The Story of Us ~* May *~   Part VI Balor: Up on the catwalk Stephen elbowed Francis and pointed across the club. "There he is." "What a surprise. They're headed for the back room. Let's join them shall we?" Francis drawled as he pushed off of the cold metal railing and began to make his way through the crowded third tier of the club and down the stairs. Stephen was silent as he followed his friend. The uglier Francis was feeling on the inside the more nonchalant he acted on the outside. They said still waters ran deep - well 'they' didn't know the half of it. They'd spotted Lucas because of the crowd he'd started gathering around himself. The kid did a damned fine impression of Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing on an interesting mix of speed and Viagra. It was the only way to explain the usually low key teen's uncharacteristic display. They reached the main floor of the club only to almost cross paths with a concerned looking Guy. "Hey! You guys! You're here!" Guy announced in a super chipper voice. "Imagine that." "Yeah. Go figure. Who's Lucas with and how much has he had to drink tonight?" Francis asked quietly. Guy frowned. "I was just gonna ask him the same thing. He drove us tonight I didn't think he was going to be drinking. I only saw him with one drink." He gave an uncomfortable shrug. "But I was *um* busy so I guess he could have gotten more." The small muscles in Francis' jaw ticked slightly and he gestured for Stephen to stay with Guy. "Check the bar and see if Jamie's working tonight. If he is find out what's going around for party favors these days." He gave Guy a stern look. "Stay with Stephen I don't want to have to come looking for you too." Guy gulped. "O-kay. Wait a minute. Where are you going?" Francis' lips parted in a shark-like half smile. "I'm going to recapture my lost youth." Stephen's eyes widened. "You bastard! I *KNEW* you watched!" Francis didn't bother acknowledging Stephen's outburst. "Go." He turned back towards the back room and began stalking through the crowd. Looking down at Guy Stephen gestured. "I *knew* he was watching Queer as Folk. Bastard. Giving me hell for reinforcing negative stereotypes about the gay subculture in America's youth." He rolled his eyes before a speculative look crossed his face. "I wonder if he's got the second season DVDs?" Francis pressed on until he reached the bronze door separating the back room from the rest of the club. It wasn't a place that he frequented but he knew that's where Lucas was heading. "Damn." Jerking the door open Francis' eyes take a second to adjust to the almost complete darkness. Once they do he starts walking down the corridor glancing only cursorily into the individual rooms without doors on either side. Halfway down the hall he approaches a tall stocky man in his late forties. The bouncer looks up and offers Francis a friendly smile. "Long time no see." "I'm looking for someone." Francis answers. "A kid. He's 17 about 5'8 blonde brown hair he's with a college guy." "Last room on the left." "Thanks Thomas." "You baby-sitting tonight?" "Something like that." Francis clapped him on the shoulder. "Do me a favor - you hear anything don't worry about it all right?" Thomas laughed his deep throated laughter blending in with some of the more 'athletic' sounds coming from the individual rooms. "Man that's my job description." He waved his hand motioning for Francis to go ahead. "Take care of things." Francis heard them before he saw them. A smug voice. "Slow down. . .we've got time. I'm not going anywhere." Lucas' insistent reply. "I don't want to slow down. I feel good. You feel good. Want to feel better?" "Oh yeah." Moan. "That's nice. . . c'mere." Growing more irritated by the minute Francis walked into the room caught Lucas by the back of his neck as he was beginning to slide down his new friend and hauled him back on his feet. "Lucas." "Hey! Who the fuck are you? Sorry old man I'm not in a sharing mood." Mark reached for Lucas. "Go find your own." "FRANCIS!" Lucas' wide eyed expression would have been amusing if it weren't the fact he was stripped to the waist, breathing hard with dilated pupils which confirmed what Francis suspected. Lucas wasn't drunk. Reaching out he plucked Lucas' shirt off the bench in the middle of the room and tossed it at Lucas. "Get your shirt on. It's time to go." Mark planted his palm in the middle of Francis' chest. "I think the only person here going anywhere is *you*." Looking down at the meaty palm on his chest, Francis raised an eyebrow. "Really? Hmm." He returned his attention to Lucas who, Francis was certain, ought to have his picture in the dictionary under 'mutinous'. "Dressed and out now. Stephen and Guy are at the bar. Find them and stay with them." "I don't have to go if I don't want to." Lucas' reply is sharp. "What business is it of yours?" "None." Francis didn't miss a beat. "You're pissed and maybe you have a right to be but think on this for a second. What's worse? Coming with me