There's Emmie."

Carly nodded slowly. And she had a visitor. Carly dropped her eyes, staring at the grass. Ok. So he'd made it to the house, at least. Just... not quite across that pesky lawn. She felt tears pick at her eyes and shook her head, picking the ball up in her hand.

"Michael?" the word got strangled in her throat. "Come on, honey. I want you to meet someone."