Chapter Four: It Begins
Kelly's
"No! Michael, I'm serious; I'm counting to three. One..." Carly paused, her hand on her hip, a sharp gaze trained on her son. "Two..."
Michael looked from his angry mommy to the dirt-coated stick he was gripping tightly in his fist. He knew that look in her eyes and knew exactly what it spelled, but the stick was SO appealing. He glanced at the stick, glanced at his mommy, heard her call 'Three!', and swiped the stick deliberately across his clean shirt. He looked up at Carly and took off running.
"Michael!" Carly hollered after him, then swore under her breath. She let the duffel bag on her shoulder slip off into the wrought iron chair outside of Kelly's and headed after her miscreant child. "Michael," she called, "you better stop where you are, buddy! Mama is already so not happy right now!"
She froze as she rounded the corner outside of the gate, and her eyes narrowed. Her son was sobbing, and some strange kid was holding him. "Hey! Get away from my son!" Carly snapped out sharply. "Michael, come here, baby."
Dillon looked up from the tear stained face of the little boy leaning against his knee. He touched Michael softly on the cheek. "This your mom, buddy?" Michael nodded, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Dillon looked back at Carly. "He came barreling around the corner like a bat out of -- mmphf," he covered at Carly's glare. "Fell and scraped his knee. But," he made a show out of examining the knee, crossing his eyes as Michael giggled, "I'm pretty sure the patient's gonna live."
"Not a patient, I'm a little boy," Michael exclaimed.
"Yeah, and you're a little boy who's about to be in big trouble," Carly warned. She knelt down. "Come here, baby, and let me look at your knee." She tugged the material of his shorts away from his knee with gentle fingers. She blew on the scrape softly. "Better?" He nodded, his arms twining around her neck, and Carly stood up, her son on her hip. "Look, uh, sorry I was kinda short before, kid. Thanks," Carly spoke around Michael's head.
As soon as he stood up, Dillon resumed his habitual scowl, hands in pockets. He shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."
She held out her hand. "Carly Corin-- Carly Benson. And, this," Carly smoothed Michael's hair as his head rested against her shoulder, "is Michael."
Dillon shook her hand with a surprisingly strong grip, before sliding his hands back in his pockets. "Dillon."
"Just Dillon, huh? Well, Dillon, you better get yourself a last name pretty quick or in this town, someone's likely to try and claim you as a long-lost son or brother or somethin'." She rolled her eyes at her own lame joke.
"Naah." A quick grin crossed Dillon's face, and for a moment, the boy reminded her of someone. "My family's got enough of those already." A nod that passed for polite, and he was gone 'round the corner.
Carly watched him go and shook her head once, before turning back to the child in her arms. "And, what about you, huh, Mister Man?" She tugged at his shirt, trying in vain to brush it off as he leaned against her, as calm and placid as he hadn't been ten minutes ago. "We took a bath this morning just so you could be all clean and pretty for Gramma Bobbie, and look at you. Dirty and bloody. I cannot wait to see Bobbie's reaction to that one," she muttered.
Michael leaned his head against Carly's shoulders, reaching up with one little boy hand to pat her hair. "Love you, Mama," his voice was sunny.
Carly grinned; at least she knew her kid came by his powers of manipulation honestly. "Love you too, bugaboy." She blew a raspberry against his cheek and slid him down off her hip, taking his hand in hers. "Let's go see your grandma."
GH
"Thank you, Dr. Nancy." Gia smiled at the older woman, walking beside her towards the elevators. "Every time I come here, I feel better about this pregnancy."
Nancy Neuman touched younger woman's shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You should, Gia. Everything's proceeding just as it should; this is a textbook pregnancy."
Gia snorted. "Yeah, somehow I'm thinking they're not gonna be teaching that particular textbook in schools any time soon." She glanced at Dr. Neuman and shook her head once. "Sorry. Bad joke."
The doctor smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, child, all is well and will continue to be so. I promise. I have known your mother too long and too well not to take care of her baby and grandbaby while she's off recovering." Nancy folded Gia in a quick hug. "Now," she pulled back with a smile, "don't forget to get that prescription filled. You're at the end of your first trimester; all the hormones are starting to change again, so we're going to adjust your vitamins."