now or getting your ass dragged out of here by Jason in twenty minutes?" Feeling the muscles in Mark's arms tense as he prepared to shove Francis out of the way, Francis gripped his hand and with a sharp twist wrenched it in the opposite direction sending the college kid to his knees with a yowl. Lucas tried breaking Francis' grip on Mark's hand with no luck. "Let him go you bastard!" "I'll consider it. Get out of here Lucas or I'm calling Jason to come and pick up after your shit." As Lucas left he uttered some profanities that Francis made note to use at a later time. At least the kid was inventive. "LET ME GO! You're breaking my wrist, fucker!" Mark bellowed. Francis released a fraction of the pressure but had no intention of letting go until he'd made his point. Instead he crouched down near the floor sitting back on his heels unwilling to actually *kneel* in one of the back rooms. "What'd you give him?" "I woulda given him a blowjob if you hadn't interrupted us. . ." Mark hissed in pain as Francis increased the pressure and gave his wrist another cruel twist. "It was nothing! Just a little something to loosen him up. So he'd have a good time." "You're a real humanitarian." Francis threw Mark's hand away and sent him sprawling on his ass on the floor. "It's your lucky night. I don't have time to kick your ass. But you should consider yourself warned. I don't ever want to see you around Lucas again." He stood up and turned towards the door. "Yeah? And what if he wants to see me? He's a hot little. . ." "I guess I have to make time." Ten minutes later Francis walked out of the room and back down the darkened hall passing Thomas once more. "Do I hafta call an ambulance?" Thomas asked from his place on the wall. "No. But I doubt he'd say no to the number of a good dentist." And where I go I know I need not look behind me He keeps me safe and this is something he does everyday Out on the dance floor, Francis spotted Lucas almost immediately. He knew it was optimistic to think he'd get the teenager out of the club without a fight. Again he found himself making his way through the crowd. Resting a hand on Lucas' back, he turned the boy towards him. "Come on dancing queen. Time to go." "Yeah?" Distracted from his other dance partner much to the other man's disappointment, Lucas fixed his wide eyes on Francis and began to twist around his body with eel-like flexibility. "I don't wanna." After minutes of being used as a human stage pole Francis planted one hand on each of Lucas' gyrating hips bringing the dance to a halt. "You need to go home and sleep it off." "Why Francis! Are you trying to coax me into bed?" Lucas looked up at Francis through lowered lashes, his lips forming a perfect 'o' of surprise. He danced closer and pressed his lips to Francis' ear to be heard over the tribal beat of the music. "If you want me you have to take me." "What the hell is it with you and your sister? Not happy unless you're tempting fate." As Lucas ground against him, Francis sighed. "Or being a pain in the ass." For a minute Lucas offered Francis a perfectly sober grin. "It won't work." "What won't work?" "You think if you bring Carly up enough I'll back down." He used his entire body to rub against Francis. He slithered around behind Francis keeping one arm around his waist while pressing hot little kisses along the side of his neck. "I'm on to you." Francis expelled the breath he was holding from Lucas' fingers toying with his belt buckle. He whirled around and without a moment's hesitation threw Lucas over his shoulder and walked off the dance floor to the bar. Finding Stephen and Guy, Francis barked out. "We're leaving. Now." Using the hand not busy with restraining Lucas' kicking legs, Francis dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his SUV, tossing them to Stephen. "Take Guy home. I'll take Lucas back in the Jeep." Casting a furtive glance at his friend, Stephen asked. "Is that such a good idea?" "Do *you* want to be the one to explain this to Jason or Carly if they're still up?" "Right. Come on Guy let's get out of here." Once outside in the cool night air, Francis dumped Lucas back on his feet. "Let's go." Once in the Jeep and on the road, Lucas breaks the silence. "You're being a jerk. I didn't do anything wrong. Nothing a hundred other guys weren't doing." "No it wasn't wrong. It was stupid. Flat out stupid. You've got no idea what sort of situation you were walking into and you're too wasted to care. That's dangerous. That's the sort of thing that always ends badly." "So?" Lucas reached out and flicked on the car stereo turning the volume up. "You're not my mother." Francis rolled his eyes heavenward. "Well considering your habit of trying to dry hump me I suppose that's a good thing." He remarked caustically. He drove past the house and around the street to the back access road leading to the stables. "You need to be smarter. You need to take better care of yourself or you're not going to make it to 18. As it is you've got all