Here - Chapter 16

"Mike!" Sonny says, almost cheerful for once, ushering his father into the penthouse.

Mike nods absently on his way past Sonny, then immediately spins on his heel and blurts out, "What's going on??"

Sonny looks at Mike in confusion. With a shrug, he answers casually, "Not much..."

Mike waits expectantly, his blue eyes unnaturally probing, "I know, Sonny."

Sonny's brow furls. He does not like Mike's disapproving attitude. He sniffs and scratches his ear, disconnecting, "What are you talking about?"

Mike puts out his hands and tilts his head slightly, "I know about Carly, Sonny."

Sonny does not react immediately. He says, "What about her?"

Mike shakes his head, staring at his son through squinting eyes now, "I know about Carly. About you and Carly."

Sonny puts his hands on his hips and waits. Then lets out a breath, motioning with one hand for Mike to say something else, "Yeah? And?"

"What are you doing, Sonny?" Mike asks, his voice pleading.

Sonny shrugs, thrown off by Mike's confrontational posture.

Mike goes on, tentative, "What about Jason?"

Sonny bears his teeth in a humorless grin, "Oh. So this is all about Jason?" He walks to the bar and asks over his shoulder, "Want a drink?"

Shaking his head, Mike says, "Too early for me." He pauses, then adds cautiously, "And for you too, Sonny."

"Too early for water?" Sonny shoots back, twirling the half-filled glass in his fingers. "Believe it or not, I'm not falling apart."

Mike watches Sonny turn to face him again. He can see that Sonny has no intention of saying anything more on the subject of Carly. Or sharing anything else pertaining to his personal life. Mike has no idea what to say at this point, so he manages a quiet, "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Sonny?"

Sonny smiles widely at the older man, a hint of anger in his eyes at the desultory question, "I always know what I'm doing. Always."

Mike furrows his brow and tries to express his disquiet with the situation. Haltingly, he says, "It's just that - well - Carly's not the most stable person, Sonny. I'm just afraid that the two of you together - I don't want to see you destroyed. Either of you."

Sonny lifts his water glass to Mike and replies with finality, "Thanks for the concern. But I'll be just fine."

Sonny can not even imagine what Mike is thinking. And he knows he can not express the awesome range of emotions that he feels about Carly. About himself and Carly. She bears his reflection in such a brutal, honest, unvarnished way that he is able to see himself clearly. He is able to free himself completely with her, in a way that has not happened to him for a long time. Brenda, his heart still leaps when he thinks of her, then drops to his gut when he remembers that she is gone.

Mike studies Sonny intently, "And what about Carly? Will she be just fine too?"

Sonny's mind returns to the present, to Carly, and his heart skips a beat, his gut twisted in unfamiliar knots. He seriously ponders Mike's query. Then he looks deeply into Mike's still-worried eyes and says quietly, "If she's destroyed, it won't be by me."

*******

"Mister Man!!!" Carly calls to her son and gathers him up in her arms. It seems as if he has grown so much in the week since he was away from her. She puts him down, then kneels in front of him stroking his darkening hair away from his cherubic face. "I missed you!"

AJ nudges the little boy gently, and Michael responds by giggling, "Miss you mama..."

AJ has brought Michael to Carly at the brownstone, in preparation for the time when she takes him overnight. When that will be, Carly is unsure. But she wants her son to get used to her new living arrangements in any case.

She picks Michael up again and invites AJ inside. He steps into the entryway and peers around the corner.

"Bobbie's at work," Carly says, heading into Bobbie's apartment.

"Oh," he responds, somewhat relieved.

"So," she begins through gritted teeth with forced politeness, gesturing with half a hand to the sofa, "how was Philadelphia?"

AJ takes a seat and lets out a breath, "Philadelphia was fine."

Carly sits down, placing Michael on her knees. She widens her eyes at her son, "And did you have a good time in Philadelphia?"

"Keekee!" Michael replies excitedly, laughing.

Carly looks at her son in confusion, then over at AJ, "Keekee?"

AJ clears his throat and answers uncomfortably, "Um...Keesha. That's his name for her."

"Oh," Carly says calmly, panicking beneath the surface. He has a special name for her????

Sonny's words echo unexpectantly in her ear, "Well, no matter how reasonable AJ is right now, you don't know what could happen in the future."

"So," Carly clears her throat, choking on the words pouring from her lips, "how is Keesha?"

She watches AJ's face light up at the mention of the woman's name. He becomes animated, "She's doing great! She's got a great job. It looks like she's found her niche."

Carly chews the inside of her cheek before asking slowly, her mind calculating, "So...she won't be coming back to Port Charles?"

He looks at her hard, "Not in the near future."

