Chapter Ten: Family Ties
Carly's apartment
"Coming!" Carly called, unfolding herself from the couch. She lay down the baby magazine she had been flipping through, paused, and threw a couch cushion over it. It wasn't so much a conscious decision; Carly just wasn't anywhere near ready to be announcing this baby's arrival to the world. She opened the door, then almost slammed it shut in her uncle's face, until she saw the child in his arms. "Michael!" Carly reached out, almost snatching her baby from Luke's arms. She glared at him a moment, then looked down at her son, smoothing his hair gently. "I thought you were with Gramma, baby. Figured she'd bring you home."
Michael laughed, and clapped his hands together. "Unca Luke!" He crowed, then, in typical two-year old fashion, squirmed out of his mother's arms, making a mad dash for his toy basket by the fireplace.
Carly followed him with her eyes, just long enough to make sure he wasn't suffering any visible damage from being in Luke's presence, then turned back to the man who was leaning against her doorframe, turning a cigar idly between his fingers. "Light that in my house, and I'll shove it where the sun don't shine," Carly hissed, her voice soft but vicious. "What the hell are you doing with my son?"
"Teachin' him the finer things in life," Luke drawled. He waved his cigar under her nose. "Cigars, scotch, women..." Carly started to advance on him with a murderous gleam in her eyes, and he straightened up, sliding the cigar away. "Alright, alright. Dropped by to see Barbara Jean; she was called in on an emergency surgery, and I volunteered to take the kid back to his Momma. Nothin' sinister about that, babydoll."
"Uh-huh," Carly regarded him suspiciously. "Luke, you've never once been to my house voluntarily in, like, ever. Except, you know, when you were threatening to kill me. Is that why you're here, Luke? Haven't terrified enough women and babies this week? Sorry, buddy, sell obnoxious and irritating somewhere else; we're all stocked up here." Carly made a move to slam the door, but Luke blocked it with one foot.
"C'mon, Caroline," he wheedled, "you're my favorite niece." Carly's only expression was disdain, and an obdurate refusal to utter the obvious 'I'm your only niece' comeback. He switched tracks abruptly. "Corinthos is back," Luke said, baldly, watching her face intently.
Carly's reaction was the last thing Luke expected; she threw back her head and began to laugh. "And you thought that was gonna shock me or something into, what, leaving town?" Carly shook her head. "I know he's back, Luke; I live across the hall from the asshole. And, look," she indicated herself, "I'm still here. Not running. It takes a hell of a lot more than Sonny Corinthos to scare me off, so you can just stop wasting your--"
"Good," Luke said quietly. Carly looked at him in what was partially suspicion, but mostly shock. "Corinthos ain't worth it, baby doll. If you let some mafioso-wannabe run you outta town, then you ain't half the Spencer you might have the potential to be, someday."
Carly reached up to feel Luke's head; he met her gaze sardonically, but didn't flinch away. "Not feverish," she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. "Are you drunk? Are you high? 'Cause I think, in your really twisted way, you just paid me a compliment." Carly's hands slid to her hips. "What the hell is that about? You hate me, Luke."
Luke walked in past Carly, despite her lack of an invitation, and sunk down in her favorite armchair. "Guess I got over it," he drawled. "What can I say, Caroline, you grow on people. Kinda like a fungus."
Carly stalked over to the couch, sitting down gingerly, ready at any moment to get up and fight, if that's what this was leading to. "When the sudden change of heart, Luke? Last time you came to see me, unannounced, on my wedding day to AJ, you called me trash, and said Bobbie would have been better off if she'd gotten rid of me." Despite herself, Carly couldn't quite stop her bottom lip from trembling. She wiped angrily at her eyes, and stared at Luke, coldly. "Doesn't sound like familial devotion to me, Uncle Luke."
Luke glared back at her. "I ain't gonna apologize, Caroline, so if that's what you're waitin' for, don't hold your damn breath! But, maybe," he said slowly, "there were a few things -- I hadn't figured out about you, then. You're a fighter, and you're finally," he glanced at Michael, happily playing with his trucks, "fightin' for the right things. You stuck around, when me and half this town tried to get rid of you." Luke leaned forward in his chair, meeting Carly's eyes. "Turns out Barbara Jean may have passed somethin' more down to you than her big brown eyes."