"Yes, ma'am!" Gia flicked two fingers in a mock salute, then smiled, a real smile this time. "Thanks, Dr. Nancy." She gave a small wave as Nancy Neuman headed back to her office, then took a deep breath and blew it out through her teeth. Textbook was the last thing this baby was; one hand fell to her stomach, making small unconscious circles. Gia turned to press the down elevator button and froze, all color draining from her face.
Stefan Cassadine regarded the woman standing in front of him, his face schooled in neutrality. "Mrs. Quartermaine," he nodded. "Congratulations on your recent nuptials." Though careful not to show it, he did not miss her hand unclenching and clenching protectively in front of her stomach.
"Mr. Cassadine." Gia drew on every lesson learned from six months in the public eye as the Face of Deception and smiled politely. "Thank you for your good wishes. And, speaking of my husband," she reached out and pressed the down button, deftly, "I'm supposed to meet him for lunch, so if you'll excuse me..."
Stefan stepped smoothly aside. "Of course. I'm sure you have many things to discuss with the father of your child." Gia whirled, sharply, and stared at him. Stefan smiled blandly. "I hope I've not said anything untoward; I could not help but overhear your conversation with Dr. Neuman."
"No, it's just," Gia grasped at something, anything to cover the panic she was sure was obvious on her face, "we haven't told our families yet. AJ and I are keeping this pregnancy to ourselves for a while."
"Well," he gave her a small smile, "then you may be assured of my discretion. Good day, Mrs. Quartermaine. And, again, my congratulations." Stefan nodded again, and in her mind's eye, Gia could see him doffing a top hat, and turned smoothly and continued down the corridor.
Gia managed to hold it together until the elevator opened; she jabbed at the 'close doors' button, thankful for small favors -- the elevator was empty. Fumbling in her bag with trembling fingers, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed. "Mr. Quartermaine please. It's his wife." She waited anxiously; it wasn't long.
"Gia, the baby? Is everything--"
She cut him off. "No, no. The baby's fine; it's not that. I ran into Stefan Cassadine, AJ. He knows I'm pregnant."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Well, we knew he'd find out, sooner or later, Gia. It doesn't change anything."
Gia took a deep, shuddering breath. "No, I guess not. It just -- scared me. I knew it had to come, but I was hoping we'd have a little more time." She was quiet for a small space. "Here we go, AJ. It begins."
Stefan's office
He made sure the door was closed sharply behind him before striding over to his desk and picking up a framed photograph, gripping it tightly. "Ah brephos," Stefan's voice was a low murmur, and he closed his eyes tightly.
"Stefan?" Skye glanced around quickly, then leaned back against the door, closing it gently. She considered a moment, then moved to his side, her steps soft. "Stefan?" Skye repeated when she reached him, touching his hand with hers. "You're bleeding."
Stefan looked at her; Skye drew in a sharp breath. For a moment, she would have sworn he didn't even recognize her, his eyes were so full of a dark, burning anger. Then he blinked and -- his eyes were his again. "Skye," he attempted a smile, "I am sorry. Were we meeting today?"
Skye reached down, gently removing Stefan's hand from the framed portrait and placing it on his desk. She traced the thin slice on his palm with her forefinger, then reached in her purse, pulling out a handkerchief and began to wrap it around his palm. "Did you hear from your nephew?" she asked, carefully.
"No," Stefan shook his head. "Not since he arrived in Paris." He withdrew his hand from hers, gazing at the handkerchief for a long moment. "Thank you."
"For what? A piece of cloth?" She shrugged. Skye gestured in his direction, then made a more definitive motion, sliding her arm through his and the fingers of her other hand to his cheek. "Stefan," she said, quietly, aware that she was redefining the boundaries of this thing they were calling a relationship, "what is it? Let me help."
Stefan made no response for a long moment. When he turned to look at her, his face was calm, composed, and aloof; Skye felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He spoke slowly. "There is a thing you could do. And, it is in your particular arena as it involves the Quartermaines."
"What is it? Something with Edward or ELQ?" Skye furrowed her brow. "I thought the game plan there was 'wait and listen'. Did something change?"