the self preservation instincts of a puppy." The words are harsh even to his ears but Francis reminds himself of their necessity. Lucas Jones was a time bomb just waiting to go off in more ways than one. And if at all possible he wanted to make sure Lucas managed to escape his teens relatively unscathed. And if anything, Francis definitely didn't want to examine the 'whys' of that. And even before he can react, Francis winds up with a lap full of writhing, hot, sweaty 17 year old sin in worn Levis. "Goddamn it Lucas I'm trying to drive!" Roughly he pushed Lucas' shaggy blonde head out of the way so he could see through the windshield. "You're killing me." "You should lighten up." Lucas informed him matter of factly. "You're too tightly strung." His fingers smoothed up and down Francis' chest. "One good pluck and you'd come undone." In spite of his resolve not to do anything that could remotely be construed as encouraging the little monster, Francis can't help but laugh because it sounded so much like something he might have said. "Lucas, I'll make a deal with you. One time only take it or leave it." "All right." "You haven't heard the deal yet." "Okay. Tell me." "You let me get you back to the barn in one piece. And you can spend the night in my bed." "Yes." Lucas dropped his head down and nuzzled at Francis' throat. "Took you long enough. I thought I was gonna have to play hard to get a little longer." Strangling with laughter, Francis concentrated on steering down the seldom used two track. "Is that what you've been doing?" "Yep." Lucas punctuated his answer by licking a stripe from Francis' adam's apple up to his lower lip and taking a small bite. "Aren't I good at it?" "Well it's certainly a unique approach to the idea." Francis admitted. "Now remember our deal? We have to get back to the barn in one piece. No distracting the driver." "Okey." Lucas slithered back into his own seat with a sloppy grin. "Anyone ever tell you you're a pushover?" "Not generally." The sigh Francis gave as he pulled up in front of the stables would have been comical if only he didn't feel quite so genuinely relieved. Lucas Jones was becoming a full time position. . .. JOB. Lucas was become a full time J.O.B. By the time he was out of the Jeep and moved to the passenger's side door, Lucas was already asleep which prompted him to offer up a short, but heartfelt- "Thank God." For a moment he toyed with the idea of leaving sleeping teenagers lie, but he couldn't trust Lucas to stay put in the night. And besides - he is a man of his word. He promised Lucas a night in his bed and he fully intended to deliver on it. Reaching in he easily lifted Lucas up over his shoulder again and carried the sleeping boy up the staircase to the loft. The loft was surprisingly modern with polished plank flooring and a contemporary bedroom set. He laid Lucas down at the edge of the bed and as dispassionately as possible removed his shoes, socks and shirt. Once Lucas' shirt was gone Francis stopped and stared in confusion. What earlier he'd thought was a pager clipped onto Lucas' belt instead seemed to be coming directly out of the boy's side. "What the fuck?" Francis immediately pulled back before curiosity got the better of him and he leaned in to inspect it, studiously ignoring the annoying perfection of Lucas' seminude body. Little bastard probably never went to the gym a day in his life. . . As Francis leaned over the bed, Lucas shifted onto his side in the middle of the bed, immediately pulling Francis' pillow to his chest and falling into a deep sleep. Pulling a sheet up over Lucas' sleeping form, Francis walked into the bathroom, stripped out of his club clothes and threw them into the hamper beside the sink. He turned the shower on and ran it until it was almost scalding before stepping in. As the hot water hit him he let out a sharp hiss before settling into the hot spray. Closing his eyes and resting his head against the tile Francis runs his hands slowly over his chest and down his stomach arching into the steady stream as it began to melt some of the tension from his aching body. What the water doesn't take care of, he finishes before washing his hair, turning off the spray and stepping out of the shower. With one towel slung low over his hips and another draped over the back of his neck Francis walks out of the bathroom just as his cell phone begins to ring. "Yes?" "I'm back." Stephen's voice is more than slightly annoyed. "Anything go wrong?" "I'm too old for this shit." Stephen sighed. "You get Lucas taken care of?" He paused. "And I mean that only in the most non-Lolita way possible." "He's here at the stables. Passed out. I didn't want to risk parading him through the main house while he was off his ass or worse trying to carry him through the house without running into Mrs. L." "Oh I can imagine that." Stephen fell into a near perfect imitation of the housekeeper. "And what, may I ask, are you doing with young master Lucas?" "Exactly. That old woman hears