Talk.

Nikolas was growing to hate that word.

It was nearing five o'clock, and he'd talked enough. The easiest conversation he'd had all day had been five minutes earlier, with a preteen boy who couldn't decided if he was friend or foe. He felt deserving of a break.

Carly, for her part, didn't look like she'd had the easiest day possible, either. He'd known when he'd called Lucas what the boy's agenda would be. And given the disaster that was yesterday, he guessed that this was a better choice. At least it was less dangerous than leaving her or the island alone. At least Bobbie had her best interests at heart.

He fixed his gaze on an errant strand of hair that had fallen into Carly's eyes. Pulled it back and tucked it behind her ear. "How's your mother?"

Nikolas's fingers brushed lightly over the tender skin on her neck and she bit her lip hard as an ill-timed and completely inappropriate heat crept through her. Oh, God... This was not going to happen. Not standing this close to him, not looking up at those deep and quieting eyes. It had been hard enough to bring up the subject of discussion in the first place. It was damn near impossible if he starting doing stuff like this. Anyway -- she'd much rather hold him or kiss him, than confess to him. And she had a suspicion he'd let her wriggle off this hook if she did either. Then something occurred to her. A thought that was unfamiliar and held an inexplicable origin. A tiny flash of insight.

Maybe he'd done that on purpose.

And what the hell would that mean, if he had?

She released her lip and just as she started to draw blood and stepped back from him.

"She's fine," she forced her brain to pick up on his question. "Pissed at me. What else is new?"

Nikolas took that in. "Do you want to go home?"

"As in Spoon Island?" She shook her head. "Not right now, thanks."

Carly leaned her shoulders back against the wall, hand sunk into pockets. He was watching her; silent and evaluating.

"How are you feeling?"

Ok. That was three straight questions, and nothing that resembled a response to her earlier statement. What the hell?

"Are you trying to avoid something?" She said it like it was a joke, but her heart was leaping about in her chest.

Nikolas exhaled, eyes darting away from her. "It's your mother's house."

The logic escaped Carly. "She's not exactly here anymore."

Nikolas closed his hand into a fist and stared at a random knickknack perched on a window ledge. He fought against an urge to move, to give in the energy inside him, to respond, in any way, to how trapped he suddenly felt.

"Look," when he spoke, it came in a rush. "I spoke to Alexis. I know what you're going to say." He tried to look back at her, but only succeeded in making momentary contact before looking away again. "I agree, it makes sense -- We don't have to talk about it."

Carly opened her mouth and let out a rush of air. She'd had no idea, following her conversation with her mother, just how she was supposed to explain the Michael angle. It was a relief, on some level, that the work was already done. The problem was...

The problem was, she could tell he didn't want to look at her.

"Alexis thinks it'd help with Michael," she stated it for the record. For her own clarity, if nothing else.

"She makes a compelling case."

Yep. Compelling her right into a nervous condition.

"And you don't want to talk about that?"

"It's unnecessary," he shrugged. "I understand. I'm fine, we can just put this behind us."

Oh.

Well. That was good news.

So this pain in the pit of her stomach probably wasn't guilt. Probably it was just appendicitis. What a relief.

"So what does that mean?" she prompted.

"It means you're working for Luke."

"And you're ok with that."

Nikolas finally turned his eyes back to her. He looked irritated, above all else. "I've made my peace with it."

Carly's hand flew up and pressed itself flat against her abdomen. Unbelievable. All this stress, and he was giving her a Get Out of Jail Free Card. She was well acquainted with the concept -- she'd snatched them everywhere she could, her whole life over. She hadn't expected this one. And upon presentation, she's wasn't completely sure she wanted it. The ever-tightening knot in her stomach argued that it wasn't going to make her feel any better.

And she really didn't like the way he was looking at her.

If she made a move towards him, she could probably change that. If she hugged him, he'd probably hug her back. Like that morning -- his body fatigued and full of melancholy. Holding on to her, kissing her, like he couldn't quite deny himself. And that's probably exactly what it was. It would have been a knife in her gut if he'd left that morning the way he had the night before. The soft kiss before departing had made all the difference. But looking at him now, she felt like she knew something. That it had been something he had to do. Like this was becoming something she had to do.

Oh, God. What the hell was wrong with her?

Nikolas, who had been watching Carly's increasingly troubled expression with his own increasing confusing, took a step forward when she let out a groan.

"Hey." Concern. Ever present, ever accessible. Carly looked up at him in clear distress.

"What?"

He searched for words. "I thought that was what you wanted."

"It was." Carly stared at him in disbelief, then let out a quick laugh. "Now I'm just trying to decide whether or not that's the first time you've ever lied to me."

