the Brownstone
Carly lifted her hand, stared at the door, then dropped it, quickly. She bit her lip, the picture of indecision and more than a little 'I-don't-know-how-the-hell-to-do-this'. After a short moment, Carly lifted her chin, tossed her hair back, and knocked swiftly on Marcus Taggert's door. She had just lifted her hand to knock again when the door opened to reveal Marcus, wearing drawstring pants and a towel strewn about his neck, obviously just come from some sort of a workout.
Carly bit her lip at the brief hope that flared in his eyes as he saw her standing at his door; what was worse was the swift covering-up of the emotion in his eyes -- that cut her to the core. He smiled impersonally, his eyes shuttered, and indicated his attire with a quick hand gesture. "Sorry 'bout this. I was just running through a routine," Marcus did a short, abbreviated kick boxing motion and smiled at her more fully.
"Oh," Carly half-turned, "I can go, come back later," she said, hurriedly; she had been dreading this conversation as it was.
"No, no," he reached out and caught at Carly's arm, turning her gently back around. "Carly, it's okay. Come in," Marcus opened his door wider. "I've been kind of expecting you, anyway."
Carly walked in, slowly, meeting his eyes once and then dropping them as she headed for the couch. She settled herself gingerly, looking up at Marcus as he sat, not beside her as he once would have done, but across from her. "So," she drew out the word. There was a long uncomfortable silence. Carly slowly lifted her eyes to meet his dark ones. "I never wanted to hurt you, Marcus," she whispered, painfully.
"C'mon, Carly," Marcus shrugged, pulling the towel off his neck and twisting it between his hands, "we had a couple of dates, didn't work out. Don't beat yourself up over this; it's no big deal. We were friends before we were anything else. Maybe that's what we were meant to be."
Carly looked at him a long moment, then smiled shakily, running the heels of her palms over her cheeks. "You're a very good man, Marcus Taggert," her slight, wistful smile became more solid the longer she looked at him. "Being with you is just so easy. I never had that before you," she shook her head, "not ever. Right guy, lousy timing; story of my life. Why couldn't it have been you?" Carly tilted her head on it's side, leaning forward towards him, and touching his cheek lightly, her fingertips damp with her own tears. "Why weren't you the one, hunh?"
Taggert caught her fingers lightly, drawing them gently but inexorably away from his face. "'Cause you're in love with him," he said quietly, managing, with an effort, to keep the grimace from his face. "I'll never get why, but," he raised a hand to keep her from talking, "I don't have to. We don't choose who we love, Carly. It isn't -- maybe it's not supposed to be easy."
"And, maybe it is. Maybe I'm just too screwed up for the way things are supposed to be. Not you, though," Carly turned her hand in Taggert's so her fingers were linked loosely through his. "Someday, you're gonna meet some woman who's no where near good enough for you and being with her is just gonna be the easiest thing you ever do. And, I'll be around, you know, to kick her ass just in case she forgets you're the best man she'll ever know," Carly grinned, tentatively, but clear-eyed.
Marcus surprised himself by laughing. "Yeah, well, long as you don't scare her off," he said wryly, Alexis' dark eyes flashing quickly across his mind.
Carly's grin widened, then faltered slightly. "Tell me something, Marcus. Did I manage to totally screw this up, too? I don't do friends that well," she looked down, then up and into his eyes. "I can count the number of 'em I have on one hand. I don't wanna lose you because," she slipped off the couch, kneeling on the floor beside his chair, her elbows propped on the arm of the chair, her eyes irresistibly earnest, "you're the only big brother I've ever had."
Marcus held himself very rigid for a long moment, before letting out a long sigh. He leaned down, resting his chin on her head, and sliding his arms around her back. "You're not going to lose me, Carly." It hit him then, in that moment, holding her, her blond, silky hair rubbing across his cheek, her scent in his nose, that it was -- okay to do this. He could hold her and be with her, and not need to be with her. There was still an attraction, probably always would be. But it wasn't all that was between him and Carly Benson. It wasn't even the most important thing between them. His arms tightened around her. "Corinthos hurts you again I swear to God I'll kill him," Marcus murmured in her ear. "Turn about's fair play, kiddo."
Carly lifted her head to meet Marcus' knowing eyes. "I'm not back with Sonny, Marcus. We -- water under the bridge. Floodwater under the bridge. I can't go back. I don't want to."
