the park
Carly grimaced and stared down at the legal pad on her lap. Penciled in across the top in dark black letters was ‘Ways To Get a Life’. The rest of the yellow paper was blank. She had sat here for forty-five minutes, and all she had to show for it was a piece of paper with a ridiculous heading and various doodles all up and down the sides.
She sighed, heavily. This had all been Bobbie’s great idea. Carly had asked her mother for advice on what to do next to make her life her own, and Bobbie’s brilliant suggestion had been ‘make a list’. So, here she was, almost an hour later, sitting cross-legged on a bench, a pad of paper on her knee and absolutely nothing to show for it. Though her block-lettering had turned out pretty well, she thought, looking at the paper critically. Maybe she could apply for a job as a sign-painter.
Rolling her eyes, Carly snatched the paper off the pad and crumpled it in her fist. She tossed it into the nearby garbage can, muttering under her breath. This was stupid. She couldn’t just sit here and make a list and expect her life to fall into place. Things didn’t work that way. Bobbie had waaay too much faith in the power of an organized mind -- not like either she or her mother possessed one of those, as witnessed by the blank piece of paper she had just trashed.
Of course, it didn’t help that she was sitting here. It hadn’t been intentional. Bobbie had wanted to take Michael for the afternoon and had mentioned taking him to Felicia’s; Carly had quickly bailed out of that one. She had, instead, announced that she was going to take the time to sit down and really figure out her next move. And, so she had ended up here. In the park. Where the ghosts were so thick she could practically bat at them with her fist.
She didn’t even have to close her eyes to see herself and Sonny kneeling in the sandbox, laughing as Michael covered their feet with sand from his diametric as they discussed their son and all the ways they would love him. Carly didn’t have to imagine Jason’s hand around her shoulders as they sat on a bench very much like this one, and he told her it was all gonna be okay. She could feel it’s weight with the same reality as the pencil in her hand. Healthy or not, real or not, memories were everywhere she turned. No wonder she couldn’t concentrate on her future; her past wouldn’t leave her alone.
Carly almost didn’t turn when she heard him say her name; she was so wrapped up in her past, she thought it was just another voice in her mind. When she turned it was lazily, leisurely. She didn’t really expect him to be there. Which was why, she justified to herself later, she acted the way that she did.
Her hands went numb, and everything she was holding fell to the ground, pencil, pad and other assorted school supplies she had bought for this afternoon’s exercise in futility. And, so it was that the first time she saw her ex-husband after walking out of Port Charles months ago, they were both on their knees scrambling for pink highlighters. After a moment, Carly rocked back on her heels. “Sonny,” she said, quietly.
He squatted, facing her, and after a moment, rose in a single fluid motion, extending a hand to help her up. Carly hesitated, then took it. She stood up, brushing herself off, and Sonny’s hands slid in his pockets. He watched her a long moment, unsure of what to say, what to do, what to feel. “I heard you were back in town,” Sonny said, finally, quietly.
Carly let out a small, sharp laugh. “Come on, Sonny. This is me, remember? You ‘heard’ I was back in town from the big guy who’s been followin’ Michael and me around since you found out where we were.” She held out a hand, forestalling whatever he was about to say. “I’m not complaining, Sonny, okay? You have your reasons. I’m just saying -- I know how to spot a tail.”
“I should’ve known.” Sonny gave a small, lopsided grin. “But,” he shrugged, “just because we’re not, you know, married any more, it doesn’t mean you and Michael are safe. The guard’s for your protection, Carly.”
“I know that too,” Carly said, quietly. “I’m not complaining, just saying. He could have introduced himself or something.”
“No, he couldn’t. I told him to keep his distance.”
Carly snorted, delicately. “Figures.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sonny asked, sharply.
She shrugged. “Just that hands off, keep the hell away sounds like you.” Carly held up a warding hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-- I don’t want to fight with you, Sonny.”
“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” They were both silent, a long moment, then he jerked his chin slightly in her direction. “So, you’re back? To stay?”
Carly nodded. “This is my home, Sonny. It’s where my family is. I’m not talking about you,” she added, quickly. “Don’t worry; that’s over. Believe me, I know that.” Sonny was taken aback by the look in her eyes; if he hadn’t known better, he could almost have called it relief. “But my mother, my brother -- I don’t want Michael to grow up without them.”
