Here - Chapter 36

Luke gets to the police station and looks around anxiously for his niece. People are bustling past him. Finally, he grabs an officer by the arm and says, "I'm looking for Caroline Benson...?"

The officer shrugs and says offhandedly, "Don't know her," and continues on his way.

Luke walks further into the station, searching for faces he recognizes. He hears Carly out in the hallway before he sees her.

She is yelling, "I told you I was fine! Now get your damn hands off of me!!"

He smiles to himself. Well, she certainly sounds fine...

She walks into the room, accompanied by a tired Taggert, a rebuked Hannah, and a pale, balding, questionable-looking fellow that Luke assumes is her lawyer.

When Carly's eyes land on Luke, she stops mid-step and rolls her eyes. Then she stomps over to her uncle, "What are you doing here??"

Luke grins sheepishly, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

She looks at him for a second, almost touched by his words. Then she snorts, "You're nuts if you think I'm working tonight! You can forget it!"

He looks at her, playing wounded, "Caroline. I'm hurt that you'd think I'd make you come to work after what happened."

"HA!" she barks without the usual snippishness, which makes Luke even sadder. Then she plops into the seat at the desk where Taggert points his finger.

Taggert tells her, "We'll be right back."

Carly raises a brow and mutters, "Whatever."

Taggert and Hannah exchange weary glances, then disappear to retrieve the 'family albums' and get the paperwork started.

Aubrey offers a hand to Luke and clears his throat, which makes him go into a fit of hacking coughs.

Luke makes a disgusted face and reluctantly pats the stranger's back. "You all right?"

Aubrey nods, then coughs out, "I'm Aubrey Burke. I assume you're Luke Spencer?"

Luke shakes the man's hand dubiously, "Yeah, that's right."

Carly shifts angrily in her chair. "And I'm going to assume, Luke," she hisses, "that you're going to keep your damn mouth shut this time??"

Luke widens his eyes innocently and lies, "Of course!" The fact that Sonny already knows could not possibly count, right?

"Good!" she spits out, then turns away again as Taggert approaches his desk, his arms lugging three oversized vinyl-bound volumes.

Taggert drops the books with a loud crash and sighs, "Ready?"

Carly swallows, suddenly nervous again, and starts biting her thumbnail. She shrugs, not confident at all about being able to recognize anyone in any of the intimidating books in front of her, "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess..."


*****

It takes only an hour for Sonny's men to locate the car. It was unceremoniously dumped in an alley near the docks, apparently after the thieves had seen a familiar name on the vehicle's registration.

It, and Carly's purse, are untouched.

Johnny tells his boss, "No word yet on who did it. But we're still asking around. Somebody's got to know something. That neighborhood's small."

Sonny nods then says, his finger in the bodyguard's chest, "Do whatever you need to do, but you find those guys. They're probably hiding."

Johnny nods, knowing he will not be going home this evening.

*****

It is the wee hours of the morning when Luke offers to give Carly a ride home from the police station. He thanks Aubrey for his time.

Aubrey assures them that it was not a problem.

The three of them are standing on the sidewalk outside the police station. The night air feels crisp and and smells clean, as if nothing bad could possibly happen. Of course, they know that bad things happen all the time. Even on nights like tonight.

Carly takes Aubrey's hand and says a sincere, "Thank you so much."

Aubrey blushes, squeezes her hand, and leaves.

Carly sits in the passenger side of the front seat, still shaky inside her skin, but starting to feel more like herself. She stares straight ahead as Luke gets in and starts the engine. She says softly, "Bobbie's going to be upset."

Luke agrees sullenly, imagining Barbara's face when she hears the latest, "Yep."

They ride to the brownstone in a comfortable silence, neither feeling a need to speak. When Luke parks in front of the townhouse, neither make a move to get out of the car.

Luke, looking at the steering wheel, says, sotto voce, "I'm glad you're okay."

Carly sighs and says, her tone belying her exhaustion, "Yeah. Me too."