Nikolas took a step back, and Carly swore she saw his hackles rise. "Carly."

"Because you weren't fine last night. And you weren't fine this morning. And you don't look all that fine right now, either -- And it doesn't really work if you don't feel it. You can't just SAY it's fine. It has to BE fine."

Nikolas's whole body tightened. He had the ability to do this -- he kept telling himself that. He would MAKE himself do this. But damnit, she had to LET him. She had to at least give him the space to create the construct. The frustration he felt at being called out was indescribable.

"I'm trying," he forced patience. "I don't know what else to say."

Carly folded her arms over her stomach. She could not take her eyes off him. So much time, she'd spent trying to look everywhere but directly at him and now it was like a switch had been flipped. She saw everything -- The conflict between words spoken and actions taken. The veneer stretched thin over that contradiction. Her brain refused to filter for her, but she couldn't seem to turn away.

"You really hate this," she murmured.

Nikolas's lip twitched, begging to curl into a sneer. He stepped back quickly and turned himself away from her. Paced across the room and threw back, "Is that a rhetorical question?"

"I guess it probably should be, huh?" Carly's stomach rolled and she held it tighter. "It's just.." Deep breath. "You just reminded me of my mother."

"Bobbie."

"Virginia."

He had reached the window and turned back, looking at her blankly. "I have no idea what that means."

Carly nodded, and dropped her eyes to the floor. She didn't talk about her mother much. Most of the time, the world around her seemed to flow like the Bensons hadn't even existed. Like she was part of some dreamscape Carly had imagined for herself. She let that happen. She knew that. But sometimes, out of nowhere, Virginia would rear her head and stand so close she could smell the White Linen.

"I wasn't exactly an easy kid to deal with. And whenever Mama caught me doing something she didn't like -- all I really had to do was get upset or mad and she'd back right off. I guess I got used to it. Kick up a big enough fuss and people will just let you go." She felt tears threaten and shook her head, hard. She couldn't cry. She realized that in a hot flush that crept up the back of her neck. She wasn't going to be able to get mad at him. She wasn't going to be able to yell, or bring up past sins. Because then he'd let her go. And the way she felt right now, the remorse might rupture something inside her. It felt like an actual physical being right now and she closed her eyes rather than give the tears a place to go. "My mother had a lot of guilt. She probably thought she owed me something." She lifted her head and forced herself to look at him. "You don't owe me anything."

Nikolas had expected a lot of things in coming to the Brownstone -- and this was not even distantly related to any of them. She was looking at him in choking agony. He'd never seen her like this before. Holding on this tight to something other than rage. The closest he could think of was when he saw her with Michael on the days he knew she was barely in one piece. There was a determination in the way she was looking at him. But with Michael, he sensed she was always gripping her son and praying he was going to give her a way to get through the afternoon. Right now, she wasn't gripping anything. And she looked like the next sentence might kill her.

"You're my wife." He said this like it was the answer to all things. It hit Carly like a punch to the gut. Pushed the air out of her and brought the stubborn tears back to her eyes.

"You're my husband." Her voice cracked and his words from the night before came back to her. They'd been sitting on her shoulder all day, just waiting for a chance to pounce. As your husband, who loves you... don't do this. She'd told herself he was wrong. She'd told herself that last night, and through most of this morning... That it was BECAUSE he was her husband that this had to happen this way. So that nothing would change. So that he'd still want to be with her. But nothing had gone the way it was supposed to and she couldn't find another direction to go in. She clapped a hand over her mouth, forcing back a sob and Nikolas started towards her. Like he always did. Like, she suspected, he always would. She put a hand up, palm facing him. Stop. He did -- and she struggled. Her mind was a complete blank. It knew this much -- she had to get rid of this feeling.

It wasn't offering up any new suggestion as to how.

She lowered her hand carefully, eyes trailing around the room praying for some kind of clue. Then they collided with Nikolas and stuck. She felt her brain start to spin -- turn like a bingo tumbler -- popping and dropping, waiting for her to draw out the right number and... Her mouth opened. "I know how good you've been to me." That sounded ok. It really did. She smiled and choked out, "Better than anyone. And... I'm not much good back."

"That's not true."

She laughed, low in her throat. It sounded incredibly real to her. Shockingly real. Like she'd suddenly and inexplicably landed on solid ground.

"Look, there's a 75% chance I'm going to chicken out on this, so..." She gingerly dragged a fingernail along the rim of her eye, removing a tear like she was performing surgery. "Seriously. Don't give me an excuse. I'll probably take it."

"Chicken out on what?" he asked quietly.

