"Oh, Luke, he looked so much better! He looked like -- he looked like Lucky," Bobbie leaned back against the kitchen sink, looking at her big brother. "He looked like he'd found peace. All of you do, all four of you." She lifted her hand to her brother's arm, squeezing it lightly. "I was so mad at you for going away last year, without any warning or explanation. But, now, I understand why you did it. And, I'm just happy to have you back. You are home to stay, right?"

Luke sighed, shrugging lightly. "I don't know, baby doll; depends on the cowboy, what he can handle." He reached for a cigar, pulled it out, then thought better of lighting it as he saw Bobbie's face. "Tell you the truth, Barbara Jean, I wasn't plannin' on ever comin' back to ol' Port Chuckles. My kid, though, somewhere along the line this became his home." Luke ran his fingers through his hair ruefully. "Don't know how that happened, that a kid of mine would put down roots," he grimaced, showing exactly what he thought of that, "but it did. And, my boy wanted to come home."

Bobbie knew her brother well enough to read the concern furrowed between his brow. "You think he wasn't ready?" she asked softly, watching Luke's face. "Is he still having the nightmares, Luke?"

Luke shook his head once, his eyes dark. "Not every night. Not even most nights, but -- some." He stepped away from her, banging his fist down with sudden force on the kitchen sink. "I should've hunted down that old bat and killed her soon as he came back, Barbara Jean," he growled.

Bobbie stepped up behind him, reaching up and turning him forcibly to face her, managing to move him despite their obvious differences in size and weight. "Hey," she said, fiercely, "don't go there, Luke. What your son needed was a father who was with him every night, fighting like hell to bring his son back from whatever nightmare world Helena sent him to. That's the father Lucky needed, and that's what you gave him. Okay?" Bobbie shook Luke's arm lightly.

Luke looked down at his touchstone, the person who'd always been whatever he knew of home, and kissed his baby sister on the forehead. "Thanks babydoll," he murmured. "I needed to hear that one."

"Is this a private Spencer moment?" Laura walked into the kitchen, a soft smile playing about her lips. "Or can anyone join in?" Luke reached out an arm, drawing Laura into his embrace, and she lifted her lips to his to be kissed.

Luke complied, and Bobbie kept herself, with an effort, from rolling her eyes. After all these years, and Luke and Laura's marriage, despite having been all but over a year ago, sustained. And flourished. Maybe there was something to this soulmate thing Laura was always swearing by after all, Bobbie thought, with a slight, tolerant smile of her own. She cleared her throat, not unaffectionately, as the kiss between her brother and his wife threatened to go on all night. "Okay, you two," she protested, with a laugh.

Laura smiled, turning her head away from Luke to look at Bobbie, still wrapped tightly in her husband's arms. This past year she and Luke and their children had gone through pure hell, but it had got them here. In each other's arms, and here to stay. And, it had brought there son home. It had been worth it. She looked at Bobbie, remembering the original reason she'd come in here in search of her sister-in-law. "Bobbie?" Laura asked, her forehead wrinkling slightly. "I thought Sonny and Carly were separated?"

Bobbie stood up straighter, not liking the question in Laura's voice. "They are. Not only separated, but divorced, as of today. Why?" she asked, absolutely positive she wasn't going to like the answer to her question.

Laura looked at Luke, then back at Bobbie. "Because Sonny just walked in the front door, not two minutes ago."

Sonny paused as he walked over the threshold, the music and throng of people being easier to absorb than the fact the he could almost physically feel Carly's presence in this place. Normally, he'd find this type of party, on the edge of being raucous, not to his taste; tonight he welcomed the noise and the masses. It helped decrease the chances that he'd be near his ex-wife. He had just turned his head, trying to figure the quickest way to find Lucky, welcome him home and get the hell out of Dodge, when a ten-year old barrel of energy burst out of the crowd and careened into him.

"Sonny!" Lucas Jones shouted, running up and slapping Sonny's hand hard in a high-five, beaming up at the older man. One of the unlooked for bonuses to Sonny's marriage to Carly had been his relationship with her little brother, Lucas. Lucas had a serious case of hero-worship, and Sonny treated the boy like the little brother he'd never had. Tony hated it, and it didn't thrill Bobbie, either, but despite his parents' objections, nothing and no one was able to keep Lucas away from Sonny. "I got a new video game; you gotta come play it with me!" Lucas exclaimed, tugging on Sonny's sleeve.