Marcus sighed and sat back, looping his hands behind his head as Carly rocked back on her heels and stood up, perching lightly on the arm of his chair. "You know how I feel about Corinthos, Carly. How I'll always feel about him. And, the day you decide you're through with him for good can't come soon enough for me. But," he reached up and tugged at a strand of her hair, meeting her liquid brown eyes, "that day isn't here yet. I can see it, Caroline, in your eyes. If he makes you happy," Marcus couldn't believe he was voicing the words, but then there were a lot of things he'd done with Carly that he couldn't believe, "then maybe that's the one good thing he's done with his life."
Carly bent down, quickly, suddenly, leaning her forehead against Marcus'. "Thank you for being the man you are," she whispered, pressing her lips quickly, tenderly against both his temples. "Be happy, Marcus. You deserve happiness and so much more." She stood up, pressed her fingertips to her lips, blew a kiss, and walked out the door. With purpose. Carly Benson had somewhere to be. Someone to see. Something to fix.
Emily's apartment
"I'm not going to pressure you, Lucky, okay?" Emily drew her long legs up on the couch, folding them indian style under her so she could turn completely to face her boyfriend. "I'm just -- giving you his phone number."
"Emily," Lucky let out a long, frustrated sigh, running his fingers through his hair, his body taut with tension. "You know what he did to me. What I walked in on, first second I came back to Port Charles."
She nodded, love and tenderness in the very arc of her neck as she bent her head towards him. "Yeah, I do," Emily said softly. "And, I also know, as well as you do, how much that one was Helena's fault. She planned for you to walk in on Nikolas and Elizabeth, Lucky, on the," Emily swallowed, knowing how harsh the words she was giving voice to sounded, "anniversary of the day you 'died'. It was her final master stroke in the plan to drive you crazy, to make you hate everyone who'd ever loved you. But," she reached out and gripped Lucky's shoulders lightly, "it didn't work. You won; she lost."
"It wasn't all Helena, Emily," Lucky's voice was brusque, but he didn't pull away from her hands, a thing he would have done, even a half year ago. "Nikolas still had a choice."
"The same way you did when she played her little mind control games with you?" Emily asked, not allowing him to cut corners on this one; it mattered too much. Her eyes welled with tears as she saw the pain colored with shame cross his face, and her hand slid up his shoulder to grip his chin, tilting it to meet her eyes. "I am not blaming you, Lucky," Emily said, fiercely. "Not ever. This isn't your fault, baby; if you don't know anything else, know that I know that." She waited until she saw his shoulders lift slightly, and he nodded, once, and Emily slid her hand up to his cheek, caressing it softly. "I'm just saying that he's your brother, and I know that despite everything, you love him, Lucky. And, I love you. And, I want you to be whole and free, more than anything. I don't think you can be either, until you find a way to make peace with your brother."
Lucky looked at her a long moment, his blue eyes full of more emotions, deeper ones, darker ones, than a man his age should have to know the name of. Finally, he let out a long, shuddering sigh, pulling Emily hard into his arms, dropping his head to her shoulder. "I want to be so many things for you," he murmured, softly, as her hands lifted to stroke his hair gently. He lifted his head, still holding her, and looked at Emily. "What's his number?" he asked, something that could have been peace starting to bloom behind his eyes, as he smoothed a loose strand of Emily's hair behind her ear.
She leaned in, pressing her lips against his, holding the kiss for a long, sweet moment, breaking away only when she felt Lucky starting to relax into her. Emily reached behind him, then, picked up the phone and dialed a number, handing it to him silently, slipping her hand into his.
Lucky gripped her fingers tightly, his heart beating as the phone rang. He cleared his throat as a familiar voice answered on the other end. "Nikolas? Hey, it's," he looked at Emily, that thing that had almost been peace wiping away some of the shadows from his eyes, as Emily pressed her lips to his cheek as he spoke, "it's your brother. How you been, man...."
Carly's apartment
Carly climbed the stairs, wearily. She had been to the penthouse, she had been to the coffee warehouse, she had been to Benny's place, she had even hung around the damn docks, hoping he'd pass by. After she'd left Taggert's, it had just been -- she'd needed to find him. To see him. Carly had no idea what she was going to actually say when she did so, considering that the last time they'd been together had been less than stellar; all she knew was that she needed to find whatever truth she could in the way he said her name, the way his eyes burned into hers. If she could only find him, goddamnit! As a last resort, Carly'd even swallowed her pride and gone by Alexis' office, but her snooty secretary had said she'd left for the day, and no, she couldn't tell her if Mr. Corinthos had been with her. Bitch. Carly sighed, as she turned the corner leading up to her apartment, and then stopped short as her eyes fell on a pair of feet in imported Italian leather.