everything, sees everything and knows everything." Stephen laughed. "But now you're stuck with him until tomorrow morning. Do me a favor old man - sleep in the office. That way you can avoid any nocturnal commissions you'll be sorry for tomorrow." Francis' reply is short and to the point before he hangs up. He intended only to check on Lucas briefly before retreating to his office but found himself standing at the side of the bed for longer than he should. Standing there in the faint light from the bathroom Francis felt a keen sense of sympathy for moths and their fatal attraction to bug zappers. Stables: The next morning Francis stepped aside allowing Stephen into the office. "If you're here who's at the gate?" "Ethan. He owes me." Stephen flopped down on the couch and propped his feet up. "Yeah? What for?" "Because I didn't tell you he was the one who put the ding in your passenger's side door when he and Michael were practicing slap shots." Francis' head whipped around. "Ethan said Michael did it. Bastard." "Michael's not a bad little player - he's got Carly's rage to channel - but dude, he's six and that was a big ass dent." Lacing his fingers behind his head, Stephen made himself more comfortable. "So Chief. You've got yourself a problem." "Custer had a problem. I'm just screwed." Francis scrubbed his hands over his face and sat down across from Stephen. After a moment Stephen sat up and his demeanor turned unusually serious as he looked across at his friend. "This isn't like you." "Tell me about it." "Let's just ignore the fact he's Carly's brother for the moment. He's seventeen." Stephen pointed out. "Now I know what you're thinking WITH I just don't know what the hell you're thinking." Francis blew out a frustrated breath. "I can't understand it myself and I for damned sure can't explain it Steve. He's under my skin. Whether I want him there or not." "Well you need to do something." "What do you suggest? I don't think being his sister's bodyguard actually gives me the authority to enroll his ass in military school. . ." Francis' head leans back against the chair and he throws an arm across his eyes. "Although I could probably pull some strings and get him into West Point. . ." Stephen nudged Francis' leg with his foot. "If the mountain won't leave Mohammed, maybe Mohammed should leave the mountain. The kid's not going anywhere until Bobbie comes back. You on the other hand -" "Have a job and a business." Francis waved a hand around indicating the office. "Ri-ght. You've got a business you can run from anywhere in the world." When Francis looked up, Stephen buffed his nails on the front of his shirt. "And not to toot my own horn, I happen to know your second in command is a hell of a great guy who can handle anything that comes up in your absence." He reached over and clapped Francis on the shoulder. "Get away for a couple of weeks. Go see Big Mama. Ride some horses. Rope some cows. Bale some hay. Feed some chickens. Do whatever the hell you country bumpkins do and get your head together." "For that mostly we kick the shit out of city slickers." "Look, contrary to what you think, I'm not just giving you shit. Tempting as it may be. I'm giving you the *exact* same advice you'd be giving me if I was ever a dumb enough son of a bitch to get a raging hard on for an underage piece of ass who probably still has Power Ranger sheets and a sister who doesn't seem adverse to taking human life when the situation calls for it." A reluctant smile touched Francis' lips. "Glad to head you're not giving me shit." "Not today. I don't like to kick a man when he's down. But you gotta know this whole thing's given me *years* worth of material." Alone again in the office, Francis sat down behind his desk and began calling up assignment sheets and requests for time outs. One hundred and fifty eight members of his security team on five continents. Most of his hands on time with his employees involved setting up schedules. Stephen was annoying but that didn't mean he wasn't occasionally right. There wasn't anything going on from the business aspect that he couldn't handle long distance. As for his own assignment, he'd have to sit down with Jason and work out the logistics. Jason wasn't unreasonable, but he wasn't a man that liked surprises. He reached out and picked up the phone, dialing the number automatically. The phone rang a dozen times before a gruff voice answered. "Boy you'd better be bleeding out of every orifice you've got if you're calling me this early." A grin spread over Francis' face. "Mama it's 6:30. I thought you did more by 6am than most people do all day." "You're not too old for an ass whuppin' Frankie." "Yes ma'am." Francis could hear his mother strike a match for her first cigarette of the day. "So what's the matter?" "I'm thinking of coming for a visit. You got room?" "Really? I suppose I could make room." Lily Clark, a.k.a Big Mama didn't miss a thing. "Why all of a sudden?" "Can't I just want to see your smiling face?" "Boy your first sentence as a baby was 'Get me the hell off this ranch', you'll just have to forgive me if I think there's something more to you wantin' to visit." She began running through the usual list. "Fired?" "No." Not yet. "Sick?" "No." "Broken hearted?" "Mama. . ." "Well come on down broken hearted I think we've got a winner. You gonna tell me about it when you get here or will you just hole up in the bunkhouse and drink for a week?" "I'm not broken hearted!" Francis bit off strongly. "Hell no. I just need some time off. I'm tired that's all and no I won't hole up in the bunkhouse." