Chapter Eight: These Tears I Cried
~These tears I've cried Morgan penthouse
"What?" The words, tinged with more than a little irritation, had already left Jason's mouth before he opened the door. He had intended to work on warehouse business all afternoon, and he'd already found himself more than distracted by thoughts of his wife. Last thing he needed was more interruptions. He froze when he saw the man standing on the other side of the door and his knuckles tightened on the doorframe. "What're you doing here?" Jason demanded, his icy gaze trained on Jerry Jacks.
Jerry grinned, sardonically, a grin that didn't even reach half-way to his eyes. "I'm sure as hell not here to see you, Morgan," he said, looking past him into the penthouse. "Where's Caroline?"
Jason's arm dropped abruptly to block the door. "Not here," he let out, through gritted teeth. Jason had known, seeing Jacks at that clinic, that something was going on with him. But, it had, until this moment, seemed like the least of his problems. "What do you want with my wife?"
Jerry met his gaze, with a lifted eyebrow. "Don't see that that's any business of yours, mate," he said, not at all given pause by the murderous glare in Jason Morgan's eyes. "You may be her husband," his tone clearly leaving a 'for now' hanging in the air, "but that doesn't make you her keeper."
Jason stared at Jerry, his ice-blue eyes growing significantly colder. "I don't know what you want with my wife." He stared at Jerry for a long beat. "I don't care. Stay away from her. You're a waste of space," Jason shrugged, never letting his eyes drop from Jerry's. "I don't get why you're still breathing."
Jerry smirked, taking a step forward, his face very close to Jason's. "Funny," he said. "I was just thinking the same thing about you." He let the smile drop from his face, until it was as cold a mask as Jason's. "I don't give a damn who you are, Morgan. Or what you do. You can't keep me from seeing Carly; you will regret it if you do."
Jason looked at him incredulously; he hadn't found himself in this particular situation for a long time. "Are you threatening me?" he asked the older man, his hand reaching out to grip Jerry's shoulder. "Are you threatening Carly?"
Jerry jerked his arm away from Jason. "Think of it as a warning," Jerry said, his own temper rising; he had gone into this thing intending to try and reason with Morgan. So far things weren't going according to plan. "You try and separate me from my--" He caught himself, just in time. "From Carly, and I'm warning you, you won't like the results. Just try me, Morgan."
Suddenly, with those words, Jason moved, quickly, his hands gripping Jerry's shoulders as he shoved him against the opposite wall. "What do you want with Carly?" he growled, all his instincts shouting that something was going on here he didn't know all the pieces to, something that was threatening Carly. And, no way on earth he was gonna let that happen.
Jerry reached up, grabbing Jason's wrists with both his hands and tearing them, by pure force, away from his shoulders. He shoved the younger man away from him, hard, and both men stood, breathing quickly, eyes locked. "Just tell her -- tell Carly I'll be back," Jerry said, his eyes flashing darkly. He stared at Jason a moment longer before turning on his heel, disappearing into the elevator.
Jason started to follow him, but pulled up short before starting down the stairs. He had no idea what the hell was going on, but he knew it was more than Jerry just using Carly to make inroads with Bobbie, as he'd first assumed. He reached in his pocked, pulling out his cell phone and dialing a number. Jason waited a moment, then spoke. "Yeah, it's me. I need you to do a job for me." There was a long pause. "One hour, your place." He closed the cell phone, and walked back into his apartment, slamming the door after him.
outside Harborview Towers
~These tears I've cried This wasn't happening. This. Was. Not. Happening. The words kept running through Carly's mind as she sank down on a bench in the small courtyard outside of Harborview Towers. And, yet, she knew, no matter how many times she told herself that, no words were going to change the reality of the paper crumpled in her fist. The paper on which Dr. Neuman had very clearly and unhesitatingly pinpointed Carly's date of conception. A date which was slightly more than three months ago, give or take a few days. Though, Carly really didn't need to give or take any days; she knew the exact date, the exact hour,the exact moment this baby had been created. Carly moaned, dropping her head to her suddenly shaking hands. "Oh god," she whispered, her words as much a prayer as the refrain now running through her head. Makeitnottruemakeitnottruemakitnottrue.
"Carly?" Her head snapped up as a hand touched her shoulder lightly, and she brushed the tears away from her cheeks to see a concerned Jerry Jacks looking down at her. He moved to sit beside her on the bench, ignoring the fact that Carly didn't move over to make room for him. He reached out, cupping her chin gently in his hand. "What's wrong?" Jerry asked, softly.
It was the tenderness in his voice that got to her. She closed her eyes, painfully. "Have you ever looked at your life," Carly whispered, "and realized you don't know how in the hell you got to where you are, and when you look down to try and figure it out, you can't even recognize the ground beneath your feet?" Carly opened her eyes, looking at him hopelessly.