All the weariness suddenly left her body as she sat down beside the man to whom the feet belonged, the man holding her daughter in his lap on her front stoop, the man she'd been trying to find all day. The man she loved more than even she knew, in spite of herself. Carly reached out her arms, automatically, and Sonny transferred their daughter to her mother's waiting arms. She spoke with her eyes on Ginia, despite wanting, almost more than anything to look at him. "Hey Sonny," Carly busied herself with their baby, nuzzling her tummy with her lips, "what're you doing here?"
Sonny leaned back on his elbows, an involuntary smile crossing his lips. Nothing on earth was more beautiful than watching Carly with their daughter; nothing ever would be. "Lookin' for you," he said, watching her. Carly looked up, caught by the tone in his voice -- silky, sexy, seductive. He hadn't spoken like that to her in a long time. Their eyes met and held for a long moment, then he reached out and touched Ginia's cheek, breaking the moment. "I went downstairs to Bobbie's when you weren't home; I picked up Ginia and came up here to wait. Figured you wouldn't be too long."
"Oh yeah?" Carly flipped her hair oh-so-causally over her shoulder. "What if I had been, Sonny? I could've been out all day, and you would have sat here getting your expensive suit," she ran her hands familiarly over a crease in his pants leg, "all dirty."
He shrugged, sitting up and leaning forward. "Doesn't matter. You're worth the wait. Caroline." Sonny spun her name out with his distinctive lilt, his eyes burning into hers, not letting her look away.
Carly swallowed hard, pressing her daughter close to her body, needing to feel her sweet weight in her arms. "Sonny--" she whispered.
"No, baby," he reached out, placing two fingers against her lips, "listen to me, okay?" Sonny spoke earnestly. "I know that I screwed up, before. I never said all the things you needed to hear. And, when I did, it was too late," he slid his hand from her lips to her hair, stroking the silky strands lightly. It was only then that Carly realized it was trembling. "Carly, I'm not gonna let it be to late, not for us." Sonny slid forward, closer to her. "I need you," he whispered, his voice thick and raspy. "I need you in my life. When I breathe in, there's a pain in my chest where you're not." His fingers tightened in her hair, and his thumb brushed across her cheek. "When I breathe out, every breath is your name. I hate -- I hate words, Carly, you know that. But, if that's what you need, if that's what it takes to make you--" Sonny grinned suddenly, his right dimple flashing briefly into life. "Life with you in it is complicated, and crazy, and upside-down, and scary as hell. But, life without you with me isn't living. I'll fight for you; I'll fight with you. But, no way in hell am I gonna be without you." He paused, having left what he planned to say by the wayside the moment he met her eyes. Sonny reached out with his free hand and caressed his daughter's head gently. "Carly, you and Ginia are my family. I love you," his voice was low and soft. "I need you. Come back to me."
Carly closed her eyes, letting his voice, letting his words wash over her. Every word, every caress -- it was like cool water on a burn, the first sun after a long frost, rose petals against your skin. Slowly, slowly she opened her eyes, no tears, just light filling them. She smiled, feeling the way a smile for him stretched her lips like the shape of nothing else. "This might not work, Sonny," Carly said, the laughter burbling in the back of her throat belying her every word. "I mean, I cook now, you know. And, I kinda like it. And, everyone I love pretty much hates you. And, I'm no where near ready to move back in with you; I may not ever be ready, Sonny. And, we screwed this up before. And, I'm still pissed at you. And--" She broke off, as Sonny started to laugh, quietly, both dimples showing now. Carly took a deep breath, in and out, the smile on her face widening. She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his and lifted the hand that wasn't holding their child to the side of his face, her fingertips lightly caressing the point where ear met neck. "Wanna come in for dinner?" she whispered, softly.
Sonny leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss like the most fragile, the most tender of promises, of new beginnings, of life after the fall. He reached out, after a long moment, taking their daughter in his arms, and stood up, waiting for Carly to join him. "Dinner would be good," was all he said, slipping an arm around her waist. And, it was. It was.
