Chapter Twelve: ....And What Came of It<
Lucy's suite
Jerry's face whitened; the unexpectedness of Lucy's statement coupled with the phone call he'd just had... He couldn't deny it. Couldn't even begin to think of a way to. Couldn't seem to begin to think;, period. "Does she know?" he asked, his throat dry.
"If she does, it's not from me," Lucy said. She sighed, dropping her hands. Her intention had been to lambaste him, but, if his expression was any clue, he'd already done enough of that all on his own. "Oh, Jerry. What are you doing;, my friend? You told me you came back to town for your daughter; there she is. Sitting there, waiting for you to walk into her life. So go," Lucy stepped aside, indicating the door, with a nod of her chin. "Walk into her life."
Jerry walked -- in the opposite direction. He brushed the long curtain aside impatiently, staring out the window. "It's not that simple, Lucy."
"Yes," Lucy stalked after him, her hands on her hips, "yes, it is, Jerry. It is exactly that simple. You walk up to your child, you tell her who you are, and then go from there. Now, granted, this is Carly, and you are -- who you are, so this isn't going to be easy;. But, it is simple. I think," Lucy paused, remembering Carly's touch-me-not shell and the sadness that was not-so-hidden in her eyes, "I think Carly may need a father, Jerry. And, I know you need a daughter."
Jerry blew out a held breath quickly, turning to face Lucy. "The last thing Caroline needs is me, Lucy. We don't all live in your little fantasy world, where we all welcome one another with open arms! That may be just fine in Lucy's La-La Land, but here in the real world it doesn't work that way." He ran his palm over his face. There was a short pause. "I'm sorry," Jerry said, his voice -- older. Tired. "I know you're trying to help. But, there are things going on you don't know or understand, Lucy."
"Then tell me," Lucy shot back, not giving an inch. "Make me understand. 'Cause all I see right now is an overgrown chicken who's making a whole bunch of excuses for not doing what I know he wants to do."
Jerry met her eyes for a long moment, then let out a short bark of a laugh. "You never give up, do you, Lucy Coe?" He shook his head once, then walked past her, perching on the back of the couch, facing Lucy. "There is nothing I want more than to go up to my daughter, tell her who I am, and then try to duck before she can beat me over the head." He smiled, then looked down at his hands, spreading them wide, his grin fading. "But as much as you keep on saying it, luv, it's not that simple. For one thing, Luce, I'm a wanted man. On the run from the FBI."
"Uh-huh," Lucy crossed her arms across her chest. "Funny thing about that, Jerry Jacks. I was talking to my good buddy Mac Scorpio a couple of days ago," Jerry's head shot up, and he looked at Lucy. "Your name just happened to come up, and Mac told me something very, very interesting. He said that all the charges against you have been dropped by the FBI, that the evidence dried up. Mac was -- less than thrilled, by the way. He said, much as it galled him to admit it, it looked like you were innocent of those nasty money-laundering charges." Lucy peered closely at him. "Here's another funny thing, Jerry. You don't look the least little bit surprised at my stunning news," she said dryly.
"Don't I?" he responded slowly, looking first at her, then down.
"Darn it, Jerry!" Lucy exploded, then winced as they both turned to the baby monitor at the same time. After a few moments of holding their breaths, and silence from the monitor, Lucy turned back to Jerry. She let out a long, slow breath, speaking in a quieter tone of voice. "You live in what passes for my home, Jerry. I trust you with my daughter. We're friends, and I was even starting to think that maybe--" Lucy cut herself off, biting her lip. "I want to help you, and all you're doing is lying to me when I can see that something's completely eating you up inside. Trust me, Jerry, trust me, and let me help."
"It's not you I don't trust, Lucy!" Jerry's voice, though low as to not wake Christina, was impassioned. "It's not you; it's--" He broke off, running his fingers through his hair. "I was just a kid," he didn't look at Lucy as he spoke; she had to strain to hear his voice. "Younger than Caroline is now. And, believe it or not, I was pretty wild," his trademark grin flashed briefly across his face. "I had gotten into a scrape or two and had always managed to weasel my way out of it, and one day, this guy comes along and offers me this job. And, the way he makes it sound, my whole life'll be a grand adventure right out of the comic books. And, at first, it even was." He was quiet a long moment. "You've heard of the WSB? Well, there's a smaller, more -- elite division of the Bureau. One that's a little less worried about getting their hands dirty," Jerry looked up at Lucy, his mouth twisting bitterly. "They could have found Caroline for me anytime, but it was more efficient," he bit out the word, "for the Bureau to use her as a bargaining chip to keep me playing on their team, when my hands started to feel a little too unclean. No retirement plan, Lucy. So tell me," his dark eyes were full of pain, so much so that Lucy, despite her goosebumps, could literally feel her heart reaching out to him, "how the hell do I go to Carly with that?"