"No. This task has nothing to do with ELQ."
"I don't--" Skye shook her head. "You mentioned my family. If not Edward, then who?"
Stefan looked at her, his gaze locking and holding, and spoke a single word, all his outer calm dissolving in the intensity of his voice.
"Gia."
upstairs at Kelly's
"I'm not kidding, Mama, this is fine," Carly stretched out on her back, pulling one of the pillows from beneath her head to hold as she turned on her side, propping her head up with her hand. "Look, you know that you and I do much better as mother and daughter when we're not living together. And, it's not like my last living situation is an option anymore."
Bobbie looked around the room skeptically. "It's just kind of small, honey. You've got to admit that small has never been your thing."
Carly laughed. "It's not like I'm saying I wanna live here all my life, Mama. God." She rolled her eyes. "But, just until I get everything together and get my life back on track here, I need a roof for myself and my son."
"So," Bobbie reached out and tucked a strand of Carly's hair behind her ear, trying not to sound too hopeful, "does that mean you're sticking around for a while?"
"Yeah," Carly took a deep breath, making a face as she blew it out. "I'm home." She ran her fingers through her hair, fiddling with a single strand. "Which somewhere along the line became Port Charles. Go figure."
"However it happened, I'm awfully glad it did." Bobbie pulled her daughter into a hard hug, still rejoicing in feeling her child's flesh beneath her fingers. "I missed you so much, honey. You too, Michael." Bobbie smiled at her grandson, who was peeking up over the side of the bed. He climbed up with them, and leaned trustingly against his grandmother, who slipped an arm around him.
Carly ruffled her son's hair and looked over his head at Bobbie. "You know, I really wish I could've been here for you when all that stuff went down a few months ago. If I'dve known--"
"I know you would have." Bobbie placed her hand on her daughter's. "And, that's why I didn't tell you until after -- everything. You and Michael had enough to deal with, and it was safer for you not being here. We didn't know who else might be the next target."
"But the funeral and everything," she tilted her head. "I wish you hadn't had to be alone, Bobbie."
Bobbie shook her head, and took Carly's hand with her free one. "I wasn't alone. And, I knew my daughter and my grandson were safe. That was enough."
Carly looked at her mother, then reached over pulling her into another hug, Michael sandwiched between them. "I really love you," she murmured, her face pressed into Bobbie's shoulder.
"Mama, you're smooshing me!" Michael piped up, pushing Bobbie and Carly apart with small fists.
Both women broke out laughing, and Bobbie sat up, swinging Michael into her lap. "How about I take you downstairs, and we raid the kitchen and see what kind of cookies I have back there while your Mama unpacks? How's that sound?"
Michael grinned, and Carly stood up, flashing Bobbie a grateful look. "Thanks Mama, that would really help." She leaned over the bed and gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be down in a while, okay?" Carly waved as Bobbie pulled the door taut, then collapsed back on the bed. After a moment, she rolled over on her stomach and reached for the phone.
"Hey, it's me. Is that how you always answer the phone?" Carly laughed.
"No, sometimes I'm rude." Carly snorted. "So, you got there? Kill anyone yet?"
"Not yet. But, it's still early. Give me time. What about you, Todd? Do you miss me yet?"
"Awww, Caroline, don't make me get mushy. You know I don't do mushy."
"I'm gonna take that as a yes." She twisted the cord between her fingers. "Sooo. How's Starr? And, Blair and the baby?"
"C'mon, Caroline, you didn't call me to ask about my kid or my wife. What do you want?"
"I don't know. I guess I just want you to tell me I'm not an idiot for coming back to Port Charles."
"You ARE an idiot. The last thing you need to deal with is the Mini-Mobster. Should've stayed here in Llanview with Cousin Todd."
"Yeah 'cause you're SO much better for my sanity." Carly laughed at his rude response. "Hey, I should go. I have a million things to do. Kiss your kid for me, okay? I love you." She smiled, and eased the phone back down in it's cradle.
Carly stretched out on the bed, making no move to get off of it. "Car-o-line," she sounded out each syllable of her name in the empty room, and sat up abruptly, wrapping her arms around her knees. She sighed. "Welcome home."