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "I need to get out of here before I do something stupid that will definitely get my ass fired and get me a one way ticket to hell." A deep drag on the other end of the line. "Well come on then. Make sure to bring your gloves. The barbed wire on the south fence needs patching." "I will Mama. You want me to bring you anything?" Francis took a deep breath and let it out. He wasn't sure how far his mother would pry and it wasn't exactly a situation he wanted to discuss over the phone. "Just yourself." The first thing Lucas became aware of was the gradual increase in noise from the herd of elephants clog dancing inside of his skull. Waking up in an unfamiliar bed was worrisome, but not as worrisome as whether or not he'd make it to a toilet before he puked up a lung. He swung his feet off the side of the bed, pulling the blue cotton sheets with him and hovered there for several minutes in an attempt to convince the room to stop spinning and his stomach to stop churning. Once a tentative truce was reached, Lucas opened his eyes and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The stables. Okay. One question answered. He slowly pulled himself semi-upright and made his way across the bedroom to an open door. One he hoped led to the bathroom, otherwise Francis would be facing a very unpleasant surprise the next time he went into his closet. In the bathroom, Lucas spent some quality time on the cool tile floor with a cold washcloth pressed to his forehead. When he stood up again with some help from the sink Lucas risked a look at himself in the mirror and promptly decided that hygiene was *not* overrated. He unhooked his insulin pump and climbed into a shower so hot he could feel any remaining alcohol cooking out through his pores. Careful not to make any sudden moves in case his head and stomach teamed up against him, he opened the bathroom cabinet and found a bottle of aspirin. He took four, snagged a towel from the rack and went in search of Francis. Following the scent of brewing coffee like a sailor to a siren, Lucas descended the spiral staircase and walked down the narrow hall to what had formerly been the stable's tack room but was now a modest sized kitchen complete with breakfast bar and glaringly new appliances. Slinking to the kitchen table Lucas slumped down in a chair and laid his head on the table. "'mornin'." Unexpectedly a shaggy blonde head appeared out of the refrigerator. "Good morning sunshine!" Lucas peered with one eye. "Stephen?" "Ding ding ding! We have a winner. You're not as think as I hungover you are!" Stephen moved to the stove and pulled something out of a frying pan. "I thought you could use a little pick me up." "Where's Francis?" Stephen set a plate of scrambled eggs and dry toast down in front of Lucas. "Eat first. Talk later." When Lucas eyed the plate warily, Stephen nudged it closer to him. "No one's died from my cooking - yet." He sat down with a glass of orange juice for himself. "And Francis? He took some time off." "Time off?" And Lucas really had to remember not to move his head around quite so fast. The clog dancers didn't like it. "Now?" "It's as good a time as any." Stephen replied. "He's not much good to Carly or Jason unless he's thinking clearly." Lucas shoved his plate away. "Meaning he's not thinking clearly right now." Stephen met Lucas' bleary eyes. "There's not a whole lot of 'thinking' going around at the moment." He answered. "He's not the only one." "I don't need this." Lucas started to push himself away from the breakfast table only to be stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. "Apparently you do need this." Stephen moved his chair so that he and Lucas were sitting face to face. "Only your mother's not here to give it to you, Carly's got enough problems of her own and you've got Francis ass over teakettle so I guess it's up to me." Stephen scrubbed his hands over his face buying himself time as he chose his words with care. "Look - if you want to crush on Francis? That's your business. You could do a lot worse. But right now you're becoming a distraction and a distraction is the last thing he needs." Lucas' jaw clenched for a moment and he considered a smart ass answer. Instead his shoulders slumped a little and he rubbed at his throbbing head. "I fucked up last night." "No argument from me." Stephen nodded. "But that's not why he left