Carly looked at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. "Why now, Luke?" she asked, slowly. "What changed?"
Luke's gaze shifted down, studying his shoes with great interest. "I've -- been thinkin' about my kid a lot lately. Both my kids," he was quiet a long moment, before lifting his eyes to meet hers. "It's not like there are enough of us Spencers floatin' around the world so I can afford to ignore one of 'em just 'cause she made a hell of a lot of piss-poor choices."
"Does this mean I get my membership code and decoder ring, too?" Carly asked, pushing Luke's foot off of her coffee table with a less-than-gentle nudge. "Since you finally decided to let me into the almighty Spencer club? Funny thing, Luke," she met his eyes, "I don't remember applying."
Luke reached out suddenly, grasping Carly's chin in his hand. "Rule number one, little girl; never lie to Uncle Luke. Minute you came to this town you were beggin' to be one of us, whether or not you ever said the words."
Carly jerked her face away from Luke, her eyes quickly going to Michael to make sure he didn't notice anything untoward. "You think you know me? You don't know me, Luke. You don't know a damn thing about what I want," she hissed, her voice quiet enough not to attract the attention of her son.
"Don't know you?" Luke said, incredulously. "Baby, I know you same as I know myself." Carly scoffed, and Luke raised an eyebrow, looking into her eyes. "I know you're not happy right now, Caroline. For all your pretty little pictures," he waved his hand at Michael, "of 'domestic bliss'," Luke wrinkled his nose disdainfully, "somethin' ain't right, and I'm bettin' it's got something to do with a greasy haired ex-partner of mine."
Carly's hands pressed lightly, unconsciously against her stomach and her eyes narrowed to slits. "Get out of my house, Luke," she whispered, fiercely, her voice shaking. "Go to hell."
"Hit a nerve, huh?" Luke shot back, then sighed; this was not how he'd meant for the conversation to go. He leaned back, draping his hands behind his head. "Look, kiddo, what I said before about family -- if you need help..." He let his voice trail off, sincere, but unable to form the actual words.
Carly stared at him a long moment, then, without speaking stalked over to her son. She picked Michael up, holding him close and murmured in his ear for a long moment, before letting him go. He looked up at her with a grin and a laugh, then turned and scampered towards his room. Carly waited until he was out of the room, then turned to Luke. She turned away, as his eyes bore curiously into hers and gripped the mantel tightly with one hand, the other pressing flat against her stomach, and the baby inside of her. "I'm pregnant, Luke," Carly said, flatly, her knuckles turning white.
Luke stood up, taking a couple steps towards her, started to reach his hand towards her shoulder, then dropped it awkwardly. "That's hardly a problem, Car-o-line," he said slowly, feeling his way. "It ain't like what happened, you know, before is gonna happen again. And, hell, you're actually married to the kid's father. One out of three ain't bad."
Carly turned to face him, the color draining slowly out of her face. "Try 0 for three," she said, the words slipping through her mouth before she even knew they had fallen. Or maybe she did. Maybe she needed to tell someone. She could carry this, but -- she wasn't sure she could carry it alone.
"Aw, hell, Caroline," Luke looked at her. "Corinthos," he stated, didn't bother asking.
"I didn't cheat on my husband, Luke," Carly said, fiercely, one hand in a tight fist against her chest, the other gesturing towards Luke. "I swear. It -- was before we were married, before Sonny left town. I didn't know; I didn't know I was pregnant. I was just so lost, after my son--" She broke off, biting her lip hard. Carly wiped at her face with a single hand. "Anyways, all I felt, all I felt was empty. I should have known, shouldn't I? Should have felt my baby, inside of me." Carly looked at Luke, her eyes wide, her face tear-stained. "Do you think my baby knew? That I was missing his brother so much I couldn't even feel him?"
