Kelly's

Carly slouched down the last couple of stairs into the main room of Kelly's, trying to pull her hair up into a ponytail with one hand.

"Mama!" Michael tugged at her other, occupied hand, trying to break her grasp as he lunged for the kitchens. "Wanna go!"

"Michael Morgan Quartermaine!" Carly grabbed at the back of his shirt, letting her hair loose and catching him just as he squirmed away. With an exasperated sigh, she grasped Michael solidly about the waist, lifted him to her him and strode quickly to the counter. An expert arm held the wiggling little boy firmly on the nearest stool as she quickly twisted her hair up into a half-ponytail/half-bun before training all of her attention on her small son. "Now, what is the rule about the kitchens?" Carly asked, gravely.

Michael's petulant pout was pure Carly Benson. "Always ask 'fore going in. No running."

"Got it in one, kiddo." Carly tapped her son's nose with her forefinger, prompting a giggle. She held up her finger as he was about to dissolve into laughter. "And, what is Mama's morning rule?"

The pout started to reappear, then quick as a flash, Michael turned around on the stool, reaching for a coffee mug. He held it out to her with wobbly hands. "No yelling or running or nothin' loud 'til Mama has coffee," Michael said, with a long-suffering look.

Carly couldn't help it; she let out a laugh and took the mug from him as she pressed a sloppy kiss to the top of his head. "Two for two, Mister Man." She put the mug on the counter and hoisted her son down from the stool. "Okay, you know where Gamma keeps your cereal, right?"

Michael considered, then flashed her a crafty grin. "Know where Gamma keeps the cookies."

"Cereal," Carly asserted firmly, giving Michael a look. "And, don't even try to sneak; I will find out." She turned him in the direction of the kitchen. "You can pour your bowl but wait for me to pour the juice or ask Kim very nicely, got it?" Carly waited for Michael's nod before letting him loose, calling back into the kitchen, "Kim, incoming!", as Michael galloped away. Once she heard the cheerful 'Got it', she sank down onto Michael's abandoned stool with a sigh and grabbed greedily for the coffeepot, filling her mug and downing half of it in quick gulps.

"So that's little Michael, huh?" Carly spun around in her seat as a voice she didn't, quite, recognize spoke from behind her. "I barely recognize him; he's growing up."

"Yeah, well, kids do that." Carly regarded the well-dressed man carefully; he relaxed, faintly amused, and let her. "Justus Ward," she finally said, slowly, neutrally.

"Carly Benson," he inclined his head with a small smile. He nodded towards the kitchen. "Mind if I go say hello?"

"Why?" Carly stood up quickly, moving between Justus and the kitchen. "You never liked me, Justus; why do you want to see my kid?"

"He's my cousin, Carly, no matter which brother his daddy is. And, if you'll recall, I'm one of the reasons you're actually still able to see that boy of yours instead of staring at him from a hundred foot restraining order."

Carly lifted a slow eyebrow, her eyes not moving from Justus' as she reached out for her coffee mug, draining it quickly. "If you're waiting for me to say thanks, take a number," she said. "If you think doing what you did gives you any rights to my son, then you're insane." Her voice was flat. "Enough Quartermaines have tried to use my son. You don't get to join that line. No one else does, ever."

Wounded pride flashed across Justus' face briefly, chased by something like admiration. "My name's Ward, Carly, not Quartermaine." He sat down at the counter. "And, I don't steal babies."

Carly watched him, then moved towards the counter, reaching for her mug. "Good to know. Maybe the psychotic desire to steal and keep my children skips every third kid in a generation or something." She grabbed the coffee pot from underneath the counter and refilled her mug, hesitated, then turned his mug over, filling it as well. "Coffee's on the house; I've gotta get back to my son."

Justus watched her thoughtfully as she drained her mug a second time, grabbed the dirties, and headed back to the kitchen. It was fascinating how little this woman resembled the scared woman-child he'd known and disliked four years ago. "Carly," he called after her, surprising himself. He lifted his mug. "Thanks for the coffee." As she waved her hand in acknowledgement he surprised himself even further with the thought that this woman might be someone he'd like to know.

the Regency

The bartender approached the woman at the end of the bar warily. In the few weeks the red-head had been staying here, on and off, she'd gained a reputation among the hotel staff as gorgeous but lethal. "What can I get you, Ms. Chase?" he asked tentatively.