Sonny grinned, the kid's infectious excitement making him smile, despite himself. "Maybe later, kiddo," he said, ruffling Lucas' hair. "When there's a few dozen less people around, huh?"

Lucas scowled. "But, I never see you anymore since stupid Carly made you go away," he moved away from Sonny's hand, the beginnings of a pout starting on his face.

"Hey, Lucas, my man," Sonny crouched down, until he could face Lucas, "that's not fair to your sister, buddy. Carly didn't 'make' me go away; I just--" He sighed, running his hand over his chin. How could he explain what he still couldn't understand to a ten year old kid? "Grown-ups are complicated sometimes. Carly and I, we just couldn't live together anymore. Not her fault, not mine. Just the way it is. But, just because Carly and I can't be together anymore doesn't mean you're not my favorite ten-year old, kiddo."

Lucas studied the older man's face, trying to gauge his sincerity -- it wasn't like he hadn't heard this speech before from the other men in his life who he'd loved and who'd left him; he was about to say something, when his attention was caught by something over Sonny's head. "If you and Carly don't like each other anymore, how come she's staring at you right now?" Lucas asked Sonny.

Sonny wheeled around to catch Carly's eyes burning holes in his back from the drinks table in the corner. She started when he caught her eye, and then gathered her composure, raising her champagne glass in a silent, ironic toast to him. Sonny rose slowly, his hand dropping from Lucas' head as his eyes locked with Carly's. He tore his gaze away from hers briefly, to look at Lucas. "How 'bout you come over to the penthouse tomorrow when I pick up Genia? Sound good?" Lucas nodded, and Sonny looked back at Carly. She hadn't moved, and he started to walk over to her side.

She lifted her glass again as he reached her, saying with deliberate non-chalance. "Sonny." Carly took a long, slow sip of champagne, needing something to wet her throat desperately, and needing equally desperately for him not to know that. "Didn't think you'd show up tonight."

Sonny shrugged, his eyes slipping away from hers, then meeting them again, almost challengingly. After all, if she could handle this, so could he. "Yeah, well, Luke called, you know?" He lifted up a small, flat box. "Brought him these. And, I wanted to see Lucky like," he gestured, a small smile appearing, "half the town, I guess."

Carly relaxed minutely, nodding. "Everyone loves Lucky," she said. She hesitated a moment, then sighed. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked. Sonny nodded, and Carly picked up a scotch glass, placing three ice cubes in it, and reached across Sonny for the bottle of scotch. She froze as she got near him, then pulled back abruptly, her eyes narrowing. "Then again, smells like you've already had a couple, Sonny. Better hold off; the rest of us need some time to catch up," she snapped scornfully. "That's really sick, Sonny, to come to my cousin's homecoming party drunk."

Sonny's eyes flashed angrily; the last thing he needed tonight was a lecture from Carly. "What I did and did not have to drink had nothing to do with Lucky, little girl," Sonny retorted, his own tone vicious. "I was celebrating the end of our marriage, Carly, toasting the divorce papers. And," he leaned towards her, "since we're no longer married as of today, I can't think of a single reason I've gotta stand here and listen to a damn thing you have to say."

Carly looked at him, her eyes glittering with angry tears. "Boy do I know how to pick 'em, huh?" she shook her head, her voice bitter, and louder than she intended. Several people around them stopped their conversations, turning to watch Carly and Sonny, who were totally oblivious to everyone but each other. "Two ex-husbands, two drunks," she shook her head. "You're startin' to give AJ a run for his money, sweetheart," Carly used Sonny's favorite term of endearment deliberately, her tone giving the word a nasty edge. "And, when it comes to down-right cruelty, you've got him beat."