He didn't mean to; he certainly didn't plan it. All Luke knew was that one moment, he was looking at his niece, his sister's exasperating pain-in-the-ass kid who looked at him with his mother's eyes, and the next moment he was at her side, his arms drawing her head to his shoulder, one hand running tentatively over her hair. And, as Carly's arms lifted to cling to him, for a brief moment, he could have sworn he was holding his own kid, lost to him now on the other side of night. Just for a moment. "All your kid's gonna know is the way you love him, after it's born, Caroline," Luke murmured, loosing her, and sliding a finger under her chin so she met his eyes. "All any of us can do, baby doll. Love our kids the best way we know how while they're still around. You're pretty damn good at that, Caroline. Carly," he amended, softly.
Carly just looked at her uncle, struck by how much better she felt than she had, not a half hour ago. And, equally struck by the fact that it was Luke, of all people, who had given that to her. "Thank you," she whispered, reaching out to straighten his shirt, where she had rumpled it. "You know, Jason's gonna be home soon, and I don't want him to see me like this, so--"
"Yeah, I should get back to the club, before Claude goes and books a pair of twelve year old banjo playin' twins," Luke said, quickly, needing to distance himself slightly. The rapport was still there, but he needed the intensity to be -- less.
"I'll walk you out," Carly said, running her hands briefly over her face, her hair. Tugging at her shirt. Re-adjusting. She waited silently as he grabbed his jacket, then followed him to the elevator. "Look," Carly said,finally, her fingers twining tightly, "you get that you can't tell anyone about this, right? As far as I'm concerned, Jason is my baby's father." Carly leaned against the wall beside the elevator, her eyes narrowing as she watched the conflicting emotions cross Luke's face.
"Your secrets are yours, baby doll," Luke said finally with a shrug. "But, Caroline, you've been down this road before. More than once." Carly made a small noise that could have been a laugh, if it weren't so bitter. "Hell, Carly, I'm no fan of Corinthos; you know that. But -- this is his kid. Maybe, he's got a right to know that. Maybe the kid has a right to know his father." He looked at Carly, who was shaking her head. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell him. Family business is family business. Just -- somethin' to think about."
"I made a choice, Luke," Carly said, softly. "No going back." She shook her head once more, then straightened as the elevator doors opened. "Hey," Carly grabbed at his shirt sleeve, then let it go quickly as he turned, "you know, maybe you could come over sometime. See Michael, have dinner, whatever. Bobbie and Lucas, too. Like, you know, a normal family," Carly managed a smile, surprising herself with how real it was.
"Normal? What's that?" Luke said, grinning back. "Yeah, Caroline, maybe I could. Take care of your kid. Of your kids." He hesitated a moment, then stepped into the elevator, the doors closing softly behind him. Carly watched until she saw the light above the door light up at 'lobby'. She let out a long breath, walking back towards her apartment, not even bothering to try and make sense out of her very bizarre afternoon, just letting, letting it be. Letting it settle.
It wasn't until the penthouse door closed, and Carly began to call for Michael, that Blair Daimler stepped out from around the corner, from her side of the elevator. She stared, her jaw tight, her eyes dark, at Carly's penthouse a long moment, then unclenched her hands from the fists they had become, hearing that Carly was carrying Sonny's child. What did this mean for her? What did this mean for her own child?
Slowly, a smile spread across her face, and her chin lifted. Blair jabbed impatiently at the elevator button, her brain running in a thousand different directions at once. This was -- explosive information, to say the least. And, if there was one thing Blair knew how to do, better than anyone else in this world, it was set off fireworks.
Lucy's hotel room
Scott turned at the door to face V. "Look, this is where you get off, okay? Go home, go down to the lobby, just -- you can't be here."
V folded her arms stubbornly, lifting her chin as she looked at him. "I told you in the car, Scott. Alexis is paying me to watch you, at all times. Not just when you want me to. 'Cause you never want me to, so there really wouldn't be much point to that. Which is beside the point," V hastily corrected herself. "I'm going with you; don't bother arguing. You know you'll lose, anyway. So far, I'm so ahead that I stopped keeping score about fifty-three arguments ago."