She couldn't help it; there was this thing in her that would always need to comfort when there was pain, and she could stop it. Lucy moved quickly to Jerry, cradling his head lightly to her, as she ran her fingers over his hair. "Oh, Jerry," she whispered, her lips dropping to the top of his head.
Jerry clung to her a moment, then pushed her away. "No, Lucy," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you see? I can't get close to you; I can't get close to Carly. It makes you both targets." Lucy started to say something, shaking her head stubbornly and Jerry reached out, placing two fingers over Lucy's lips. "Think about your daughter, Luce," he said softly, "the way I'm thinking about mine." He stood up, then abruptly drew Lucy close in his arms, pressing a long, searing kiss on her lips, her arms lifting slowly to twine about his neck, pulling him closer to her. After a long, timeless moment, Jerry released Lucy, breathing hard. Dark eyes locked on darker ones, and a moment later, Jerry turned abruptly and disappeared out the door.
"Ha, Jerry Jacks," Lucy whispered a moment later, her heartbeat finally back to normal, her eyes narrowing on the door Jerry had just slipped through, "like a little ol' international superspy group's going to get rid of me. Ha."
Sonny's penthouse
"You're late," she snapped, the minute he walked in the penthouse. Blair glared at him from her position on the couch, a brandy snifter held loosely in her hand. "Trouble telling time, too?" she said, mock pity in her voice.
Jason's cool blue eyes met her flashing green ones, as he shrugged and walked over to her. He looked at Blair a long moment, then sat down opposite her, his body tense. "I'm no one's errand boy, Blair; I don't drop everything and come just because you want me to."
Blair cocked her head to one side, her honeyed hair falling over her shoulder. "Funny. I could've sworn you were Sonny's little lackey," she drawled, her eyes running up and down.
Jason stiffened even more, if that were possible. "I may have worked for him once; I don't anymore," he gritted out.
"Maybe not. But it doesn't mean you aren't still cleaning up his messes, does it?" Blair leaned forward, reaching across Jason to refill her drink. She poured him one, and when he didn't reach for it, shrugged and drained it herself. "First you take over his business when he leaves it behind, then you pick up the reins of his other business, and last but not least," she let the glass slip down to the table, and leaned forward, tapping lightly on his wedding band with her well-manicured fingernails, "you marry the girl he knocks up. Pretty good for someone who's no errand boy, wouldn't you say?"
He didn't betray his emotions by a single gesture, not by moving a single muscle. But his eyes -- if one knew how to look, Jason Morgan's eyes were as close as they got to terrified. He let out a breath, the hiss through his teeth the only sign that Blair's words affected him at all. "Does Sonny know?" Jason asked her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers.
"No," Blair said sharply, her fingernails digging briefly into the skin of his hand. She sat back, loosing his hand. "And that's," she forced herself to smile slowly, languidly, "the way we both want to keep it, right?"
"I don't give a damn what you want," Jason's words were cold, colder than ice. "All I care about is my wife and our baby. Our baby." He reached out and caught her arm, pulling her forward. "As far as Carly knows, that's how it stays. Got--"
Blair cut him off as she began to laugh, throwing back her head. She jerked her arm away from him, meeting his eyes, hers flashing scornfully. "You think she doesn't already know, Pretty boy?" Blair tapped him lightly on the cheek. "Wake up. Your wife is the one pulling the wool over your eyes, not the other way around. You know, it's almost kinda sweet; she thinks she's protecting you, you think you're protecting her," Blair's nostrils flared, and her grin faded to a grimace of disgust. "Enough to make you wanna puke," she snapped.
He hated her. He hated what she was saying. The one thing he didn't do was doubt her; Jason was who he was, and he knew what he knew. Blair Daimler wasn't lying; Carly knew the truth. She knew. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. "What do you want, Blair?" Jason asked, his voice cold and clipped. And, very very tired.
"What do I want?" Blair ticked off her demands on her fingers. "I want your wife to stay the hell away from Sonny. I want him to stay away from your little bundle of joy. I want you and your wife to be blissfully, disgustingly happy. And leave me and Sonny alone." Blair stared at Jason, her eyes opaque. "Think you can manage that?"
Jason looked at her. "Do you love him?" he asked, finally, bluntly.
"Do you care?" Blair shot back, tossing her hair behind her shoulders.
"Not really," Jason said, shrugging. "I just -- I wanted to know." He stood up. "All I care about is keeping my family safe. Sonny gave up the rights to that family a long time ago." He hesitated, then looked down at her. "Doesn't mean that if he gets hurt I'm not coming after the person who does it."
Blair rose, not backing away from Jason. "I don't wanna hurt Sonny, Jason." She lifted her hand to his neck, running a single finger down his chest. "I don't want to hurt anybody. But if I don't get what I want," her eyes got very wide, "I tend to break things. But if I'm happy," she lifted her hand and ran her finger over his lips, tapping it once against them, "then we all live happily ever after, skeletons in the closet and all."