and it's not why he's taking some time. You're what? Seventeen? You're allowed to be a little stupid. He's the one that's got to get his head screwed back on right." Lucas was still feeling sick when he dragged ass into the main house twenty minutes later. There wasn't any reason to stick around the stables and he really wanted to die in his own bed. The night before kept coming back to him slowly piece by piece and he didn't like the picture it painted. Stupid wasn't a word he ever would have used to describe himself before but if the night before wasn't the definition of dumb. . . He passed Carly in the hall, sucking in a breath when she stopped to study him. "Hey." "Hey." Brown eyes flicked over him as though assessing any damage and a tilt of her head let him know he'd passed inspection - but just barely. "You wanna talk about it?" Even though he's more tempted now than he can ever remember, Lucas just shakes his head. "It's nothing." He closed his bedroom door tightly behind him and after slipping off his shoes dropped back on the bed draping an arm over his eyes. "It's nothing." He repeats once more to himself.     Part VIII   New York City: "What are you plotting over there?" Justus' bare toes poked at Skye's leg from the other side of the bed. They were both sprawled on their stomachs in opposite directions going through the paper. Both ignored the business section - Justus turning instead to the comics and leaving Skye to pour over the style section. "Hmm? What?" Finding herself with a large and uninvited foot in her lap Skye drew a nail up the sole of Justus' foot causing him to yelp and jerk away in fear of further tickling. "I was just thinking." She carefully folded back the page and flopped onto her back holding up the paper. "I've been thinking since the hospital that I could use a change and I think I've found one." "Those better not be the personals -" Justus took the paper, noting the circled article. "'Venus Descending - Famed Fashion House Folds After Ten Years'? Okay. I'll bite." "I think I want to have my own clothing line and I think I want Venus." "Ahh." "It's perfect. Really." Skye sat up and began gesturing enthusiastically with her hands. "I'm not talking about some Kathy Lee Gifford line for K-Mart. Venus is very small, very unique, everything they make is an original. Port Charles doesn't have anything even resembling couture," She waggled her eyebrows. "you can believe I've looked." Thinking of the stuffed closets at the lake house and the closets at the fire house that were expanding on a daily basis, Justus threw his head back and laughed. "I don't doubt it. But isn't couture fiercely competitive? There's a reason this company went under." "It's horrible." Skye admitted. "There are really only a few thousand women world wide buying couture at any given time. But that's the challenge. And besides I'm not talking about giving Dior a run for its\ money. . ." Skye's voice trailed off. "But?" "What if instead of focusing on large fashion centers like Milan and Paris I concentrated in the U.S? Specifically smaller cities with a large financial base -" "Like Port Charles?" "Not just Port Charles, what about Pine Valley and Llanview? There's more money between those three towns than most countries will ever see. Between the CEO's, the CEOs wives, their daughters, their\ girlfriends, their lovers . . . Venus already has the name." "Now all they need is the guiding force." Justus tilted his head down angling for a brief kiss. "And you'll be just the force of nature they need. But what about financing?" Skye's fingers came up and stroked over the tight little curls at the back of Justus' head loving the rough texture. "Financing? I was thinking of writing a check." "Skye - if it goes to auction we could be talking millions of dollars. I'm sure if you asked Edward. . ." Skye giggled prettily. "I don't know if you're aware of it Justus, but you're sleeping with a rich woman." "I know you're well off but I didn't think -" "I did better at my divorces than I ever did at any of my marriages. Between Adam, my ex husbands, Jax and the Quartermaines along with my ELQ stock I've got a ridiculous nest egg put away." "You're telling me that you're filthy, stinkin' rich?" Justus reached over and grabbed his cell phone off the night table. "Who are you calling?" "Jason. To tell him I quit." Justus replied with an easy grin. "I plan on being a kept man. A rich woman's plaything. You will buy me pretty things and play with me won't you?" "Well you did ask nicely. . ." Skye's nails crept up Justus' leg light enough to tease but firm enough not to tickle pausing to toy with the fine hairs on the inside of his thighs. Justus caught her fingers in an easy grip and brought them to his lips and kissed the pad of each fingertip. "If you're worried about the casino - you can handle it. Being there. Working there." Caught, Skye ducked her head. It was starting to get scary how easily Justus could read her. "No. I can't. I never should