"V," Scott sighed, half-exasperated, half-touched. This little shadow of Davis' had turned out to be, instead of the annoyance he had anticipated, a good part of the reason he hadn't been drinking himself into a stupor every night. The talky, stubborn redhead had somehow insinuated herself, by pure will, if nothing else, into his home and his life, over the past few weeks, and made it run smoother. Better. And, the distraction of arguing with her had been -- a welcome one. Scott had a sneaking suspicion that Alexis had pretty much planned that one. "I'm not gonna go sneak out of the hotel room and beat up Spencer, okay? I'm just -- I need to see my wife, and my daughter. And, I need to do it alone." He paused, running his hand through his hair, making it stand up more than it usually did. "Thanks. For, ya know, these past few weeks, taking care of my kid." And me, he added silently.
"Serena's easy to take care of, Scott," V said, lightly. "Why don't I head back to the firehouse? By the time you're -- finished here, Serena'll be ready to show you her new moves. Watch out, kneecaps!" she laughed, her froggy laugh infectious enough to make even a nervous Scott smile. "Hey, give your little girl a kiss, and tell her I can't wait to meet her, okay?" V added, her voice gentle at the sadness in Scott's usually jaunty grin.
"Yeah, that's if you get to. Knowing you, you'll probably be teachin' Christina ways to attack her old man before her third birthday," Scott groused without much real heat. He started to turn to knock on the door, then paused, turning back to V. Scott reached out, fumbling and grabbed her hand, holding tightly. "I'll see you later?" he said, more in his question than he'd meant to ask.
V shifted her hand in his grasp so that she was holding his and covered both their hands with her free one. "I'll be waiting for you," she answered him, both the asked question and the unspoken one. She squeezed his hand tightly a moment, then loosed it, smiling reassuringly before slipping away, and around the corner.
Scott let out a long breath, then lifted his hand and knocked on the door, quickly, abruptly. Before he couldn't do it anymore. "Lucy?" he called out. "Luce, c'mon. It's me; it's Scott."
Slowly, finally, after something close to a hundred years, the door opened, halfway. Lucy stood on the other side of the door, silently, her face a mask. She hesitated, then opened the door the rest of the way, looking not at Scott, but at the baby in her arms. "Look, Christina," she said softly, "it's Daddy."
Scott took another deep breath, his eyes locked hungrily on her daughter. "Could I--" Scott gestured, and after only the briefest of hesitations, Lucy placed their daughter in his arms. Scott's lips formed words, but sound wouldn't come, as he dropped his lips to his daughter's forehead. Christina happily patted his face, babbling happily, her baby hands slipping across his cheeks, his lips, as Scott accommodated by pressing kisses against her little fingers. "You know, kid," he said finally, his voice only slightly shaky, "you've got nothing on your mom when it comes to smiling. I've missed both of yours, a lot." He looked up at Lucy, her eyes bright with tears, his -- not exactly dry. "I've just plain missed you, period, Luce."
"I've missed you too, Scotty. So very, very much," Lucy said, her voice soft, her eyes bright. She reached out, her hand caressing her daughter's hair lightly. "We both have, haven't we, Chrissy?" She met Scott's eyes with difficulty. "You look tired," she whispered.
"I am tired. Don't get much sleep these days. The bed's too empty. The house is too empty. My life's too empty," Scott met his wife's eyes, not wanting to dance around the elephant in the room any longer.
Lucy bit her lip, tilting her head to the side, half-reaching out towards him, her fingers not, quite, making contact. "Scott--" she began.
"Lucy, I miss you," he interrupted, "like I miss my right arm. I miss Christina. You miss me. Simple, right?" Scott asked. "Have things really gone so far we can't fix 'em? C'mon, Lucy," he urged, with characteristic persuasiveness, "this is us."
Lucy took a step back. Distancing herself, in more ways than one. "I know who we are, Scott. You're my very best pal. And, you're holding our daughter, who you threatened to keep from me forever not so very long ago." He started to protest, and Lucy held out her hand, stopping him before he began. "I know, I know you were just mad. I even know you didn't mean it. But, you still said it, Scott, even though you knew, better than anyone, how much losing another child is at the heart of every single fear that I have." Lucy pressed her palms to her heart, and shook her head. "I don't want to do this," Scott looked at her hopefully, "in front of Christina." Lucy reached out her arms, and Scott placed their daughter in them. Their hands brushed lightly, and Lucy tensed at the contact. She pressed kisses on Christina's face, forcing a smile for her sake, and disappeared briefly into the second room of the suite.