Carly drew in her breath. "Bobbie wants me to tell you the truth."

"But you don't want to do that."

"If I wanted to do that, none of this would have happened." She took another careful and measured breath. Just keep breathing -- that was something Nikolas had taught her. She put her hand over her abdomen the way he had that day she'd thought she was about to fall apart completely -- and tried to breath deep. To breath into herself. "Most of it wouldn't have happened."

He regarded her in silence, then offered, "I know it was my father. I spoke with him this morning."

Carly nodded. An hour ago, that would have been a disaster. But she'd lost this battle. The only thing she could think to do was start sorting through the wreckage.

"What did he say?"

"I want to hear your side of the story."

"It's not a very good story," she let that sit out on it's own for a while. Stared into space, feeling a little dazed and confused that nothing had come down on top of her yet. "But I'll tell it if you want to hear it."

That was it. Proposal issued and received, and nothing else to say. Nikolas couldn't make himself move. He didn't want to disturb this, he didn't want to pick up the invitation and have it crumble in his hands. He didn't want to hear anymore rationalizations, he didn't want to hear things he knew weren't true. Not from her. But there was no way to say no. There just didn't seem to be a way to say yes, either.

"How long do you think your mother is going to be?"

Carly spit out a surprised laugh and shook her head. "That's a big hang up for you."

Nikolas shook his head, but didn't answer. Didn't move.

"Ok," Carly breathed, removing her hands from the safety of her abdomen, and pushing herself off the wall. "Come with me."

She reached out a hand and he took it without thinking about what it meant. She turned, pulling on his arm and leading him through the dinning room, the kitchen, and through the side door that and the hallway that lead to her apartment. He shut his mind to all of this and followed her.

She found the door unlocked like it was waiting for her. Pulled it open and was greeting by the chaos you can only find in a place that's been abandoned for better things. The couch was still there -- haphazard like it had been tossed into the middle of the room. Coffee table was under the window. Random boxes on the kitchen counter, newspapers everywhere. She turned away from it in exhaustion and collided with her husband's chest.

Fuck it.

She let out a low groan and closed her fists around the soft cotton of his shirt. Leaned her forehead into the middle of his chest and let herself stay there a moment.

Nikolas was at a loss. He brought one arm out to place around her -- but it felt awkward and wrong, so he swung it around and the door closed instead. Carly started at the noise and straightened up. She moved past him, and turned the deadbolt on the door in place. Exhaled with some sense of accomplishment.

Then she turned back to the room and felt nothing but dread.

"I guess," she gestured towards the couch. "We should..."

"Fine."

They went to the couch and both gravitated to the furthest corners. Carly brought her legs up, tucking herself into a crash position, while Nikolas slumped forward, draping his arms over his knees and staring down at the wood floor.

Time ticked determinedly by.

"The really stupid part is -- I don't want to hurt you," She was staring at her hands.

"Just tell me what happened."

She nodded. Twisted her fingers together. Then undid them and twisted her wrists, instead.

"Your father came to see me after you left yesterday." She felt absolutely numb to it. So detached she barely knew how to tell the story. "He wanted to talk to me."

Long silence. She frowned, and ran her thumb over the rings on her left hand. The stone was off center. She righted it.

"All right," Nikolas finally murmured. Carly nodded. All right. And what had happened next? She closed her eyes and, for the first time -- even in telling her mother, she hadn't allowed herself to do this -- she let herself think about what had happened. About his appearance on the doorway. The dark suit and the bright sky behind him. The fact that birds were singing. Her hands unclasped themselves and moved back to her stomach. She pressed down hard, and forced herself to breath. Spoke, finally, on her exhalation, pulling in more air every time she finished a sentence.

"The time has come to discuss your future with this family."

"He said he wanted to talk to me."

"Nikolas is my only child."

"About you..."

"You have a history, Caroline."

"And about... Me."

"I'm disturbed by certain events in that history."

"He said he was worried that I might... Do something"

"As his father, I cannot allow this situation to stand unchecked."

"And he wanted me..."

"You can annul the marriage -- go back to your mother."

"He wanted me to prove..."

"A post-nuptial agreement. That will, at least, protect the interests he's refused to look out for himself."

She shook her head, hard. Why didn't she just sign it? Why the hell hadn't she just done what he wanted and skipped all the rest of this? Then Nikolas wouldn't have had to know. Then none of this would have happened. And things would be ok. Her father-in-law might not hate her. Her husband wouldn't have walked out on her. She wouldn't have gone to see Luke.

The question was moot. Signing it hadn't even crossed her mind. It just wasn't in her. She sucked at diplomacy. No part of her knew how to just accept something like that. Even if it would have spared her this.