“That’s good,” Sonny’s voice was quiet. “A kid should grow up with his family.” He paused. “How’s Michael?”
This time Carly’s smile was wider, less guarded. “He’s good. He’s really growing up. Maybe,” she pressed her palms together, “maybe after we get settled, you could come by and see him.”
“I’d like that. If you don’t think it would confuse him.”
Carly rolled her eyes, and her voice was slightly sharp. “Don’t worry, my son is very clear on you and your position in his life.” She flexed her fingers and took a deep breath. She wasn’t gonna do this; she had sworn to herself she wasn’t gonna do this. Carly forced a neutral smile. “But, I know he’d like to see you; he asked about you yesterday when we were walking down by the docks.”
Sonny dug a card out of his pocket and handed it to Carly. “Why don’t you give me a call when you’re ready? We can figure out a place to meet.”
Carly wove Sonny’s card in between her fingers, not bothering to glance at it. “I know your phone number, Sonny. It hasn’t been that long.” She dropped his gaze after a moment, tossing her hair back and letting the breeze ruffle it softly before turning back to him. “Did you ever think we’d be these people? Standing in the park, having polite conversation about visitation?” She shook her head. “I never thought we’d be these people.”
Sonny watched her, her long blonde hair blowing gently in the wind. He had seen her like this so many times, had even dreamed her this way more than once. But, there was something -- different. Carly seemed further away than she’d ever been before. It was like there was a wall between them, different than even in their worst times before. He just couldn’t quite figure out what that difference was. “Carly, I--”
“No, Sonny,” she spoke over his words. “No. I don’t want to go there, okay? Let’s not make this into more than it is. We’re just two people who were married once, for a little while. You kicked me out. And, I left you. And, now we’re just -- we’re over. And, that’s the way we both want it.” She bent down and gathered up all her supplies, dropping his suddenly too intense gaze. When she lifted her eyes back to his, Carly’s eyes were opaque, her mouth set in an impersonal line. “I’ll call you, in a week or so.”
Sonny nodded, lifting a hand as she walked away. He watched her ‘til she turned on the path; she never looked back once. It wasn’t until then that he realized exactly what the difference was. Every other time he’d been the one to put up the wall, he’d built it between them. And, Carly had been the one to barrel through it. This time, this time it was her wall. Sonny Corinthos was a master wall-builder. He had no earthly clue how to go about knocking one down.
the Regency
Skye rolled over slowly on her back, sliding down against his body, until her head found the place where his arm and shoulder met. She turned her head and pressed a kiss against his chest, allowing her teeth to graze his skin lightly. “May we repeat that lesson please?” she murmured, rising on one elbow to look down at him, a sultry smile on her face. One finger traced lazily across his chest. “I’m afraid I forgot to take notes.”
Stefan reached up, brushing her flame-colored hair off her face and tucking it, almost delicately, behind her ear. “If there were lessons being learned, solnyshka moya, they went both ways.” He wove his hand into her silky, tousled hand, letting his palm rest against her cheek.
Her smile softened. “You always call me that. What does it mean?” Stefan didn’t answer, just traced her cheekbone with one thumb. Skye turned her head, pressing her lips against the curve of his palm; she was rewarded by the slight shiver that ran through his muscles underneath her palm. “Stefan,” she murmured, and pressed another, longer, kiss against his palm, “how long? How long until this truly happens for us?”
Stefan removed his hand from her back and slid it up to her other cheek, trapping her face between her palms. He gazed into her sherry colored eyes for a long, long moment. “Patience,” he said, finally, “seems to be the one lesson you cannot learn.”
Skye twisted her head, freeing it from his grasp. She turned away from him, and he traced a finger down the smooth arch of his back. “It isn’t patience, Stefan. I mean, yes, it’s an area in which I could improve. But, this isn’t about lack of patience.” Skye slid out of bed, strolling unabashedly across the room. She paused, one hand on the velvet covered armchair. “I hate that house.” Without looking, she snagged his discarded shirt from the chair and slipped her arms in it. “I can’t breathe in that place, Stefan.” Skye wrapped her arms around her middle, the too-long sleeves dangling from her wrists and turned back to him. “Do you know what it’s like to live in a place where no one wants you, and they’re constantly trying to figure out the best way to use you or break you or hurt you?”