Jerry looked at her broken eyes, his anger at Jason Morgan intensifying ten-fold. If everything was alright in her marriage, in her life, then why did his daughter look like her world was in shambles? "Every day, baby girl," he murmured softly, pushing his anger down, as he stroked her hair lightly. "I look down, and half the time, there is no ground underneath my feet." He grinned suddenly. "But, that's half the thrill. You know about that, about playing on the edge, don't you, Carly?"
"What I know is the price you pay for playing there," she said, jerking her face away from his hands. Carly turned her face to the grey sky; winter was fast approaching, in more ways than one. "Do you believe," she swallowed, her eyes carefully trained on a point far away that only she could see, "do you believe that the things you do wrong come back to haunt you? That God, or whatever, punishes you for all the mistakes you've made? You know, like, karma?"
Jerry shook his head, studying his own hands. Her question hit so close to the scars on his own heart. "I don't believe that," he finally said, softly. "I believe that there is such a thing as redemption; I have to believe that. Carly," he reached out, laying his hand over hers, "God isn't cruel."
Carly's gaze snapped back to his, and she let out a sharp, brittle laugh. "I believed that once," she said, hearing his words echo in her memories. "I wish I still did. But you know what? There's only so many times you can destroy your life, and everyone's around you, before God or whoever decides it's time to teach you a lesson." Her hand slid down to caress her stomach gently, unconsciously. She was quiet a long moment, before turning to Jerry, catching the compassion and -- something else -- in his eyes. Her own narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Carly demanded, suddenly. "You don't even like me, Jerry."
"Don't I?" he asked, under his breath, then slid his trademark grin back on his face. "You remind me of someone, Caroline."
"Who?" she asked, curiously.
"Someone I knew a very long time ago," Jerry's words were soft. "Besides," he added, shifting positions, his tone becoming nonchalant, "I never could resist a gorgeous blonde in distress."
"Yeah, well," Carly slipped her hand out from under his, running it over her hair, "thank you. I had some -- bad news today," she smiled briefly, ironically, amused in passing by the understatement her words were. "Thanks for not making it worse," she said, grudgingly.
"You want to tell me about it?" Jerry offered, almost hungrily. This entry way into his daughter's life was totally unexpected, and he was reluctant to let their brief connection go. "I've gotten into enough scrapes in my life; maybe I could give you some advice."
"No," Carly shook her head and lifted her eyes to the building behind them, not stopping until her eyes were locked on one particular window at the very top of the building. "There's only one person who I can talk to about this." Her voice was very grim. "And, the last thing I'm gonna take from him is advice."
Luke's
~And I would cry 1000 oceans more "Natasha." Luke sighed wearily, looking across his desk at the woman with flashing eyes facing him. "Can we stop discussin' goddamn Scott Baldwin for, maybe, five minutes? Sit back, put your feet up," he leered at her long legs and short skirt, then shoved a glass across his desk, "have a drink. We can even talk about the weather, long as I don't have to hear you mention his name anymore."
"This is not a social visit, Luke," Alexis snapped back, ignoring the drink on the desk. "As if I'd ever come here voluntarily," she rolled her eyes. "I'm here on business. And my business is," Alexis took particular pleasure in watching Luke wince as she uttered the next two words, "Scott Baldwin. You want to talk about something else?" She leaned forward, looking at him. "Provide Lucy and Christina Baldwin, and we can talk about anything your sick little heart desires."
"Anything?" Luke leaned back in his chair, taking his own advice and propping his feet up on his desk. "Whoo-hoo, Counselor, you're good." He once again let his eyes run up and down her body appreciatively, before looking at her with mock regret. "Almost makes me wish I could give you what you wanted. Almost."
"You know, if anyone should understand Scott, it's you. He's a man fighting for his child and the woman he loves to be part of his life. You're a man who knows more than a little bit about what that's like, Luke. Why can't you understand that?"
Luke stood up, pushing his chair back abruptly and moved around his desk to face Alexis, his eyes cold. "Don't compare me to Scott Baldwin, Natasha! We are nothing alike. I don't threaten to take away children from their mothers; Baldwin is scum, and he doesn't deserve Lucy or his kid."
Alexis stood up, her own temper rising. "You're right, Luke; you're nothing like Scott. At least he's fighting for his daughter and for Lucy, instead of sitting in a dark room drinking himself into oblivion every night! I wonder who it is who tucks Lesley Lu into bed each night, these days. It isn't you, Luke. Could it be my brother?" she added, aware, as soon as the words left her mouth, of crossing a dangerous line.
Luke reached out, his face a dark mask, gripping her wrist tightly, and pulling her hard against him. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when his office door burst open. Both Alexis and Luke turned, and froze, stunned at the sight of a slightly bedraggled Lucy Coe, her arms full of suitcases and baby, walking in the door. Lucy dropped the suitcases, and clutched the baby tighter with a gasp, as her eyes met first Luke's, then Alexis'.
