Here – Chapter 8
Wednesday, 19-Jan-00 18:26:34

152.163.206.193 writes:

Here - Chapter 8

Bobbie is working in the ER, writing in the chart of a patient who has just been given an emergency C-section, when Luke strolls through the sliding glass doors.

Bobbie looks him up and down, convincing herself that he is uninjured. Then she watches her brother as he walks toward her. She knows there must be something pretty disastrous in the offing for him to come to see her at the hospital. Especially since he has not bothered to see her much at all since Jerry's incarceration.

"What's wrong?" she asks breathlessly, eyes wide.

Luke smiles a bit, trying to appear casual. He takes Bobbie by the elbow and gently guides her to the hallway, "Barbara, have you seen your daughter tonight?"

Bobbie frowns, "No. Why? Is something the matter?"

Luke shrugs, feigning lack of concern, "I just got a call from Quartermaine Junior. He says that Taggert called him and told him that he found a very drunk and troublesome Caroline at Jake's. Taggert warned Alan Junior that he put her in a cab headed for the Q-ville." Luke looks at his sister, "I guess Taggert didn't know they're not together anymore...."

Bobbie blinks when Luke's voice trails off, waiting. Finally, she says impatiently, "And...? What?? Get to the punchline, Luke."

"Well, the cab never got to the Q's. AJ has no idea where she is. He says he called the brownstone. He even called me, so I know the kid has to be worried, right?" Luke tries a nervous laugh.

Bobbie does not buy Luke's lightness for an instant, "You think she's in trouble somewhere, don't you?"

"I don't know," Luke lies, meeting Bobbie's eyes, "I was just wondering if you'd seen her. Maybe she stopped by here...?"

Bobbie, worried now, shakes her head slowly.

Sensing her concern, Luke pats her shoulder and tries his best to be reassuring, "Come on, Barbara. Try not to get too worried. This is Caroline we're talking about here. I mean, she's no babe-in-the-woods. She's a one-woman hurricane! She leaves a path of destruction wherever she goes! And there's no way a hurricane can disappear into the night without leaving a trail. Besides, she knows how to take care of herself..."

Bobbie looks at Luke hard. He is saying too much, trying to be too convincing. She is silent for a minute, then she says quietly, "No she doesn't, Luke. Carly has no idea how to take care of herself. Not really. She knows how to get into trouble, but she has no clue how to get out of it...."

Luke looks around the hallway, his shoulders falling in a manner only Bobbie recognizes. He wraps an arm around Bobbie's shoulders and sighs reluctantly, "Yeah, I know..."

She purses her lips, takes a deep breath, and mutters, her eyes stinging as she once again bears the weight of her own past, "Like mother, like daughter..."

*****************

Sonny watches Carly step inside the apartment. He is not sure what he expects, but it is not what he sees in front of him.

She is quiet and looks over her shoulder at Francis as he closes the door behind her. Then she turns her eyes slowly to Sonny.

When their gazes lock, he knows exactly why she is there.

"Have you heard from him?" she asks, frozen as she waits for the answer she knows will come.

Without breaking eye contact, he shakes his head slightly and mumbles, "No..." He does not ask her the same question. He knows that if she had heard from Jason, she would not be standing in front of him.

Her eyes blink once. So he is gone.

She approaches Sonny then, not cautiously, because she knows he will not reject her, but with a purposeful wariness borne of the alarm bells she is ignoring in her own head.

It only takes a few steps, and she is in his space. She feels the electricity as soon as she crosses the boundary. Her hand reaches up to touch his shoulder. Then her fingers crawl to his neck. She watches his face carefully, watching for any signal for her to stop.

He does not move. Not until he feels her hand on the side of his throat. He inhales sharply and closes his eyes at the direct contact. It has been so long since he has been touched - since he has allowed himself to be touched - that the feel of her skin against his nearly burns him.

When he finally exhales, he finds his hand sliding up her arm and catching her hand in his. Instead of moving her fingers away, he guides it to his chest and holds it against the silk of his shirt.