To his great surprise, she turned to him with a smile. "Virgin Bloody Mary on the rocks. Oh, and," Skye Chandler glanced at his name tag, "Billy, can I get that with lime instead of lemon, please?"

"Sure thing, Ms. Chase." He mixed the drink quickly and expertly, sliding it to her in a smooth motion. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Skye smiled again, brilliantly, and took a long sip of the cold, spicy drink. She closed her eyes, a small smile playing about her lips. She'd discovered this retreat a little over a month ago, looking for a place to escape from her so-called 'family'. This small, elegant hotel on the edge of Port Charles that was not owned by the Quartermaines had proven to be the perfect escape. She had waltzed in, registered under the name Antoinette Chase, and secured a suite for the time being. It was a place she could breathe. And, as an added benefit, it was a place she could meet her lover in secrecy. Wyndemere was plenty private, but you could only make love surrounded by stone gargoyles so many times before it became passé. Thinking of Stefan, Skye opened her eyes to glance at her watch and found herself staring into a very different pair of dark eyes.

"Followin' me around, Miz Chandler?" Sonny drawled out her name, his lip curled up in disgust as he let his eyes drift from the tips of her toes to her eyes. "Gotta warn you, little girl, that's not a good move."

Skye could feel the knots in her shoulders that had begun to relax start to form again. "Following would imply that you had been here first," she explained, speaking slowly as if to a particularly dull child. "As you can see," Skye indicated herself, "that wasn't the case, Mr. Corinthos. "Blows your paranoid little theory all to hell, doesn't it?"

Sonny shrugged. "Never said the Quartermaines were stupid. Just that they're conniving, back-stabbing, cold as hell, and ready to eat their own alive or throw 'em to the wolves." "I'm not a Quartermaine," Skye said, sharply.

Sonny's hands slid in his pockets. "Maybe not. But, are you gonna deny they sicked you on me to try and get my ELQ shares? Or that you were willing to sell every damn one of 'em up the river?"

Skye fished the celery stick out of her drink and deliberately crunched it, chewing and swallowing very slowly. "Why should I bother," she said, finally, "to deny or confirm anything? I don't know you; I don't want to. I don't owe you any explanations."

Sonny smiled; his eyes were dark and very cold. "Maybe you should rethink that."

"Are you threatening me?" Skye asked, in disbelief.

Sonny shook his head, with a small scornful laugh. "I don't threaten women."

"Suuuure," Skye rolled her eyes, leaning her weight on her elbow as she watched him. "Only when they're married to you, right?"

Sonny's hand shot out, and he grabbed her wrist, unbalancing her. "Don't talk about things you don't understand, little girl. And, never mention my wife again."

Skye twisted her wrist in his grasp, her fingernails driving hard into the back of his hand as her stiletto dug into his foot. He dropped her hand immediately with a small yelp. "Don't ever touch me again," Skye hissed. "Don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't even breath in my direction. You got me, little man?"

Sonny wrenched his hand away from hers, taking a step back. "Bitch," he muttered, nursing his sore hand. He glared at her. "Fine. You stay the hell away from me; I'll stay away from you. You wanna move out of my way so I can talk to the man about coffee?" He gestured at the bartender, shooing her aside as if motioning towards a particularly repugnant insect.

Skye pushed wordlessly away from the bar counter and stalked out of the room. She gasped as she felt a hand grab her wrist and draw her into a darkened alcove. Tensed, ready to fight, Skye paused, her breath caught, as she felt lips caress that self-same wrist. "Stefan?"

Stefan lifted his head, his dark eyes, so different from Sonny's boring into hers. "Did he hurt you?" he demanded, his breath warm against the inside of her palm.

She shook her head. "No, though I may have given him a scar," Skye announced, smiling grimly. After a moment, she looked up at him, and the smile slid off her face. "I'm sorry; I know that Sonny's a piece in this game we're playing. I didn't do you any favors by antagonizing him."

Stefan shook his head. "It does not matter. He doesn't know that you and I have a connection; if need be, I can still approach him. However," he looked over his head, and she watched his features darken, "this is the second time I have seen Corinthos act dishonorably towards women whom I value. It may be that what he can offer us is not worth the price."