Lucy looked back and forth between her best friend and the attorney locked in his grasp. With a small noise, she turned on her heel and started to disappear out of his office, as quickly as she'd appeared. Luke dropped Alexis' arm calling, "Lucy!" and grabbed her before she could leave. He pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips against her temple. "Alexis is workin' for Baldwin," he murmured into her ear. "Watch out, babe." He lifted his head, looking at her, warning in his eyes. "How was your vacation, Lucy-Luce?" Luke asked her, smoothing Christina's hair with a grin at the baby girl.
"Too short," Lucy picked up on the game of misdirection immediately. "Christina and I were having an absolutely wonderful, deliciously delightful break from the real world, but she missed her Uncle Luke's cheese fries too much. So we decided," she glanced significantly, "not to take that other trip you and I were talking about. It was time to -- to come home."
Alexis watched the two of them, absently rubbing her wrist. She ran over all possible options quickly in her head, not the last of which was calling the police right here and now. "Lucy," Alexis said, nodding at the other woman, who's frightened eyes met hers. Alexis was silent a long moment, looking at the woman standing in front of her. The woman who'd run to keep from losing her child. Misguided or not, wrong or not, that particular act of courage resonated in Alexis' very soul. Alexis' gaze then lifted to Luke, and she spoke as much to him as to Lucy. "Twenty-four hours," she said. "I'll give you twenty-four hours to -- do what you have to do. If Lucy hasn't contacted Scott in that period of time, I'm going to counsel my client to report Christina's disappearance to the police as a kidnapping." She paused for a moment. "She's lucky, you know," Alexis' voice was low. "Christina has two parents who love her, and just want, more than anything, to have a chance to be in her life. That is so rare, in this world." Her gaze shifted to Lucy. "Believe me, I know. Scott knows he was wrong, Lucy. Don't make Christina pay for his mistakes." Alexis and Lucy held each other's gazes for a long moment; it was Lucy who looked away first. Alexis picked up her briefcase, brushing by Luke, without looking at him. She paused in the doorway, touching Christina's face with a single finger.
"Natasha--" Luke started, then stopped as Alexis looked up at him. He remembered, unwillingly, a night on the cold, cold docks a hundred years ago, when he'd told her the story of her own mother. Alexis shook her head once, forbidding Luke to pity her, then slipped out the door.
Lucy watched her go, then looked at Luke. "Luke. My dear, good friend. What is going on with you and that -- that lawyer?" she demanded.
"What?" Luke turned his gaze back to Lucy. He laughed disparagingly, making a brushing away motion with his hand. "Nothing, darlin'. It's a game Lexi and I play -- 'nother chapter in the Cassadine/Spencer wars." He slid his arm around her, changing the subject; he wasn't anywhere near ready to talk about, much less face, why it was that Alexis, of all people, could push his buttons so damn well. "Baby, what are you doin' here? Sonny made arrangements for you and this gorgeous thing," he slid Christina out of her mother's arms and into his, "to leave for a tropical paradise day after tomorrow."
Lucy moved away, sinking down in his high backed, cushioned chair with a sigh, as she slipped her shoes off and drew her feet up underneath her. She closed her eyes, leaning back, pure pleasure in creature-comforts written on her face. "It feels so good to sit in a real chair in a real room. Not that the cabin wasn't real, but maybe it was a little too real, if you know what I mean." Lucy wrinkled her nose, then opened her eyes and looked at Luke. "I'm not going, Luke. Christina deserves more than a life on the run. And," she blinked back sudden tears, "I have another daughter, who needs me. Port Charles is my home, Luke, better or worse. I'm through running. I'm ready to stay. And fight."
Sonny's PH
~ I'm aware what the rules are She nodded at the man standing watch outside his door. He started to say something to her, maybe a compliment, maybe a warning but stopped, as she turned the full force of her gaze on him. He knew that look, had seen it enough times to know all he needed to know. Carly wasn't interested in his warnings, was even less interested in his compliments. Everything she was was focused on the man inside the penthouse; the man standing by the door was less than nothing to her at this moment. Johnny knocked on the door, once, then stopped short of saying her name as Carly put a hand on his arm. He hesitated, then let her precede him into the apartment. Carly smiled once, briefly, at him. She closed the door herself. She stood a moment, adjusting; it had been a long time since Carly had stepped inside this penthouse. It had been even longer since she'd seen the man who's back was to her now. "Sonny," she breathed, as he turned away from his desk, his eyes, unerringly, finding hers.