"You wanna know what's the matter with the men who made the mistake of loving you?" Sonny shot back, leaning in for the kill, wanting to hurt him as much as she'd hurt him. "Baby, you don't have too far to look. Maybe, you know, Junior and I could start a support group, invite Tony Jones to come along -- How to Survive Hurricane Carly. We could even get Jason to come in as a guest speaker. I can see it now," he gestured, as if pointing out words on a marquee, "'The Smart Thing to Do when Carly Tells You She Loves You -- Run Like Hell."

Carly let out a small noise, halfway between a gasp and a cry, as her hand flew up in the air. She reached out before Sonny could lift his hand to stop her and slapped him, her palm cracking loud against his cheek. The noise reverberated in the small silence that had formed around them, as their argument had attracted more and more spectators. Sonny's head flew back, and Carly started, her hand flying to her mouth. Carly stared at him for a long, wordless moment, then mumbled something no one could hear, and brushed past Sonny, running through the crowd and towards the front door.

After a moment, the crowd that had gathered stepped away, politely turning their backs on Sonny, giving him some time and some space. Sonny turned to the table, leaning hard against it, his knuckles white, his breathing quick. He bent his head, closing his eyes and trying to get his temper under control, only opening them again when he heard the sound of clapping behind him. Sonny stood up, turning quickly to see Alexis Davis standing behind him, ironically clapping her hands together.

"Nice, Sonny, very nice. I can see you really took my advice about moving on to heart. You know, it's really a waste of your money and my time if this is how you interpret my words of warning," Alexis said, sharply. "I don't just talk to hear myself speak, Sonny."

"Could've fooled me," Sonny mumbled, then looked at her, wearily. "Last thing I need right now, Alexis, is a lecture."

"Good," Alexis hesitated, then plunged ahead. For whatever reason, she was starting to think that someone somewhere had decided it was her mission in life to pick up this man and put him back on his feet. And, truth be told, she was moved, despite what had occurred between them earlier, by his eyes; they were just so -- tired. Tired of everything. She knew that feeling, more than knew it, had lived it. Alexis sighed, then took Sonny's arm. "Because I'm done lecturing; I'm taking you home, Sonny."

Sonny lifted his head and looked at her, long and searchingly. "Why?" he asked finally, his voice rough. "How the hell can you even stand to look at me, Alexis?"

Alexis bit her bottom lip briefly, then moved forward, linking her arm through his and starting to maneuver through the crowds to the back door, deliberately choosing the door Carly had not run out of. "Oh, please," she said lightly, "you think you're hard to take? I'm a Cassadine, Sonny; you're a lightweight when it comes to difficult." He paused, and she tugged lightly at his arm, looking him in the eyes. "C'mon Sonny," she said softly, "time to go." After a moment, he nodded, following her out the door.

Carly drew her knees up to her chest, sitting on the steps of the Brownstone, resting her chin on her knees and trying to let the cool evening breeze wipe away her confusing morass of emotions. So far, she was failing dismally. Sonny -- Sonny was still an open wound for her, one she doubted would ever heal. And, as long as she was being honest, she thought painfully, one she half-hoped never would. Because if it did, if his words ever stopped having the power to hurt her, then she'd know they were finally, truly over. And that -- that would hurt worst of all. Carly sighed loudly, the breath almost exploding from her body, as she dropped her head in her lap, covering her eyes with her hands.

"That bad, huh?" someone said lightly, standing in front of her. Carly lifted her head, her sharp gaze softening as she saw Marcus Taggert, leaning against the railing and gazing down at her. He smiled slightly as she looked up. "I thought you liked parties, Carly."

"Parties, yes. Horror shows from hell, no." Carly groaned, as she took in what his being here meant, since he'd said he was working tonight. "Don't tell me someone called in a noise complaint, Taggert! That would just be the perfect capstone on this night," she sat up straight, suddenly extending her arms out in front of her. "No, wait, arrest me," Carly demanded suddenly. Take me away! Jail's better than this."

Taggert sat down beside Carly on the steps, his back to the railing as he looked at her. "The homecoming party isn't going so smoothly, huh?" he asked, not ungently.

"Depends on what you call smooth," Carly ran her fingers through her hair. "Ten million uninvited guests who still haven't stopped showing up, the guest of honor disappearing about half an hour into the party, my ex-husband and I making a nasty scene in the middle of the living room, and now you show up with some kinda noise complaint -- what d'ya think, Marcus? Sound 'smooth' to you?"