She almost utters a relieved, 'Good!,' but manages to catch herself and simply nod.

AJ sits forward a bit, glad that Carly has opened up the subject, "But I may be going back there. For visits."

She nods again, waiting, her heart slamming against the inside of her chest. She can see the writing on the wall. AJ will marry Keesha, or some other sanctimonious witch, she grimaces to herself, and he'll want to take their son to Philadelphia.


She purses her lips, trying to remain calm and loose. She ventures, "You know, I'm glad you're happy, AJ." The lie does not even hurt as it slips through her lips. She continues, "And I really think it would be good if we got a little more formal about this arrangement we have."

He looks at her curiously, more than a little suspicious, "What do you mean?"

She takes a deep breath, then lets it spill out, "I think we should have our custody agreement formalized. You know, in writing? By a lawyer. We can continue as we are, of course," she assures him. "It's working out okay. Maybe I could take him sometimes..." She looks at AJ, then adds a small ego stroke, "You know, like you suggested before?"

He evaluates her face, looking for the catch. Then he offers quietly, "I can have my lawyer draw something up. You want it to stay the way it is, right? Me having primary custody, you with liberal visitation." He looks around Bobbie's living room, "Joint-custody when you feel ready...?"

She says through gritted teeth, continuing to smile at Michael, "Right."

He shrugs, "Okay."

She is relieved. There is no way he is going to be able to take Michael away from me, she thinks to herself. She does not believe he would even want to do something like that, but she wants - needs - to be certain. She says, "You have your lawyer draw it up. Then I'll run it by my lawyer."

He narrows his eyes, surprised, "You have a lawyer?"

She laughs him off and bluffs, "Of course! What do you think I am? An idiot?"

*******

After registering for three classes at PCU - ashamed to have to check the convicted felon box, but surprised that it does not seem to disqualify her attendance - Carly takes the bus downtown.

She looks around the shoddy neighborhhood nervously, remembering when she was mugged not too far from where she is heading.

Glancing again at the torn piece of the yellow pages she took from the student center, Sure I could have written it down instead, she walks warily down the street. The air is oppressive. The street is strewn with garbage. She walks past dilapidated storefronts, past lounging men and women smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. Finally, she reaches her goal and stops in front of the building.

The front door is made of glass, but is not transparent for the built-up grime on the surface. She tries to look inside of the one window on the facade, but a set of stained blinds are closed, keeping the interior a mystery.

She notices two deadbolt locks on the door and a buzzer on the right hand side, at handle-level. She takes a deep breath, then presses the button. The jarring ring the button causes makes Carly jump.

She waits a few moments, then hears a staticky voice grumble, "Yeah?"

"I'm Caroline Benson? I called earlier?"

The voice does not respond, but she hears a dull click and a green light blinks on. She tries the door and it opens.

When she walks inside, she has to squint because the air is dense with stale cigarette smoke...and some other smell that she is certain is noxious.

"Ms. Benson?" the man walks toward her, appearing through the film of smoke like an apparition, his stained hand extended toward her.

She coughs pointedly and says, "Mr. Burke?" She takes his hand lightly, avoiding contact as much as she can without insulting the man.

He nods and walks away from her, waving to her to follow. He is a weeble of a man, portly around the waist and hips, narrower at the chest and shoulders. His legs are shorter than normal - like tree stumps waiting to be removed. He has thin wisps of light blond hair brushed across the top of his head.

She follows him through another doorway and looks around the pitiful setting. A metal desk and a matching folding chair stationed behind it sit in the middle of the small room. Another rusty folding chair waits for her. Maybe I should have asked Bobbie or Luke for help..., she looks at the place doubtfully.

"Now, what is it that you needed?" he asks, his voice a harsh, gravelly echo of what it must have been before years of smoking. He sinks into the chair, making it groan as his weight settles.

Carly waits for the chair to crack under the pressure, but it does not. Then she sits carefully on the very edge of her chair. She feels like running back outside, but she knows she has to do this. And she wants to do it by herself. She looks into the man's shockingly intelligent, alert, yet red-around-the rim, light brown eyes, "All I need is for you to look over a custody agreement when my ex-husband - well, the father of my child -," she corrects herself, "gives me a copy."

He sniffs and lights up a cigarette, "Sure."

"I can't afford to pay you a lot..." she cautions, not thinking he'd expect otherwise with digs like these.

Aubrey Burke frowns, "Document review I can do for 50 bucks. Assuming there are no complications."

She nods and glances around the never-washed walls, walls seemingly writhing in pain with peeling paint. She notes the two framed certificates behind him. When she focusses, she is shocked to see that one is an undergraduate degree from Harvard. The other is a Juris Doctorate (????) from Harvard's venerable Law School.

