Author's Note: For the record, Carly came to town in 1996. I'm going to say she was eighteen- almost nineteen- when she arrived, since I really don't know how old she was at the time. This story takes place during the Metro Court fiasco, just after the lobby blew up, with a few minor alterations to the history we know. REVIEW please! -Jess
Disclaimer: I own only my over-active imagination and the plot it has come up with surrounding the citizens of Port Charles.
Chapter OneShe was getting out of there- she had to get out. She couldn't take it anymore- couldn't take the looks in her friends' eyes that spoke volumes about their hatred for her; they all blamed her for Charlotte's death. She couldn't take the sadness and pain that had lingered in her mother's eyes for the past year, ever since her little sister had been kidnapped. Virginia Benson blamed her for Jillian's kidnapping, for living when her precious baby girl had probably lost her innocent life. And what hurt the most was that they were all right- she would carry the guilt over both Charlotte's and Jillian's deaths with her for the rest of her life.
That didn't mean she had to stick around and take those looks, though. In fact, there was no way she could. Every day, she was reminded of her little sister- Jilly had been bright and happy because, unlike Caroline, she'd never been given any reason to doubt the love of her family. It had been a year since Jillian, who should have turned sixteen next week, had disappeared, and an already out of control Caroline had only continued her spiraling journey downward since that day.
As she packed her bags, a teary-eyed Caroline debated whether or not to take anything to remind her of her little sister- forever frozen in her memory as a gangly fifteen-year-old with freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose and braces on her teeth- and finally grabbed her favorite photo off her desk.
Jilly had decorated the wooden frame, writing in purple glitter the word "Sisters" across the top and in the same color and the same curly script at the bottom, "Best Friends." There were green squiggles and dots on both of the sides, and Jilly had placed a picture of the two of them holding ice-cream cones on the wharf at the beach the summer Jillian had gone missing. Charlotte Roberts, better known as Carly, had taken the picture. That day had been one of the last the three of them had been so happy.
Caroline reverently placed the framed picture in her backpack and zipped the powder blue bag up. She took one last look around the bedroom that held so many memories- some good, some bad, and all of them painful now- and crept down the stairs and out of the house, knowing she would never return.
0o0o0o0
For five years, Jillian Benson had been tortured and terrorized, held hostage by a man she'd considered a friend and trusted for years. The physical and emotional scars of that period of her life had continued to haunt her for two more years, even after she'd finally escaped after killing- in self-defense- the man that had made it his mission in life to destroy her spirit. For two years, she'd worked as a waitress at a diner in a small-town that only survived because of the interstate highway it was located practically right on top of.
She'd finally gotten up the courage to return home, scared of what she might find when she returned. It had after all been six years since she'd disappeared into the basement of her sister's best friend's home, and she was sure her family had long since thought her dead. Not to mention the fact that she hadn't even wanted to contemplate their reactions to finding out that it was none other than Dr. Daniel Roberts, especially her sister Caroline's.
Instead, when she'd returned from Hell, as she had long ago dubbed her windowless confinement, she'd discovered Caroline gone, Carly- her sister's best friend for as long as Jillian could remember, and Dan's daughter- dead, and her mother Virginia dead. After a tear-filled weekend, Jillian had left Florida and promised herself she would never go back to the place she could now only associate with heartache.
For another year, Jillian had debated the wisdom of launching a search for her sister, certain that after so much time Caroline now had a life and family and wouldn't want to be reminded of the life she'd left behind. She had eventually concluded that she could at least learn her sister's whereabouts- there was after all no law that said she had to contact Caroline.
Her search, conducted via the wonderful World Wide Web, had uncovered Caroline "Carly" Benson-Corinthos, and ultimately helped Jillian make the decision to move to Port Charles, New York, where her sister was currently residing. Still, she hadn't made any contact with Carly. It was enough for the apprehensive twenty-seven-year-old just to be close to her sister and know she was alive and well.
At least, it had been until about ten minutes ago when she'd heard on the television and rediscovered the reason she didn't watch the news- there was simply too much violence for the already traumatized Jillian to face- and heard that the Metro Court Hotel, which Carly and her fiancé Jasper "Jax" Jacks owned, had been taken hostage by several masked gunmen several hours ago and that the lobby- where the hostages were being detained- had just exploded.
That had been the turning point for Jillian, who had remained frozen on the couch of her studio apartment for several seconds before jumping up so fast that her knee had collided with the rather sharp corner of her coffee table, not that she'd paid much attention to that fact, and swiping her keys off the hook beside her door. She'd made a mad-dash to her car and driven as fast as she could to the hospital, praying the whole way there that her sister was alright.