"Carly."

She started at the sound of her husband's voice -- sat up and blinked her eyes rapidly.

"He wanted me to prove I wanted you," she managed.

"How?" It was the first time there was any emotion in his voice since they'd entered the room. She shook her head.

"It's not important."

"How, Carly?"

She lifted a hand and sunk it into her hair. This was cruel. This whole thing was just cruel. And she had no idea how to tell him the rest of it. She hated Stefan for this. She'd brought that rage right inside of her -- used it to fuel her through the past twenty-four hours. But under that was what her mother had mined. Heartbreak. Devastation. And a deep seated belief that he was right. She wasn't good for Nikolas. Even as she did something that every fiber of her being fought against she knew she was trying to hold on to something she didn't deserve to have in the first place.

Maybe the post-nuptial wasn't what she should have signed. Maybe she doing the right thing would have been picking up those annulment papers...

Carly gulped and let her head fall again. Her whole body HURT. She was afraid that she was going to start crying. She wasn't entirely sure why she wasn't. It was sitting right there in the back of her throat waiting for her to let it out. And while a few tears leaked here and there, it never really came forward. Just caught at her voice and squeezed in her chest. Seeped into her bones and held her whole body in a vice, while her head spun in circles it had already been in. Leaving him was NOT the right choice. Breaking his heart couldn't but the solution to the problem. She'd tried to convince herself there was another option -- she'd tried to turn herself into someone who could take care of herself, of him, of their life -- all in one afternoon. That, it was safe to say at this point, hadn't worked. The only hope she had left was that this would.

"He had a post-nuptial agreement. He wanted me to sign it."

He didn't say anything and she didn't know how to look at him. She didn't even know how to tell him the rest.

"This was about a post-nuptial agreement?"

Nikolas said the words with a worn out incredulity that Carly entirely misread.

"That's not enough?"

He shook his head. Actually, no. It wasn't. He'd accused his father of worse and there had been no denial.

"He didn't ... offer you anything?"

Carly closed her eyes and tried to find the words that were supposed to come next. She couldn't figure out why they were so stubborn. This? Was not her fault. This was what his father had done. His father was the one who crossed the line, he was the one who STARTED this. If anything, she should be leaping on the point. Milking it for all it was worth. He tried to get rid of me, Nikolas. He tried to send me away.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," she spoke into her hands.

"What wasn't?"

"The plan." She swept her hair out of her face. "That's what all of this was."

"A plan. With Luke."

"A plan that used him, not a plan with him."

Nikolas hadn't moved since they'd sat down, but now he raised his head. Turned and looked at her with an inscrutable gaze. "Does he know about this? What you just told me?"

Nothing, Carly realized, made you see your wrongs more clearly than confessing them. Things he'd said the night before - that were messy and inconvenient at the time -- kept coming back on her. This time, she couldn't block them out. This time, they burned. There was no way her mother was right. There was no way she was going to be able to fix this.

"He doesn't know about the nuptial agreement," she mumbled.

"What does he know about?"

She pressed her lips together. Funny. This had been the easiest part to tell everyone else. Now she couldn't get her mouth to form the words.

"He offered you money," Nikolas answered the question for her. "That's the part Luke knows about."

"Yes," she rasped, finally. "I just..." Nothing. Words were gone. She fell into silence, feeling the tears finally well up in her eyes. Blurring the world around her. God, she wanted a drink. Or an excuse. Anything that might take the edge off. "I didn't give him any details."

"Good."

Carly pulled her hand into a fist and brought it up to her teeth. She bit down hard on her knuckle, using the physical pain as a distraction from deadening tone of her husband's voice.

Nikolas, for his part, could not grab on to a single thought. They swam in front of his eyes, flashing up in front of him -- Carly's rage, the way she'd nearly leapt across the room when Stefan had voiced his disgust. How pointed everything had been that night. The house, the dinner... Carly asking his father for a pen. And then this morning... The papers scattered across the floor of his father's study. The way his words collided with Carly's. Blanks were filled in the picture was made clear. Except for one thing.

"He couldn't have wanted to pay you to sign a nuptial agreement."

She sniffed, and moved her shaking hand from her mouth. "It was an annulment. He wanted me to sign the pre-nup, or walk away."

Nikolas sat back against the couch, back of his hand pressed to his mouth.. There it was. Now, everything made sense. Now, it all sounded like something his father would do.

"What did you sign?"

"Nothing," Carly's eyes darted towards him. "Why? Did you want me to?"

The tinge of defensiveness in her voice was almost incidental. Like it existed out of habit. He shook his head and became intimately acquainted with the promising pain that was working it's way up the back of his neck. "No."