Taggert couldn't help it; he chuckled lightly and was rewarded by a scowl from Carly. "Sounds about par for the course for you, Carly," he said in explanation. He reached out to touch her shoulder lightly. "No complaints, though, kiddo even though we can just about hear the party all the way down at the precinct. None of your neighbors seem to have a problem with it. They're probably all here," he joked, gesturing up at the Brownstone. Carly smiled slightly, reluctantly, and Taggert returned her grin, having accomplished his mission. They were both comfortably quiet a moment, before Taggert cleared his throat, speaking softly. "Want to talk about it?"

Carly shook her head, her face darkening slightly again. "The last thing I need is to waste more of my time thinking about Sonny Corinthos," she said, her tone showing more surety than she felt. "He's not worth it."

Taggert smiled broadly, not bothering to hide his glee at her statement. "Now that is exactly what I've been waiting for you to say for months," he proclaimed. "Anyway," he segued hastily, seeing the anger in her face and knowing that despite Carly's words, whatever she felt for Sonny was no where near being over, and not wanting to be the brunt of the anger she was obviously still feeling towards him, "the stars are bright tonight, aren't they?" he said, lamely, pointing up. "Look, right there," Taggert improvised, feeling Carly turning to stare at him, "you can see the Big Dipper, and right there," he pointed to the right, squinting as he tried to make out the jumbled shape, "is the, uh, the Tadpole." Taggert spoke with a lot more assurance than he felt.

Carly burst out laughing, and shook her head. "What do they teach you at that Police Academy?" she asked, as he looked at her. "Obviously not anything about the stars. I grew up in Florida, Marcus; watching the sky at night is practically a national sport when you live at the beach. That," she placed her hand on his arm, pointing it in the right direction, "is the Big Dipper. And, the thing you called the 'Tadpole'," she snorted slightly, "is Virgo." Carly laughed again, then turned her head to look at Taggert, leaning briefly against him, as he slipped a companionable arm about her shoulders. "Thanks," she said softly. "For making me laugh," Carly answered his puzzled look. "I needed that." They were quiet a moment, looking at each other, before Carly turned back to the sky. She pointed again, this time carefully letting go of his arm. "There's the Southern Cross," she explained, Taggert's eyes lingering on her face a moment longer, before turning back to the night sky Carly was pointing out. "And you can just barely see the sword of the Centaur, right there..."

He leaned over the railing on the roof of the Brownstone, the sounds of the party dim beneath him. Lucky's attention, however, was directed up, not down. The stars were awfully bright tonight. He found all his old friends up in the sky right where they were supposed to be. After the past two years, anything that had stayed the same was comforting, even if it was the cold, faraway stars. Lucky smiled softly, one of his earliest memories of sitting on his dad's shoulders as he spun tales of the stars above. Tales that had, he'd learned later, very little to do with the actual myths the constellations had been named around. Lucky chuckled, remembering his father's version of Cancer, the crab, involving a seafood restaurant and the short-order cook working there.

"You laughing is such a *good* thing. I remember a time when I thought I'd never here that one again," said a soft voice behind him. Lucky turned around, the hesitant look on his face fading to a smile as he saw the young woman, her dark hair falling sleekly to her shoulders, a wide smile on her face as she held her hands out to him. "Hey there, Spencer," Emily Bowen-Quartermaine greeted her oldest friend. "Long time, no see."

Lucky took Emily's hands in his, grinning widely, then pulled her into a brief, but hard hug. Surprised but more than pleased, Emily hugged her friend back; last time Lucky had been in Port Charles, right before he'd gone away with his family, he had barely been willing to talk to her, much less touch her. And Emily had missed her friend. "Wow, Em," Lucky said, pulling back and looking at her, dressed in a simple black shift, her hair loose on her shoulders, "you look -- all grown-up. When did that happen?" he asked, almost wistfully.

Emily laughed, squeezing his hands lightly before dropping them. She tucked her hair lightly behind her hair with her fingers, the awkward teenager she had so recently stopped being showing through in that one gesture. "It's amazing what college and moving out of your parent's house'll do for you. Especially when what your parents' house resembles most is a hospital for the insane."