Jason grabbed her hand at the wrist, twisting slightly. Blair gasped, but she didn't move to pull away. He met her eyes a long moment, not bothering to say anything. She knew that he would play her game, much as he hated it, much as he hated playing games. He didn't have any other choice, or at least -- at least not one he liked better.
Blair's lips curved in a slow smile as she watched him watching her. She slipped her hand out of his, but didn't make any move to step away from him. "I'm glad we had this little neighborly chat, Mr. Morgan," Blair murmured. "Glad that we -- understand each other." Finally, she took a deliberate step back, never dropping his eyes. Jason hesitated, then walked past her, not bothering to say anything as he walked out the door. Blair watched him go, only sinking down on the couch after he left. She grabbed blindly for the brandy glass she had abandoned earlier, draining it in one quick gulp. All she wanted right now was to make her brain stop, to make everything, the whole world, go away. To just -- stop thinking, stop feeling like her whole life was crashing down on her. She needed to stop feeling. "Starr," Blair whispered, "this is for Starr." But, somehow, even to her, the words sounded hollow.
Jason didn't exchange so much as a glance with the men in the hallways, guarding both his doors and Sonny's as he jammed the elevator button. After waiting impatiently a moment, Jason turned and took off down the stairs with a muffled curse. All he wanted, all he could handle right now was his motorcycle, the wind rushing across his face, no thoughts, no thinking. He needed to stop feeling like his whole life was crashing down on him. He needed to stop feeling. Carly, her name echoed through Jason's mind as he revved up the engine. This is for my wife. But even in the silence of his own mind, the words felt hollow.
Kelly's
"Yeah, and Tammy? Could you put extra pickles on that?" Carly tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter, calling back into Kelly's kitchen.
"Will do, Carly," came the reply, and Carly settled down on one of the stools to wait. She had come in here intending to talk to her mother, but Bobbie had, as usual, been unavailable. However, the pit stop hadn't been totally wasted; her baby had chosen just that moment to have it's first craving -- a Kelly's burger, with the works. Carly smiled softly as she rubbed her hand absently over her stomach; at least the kid had good taste, after the less than tasty lunch at the Grille.
Carly turned her head idly as someone sat down beside her, and froze, holding a breath. She let it out slowly, as his eyes met hers, and she read -- nothing much in them. "Sonny," Carly said, softly. "Hey."
"Hey," Sonny responded, equally softly. He smiled, a single dimple flashing. "You know, I saw you here, and almost passed by, thinkin', you know, that maybe it would just be better. But, then, I figured -- small town. We're gonna run into each other. Hell, we live in the same building. Let's just make it simple. That the right thing to do, Carly?"
Carly managed to return his smile, very tentatively. "You're asking me?"
"Yeah, well, you get to make the rules," his smile widened slightly. "You were always pretty good at that."
Carly laughed, amazed at herself as she heard the sound coming from her lips. "You mean I was pretty good at getting my way, right?" She laughed again, Sonny joined in, and then stopped, letting the laughter fade into what was, almost, a companionable silence. "So," Carly spoke, "is this you and me having a -- civil conversation, Sonny? This who we are now? Acquaintances? People who knew each other when?"
Sonny's eyes darkened, and for a moment, Carly could have sworn she saw -- everything that hadn't been there a moment ago. Regret, pain, shadows, desire -- and then a mask dropped, and they were just -- a pair of dark eyes, looking back into hers. "Not bad for you and me, huh? Could be a lot worse." He looked away from her too searching gaze, and grasped at any topic of conversation. "Ordering lunch?" he asked, wincing internally at the inanity of the question.
"Yeah," Carly looked down at the counter. "I was supposed to have lunch at the Grille, but Kelly's was calling my name," she said, deliberately not mentioning the baby, not wanting him to even think about her baby, fearing that even his thoughts could -- lead places she wouldn't, couldn't let herself follow.
"You hate the Grille," Sonny looked back at her, catching her eyes once again.
Carly smiled, softly, almost unwillingly. "You remember that?" she asked, feeling it, that connection, the way his eyes could just -- see her.
"I remember everything. Caroline." Sonny's voice cracked slightly on her name, his voice raspy despite his best efforts to hold it still. Why had he said that? What was he doing
"Sonny," Carly whispered, shaking her head. Suddenly, the color drained from her face, and her hand pressed against her stomach, the salt shaker she had been spinning absently in her other hand dropping to the floor with a crash. She gasped in pain, and Sonny moved quickly, holding her arm.
"Carly?" he asked, concern and more than that in his voice.
She turned a white face to him. "Something's -- something's wrong, Sonny," Carly gasped again, both hands at her stomach now. "Oh, god, Sonny, the baby, it hurts; something's wrong!"