Stefan rose up to a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. His eyes never left hers. “Yes,” he said simply. “I do know what that is like. But, your father--”
“Alan tries,” she interrupted him. “Sometimes it’s enough. Most of the time it’s not. One ally in a house full of enemies isn’t enough. And, Alan is an awfully -- absent ally.” Skye stood a moment, then slid into the chair drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “All my life all I’ve wanted is to belong, somewhere. Now I’m having to spend my days pretending that I do in a family that knows I don’t. I don’t know how much longer I can do that.”
“Skye.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “You know why it is that I do this. I am trying to carve out an empire for my nephew. A place where he can belong. ELQ is the first piece towards that goal. It will be achieved.” His voice brooked no other option.
She smiled slightly, sadly. “For Nikolas, right?”
“And for you. This merger will create a place which no one can deny is yours, by right.”
“Come on, Stefan,” Skye shook her head, once. “I have no illusions left, and I kinda like it that way. We,” she indicted herself and Stefan with a flick of her wrist, “have a good time, but Nikolas is the point. You and I both know that.”
Stefan slowly slid out of bed, as bonelessly and graceful as a panther. He approached Skye, pausing in front of her, and lowering himself beside her. He reached over the arm of her chair to cup her face softly, tracing underneath each eye with his thumbs. “You asked why I call you solnyshka moya, my own fire, my flame. It is because always in your eyes, there is a dark flame that burns, beyond the pain, beyond the fear. That flame -- I know it’s name.” Stefan leaned in, claiming her lips in a long, searching kiss. When he broke it, they were both breathless. “Yes. With or without you, I would do this. But, I have chosen to do it with you.” He looked into her eyes. “You belong here, solnyshka moya. You belong with me. Can that not be enough?” Stefan, quite unexpectedly, felt his heart began to beat faster, as she met his gaze.
Finally, she spoke. “For now,” Skye whispered, sliding off the chair until her knees were even with his. She leaned forward, her forehead finally coming to rest against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist. “For now.”
AJ and Gia’s house
AJ pushed open the door with his foot, briefcase in one hand, bags of various shapes and sizes in the other. He turned around, stepping inside the house he’d bought when he and Gia had, well, mutually proposed. Less than ten seconds later, the bags had tumbled to the floor. “Gia?” he called out weakly. “Gia, you home?”
When he had bought the house, AJ had simply purchased it furnished. It had seemed easiest, and the furnishings had been, if not anything special, certainly serviceable. As of forty-eight hours ago, when he’d left for New York, it had still been his nice, simple little house by the water. He had naturally assumed it would still be how he’d left it; apparently, he hadn’t taken into account the whirlwind of a woman who was now his wife. Colors, light, green growing things, half-opened boxes -- they were everywhere. He took a step forward, stumbled over a jewel-toned Oriental rug strewn casually across the floor, and called out her name again, this time with more authority. “Gia!”
A moment later, the kitchen door swung open, and Gia walked out, one of his t-shirts knotted up and a pair of ancient grey sweatpants riding low on her hips. “Hey,” she said, pulling the kerchief off her hand and looking at him. There was a slight awkward pause; they hadn’t quite defined the beats of married life yet. After a moment, Gia picked her way across the living room floor and pressed a quick kiss against AJ’s cheek. “I didn’t think you were going to be back ‘til tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “The meetings ended up going really well; I would have been back even earlier, but I stopped by the house to see Grandmother, first.” AJ fished through the bags he had dropped, coming into the house and picked out one of them, handing it to Gia. “She sent you a jar of homemade pickles, some recipes her mother gave her when she got married, and instructions on taking care of the rose cuttings.”
“That was very sweet of her,” Gia said, taking the bag and fishing out the pickles. She opened the jar and began munching. “How is Miss Lila?”