have been there in the first place. I need to stay away from alcohol." She looked up and gave Justus a genuine if shaky smile. "But thank you for thinking I could handle it." "So high fashion it is? I don't suppose there's any chance I could convince you to stage a hostile take over of Victoria's Secret? I'm quite fond of their catalogs. . ." "Oh! You are are you?" "What can I say? I'm a healthy growing boy." 1825 Falling Waters Drive: "Carly? Can I talk to you for a minute?" Paused with her hand on the door Carly runs through several ways to answer Sonny, settling for a simple. "That's probably not a good idea." "We have to talk about the boys. Michael and Morgan are all that matters." *POW* Right through the heart. "Fine. Let's talk." Carly motions Sonny into the library. She doesn't wait for before sitting in her favorite chair and pulling her feet up onto the ottoman. Justus was true to his word. He'd filed the papers and Sonny began his 'supervised' visitation the very next day. Justus had called only a couple of hours before Sonny arrived bearing a truckload of presents. Once Michael and Morgan were settled in the sunroom Carly excused herself and left them under Mary and Ethan's watchful eyes. Uncomfortable with his unfamiliar surroundings Sonny remains standing and crosses the room to look out the balcony windows. "This is a beautiful house." He picks up a picture frame off the mantle and studies the picture of Carly and Michael buried in the sand so that only their smiling faces and the tips of their toes showed. "I'm glad the kids have a normal place to live. Michael really loves it here." "Yeah? That's funny. I would have thought trying to take them away would mean you weren't glad they had a normal place to live." "Do you really think I want any of this?" Sonny blurts out. "I don't want to hurt you anymore. You and the boys are my family. I hate the way things are and I think you and I can fix them. No lawyers. No family court. Just you and me." Wary to the nth degree, Carly meets Sonny head on. "How?" "You and Michael and Morgan stay here. And I have my visits with them here. . ." Carly can only brace herself knowing the other shoe was out there just waiting to be dropped like an Acme anvil. "What else?" "Jason moves out." Sonny answered implacably. "I pay him for the house and put your name on the deed. Then we can forget about this custody fight. Nobody loses. Nobody gets hurt and the boys get what they need." He came to a halt in front of Carly's chair, looking at her expectantly. "Well?" "No." The flat declaration catches Sonny by surprise. "What? Carly I'm giving you a chance to avoid going to court. You should at least think about it. My way - everybody wins." "Yeah. We all win. . . but I think you should take your offer and. . .." At the last minute Carly bites down *hard* on her tongue. "Never mind Sonny. My answer's just 'no'." Rooted to the spot, Sonny raised a hand to scrub his face. "You should think about it Carly. No judge is ever going to give you custody. We could stop all this before it gets that far." "My. Answer. Is. Still. No." Carly massaged the back of her neck with one hand. "So screwing Jason's more important than our family?? Like an oncoming train Carly can feel the impending migraine bearing down on her and she automatically braces herself for the impact. "That's not the reason I'm saying no. I'm not letting you tell me what I can and can't do ever again. You and I don't have a family anymore Sonny. We have two sons who love us both but that doesn't mean I have to let you dictate my life." Standing, she poured herself a glass of water from the bar. "You know, there was a second where I thought this would work. That somehow you and I would love our boys enough to make things work." When the fine tremors started in her hands, Carly deliberately set down her glass, gripping the edge of the bar. "But that's not us is it Sonny? You called it. You were right. That first time you said we light a match and the whole house burns. Well it's burning now." "It doesn't have to be. You're letting it burn Carly! I don't want this! I don't want to hurt you! I don't want to take the boys! Give me something! Give me a way out! I can't let you and Jason raise my kids. He can't just take my family." "My answer is still no Sonny. And just for the record, this was Jason's family first." Ignoring the sharp pain flickering at the edges of her consciousness Carly turned toward Sonny keeping a death grip on the edge of the bar. "But it's *my* family now and I'm not going to do anything to change that." "Excuse me." Mrs. Landsbury walked into the room without knocking and immediately crossed to the windows. "We're in the middle of something here. Get out." Sonny barked. Ignoring Sonny Mrs. Landsbury released the ties on the heavy drapes allowing them to fall closed and in spite of the bright sun outside, throwing the room into shadow. "Miss Caroline. I believe you'll be needing this." She held out an injection pen in the