He sees the look of surprise on her face and smiles, revealing a set of large straight, and yellowing teeth. "Yeah, they're for real," he supplies in his low voice, not insulted.

"Then," Carly asks with genuine curiosity, "what are you doing here??"

His smile widens and he runs a hand through his thinning blond hair, "What is the former Mrs. AJ Quartermaine doing here?"

She is surprised that he knows who she is, though she supposes she should not be. She says, "I ran into a little hard luck."

He sits forward in his chair, leaning on his desk and tapping the ash of his cigarette into a foil ashtray, "Me too."

He does not offer any further explanation, and Carly does not ask for one. She recognizes the look in his eyes from people she'd known in Ferncliffe: shut-down; wary; tired. As long as he is a decent lawyer - and Legal Aid had assured her this man was excellent - Carly does not care what his past is. She knows she is in no position to judge.

"Okay," she says finally, standing up. "I'll call when I've got the agreement."

He nods to her, pulling himself to standing as well. He offers her a hand again. "I'll be happy to help you out."

She tries a smile, then quickly exits, relieved to be out in the not-so-fresh air again. She looks down at her watch and realizes she has a few hours to kill before she has to go to work.

Without even thinking twice, she heads to the nearest bus stop.

*******

He is not surprised by Carly's arrival. He nods to Francis to let her in.

He raises a brow as she enters. She bounces into the penthouse as if she lives there. She takes off her jacket and tosses it onto the sofa before plopping herself on the seat. She stretches and says, "So...I guess this isn't a secret anymore."

He remains where he is, standing at his desk, and looks at her, "I guess not."

Carly pouts, "I can't believe your ex-girlfriend secret agent has such a big mouth."

Sonny brings the short glass of water to his lips, bemused, "Don't know what you expected when you showed up pretending to have no clothes on and flaunted it in her face."

She sighs, ignoring his logical response, "Whatever." She says, "Bobbie gave me the big lecture. I guess she thinks she ought to pretend to be a mother now."

He rolls his eyes, "She is your mother."

Carly makes a face, but does not respond.

"Mike came to see me," he offers.

She turns to look at him, "Did he ground you?"

Sonny locks eyes with her and shakes his head slowly.

"What is it with these people, man? I mean, neither of these people were around when we were kids, but now they think they have the right to tell us what to do...?"

Sonny's eyes flash briefly at her presumption about his relationship with Mike, but lets it go.

She looks down at the sofa cushions, picking at pieces of lint, "You need a new maid."

He tilts his head at her, somewhat puzzled, "You looking for another job or something, Carly?"

"HA!" she barks, folding her arms across her chest.

He walks around the sofa until he is standing in front of her, "What are you doing here? What do you want from me?"

Her eyes remain on the sofa, but she is no longer looking at it. She says softly, "I got a lawyer today..."

He nods, still perplexed, "Good."

"And I signed up for some classes at PCU too."

He nods again, still wondering why she is telling him this, "Congratulations...?"

She looks up at him now, "I just wanted to tell someone."

His face clears, "And I'm the only person you could tell?"

She shrugs, "What can I say? Beggars can't be choosers. Right?"

He stares down at her, a smile playing on his lips at the barb. "So...what? Did you want to celebrate or something?"

She bites her lip, "Maybe."

"With me?" his voice has gotten quieter, his eyes never leave her face.

"Why not?" she says with another shrug, but she does not feel shrug-like inside when she looks into his warm brown eyes. Not at all.

He rubs the back of his neck with a hand, "Want a drink?"

"No," she answers, her eyes twinkling now.

His dimples appear as he smiles, "You're not a very good guest..."

She stands up and takes a step to him, "You're not the best host either. Besides, I didn't know I was a guest."

He appears to think about that statement, his hand sliding along her arm, "You're right. A guest is somebody you invite. You're more like a party-crasher..." In more ways than one, his eyes burn.

She smiles again and toys with one of the buttons on his shirt, her mind wandering up the stairs. This is so easy, the thought smacks her in the face suddenly. This is easy, she realizes. No begging. No planning. No scheming. It just is.

She studies Sonny as if he were under a microscope.

"What?" he says, watching the wheels turn. They are still standing very close.

She says, "You have a type, you know that?"

"A type," he repeats dully.

"Yeah. All of the women you have relationships with. Your wife, that twit Brenda, even SpecialAgentHannah. They're all small, brunette, dark..."

He shrugs, uncomfortable and not sure why, "So?"

"So," she says, watching him, "I don't fit."

He smiles widely, tugging at the waist of her jeans, "Maybe that's why we're not having a relationship."

"Yeah," she grins back at him, pulling his shirt out of his pants, "maybe that's it..."