"I'll sign one if you want me to."

"If I'd wanted you to sign something, I would have asked you."

Another long silence in which Nikolas stared into air and Carly fidgeted.

"Why didn't you?" she asked, finally.

"I don't believe in them," he grimaced and leaned forward. "If I ask you a question, will you answer it?"

Carly's stomach contracted violently. She felt a flush of anger that managed to short-circuit by running smack into a wall of crippling shame and fear.

"Yes."

Nikolas turned back to her. He didn't like the broken sound in her voice. "I just need to understand. Because right now -- I'm missing the link."

She nodded, eyes fixed intently on hands again.

"I told you my father might do something like this. And I told you I'd believe you if you came to me."

"I know."

"So why did you go to Luke?"

She played absently with the rings on her finger. "Because you told me your father might do something like this."

Nikolas closed his eyes and tried to remember what a stroke felt like. "There has to be a further explanation."

There was. Buried some place, in the rubble of this whole disaster, there was a reason. There had been a logic. Temporary and shifting, apparently, because she honestly had to sit and consider the events of the last day to try and grab ahold of it.

"You were right," she said, finally, staring into the stone on her ring. "You told me what he'd do, and you told me not to trust him, and..."

"You did."

"He was nice to me. I can be pretty pathetic about that."

"Carly --"

"I wanted him to like me, ok?" She dropped her hands and turned towards him, exasperated. "Because everyone was telling me that he was dangerous and I couldn't trust him -- I wanted them to be wrong. And what he said made SENSE. It was like he was trying to help me." She snapped her fingers and leaned closer to him. "Like when we had to go to the Nurse's Ball -- He told me that what other people thought didn't matter. That Cassadines existed apart from that. They were above it." She smiled slightly. "That made a difference for about five minutes. And then, every time I saw him after..." She gestured halfheartedly. That. "He was really quiet and kind and..."

"He made himself easy to be around."

"For a while, yeah." She felt her face burn in acute humiliation. "I mean -- I'm not a total idiot. Its not like he acted like he was thrilled with all this. But -- It was like he knew I wanted to be the right kind of wife for you. Somehow. I wanted to... I don't know. Wear the right clothes, and do the right things and not be totally embarrassing -- "

"I never asked you to do that."

"No. No, you didn't." She sat back against the arm of the couch, looking at him, accusingly. It drove her crazy that he didn't seem to get this. "You always act like this isn't important."

"It isn't."

"It isn't for you! Because people generally think you're good. They think you're smart and sweet and a pillar of the community --"

"They think I'm a Cassadine."

"And they think I'm white trash." She snapped. "They think I'm a slut. They think I'm a gold-digger. They think I'm a bad mother, and a horrible daughter and that I never do anything without an ulterior motive. They think I'm playing you. When I overhear people talking about us in public restrooms, it's not about how your family tried to freeze the world -- It's about how wonderful you are and how I'm going to bleed you dry! He was the ONE person who I wanted to convince. Like if I could just get him to believe I wasn't out to ruin your life, then everyone else could go to hell. And the really stupid part was -- I thought I could do it. Because he acted like I had a chance."

Nikolas kept very still. Concentrated resolutely on not moving a single solitary muscle. From the slightest twitch of a finger, to the shape of his mouth -- just let his brain focus on that stillness. Like he could will himself to turn to stone.

"Where," he said finally, in a careful and measured tone, "Does Luke come in?"

Carly let her feet slip off the couch and let her body follow. Head hanging down while she tried to think. At this point, it was just better to start at the beginning.

"The day you ran into me on the docks, I'd just had a fight with Luke," she began. "He wanted me to come work at the club -- because, I don't know. He thinks I'm destroying my mother's life. I was pissed off, and I left and went to the docks and then..." She pushed out her breath and sat up. "I got distracted."

Distracted. In an alleyway, with his hands all over her. God, she wanted to go back to that. It felt gold-flecked and innocent now. Singularly beautiful, the way he'd held her, the look in his eyes. She wondered if she'd appreciated it all nearly enough at the time.

Probably not

"I didn't know I was going to go there," She spoke in a soft monotone, staring into the empty space in front of her. "I didn't leave the island thinking that was what I was going to do. I just wanted to get away from it, to get some place else. I didn't know where I wanted to go, I was just walking. I kept thinking about what we look like to everyone else -- and what your father said and... I knew I could get Luke to do what I wanted. I just... I thought that it would work! that it would show up everyone who thinks I'm after your money, and it would stop your father from trying anything else, and --"

"How would it stop my father?"

She shrugged. "Help, I guess."

"Help." Nikolas repeated the word.