palm of her hand. "Once I see Mr. Corinthos out I'll return with a cool compress for you." "I'm not going anywhere. . ." Sonny is cut off by a shockingly brutal grip on his arm. In surprise he looked down at the much older woman before looking back to the sofa where Carly was in the middle of injecting herself. The lines of her face taut with pain. "A migraine?" "Yes." Mrs. Landsbury guided Sonny out of the room, pulling the heavy oak doors shut behind them. Looking back over his shoulder, Sonny asked. "How did you know?" "That's really none of your concern Mr. Corinthos." "Daddy! You're still here!" Michael came bouncing in from the kitchen. Mrs. Landsbury pressed a finger to her lips. "Michael, your mother is indisposed so we must be very quiet." Michael's brow crinkled. "Headache?" "Yes. Now I believe you have homework to finish. If you need assistance you should ask Ms. Bishop for help." Worried, Michael gave his father one more hug. "You should go now Daddy. When Mama has a headache we have to be very quiet and you can be loud." He gave Sonny a conciliatory pat on the arm. "It's okay. You don't know any better." After Michael had gone to finish his homework, Mrs. Landsbury stopped Sonny at the door. "In the future Mr. Corinthos, when asked to leave you should do so. In the future I won't hesitate to summon this house's security force to escort you." "Is that a threat?" "No Mr. Corinthos. Merely a reminder of good manners." Shut moved to shut the door in his face. "Good day sir." 1825 Falling Waters Drive: Jason shut the bedroom door without making a sound. He dropped his jacket on the arm chair and proceeded to strip out of his ELQ clothes and pulled on a pair of loose sweat pants before climbing into bed behind Carly and molding his body around hers. Once her head was pillowed on his arm and she'd pulled his free hand around her waist, Jason nosed into her hair and sighed. "This isn't working." "It'll work. We'll make it work." Carly melted back against Jason with a sigh of her own. "We can't leave Port Charles now. At least not until Bobbie's back. Or the hospital's on better ground . . ." "I don't care about the hospital." Jason answered using the hand under Carly's head to massage the back of her neck. "And we can get a tutor for Lucas." "But then nothing's finished. Jase I don't want to keep running from Sonny. I don't want Morgan and Michael to grow up looking over their shoulders worried that their father's going to try and take them. If we stay and we fight then maybe we can work something out." Carly's brow furrowed. "I don't know. It hurts just thinking about it right now. Can I convince you I'm right later?" "Yeah. Later." Jason's hand rubbed small circles on Carly's stomach until her breathing evened out and she fell back to sleep. Once he was sure she was sleeping, he could never be too sure with Carly she could be as slippery as an eel when she was plotting something, Jason shifted her weight onto his pillow and climbed out of bed. He walked into the bathroom and grabbed his robe off the hook on the back of the door. The robe, of course, was a gift from Carly soft and in a blue she swore matched his eyes. Tugging the belt closed Jason made his way down the hall to the back stairs that led to the kitchen. There was a sharp whistle from a tea kettle and Mrs. Landsbury got up from the kitchen table to pull it off the stove. "Would you care for a cup of tea?" Reaching the bottom of the spiral staircase Jason takes a seat at the table. "No thanks." "I suppose Mr. Morgan you're quite aware that you've put me in something of an unwinnable position." "What are you talking about?" "Ms. Spencer offered me this position with the understanding that it would be my responsibility to reduce Ms. Caroline's stress. To create a simple and uncomplicated household that would require very little of her attention. Chiefly my position is that of a buffer between Ms. Caroline and the outside world. I cannot fulfill my duty if the chief irritant, namely Mr. Corinthos is allowed free reign of the house on his appointed visits." Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Jason looked up at Mrs. Landsbury without saying a word, his impatience written clearly across his face. "From now on Mr. Corinthos' access to the house should be limited to the playroom and the garden. Including of course his entrance and exit from the property." Jason nods. "That's good. I'll talk to Francis and the rest of the guards so they know." Returning to the table Mrs. Landsbury paused at the refrigerator and retrieved a cold bottle of beer which she placed in front of Jason without comment. Jason twisted off the cap and took a deep drink. "What do you think about Mary?" Irritating or not Jason knows that absolutely no detail escapes the older woman. "She does very well with the children and seems to have no difficulty following the set routine." "If there's a problem. . ." "If there is it will be brought to your attention." Mrs. Landsbury nodded briskly.