It was a like a punch in the gut, seeing her. That was the closest he could come to how he felt. He'd known it was inevitable when he came back to Port Charles; hell, he was living across the hall from her. And yet -- and yet. Seeing her standing here, in the penthouse they'd shared, was -- more than he'd been ready for. He'd seen her so many times since he'd been back, in the shadows of his memories, in his mind, most especially in the room that had been their son's. But, this -- this was real. "Carly," he said, his voice cracking only slightly on her name. "You look, you look good." His eyes drank her up hungrily, aware, even as the words left his mouth, that they weren't entirely true. Something was off; something was wrong.
"Do I?" Carly looked at him, not moving further into the penthouse. It was as if she moved too far into his space, she'd be moving into his life. Into her old life. And, she couldn't do that. Even though-- Carly's hand dropped to her stomach. "Because I'm not so good, Sonny. You know, I always thought, even when it pissed me off so bad I couldn't breathe, that you could see me. Guess I was wrong about that. Figures. When it came to you, Sonny, I called every one wrong, pretty much from the start."
"Carly," his voice was a soft caress. He was silent a long moment, after saying her name, then he took a single step towards her. "Carly, what do you want from me?"
"Oh my god," she whispered, incredulously, stunned by the coldness of his words. She shook her head, once, twice. "Nothing," Carly said, still looking into his eyes. "Not a damn thing." She turned to leave, her hair flying rapidly over her shoulder.
Sonny froze for a moment, then as her hand reached the doorknob, he lunged forward, grabbing her hand. "Caroline," he rasped, turning her gently to face him, "your eyes," his hand lifted to trace them, almost involuntarily, "why are they so sad?"
Carly closed her tell-tale eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath as, for the first time, he touched her. She opened them again, moving away from his touch, sliding her hand out of his, clasping her hands behind her back. "Why did you leave me, after we made love for the first time since our son died? I finally thought, maybe, maybe we could find peace together, with each other. From each other. And, I woke up, and you were gone. Sonny," she asked him the question that had eaten at her every day since he'd been gone, "why?"
His answer was almost instantaneous; it was as if he was surprised that she'd asked, that she'd not just known. "To set you free. To give you peace. Carly, I couldn't-- I was, I am so angry. Not at you," Sonny added quickly. "At myself. At AJ. At God. At our child," his voice broke, "for leaving us. I couldn't get past that, didn't know how. All I knew was that I couldn't bring you down where I was. And, Jason -- he was there. You needed him."
"I needed you," Carly shot back. "I needed the one person on this earth who knew exactly where it hurt, and how, and why. And that night," her eyes closed again, as if looking at him was too hard, "you held me, and I held you back. And I thought--" She stopped speaking, swallowing hard. Slowly, slowly her eyes opened. "Doesn't matter what I thought. You weren't there."
Sonny dropped his own eyes, the fire of her gaze burning through him. Burning him where he stood. The same way the memory of the way she felt, in his arms, was burned across his mind. "No," he said finally, lifting his eyes back, with enormous effort to meet hers, "I left. It seems to be," he smiled, painfully, "what I'm best at. I'm sorry. Hurting you -- I never wanted to do that."
"Yeah," Carly said, tears heavy in the back of her throat. "Me neither." She slid her hands across her stomach, folding them protectively. "But, you know, it worked out okay. Jason and I, we're married now. We're, uh," her eyes blazed, and she lifted her chin and made a choice, "we're having a baby. So, I guess maybe you did the right thing."
For a long time, Sonny couldn't find his voice. Couldn't find his heart. Couldn't breathe. "What you always wanted," he whispered, finally. "You, Jason -- a family."
Carly nodded, tears bright in her eyes. She cleared her throat. "I should go," she whispered finally. "I just wanted to, to see you, I guess. Sonny, I--" Carly stopped herself. "I hope you find peace, somehow. For our baby's sake."
"You too, Caroline." He wanted to say something else, to make it -- different than it was. But, if there was one thing Sonny Corinthos knew, it was that he couldn't change the past, no matter how hard he tried. And, he couldn't escape it, no matter how far he ran. "Take care of your," he swallowed hard, and made himself voice it, "your baby."
Carly nodded again, then turned, blindly, and almost ran out of the door before the truth that was tearing at her throat slipped out of her lips. She walked to the elevator, waiting until she was inside to finally let the tears come. "Oh baby," Carly whispered, both palms pressed against her stomach, "what have I done?"
~These tears I've cried
I've cried 1000 oceans~
I've cried 1000 oceans
And if it seems I'm floating in the darkness
Well I can't believe that I would keep
Keep you from flying~
If that's what it takes
To sail you home
Sail you home
Sail you home~
But you know that I will run
You know that I will follow you
Over silbury hill through the solar field
You know that I will follow you~
I've cried 1000 oceans
And if it seems I'm floating in the darkness
Well, I can't believe that I would keep
Keep you from flying
So I will cry 1000 oceans more
If that's what it takes
To sail you home
Sail you home~