Lucky smiled. "How are your parents taking you leavin' the nest?" he asked. "Last letter I got from you sounded like things were kind of tense."

"Alan and Monica are actually being surprisingly cool about it lately." Emily walked over and joined Lucky at the railing, hooking her feet underneath and looking down before looking back at him. "I used my modeling money for the apartment, and Grandmother let me raid the house for furniture odds and ends. Grandfather was the hold-out, but after this humongous blow-out last Thanksgiving, I think even he realized it was time for me to either get out of that house or go insane, like the rest of my family." She started to laugh. "I wish you could have been there, Lucky; everything ended in this big food fight. You should have seen Grandfather's face when Michael started throwing mashed potatoes at him!"

"Actually, I kinda did see it," Lucky said. He shook his head as Emily looked at him, puzzled. "You're gonna think this is really bizarre, but Carly, she has this thing about pictures, and every couple of weeks, no matter where we were, my mom and dad and I got his big packet of photos. Sometimes Carly's choice of material is, uh, a little weird, but I did like the ones of Edward drippin' mashed potatoes and gravy."

Emily's forehead creased, trying to digest both the facts of what Lucky was saying and the obvious affection in his voice when he spoke of his cousin. Who was still no where near being on, much less at the top of, her 'My Favorite People' list. "Carly wasn't there; how did she get pictures?" she asked.

Lucky shrugged. "How does Carly get anything?" he said, with a grin. "She's a Spencer, Em; sometimes 'don't ask, don't tell' is a good rule of thumb."

"You're probably right," Emily shook her head, then turned back to the railing, looking down. She could see the front door to the Brownstone open, and dimly saw someone walk out and sit down, but it was too dark to make out the figure on the steps. "I'm really glad you're home, Lucky," Emily said quietly, still looking down, not at him. "I've really missed you, more than even I realized 'til you got your butt back here where it belonged."

Lucky moved beside her, his hand slipping on top of hers as he, too, looked down at the street. "I missed you too, Emily. And, whatever else Port Charles is to me, it's home because of all the people I love that live here."

Lucky fell silent, and Emily closed her eyes, thinking of the two people he had loved who didn't live here any longer, the two people who'd hurt him so badly last spring. And, she knew, without any doubt, that Lucky was thinking of them too. "Elizabeth's not here, you know," she said, her voice low. "I talked to her last week, and she said she was going to stay in London." Emily gathered a deep breath. "She -- she did say to tell you that if you ever wanted her, she'd be home in a--" Lucky pulled his hand away from Emily's and she stopped speaking, and turned to look at him, knowing she was risking driving him away by her next words, but wanting to make the pain she knew he still felt go away. "It wasn't entirely her fault, Lucky," Emily said softly, looking into his eyes. "Helena set them up, too."

Lucky was silent, so long that Emily almost started to speak. "I know," he said finally, his voice so low that she had to strain to hear him. He looked up at her, his eyes very dark. "But that doesn't make it any easier, Em."

"I know," she echoed, then fell silent. She cleared her throat after a moment, trying to recapture the ease they had both been relishing just a few moments earlier. "So, you wanna come down to the party? I can show you my newest dance steps," she promised, with a grin. "Either that or fall flat at your feet."

Lucky managed a smile. "Thanks, Em. But, you know," he turned back to the sky, "I think I'm gonna stay up here a while longer." He traced a falling star with his eyes, but he didn't wish on it. Lucky didn't make very many wishes anymore. He turned back to Emily in time to see the look on her face as she watched him watching the sky, and he reached out impulsively to tug at her hair. "Hey," he said softly, "it's gonna be okay, you know?"

"I know," Emily answered quietly. She watched her friend, then leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against his cheek. "Welcome home, Lucky," she whispered, holding his eyes a moment longer, before turning and making her way gracefully back down the stairs to the party.

Lucky watched her leave, then turned back to the night sky, his smile fading. He gripped the railing tightly, leaning dangerously far over it, then dropping back on his heels. "Yeah, Lucky," he murmured softly to himself, and whatever ghosts were haunting him, "welcome home. Welcome home."

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