"Stefan, it's not worth it. Come on, he's a jerk with a dirty mouth, but I can handle him." Skye lay her palm against Stefan's chest, and drawing his attention from Sonny Corinthos to her. "This matters too much; don't let the fact that he's a pig change what we have to do."

Stefan released her wrist, and lifted his hands to her face, twining tightly in her hair, and pulled Skye towards him. "Let nothing distract you from your goal." He slipped one hand from her hair, tracing a forefinger down her cheek; Skye suppressed a shiver. "You are learning."

"Maybe," Skye took a step backwards, supported herself against the wall, and slid her palm across his chest, drawing him to her, "I just have a really good teacher."

Stefan's free hand braced against the wall beside her head; the other tilted her head almost painfully upwards. His lips descended, then stopped, mere centimeters from hers. "Upstairs," he murmured, feeling her breath hot and fast against his mouth, sure she felt his against hers. "Today's lesson -- private matters," his eyes flicked to the opening that led into the hall, "are private."

Skye's fingers against his chest tightened into a fist, as she grasped his shirt front. She pulled hard, until, off-balanced, Stefan's lips met hers. "Lesson number two," Skye murmured against his lips, eyes open and dancing challengingly, "private is as private does. Sometimes other priorities are -- pressing." With that she twisted her body under his, pressing upwards, until every single curve she possessed melded into the lean hardness of his body. He managed to hold himself still for a moment, then with a deep noise from his throat, slid his arm around her waist, devouring her lips, tasting them over and over again. Skye laughed, low and richly. "Now who's playing teacher?"

Quartermaine Rose Garden

Edward ineffectually daubed at a stain on his jacket lapel, finally giving up with a sigh. He tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket and blew gently on the mug he was carrying, walking carefully through the garden. He paused as he rounded the corner leading to the yellow and white hope garden. A soft smile crossed his lips as he watched her for a moment as she spoke softly to the flowers, clipping a few and placing them carefully in her basket, stroking many more. All these many years, all these years and just the mere sight of her still made his heart beat faster.

"Lila, my love," he called as he continued towards her, and she lifted her head, smiling as she saw him. He held out the mug to her, taking her basket in exchange. "Your tea. Though I think that useless Reginald added too much lemon."

Lila shook her head reprovingly as she took a sip. "Nonsense. He knows exactly how I like it. This is perfect. Even more so," she smiled at her husband, "because you brought it to me." Lila cocked her head on one side as she looked up at Edward. "My darling, what is it? What's wrong?"

Edward sighed, and sat carefully on the bench beside her chair. "Dillon stormed out of the house. Upset the coffee pot," he gestured ruefully at his jacket. "I tried to stop him and ended up making everything worse." He sighed. "What is it about our grandchildren, Lila? Why can't we hold onto them?"

Lila covered her husband's hand with her own, placing her cup down on the bench. "Maybe it's because they have so much of you in them," she said, with a soft smile. "Like you, they'll go their own way, find their own paths. You didn't do so badly, my love. Neither will they. You found your way home."

"I found you, Lila," Edward's voice was tender, as he caressed his wife's fingers. "You're my home, my north-facing arrow. Without you, I would have been as lost as Dillon or AJ or Justus or, god forbid, Jason."

Lila smiled. "They're not as lost as you think, Edward. Just because you don't see their paths doesn't mean they don't have one. AJ is newly married to a lovely girl and working to make his company a success. Justus is doing fine work; you may not approve, but you must admit that Mary Mae would be quite proud of him. Ned tells me that our Dillon may have quite a talent. And, Jason -- Jason is home. Perhaps it 'tis all we can ask for," she stroked her husband's cheek lightly. "I shall continue to pray that he stays safe, Edward, but at least he's home."

Edward leaned his cheek against his wife's fingertips. "And, god willing, he'll stay here." He sat, quietly, a few moments; few of his business associates would have recognized the man sitting in the garden, but all of his children would have known the man they first called 'Father'. "This plan of ours, Lila, will it work? Do you think it can bring the family together? Or is it just another of my mistakes?"

"If it is a mistake, darling, it's made out of love and hope. And, I will make it with you and by your side." She cradled his head as it dropped to her shoulder. "Always, my love. Always and forever."