He'd been doing all right up until that point. Nothing about this had been outside of what he'd imagined. He excelled at worst case scenarios and this... This was barely a ripple in his expectations. On some level, he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Touching, nearly, that his father had waited as long as he did before storming into the marriage with both guns blazing.

Of course, that dysfunctional sentiment was marred by the pointlessness of his own attempts to preempt this. The sting of that would not go away. But even in the heat of it, he felt deeply and suddenly offended.

"What does that mean?" he asked, getting to his feet. "That if he stepped out of line again, you'd sic Luke on him?"

"Not... Exactly," she squirmed at the tone in his voice. "Just.. At least maybe I'd see it coming. I'd have some kind of back up."

He turned back to her and the rest of the room slipped backwards from him at incredible speed.

"I'm supposed to be your back up," he said, numbly.

Carly looked up at him, wearily. "He's your father."

Nikolas felt something that had been pulled taunt inside him snap. The remains of his patience, restraint, self-control -- An ever-diminishing thread that had been stretched impossibly thin and now it was gone.

"Yes. He is," he could feel the words echo. He felt sick. More than that, he felt overtaken by the sudden rush of warm and seizing anger. It grabbed at him -- wrapped itself around his throat and started to drag him down. "My father -- who I know better than anyone else on this earth. Who I TOLD you would I'd protect you from! But -- now you're telling me you went to someone else. That's the part of this I don't know how to let go of. You needed help and you went to someone else. I said I'd help you -- I've done everything I can THINK of to make you see that you can trust me --"

"-- I DO trust you!"

"Then why did I find out about Edward Quartermaine from my brother?" He spat. The words were bitter and demanding. Something else he'd told himself he was over -- but there it was, lying in wait. And absolutely delighted to have the chance to stretch itself out in the middle of this war. "Do you have any idea how that feels --" he pushed on. "To have someone tell you something that important and intimate about your wife and have absolutely no clue what they're talking about? It feels slightly less annihilating than finding out that you felt the need to let Luke Spencer into our lives. A man who not only hates me because of the particular mix of blood in my veins -- but who consistently revels in his ability to take away EVERY SINGLE THING that matters to me."

Carly's head swam. "Luke can't change how I feel about you."

"No?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I think I'm missing something here, because the last time I checked, your feelings weren't particularly adamant where I'm concerned. So explain to me how you can be so certain that he's not going to change them."

"You think I'm that weak-minded?"

"He will do SOMETHING!" Nikolas was losing the battle against the rage. It was ricocheting off the inside of his ribcage, urging him. Yell at her. Punish her. You'll feel better. "He will. He'll find some way, he'll find something to use against me and as soon as something goes wrong, as soon as the chance presents itself, he'll make his move. And something will change. I promise you."

Carly sat back on the couch, her arms folded over her stomach. She hated this. It was absolute torture. Sharp and precise. She hated having to feel this. She couldn't understand why nothing in her was protecting her from the hard ache she felt in the middle of her chest. Why she wasn't trying to get away from him, shouting him down, shutting him out. She just sat there, feeling something akin to dread and looked right into his eyes. Saw the anger and frustration and agony he felt and couldn't seem to do anything to push it away.

"It's not like that."

"It's not like WHAT?" He threw back at her. "Like it's always been before? I've been doing this my whole life, Carly. This was one thing I was going to keep him out of. Because at least you hated him as much as... Well," the corners of his mouth twitched dangerously, "Nearly as much as I do. Do you think he never talked to Robin about me? Daughter of his long-departed brother-in-arms, dating a Cassadine. You think he ever let an opportunity to try to pull her away from me pass?"

"Do you think that's why she left you?"

She hadn't said it to hurt him. Maybe one of the few times in her life that she felt well and sure of her intention in that regard. She was making a point, an argument -- but she saw the way the words hit him. It robbed him of his anger, of his indignation. She watched it drain out of him. She watched him turn away from her, pale and shaken and struggling for his breath.

"I'm trying to say," his voice was deeper than normal and unsteady. "That Luke Spencer is a hostile force in my life. He's a virus I inherited along with my name and I can't get rid of him," he turned and looked back to her, throwing off a faint glimmer of desperation. "He steps into the middle of everything that's important to me. He attacks my father, he keeps my sister away from me, he makes the life of anyone who take a step towards me a living hell --" His voice cracked on the final word. "He turns me into a source of constant tension -- There's nothing I can do to stop that. There never has been."

Carly shook her head, stubbornly. "It's not like that for me."

"Yet."

The sense of impending doom resting in the pit of Carly's stomach stirred. Stretched and growled and settled a little higher inside her. Nudged at a mounting hysteria, breathed fire into her fear. She gripped her arms tightly.