As she returned, Scott stopped his pacing, and spoke. "Lucy, I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "I get mad; I say things. You have to know that I would never take our daughters from you."
"You did before," Lucy retorted, not giving an inch. "Seven years, Scott. Seven years I'll never get back from my Serena's life. Most of me knows that you'd never do it again," Lucy said softly. "But there's a little part of me that will always wonder."
Scott ran his hand through his hair, feeling what she was saying in his gut. "What're you saying, Lucy?" he asked, knowing the answer before he spoke. Hell, he'd known the answer the minute she'd run from the dinner table the other night. It had just taken him until now, until right this moment, to accept it.
"I'm saying that there's a part of me that doesn't trust you, Scott. Not -- not the way I need to." Tears fell down her cheeks; Luke had said it once -- Lucy Coe wore her heart on her sleeve, in her big brown eyes. Always had. "We've known each other for so long, haven't we? Loved each other for most of that time, hated each other a little, even. It's been such a long journey, Scott Baldwin." Lucy looked at him, her brown eyes and his baby blues meeting.
"It's not over yet, Lucy," Scott interjected, the brusqueness of his voice hiding the pain in his heart.
Lucy shook her head. "No. But, this leg of it is." She took a step towards him, reaching up to caress his cheek lightly. "You're the father of my daughters, my very best pal, and the person who may just know me best in this whole world. You're going to be in my life forever and ever, pal. But, not as my husband."
Scott's hand lifted to his own cheek to cover Lucy's. "It's over, then" he said. It was not a question. Scott closed his eyes a long minute, then opened them again, turning his head to kiss her palm lightly. "Ah, who were we kidding, Luce? You and me, we were hardly the picket fence, two kids and a dog type, were we?" He slid her hand down his face, still twined with his, and swung it lightly. "Had a pretty good run at it, though, for a while, huh?"
"Better than good," Lucy smiled through her tears. "I'd say we maybe even hit spectacular a time or two."
"Yeah, well, you and me never did do things by halves, Lucy. Spectacularly good, spectacularly bad, not a whole lot in between." He looked at her for a long moment, then tugged at her hand, pulling Lucy into his arms. "I love you, Lucy Coe," Scott muttered into her hair.
"Me too, you," Lucy whispered back. She tilted her head back, just enough so that she could see Scott's eyes, then leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, chastely, sweetly, saying goodbye.
It was Scott who pulled away first, one last stroke to Lucy's hair. "I should go. Serena's home, and she's gonna be waiting for me." He stroked his chin, once. "I was thinkin' I could bring her by tomorrow to see her sister and her mom. If that's okay."
Lucy's eyes brimmed again. "Of course it is. Always. I've missed my little Punkinhead so much. Scotty, I -- Will you just kiss her goodnight for me? And, hold her real tight?"
Scott nodded; there weren't words enough for this. And, goodbye was a word he'd never really known how to say, anyway. Reaching in his jacket pocket, he withdrew two envelopes, laying them on the table. He chucked Lucy lightly on the chin, keeping his voice deliberately light. "See you later, alligator," Scott said. "Kiss my baby girl; tell her daddy loves her."
"I will," Lucy said, watching Scott walk across the floor and to the door. His hand reached for the door, and Lucy almost called him back; part of her wanted to, wanted to take it all back. But, a bigger part of her knew that even if she did, they'd end up right back here all over again. She and Scott were destined to be the best of pals, no more. And -- no less.
Scott didn't look back; Lucy didn't wince as the door closed, very softly, after him. She reached, only then, for the envelopes he had left for her. And, once she'd opened them, Lucy Coe sank down on the couch and started to sob. In the first, there were divorce papers, drawn up this morning. And, in the second, there were two documents. The first, granting her legal custody of one Christina Baldwin, as the child's adoptive mother; the second, almost identical, naming her legally and forever, Serena Baldwin's mother.