AJ shook his head with a chuckle, and found his way through the maze of objects to a damask-covered armchair. He stacked the folded blankets covering it on the floor and sat down, looking at his wife. “Grandmother’s fine. But, the rest of the house is in the middle of World War Three. Again. Aunt Tracy apparently walked in on Ned giving Dillon guitar lessons and flipped out. Started screaming about the last thing the family needed was another leather-clad embarrassment.” AJ grinned. “By the time I got there, Ned was purple, Tracy was in full attack mode, Grandfather was yelling, Grandmother had retreated to her garden with Reggie, and Dillon had disappeared. Just another typical day in Quartermaine hell.”
Gia shuddered. “You know, I thought at first buying a house was taking this thing too far, but I don’t think I could take living there with your family. No offense.”
“None taken. I lived with them for most of my life; believe me, I understand.” He looked around, the various colors and textures finally starting to form some kind of sense after the initial assault on his eyeballs. “You know, Gia, for someone who wasn’t gung-ho about this house, you’ve certainly been -- busy.”
“Yeah,” she looked around. “I got bored,” Gia grinned. “I’m not good at being bored. My shoot got canceled, so I decided to play house. Miss Lila let me raid the attics, and my mother had some things in storage. And, we got a lot of wedding presents. I meant to have this room finished by the time you got back, but,” she looked around, “I’m still laying things out just to figure out what to do with them. Sorry about the mess; I really didn’t intend for you to walk into a disaster.”
“No, Gia,” AJ looked up at her. “I actually, uh, kinda like it. It feels like a home,” he said, simply. “I like that. And, it makes me think that maybe we aren’t completely insane to do this.”
“AJ,” Gia walked over to him, perching on the arm of his chair, “this marriage wasn’t a decision I made lightly.” One hand slid down to rest against her bare stomach which was just beginning to curve lightly. “I’m in this for the long haul. We both know why. I’d do anything to keep my baby safe.”
“And, I’d do anything to bring my child home,” AJ’s voice was thick with emotion. He reached out, covering Gia’s hand with his own, tentatively. “I’m in this for good, too, Gia.”
Gia sat up straighter, as something occurred to her. “Speaking of your child, I have some news for you. He’s here in Port Charles.” AJ just stared at her, and she nodded. “Carly’s come home; according to Elton, she’s been home for a couple of weeks living at Kelly’s, with Michael.”
AJ’s eyes flamed into life; Gia could actually see his spine grow straighter. “Michael’s here? My son is home?” His whisper was hoarse. His eyes closed briefly, then he sprung out of the chair. “Yes!” he cried, spinning around to face her. “It’s happening, Gia. We are gonna make this work!” AJ grasped both her hands, and pulled her up with a laugh. She half-stumbled as she rose, laughing, and fell into his arms. There was a pause, and then AJ’s lips found hers, in a kiss that was celebration and thank you and -- another thing, too. After a long moment, he pulled back, righting her gently. “I’m sorry, Gia, I shouldn’t have presumed--”
Gia slipped her fingers over his lips. “We’re married.” She ran a finger over his lips. “This is what married people do.” Her hand lifted to touch his cheek. “Welcome home, AJ.”
Sonny’s penthouse
Sonny slammed back what wasn’t his first drink of the day. Or even of the hour. He deliberately turned his back trying to ignore the persistent knocking, pouring himself another brandy. He didn’t give a damn who it was; there was no one on this earth he wanted to see right now. He took the snifter to the couch and sat down, shutting his eyes, trying to shut her face out of his mind. Not that it was possible. Every time he started to relax, the damn knocking started up again. Finally, with a muffled expletive, Sonny stood up, storming over to the door and flinging it open. The harsh ‘What?’ died on his lips when he saw her.
Carly stared at him, her face drained white, her eyes very large and very dark. She had wandered the park after running into him, and without quite knowing how, she’d ended up in front of his building. After staring at his dark window for a long, long time, she’d made a decision, and had come up here. Her eyes searched for, and found, his as her mouth worked. Finally, she spoke. “I lied,” Carly said. “This is no where near what I want.”
Sonny just gazed back at her, his face an expressionless mask for a very long time. Suddenly, he reached forward, his arm hard at her waist, pulling her against him. His lips sought hers, hard, demanding, as his other hand wound in her long blond hair, almost painfully. After a long moment, Carly sighed, melting against him, and Sonny took a single step back, kicking the door closed.