He opens his eyes.

She can feel his heart beating steadily beneath the slick material. She looks deeply into his eyes again, making sure he knows where she is headed.

And why. Or, rather, Why not??

Neither have anything to lose. Not anymore.

His hands grasp her face and his lips near hers, ending their journey in a familiar, yet strange, passionate kiss.

There is no anger this time. With Jason gone, there is simply no need for it. Besides, both know that their anger has less to do with eachother than with themselves.

There is only hunger and sadness.

The hunger is basic, savage, feral. Just like them. The hunger is to release. To feel. To be free for just a little while.

The sadness stems from the void that exists in both of them. Each is reaching out to the one other person who knows their sins, but asks for no apologies. There is no forgiveness to seek. No excuses to be made.

There is only now. Only here.

He backs away a step, his eyes holding hers, and slips her jacket from her shoulders. She shrugs out of it and lets it fall to the floor. Her hands pull his shirt from his pants, then unbutton it leisurely. Her fingers snake across his bare chest as she removes the shirt from his body.

He lifts her shirt over her head, his breath quickening slightly as his eyes take in the sight of her skin in the simple white bra. Then he unbuttons the waist of her jeans, pulls down the zipper, and pushes her pants down her legs. His hands slide over her flat stomach and down the sides of her hips and thighs, leaving a trail of sparks behind them.

She rests her hands on his bare shoulders as he kneels to help her out of her jeans. She leaves them there when he straightens. Then she glides her fingers down his arms, to his waist. She unbuckles his pants and they are so loose, he is so thin from not eating, that they drop easily to the floor with little encouragement.

They sink to the floor, impatient for what they both remember, but try so hard to forget.

He removes her bra, freeing her breasts, devouring them with his eyes, enveloping them with his mouth and hands.

The spectre of Jason hovers between them, repelling and attracting them at once. Who else could possibly understand the pain they have caused? The pain that they feel? Who else could understand the utter aloneness of being the ones who wreak havoc instead of bringing peace?

Their sex is slow and deliberate. No need to rush. No need to hide. Not many people really care what the two of them do - together or apart.

After months of self-imposed emotional and physical exile, they are released into the air.

Sonny is free of the ever-present burden on his shoulders, free of the guilt of what he's done with his life, because he is with a person who feels no responsibility, a person who feels guilt only when caught doing something wrong, not in the act itself.

He is free of thoughtful action, because he is with a woman who does not think before she acts. He is free from any attempts to be a better person, because he is with a person who has seen him at his worst.

Carly revels in the feeling of being wanted, of being caressed, kissed, and held. She is lost in the instinctive female pleasure of being entered and filled. Of being enjoyed and enjoying.

It is an odd experience for both Carly and Sonny. Two people who are so used to being comforted, now suddenly find themselves in the unusual and exhilarating position of being comforters.

When it is over, it is a shock to them both. Just as before, they crash into reality after briefly existing nowhere else but their bodies.

But it is a soft landing. They do not feel angry or guilty or unclean. Not this time. There is no one to betray, no one to hurt.

She gets up, aware of his eyes on her, and picks her clothing up from the floor. She looks down at him as she dresses. Then he stands and pulls his clothes on.

What now?? Carly wonders. But, for the first time in her life, she feels no urgency to ask. She feels no urgency to push, to plan, to yell, to have her mind go crazy with possibilities.

They have built a need for each other now. They both realize that they can give each other a sense of emotional and physical relief they can find in no one else at the moment. A relief that allows them to function with the rest of their lives a little less encumbered.

It is a palpable, almost frighteningly comfortable, atmosphere now between them. She is ready to go. She is afraid to stay.

They say nothing to each other as Carly leaves the penthouse.

Sonny runs a hand through his hair and sniffs as he glances around the empty apartment after she has gone. He knows that, at some point, Carly will be back. Or he will be going to Carly.

And Carly, as she wipes her tears in the privacy of the elevator, knows that she has let the hope-for-Jason, but not her love-for-Jason, go forever.

******to be continued*******