******

Carly spends a fitful remainder of the night in her room, despite Bobbie's prescription of warm lemon tea and buttered toast. Carly much preferred Luke's recommendation of a beer stein full of some bourbon and Mad Dog concoction ('I guarantee it, Caroline. You won't remember a thing tomorrow...'), but Bobbie made such a horrid face at his words that Carly became ashamed to take him up on the suggestion.

Her body betrays her and succumbs to exhaustion. But the Ferncliff dream returns almost as soon as she closes her eyes, this time the guards watching her are skinny shadows wearing heavy black boots.

After fighting her way awake from that nightmare, she decides not to even try to sleep again. Instead, she does an admirable job of pretending to read her Accounting book when all she really wants to do is pick up the telephone and call Sonny.

She wants to talk to him so badly. Somehow, she knows that he will automatically understand what she is going through.

And, she has to admit to herself, a part of her hopes that he would feel anger and sorrow for her. Maybe even some guilt too.

She thinks of the many messages he has left for her, messages that, until this moment, she has taken great pleasure in ignoring.

Carly, it's me. Give me a call.

Carly, you there? Okay. Listen, it's Sonny. When you get a chance, call me.

It's me. This is the last time I'm calling.

sigh. Carly. Call me.

"Jerk," she mutters under her breath when she remembers the brunette.

With a sigh, she lies back on the small bed, her unread book propped on her knees, and wonders what Sonny is doing at that exact moment. She wonders if he still thinks about her, and what he thinks about her if he does. She wonders if his new brunette friend is keeping him too busy and warm at night for Carly to even cross his mind.

******

After getting a tip about a couple of skinheads bragging about stealing a car from Sonny Corinthos, Antonio and Denny bust into a crackhouse just outside of town.

They find the two men, huddled together, almost too high to realize what is happening.

Almost.

Sonny's men drag the pair of bony young men, who look barely out of their teens, forcefully from the crowded, stench-filled house by their scalps. No one in the house even looks in their general direction. No one in the house acknowledges the young men's desperate screams for help. It seems like a common occurrence.

The young men are taken back to Port Charles and deposited, bruised and battered, in a seemingly abandoned - yet expensively soundproofed - warehouse near the waterfront.

Sonny watches from the entrance as Antonio and Denny approach him. He keeps his eyes on the two weak figures in the distance, "That's them?"

Denny nods, his dark eyes emotionless.

Sonny's eyes shift to his men, "You get here clean?"

Antonio says, "Yeah."

Then Sonny, his fists clenching and unclenching, walks slowly over to the two men who attacked Carly. He hears Johnny's footfalls echo behind him.

He kneels down in front of them, where they sit on the cement floor. He looks into each of their faces. Then he hisses, "You know who I am?"

One of the men, his eyes wide and beautifully blue through their fear, nods his gaunt, hollow, face timidly. The other, a pasty skeleton with a sheen of dark brown hair on his knotty head, keeps his dark eyes trained on the floor.

Sonny says to the second man, his voice a soft command, "Look at me."

He will not.

His friend nudges him desperately, thinking they've got a shot at surviving this, "Come on, Drew!"

"Yeah," Sonny says mockingly, touching the reluctant man's face with a gloved hand, "come on, Drew..."

Drew jerks away from Sonny's hand, then slowly lifts his eyes toward the mob boss. Drew's brown eyes are bloodshot and puffy, but defiant. Drew narrows his eyes and hisses in a hateful lisp, "Thpic monkey."

Sonny blinks. Spic monkey.

Then he spits at Sonny, the bloodied saliva landing on Sonny's cheek.

Sonny stares hard at Drew, a frightening smile creeping to his face as he wipes his cheek with a hand. "Not too smart, are you?"

Drew smiles back and lisps, "That little thlut wath hot. I shouldda done her when I had the chanthe."

That little slut was hot. I shouldda done her when I had the chance. Sonny can see Denny and Antonio's work in Drew's arrogant grin of bloody gums and missing teeth. He motions silently with a hand to Johnny.

Without a word, Johnny places the gun in Sonny's outstretched hand.