Despite the fact that Jillian hadn't spoken to Carly in nine years, she loved her sister. Fear and apprehension had kept her away for years, but she swore that if Carly was okay she would make every attempt to be a part of her sister's life again. Caroline Leigh Benson-Corinthos was, without a doubt, the strongest person Jillian knew… she just had to be alright, because whether Jillian had allowed herself to admit, even to herself, over the years- she needed her sister and didn't want to think about losing her, not like that, not for good.
By the time she stepped into the ER, Jillian was frantic to find her sister, terrified that she would hear Caroline had not survived the blast. After enduring so much pain in the span of her life, Jillian had learned not to ever hope too much because it just hurt that much more when whatever you were hoping for didn't happen. The small portion of her mind that was still thinking logically kept reminding her not to get her hopes up, that even if Caroline was okay, she might not want anything to do with her. But as she stumbled into the ER, barely managing not to trip over her own to feet, Jillian couldn't bring herself to care about whatever the future might hold, so long as her big sister was alright.
Tears were pooling in her hazel eyes, making it difficult to see anything in front of her, and Jillian collided with what felt like a brick wall that smelled of leather and smoke. Because that really didn't make any sense to her, she jerked her head up, only to come face to face with the man she knew from various newspaper articles and local gossip to be her sister's best friend. He looked so heartbroken that Jillian almost crumbled to the floor right then, thinking the absolute worst had happened and Caroline hadn't survived. She has to be okay, Jillian thought, terrified by the possibility of anything else. She has to.
Jason reached out his hands instinctively to steady the young woman who had barreled into him, his callused hands coming to rest on slender shoulders covered by a denim jacket he was sure did little to protect her from the cold outside.
"Are you okay?" he asked, not so much wanting to know her reason for trying to walk right through him but because he wanted to make sure she hadn't been hurt in anyway when she had slammed into him.
Because thinking wasn't high on her list of priorities right then, Jillian barely managed to nod her head dumbly. Two thoughts had control of her mind at the moment- that she had to get to Caroline, whom she didn't think she would ever be able to call "Carly," and that her sister simply had to be okay.
Jason eyed her curiously for a moment or two longer before releasing her and watching her practically trip the short distance to the Nurses Station.
"C-C-Caroline Corinthos," Jillian stammered, much to Jason's surprise. Just that quickly, Jillian had landed herself on his "Under Suspicion" list, and she didn't even know it. At that moment, though, she probably wouldn't have cared, either. Her concern was for her sister, not herself.
Before Jason- or the frazzled nurse, for that matter- had a chance to reply, Carly took matters into her own hands as she rounded the corner, two steaming hot coffees in her hands, and queried a bit more harshly than was probably necessary, "Who's askin'?"
Caught completely off-guard, Jillian spun around so quickly she could feel her left ankle twist beneath her as it gave out. The pain barely registered, though, as Jillian took in the sight of her sister- and what a sight Carly made.
Though she was clearly dressed for a formal function, her curly blond hair had been darkened by soot, her dress torn, her make-up ruined, and she had various cuts and bruises all over her face, arms, and legs. But she was standing, had obviously retained her slightly belligerent attitude, and was quirking an eyebrow at her in that familiar way of hers that almost always meant trouble was just up ahead, and that's all that mattered to Jillian just then.
It took Carly all of about half a second to recognize the oval face of the young woman standing in front of her. Gone were the braces and her lanky teenage form had been replaced by slight womanly curves. The same spattering of freckles could be seen dotting the ridge of her nose. Her strawberry blond hair was cut short, barely long enough to tuck behind her ears, and the hazel eyes glimmered with tears and fear rather than dancing with laughter and happiness as they had years ago. But Carly knew she would recognize that face anywhere.
Two forgotten cups of coffee crashed the floor, the Styrofoam containers breaking with the fall and hot liquid pooling in the space between the sisters. "Oh, my God," Carly muttered in disbelief, understandably having some difficulty grasping the fact that her sister was standing in front of her.
Jillian went to move away from the counter she'd been leaning on, though she still wasn't sure if she should be running toward Caroline or away from her, and nearly fell to the ground when she found that her ankle wouldn't support her. Fortunately for her, there was a strong, honor-bound enforcer standing one long-legged stride away from her and he easily caught her before she could do more damage.
Jason, admittedly curious as to how the young woman currently resting in his arms knew his best friend and intrigued by Carly's reaction to seeing her, carried Jillian over to an empty chair and set her down carefully. Her ankle would need medical attention, but they were in a hospital so that wasn't too hard to get. It would have to wait until the ER had calmed down a little, as the staff was still treating victims from the explosion at the Metro Court- which would have the added benefit of giving him enough time to get some answers.