"Then why the hell did you marry his niece if you hate him so much?"

He laughed slightly. It was a deadening sound. "I'm getting really sick of answering that question."

The energy -- the heat and sick and terror inside her -- was getting to be too much. She opened her mouth and the monster let out it's frustration in a slow hiss.

"Well -- Hey," she stood as she spoke. "If you want me to call your father up and have him bring those annulment papers back over--"

"DON'T!" Nikolas spun back to her, arm outstretched and pointing at her accusingly. "Don't do that -- Don't threaten me with what --"

"I DIDN'T DO WHAT HE WANTED!" She screamed the words at him, her whole body vibrating with the strength of it. "I didn't leave you when your father wanted me to, and I'm SURE as HELL not going to leave you because of anything Luke could ever do!"

"Why not? He's the reason my mother left me!" Nikolas yelled back with equal fury. "I was only a few weeks old, but Laura kept me a secret instead of risking his wrath -- Don't tell me he doesn't have an influence."

"There is no such thing," Carly was shaking, her hands clenched at her sides. "You make a CHOICE when you walk away from something! Everyone makes a choice -- He is not Svengali, he can't take away my free will, and he can't MAKE anyone do anything they don't want to!"

It was impossible, later, for Carly to explain what exactly happened next. She couldn't put her finger on it -- what changed, what let her know, what made her suddenly comprehend him in a flash of chilling and horrible understanding. She was just suddenly standing there, staring into him and something in the blurred, heated unsteady way he was looking at her -- something in the silence that followed her words -- just flipped up the blinds and made her see clearly. And what she saw made her shake. Made her feel lightheaded like she was watching him bleed to death in front of her. She knew he was silent because he couldn't speak. And she was certain -- had no doubt -- that she knew what was choking him.

"Oh my God, Nikolas," she reached out for him and he stepped back instantly.

"No."

There was a fear in his voice. Her insides lurched.

"I'll quit," she blurted out. She was barely aware of the thought before she was spitting it out at him.

"You can't."

But she had to, she realized. There wasn't another choice -- Alexis has said, make this bearable. She was suddenly convinced that wasn't possible. "I'll find..." She had no idea what she'd find. "I'll find something else. Nikolas, please --"

He shook his head. "It's too late."

Her knees buckled. No. No.

"What do you mean?"

Nikolas turned away from her. He felt uncommonly hot. The room felt small, there was no oxygen. He closed his eyes and breathed anyway. Put a hand over his stomach and forced the air into his lungs. He could hear her behind him -- hear her hovering. He didn't want to turn back to her. The look in her eyes seemed almost pitying and that made him feel sick. She was suddenly and inexplicably doing what he'd asked her to do last night -- but it was because she felt sorry for him. Because she'd seen something, felt something from him -- he felt exposed. More than that, he felt damaged.

"You know what Alexis thinks," he straightened up. Exhaled and when he spoke his voice sounded normal. Strong. "I said I'd find a way to deal with this and I will."

"No," Carly protested. "Look -- before I did this, we had a plan, right? So there's got to be a better one -- there's got to be another way --"

"There doesn't have to be," Nikolas turned back to her. "It's done. I know the truth, I know how to handle it. This is finished."

Carly stared at him, mouth open in shock while her insides rearranged themselves into a whole new order. She'd gotten what she wanted. He said it was ok. He knew the truth and he said it as ok. He'd accept it. He'd deal with it. She had everything she'd set out to get. More than that, really.

But. His eyes were cold. He was standing across the room from her. She knew he didn't want her near him, he didn't want her to touch him. She knew what that looked like.

"I'm sorry," the words came out over a sudden intake of air. "I'm sorry, I'll..." She shook her head. "I got frustrated, all right?" Shut up, Caroline. You're making it worse. "It's not a very good excuse, but it's what happened -- It was just like... That was it. I kept thinking -- They don't respect us. Because they don't respect me. And I'm sick of it! I'm sick of people thinking I don't have feelings, and that I don't care about anyone but myself. And..." She closed her eyes, pulling in her breath. "I get so scared they're right."

Nikolas didn't say anything. When she opened her eyes again, he was still standing where he had been . He was still watching her. There was no real indication that he was hearing what she was saying.

"I was trying --" she started to take a step towards him, but then hung back. What was she doing? What was she trying to do here? She didn't have a clue. She was just hanging here -- on this hook, without any idea what to do next. All she could really feel was the fear. The same sort of fear that had driven her to push him away so many times. To snap at him, to be cruel, to turn away when he wanted her to stay close. It was the same damn thing and this time... This time he wanted to rip her open. It wanted her guts on the floor. "I wanted to be what you needed," it came out in a gasp. "I wanted it so badly, and he kept acting like I could be. And then he took it back! And I wanted to show him he was wrong. I wanted to show him just how bad I could be. So I MADE myself worse. And I guess I just ended up proving him right."