Sonny asks pleasantly, still smiling, "What did you say?"

Drew's companion's eyes are wide with terror when he sees the gun. He begins mumbling a prayer to himself as he wets his pants.

Drew continues to smile.

Sonny puts the gun between Drew's thin, grinning lips. Sonny says softly, "I'll see you on the dark side, Drew."

Drew gags a satisfied "Fuggyou" before the gun goes off, splattering pieces of his skull and brains out behind him.

Sonny turns to Drew's friend, whose eyes are now squeezed tightly shut against the reality of what is happening. The young man rocks back and forth, still praying.

Sonny asks calmly, Drew's blood speckled lightly on his face like the chicken pox, "What's your name?"

The man makes an agonized face and rocks even harder, his voice becoming louder with his prayers. Then, suddenly, the blue eyes open wide and he says, "Patrick."

Sonny searches the man's face and estimates that this one is younger, maybe sixteen. Sonny utters softly, jerking his head toward the motionless, nearly headless, form on the floor, "You like your friend, Patrick?"

Patrick shakes his head slowly. He tries to explain, his voice choking, "He told me to do it! I didn't know! I didn't want to take that car! I never did anything like this before in my life! You gotta believe me!!!"

Sonny says to Johnny over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on Patrick, "You believe him?"

Johnny shrugs, "Sure."

Sonny runs the gun along Patrick's cheek, "You're going to walk out of here, Patrick. And you're going to give your little skinhead friends a message."

Patrick tries to breathe, Walk out of here???

Sonny stands and sighs, "Your friends are going to know who runs this city. Aren't they?"

Patrick nods with a heavy, loud gulp clicking in his dry throat.

Sonny warns him, "There won't be any evidence if you go to the cops." He pauses, then adds, "And you'll die."

Patrick bobs his head up and down again.

Sonny shoots him a hard look, "You believe me?"

Patrick squeaks out a hurried, "Yes."

Sonny turns and addresses Denny and Antonio, "Clean this mess up. Drop Patrick off where you found him."

Then Sonny peels off the gloves, hands them and the gun to Denny for disposal, and leaves the warehouse to sanitize his body. And his soul.

*******

"Yeah??" Luke answers the phone, half-asleep.

"It's me. She's all right?"

Luke groans, recognizing Sonny's voice, "Yeah, man. She's a little shaky, but she'll be okay."

Sonny nods into the phone. He is seated on his sofa, sipping hot coffee. He says to Luke, "Long night."

Luke is alert suddenly, "Was it?"

"Yeah," Sonny sighs.

Luke rubs his eyes and looks out of his bedroom window, "She told me not to say anything to anybody. But I think she meant you."

Sonny is quiet, then he says, "Okay."

Luke stretches an arm above his head and yawns. Then he tells his old partner, "I think you should talk to her."

"Tomorrow," Sonny informs the man who is suddenly starting to sound like the friend he lost so long ago. He explains before severing the connection, "I have some things to do first."

Sonny hangs up.

He rubs a hand over his face and sighs.

He keeps seeing Drew's face in his head.

This happens every time.

He knows that all he has to do is live through it for a little while, then the incident will ease itself into that little place in his being where his mind never wanders.

Sonny kills when he has to, but he does not like it. Not at all. Every life he takes, takes a bite of his soul too. It takes time for Sonny to make it right in his head, for him to be able to look other people in the eye without the guilt seeping out of his pores and spilling all over them.

He figures he needs a day to get it all out of his system, to convince himself he did what he had to do and let it go.

Then he will talk to Carly with an almost clear conscience.

He picks up his phone and dials, "Francis, I need you to do some things for me."

*******

"What?" Carly yells when she hears the knock on her door.

There is no response.

She sighs and looks at the clock on her nightstand. It is midmorning. At least I actually slept a little last night, she thinks. She does feel a bit better today. Whenever she feels the shakes coming on, she tells herself that she was lucky. That it was only a car. That it could have been so much worse. She tells herself that those thugs are probably long gone.

Even if they do have my home address...