"Carly --"

"I love the way you look at me, have I ever told you that?" The words kept pouring out of her. Pushed out, pumping up from some place deep inside her. Feverish and fast -- like they didn't trust any examination. His expression was turning from one of closed distance to something much closer to confusion. "I love the way your eyes are so soft and tender -- Every time you look at me like that, all I can think is that I don't want that to end. I don't want to wake up one day and know that it's just gone, that you'll never look at me like that again -- I can't..." She finally took an unsteady step towards him and he backed up almost against his will. "Nikolas, PLEASE," It was a cry that ripped out of her. She reached out for him again and this time he stepped back towards her. Grabbed her hand with his and pulled her towards him. She tipped her head up to make sure she could see his eyes, to hang on to that connection. He looked uncertain; alarmed, maybe. But he also looked present. She choked on a laugh, and reached up to touch his face. He didn't flinch. "God, I wanted it so much. I wanted to be worthy of you. I wanted to be good enough -- because I've never, ever been good enough for anyone and you.. You... Just --" She raised herself up on her toes, brushing his lips with hers. Pulling back quickly, then pressing her mouth over his. Covering it, silencing any protest or argument it might make. Robbing it of the choice of silence, too. Her hands flew up, holding his head and she pulled back, choking on a sob. She pressed her forehead against his chest and whispered. "Please." The panic was overtaking her. Her whole body was shaking. "Please, give me another chance. Please, just wait until you change your mind about me. I'll do anything," she raised her face to him again. "I'll do anything you want -- I promise. Just please don't leave. Please, please, Nikolas --"

This time it was him. Grabbing her and stopping her stream of words with a firm and powerful kiss. There was nothing hesitant or timid about it. It was strong and resolute and it demanded her surrender.

She gave it. It didn't even feel like a choice.

Nikolas waited until she was kissing him back -- eyes shut tight, mouth shuddering on continuous sobs -- and then he moved his arms around her. Lifted her up and as close to his body as he could manage. So that he could feel the tremor that was running through her, could feel just how fast her heart was beating. It jump started his own. He took her in warmth and her devastation, her distress. It woke him up, made him feel human again. So real he felt dragged down by the weight of it. He held her tight, pulling her down with him as he sunk to the floor. He ended up sitting there, Carly drawn up into his lap. She wound her arms and legs around him and kissed him like she was terrified to stop.

"Listen to me. Carly -- Listen to me," He brought his hand under her chin and forced her to raise her head, to look at him. Once he had her eyes, he spoke as carefully and determinedly as he knew how. "I am not changing my mind. I will not change my mind. You are who I want and that isn't going to change."

Her response was a high-pitched and incensed-sounding squeak. She opened her mouth to say something, but all she really managed was unsteady breath and more sobbing. She lowered her head and buried her face against his shoulder, letting out a growl of frustration.

"Take a breath," he urged her. "It's ok -- Just listen to me. Listen to what I'm telling you." He drew in his own breath and closed his eyes. Whispered directly into her ear. "I love you. Ok? Whether I like one thing you've done or not -- I love you. I loved you last night, I loved you this morning -- " He opened his eyes, staring hard at the opposite wall. This was the important part. Saying it made it feel tangible -- made him feel concrete for the first time since entering the house. "I love you right now when you're scaring the hell out of me." He turned into her, kissing her neck, the edge of her jaw. "Ok. Ok -- It's ok, Caroline. It's over. It's over."

"Just tell me. Tell me what you want. Tell me what I need to do."

"Shhh..." He hated himself, in that moment. Just absolutely hated himself for letting things go this far. "We're going to work this out. I promise you. It's going to be ok."

"No," Carly ground her head against his shoulder, then straightened up. Tears were streaming down her face, like something inside of her had broken. There just didn't seem to be an end to them. She pulled in her breath in fragments before saying, "I promise I'm not leaving you. For anyone."

Nikolas went very still. Stared at her -- watched her shiver and shudder while she looked at him -- waited for him to say something back. But he couldn't make words come. He couldn't even make himself move. After what felt like an eternity, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around is neck and hugging him tightly. It took a moment, but finally something in him prodding him to lift his arms. To hug her back. She didn't say anything else and he didn't prompt her.

He hated himself for that, too. That he'd let her know. That somehow, she'd decided she needed to say that.

He hated himself even more that she was right.