Spooked, she walks to the door. She grumbles hopefully, "Lucas, if that's you playing that stupid trick again, you're going to be sorry!"

She carefully opens the door a bit and her eyes pop wide open.

"Hey," Sonny says flatly.

She puts a hand self-consciously on her face and opens the door, embarrassed by what she knows she looks like. Even though the scratches have started to heal, she still feels like she resembles a big pink and red tic-tac-toe board.

He is shaken by her appearance, but manages to hide it. He wants to reach out and touch her face, but instead asks, "What happened?"

She waves him off. She has no idea why she says to him angrily, "Not that it's any of your damn business, but I fell."

He lifts his brows skeptically, "What did you fall on? A chain-link fence?"

She starts to slam the door in his face but he stops her with a hand. He announces bluntly, "I'm here for the money you owe me."

She looks at him in disbelief, "The money??"

"For the car," he explains needlessly.

"I know what for!" she yells at him, "You could have sent me a letter!" She can not believe that she is still going to have to spend her money on a car she does not even have anymore.

He shrugs, "Well, you promised me you'd pay when you got your paycheck. I know Luke's paid you by now. Besides," he tries a smile, "I like to collect my debts in person."

"Listen," she says angrily, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, "why don't you just wait for the insurance check??? The car was stolen, all right???"

He blinks, acting surprised, "You're kidding. Somebody stole that piece of junk?"

She nods and gestures to her face, "And did this to me while they were at it!"

He turns his face into the picture of sympathy and concern, "I'm sorry, Carly..."

"Yes, you are!" she retorts.

Then they both stand at the open doorway. She does not want him to leave, but has no idea how to get him to stay. With Sonny, she feels truly safe for the first time since the carjacking.

After a long moment, he offers, "You want to go for a drive?"

She looks at him, quite sure she has misheard him, "What?"

He motions toward the stairs, "My car's downstairs. You can drive it."

She stares at him, tempted beyond belief. She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, "What? Your Jag?"

He nods, "Maybe a drive would make you feel better..."

She can not believe it. She reiterates his offer, to make sure, "You want me to drive your Jag?"

He shrugs, "You don't have to, but if you want to, you can take it for a little spin."

She folds her arms across her chest and informs him, "A ride in your car is not going to get me back in your bed!"

He smiles slyly at her, his hands out to his sides in a sign of innocence, "Why are you so preoccupied with getting into my bed? Did I say anything about a bed?" Then he leans toward her and whispers, "Maybe I don't even want you in my bed."

She can tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he is lying. Ignoring the warning bells going off loudly in her head, she says, "All right. Give me the keys."

Staring into her eyes, he digs into his pocket and pulls out the keys. Then he puts the keys into her hand, his fingers brushing her palm lightly.

The sparks pass silently between them when they touch, and their eyes lock.

They walk down the steps, then outside where his car and the ever-present tail wait. She runs her hand along the roof and side of the car with a pleasure-filled groan that sets Sonny's mind to images non-vehicular.

She starts to open the driver's door, but he is suddenly next to her, opening it for her. He presses against her gently and breathes into her ear, "You sure you know how to handle a stick?"

She gives him a look, a smile almost on her lips, and replies, "I think you know I can handle a stick."

He smiles widely, his dimples flashing, then walks around to the passenger side and climbs in.

She fastens her seatbelt, takes a deep breath, then starts the engine, revving it a few times.

He settles into his seat and tells her, "Okay. Now you just follow my directions."

She furls her brow and pouts, "Why can't I go where I want to go? I thought this drive was supposed to make me feel better...?"

"Well," he explains reasonably, "that's true. But it's my car and I'll decide where it's safe for you to drive it."

She rolls her eyes.

"You going to listen to me or not?" he asks.

"Fine," she mutters.

He claps his hands and grins, "All right, Jeeves. Let's hit the road..."

"Yes, sir," she says sarcastically.

He sits back in his seat, reclining a little, folds his arms across his chest, and watches her out of the corner of his eye. She jerks into first gear and pulls away from the curb, her eyes lit with excitement.