Where the Heart Lies

Chapter Four Karmic Revenge

Willard awoke from a rather vivid dream involving Abbie and chocolate syrup, and flushed in embarrassment when he discovered that his pajama pants were rather soaked. He went into the bathroom and cleaned himself up, slightly mortified. He had been having these dreams more and more often since last Saturday, and the memory of her lips on his still shone in the forefront of his mind. She had tasted so good, he thought-a mix of cloves and peaches, and her lovely honey-and-spice scent left him reeling.

He pulled on a clean pair of pants and headed back to bed, then noticed that Socrates wasn't in his usual spot. Wondering what could have become of his little friend, he quietly stepped out of his room, tiptoeing down the hall. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his mother and have to answer her questions about what he was doing up so late.

He made his way down the basement steps, and gave a soft cry as he noticed Socrates. The white rat was standing over the body of his mother, chittering mournfully. He looked at Willard, a questioning look in his eyes, and Willard came forward, kneeling in front of the two rats. "Oh, Socrates, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

He looked around, trying to find something to put the mother rat in, and found a roll of black garbage bags. He carefully tore one off, wrapping momma rat gently in it, and then gently picked up Socrates, speaking softly. "She was a good mother, wasn't she, Socrates? Probably better than mine. She loved you, yeah?"

Socrates gave a sad squeak and nuzzled him, and Willard kissed his nose. "Of course she did. She was a good mother."

He sat for a few moments, thinking about his own mother-he loved her, but she could be rather unlikable, and there were times where he had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at her, especially when she was in the grips of her senility. He would feel awful after, knowing that she had no control over what she said or did when in one of her states.

He was brought abruptly out of his thoughts by the sound of the phone ringing. He gave a small yelp of shock, and then cursed as he heard his mother's voice.

"Clark! Clark! What's going on?"

"Shitfire." He ran up the stairs, and his mother stared at him from her bedroom door, a scared look on her face and her nightgown clutched in her bony hand.

"It's nothing, Mother. Probably just a wrong number. I'll take care of it. Go on back to bed, alright?" The phone jangled again, and Willard turned towards it. "I'm coming! Mom, go on back to bed. It'll be alright."

Mrs. Stiles mumbled under her breath, but allowed Willard to lead her back to bed.

He sighed in relief, then walked to the living room and picked up the phone, his voice tired and slightly angry. "Stiles Residence, this had better be good. It's almost two am."

"Willard, it's Cathryn. I…I'm calling about Abbie."

Willard felt the room spin. "Abbie? What about her? Is she alright? !"

"She's fine. No major damage done-just a few bumps and bruises."

Willard sank into his chair. "What happened to her? !"

"Well…she got clipped by a car on her way home from the store tonight. I found her and called for help. She was knocked out for a bit, but she came round about twenty minutes ago."

Willard gulped. "Where are you?"

"Divine Mercy."

"I'll be right there."

He hung up the phone, and raced up the stairs, throwing on a pair of trousers and a shirt, then ran out to his car, mind racing. 'Please let her be alright.'

He pulled into the parking lot of Divine Mercy hospital, noting that Cathryn's red Beetle was parked nearby. He ran into the emergency room, and Cathryn, who had been sitting in the waiting room reading an old magazine, looked up. "Willard!"

"Where is she?"

Cathryn smiled softly at the fear in his eyes. "Room 12, but the nurse won't let me see her."

Willard nodded, impatient. "I want to see her. Now."

Cathryn nodded. "Of course you do. Well, let's see if you have better luck with Nurse Ratched." She led him up to the desk, and the nurse looked at him, a bored expression on her face.

"Yes?"

Willard stared at her. "I'd like to see Annabelle Carsons, please."

The nurse gazed at him indifferently. "Are you family?"

"She doesn't have family. I'm her boyfriend. Please, can I see her?"

The nurse turned her attention to a sheaf of papers in front of her, speaking in a bored tone. "Family only, I'm sorry."

Willard slammed his hand down on the desk, making the nurse jump. "I just told you, you dumb shit-she doesn't have any fucking family! I want to see my girlfriend. Either you let me, or I smash the damn glass out and walk into the ward. It's up to you."

The nurse gawped at him, and he glared at her. "Very well, I suppose you can go see her."

Willard gave her a withering smile. "Thank you so much." He walked into the ward, trembling in nervousness and fear as he approached Room 12. The door was open, and he peeked around the corner. Abbie was lying on the bed, her eyes closed. Willard gulped, and then quietly stepped into the room, sitting next to her. "Abbie?" He said in a hesitant voice, and she opened her eyes and smiled softly at him.

"Hello handsome. What brings you here?"

He gulped. "Cathryn called me. Are…are you alright?"

Abbie nodded, and then winced. "I'm one giant bruise on my left side, and I have a splitting headache, but other than that, I'm in great shape. The car basically just grazed me. You didn't have to come all the way down here this late."

Willard placed his hand on her cheek, stroking softly. "Yes I did." He leaned up, and kissed her, sighing at her taste. She cupped his face and kissed him back, moaning quietly at the taste of him-slightly tangy and spicy-sweet. Willard brushed his tongue across her lips, and she opened her mouth, granting him access. He slipped his tongue inside, and her peach and cloves taste made his head spin. He sat up further, and Abbie moved aside so he could climb into the bed. He lay next to her, kissing her and gently running his hands up and down her spine. This was infinitely better than any dream, he thought. "Abbie..." he spoke her name in a soft voice, and she moaned.

"Willard…" The tone of her voice-soft yet deep at the same time, made Willard's heart speed up. He slipped his hand under her gown, stroking her stomach, and was about to move upwards when the sound of someone clearing their throat made them spring apart.

"Ahem!" Cathryn stood in the doorway, accompanied by the ER Doctor, a man of about fifty with graying hair and a slight stoop in his shoulders. Willard and Abbie grinned guiltily at them, and Abbie found her voice first. "Hi."

Cathryn smiled at them.

The doctor spoke drily. "Miss Carsons, I take it you are feeling better?"

Abbie blushed. "Ummm….uh huh."

The doctor nodded eyes on her chart. "That's good to know. You'll probably be able to leave in a few days, barring any accidents with a food service cart. In the meanwhile, try to be a little discreet."

Abbie blushed deeper. "Right, Doctor." She looked over at Willard. "We need to be more discreet, Willard."

"Gotcha."

The doctor frowned at Willard. "Your name's Willard? Would your last name be Stiles, by any chance?"

Willard nodded, slightly confused. "Yes, why? Do I know you?"

"No, but I knew your father when I was younger. We played golf together."

Willard blinked. "Oh. Well…that's nice."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, it was. Well, Mr. Stiles, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask that you say your goodbyes. Visiting hours are long over, and Miss Carsons needs to rest."

Willard sighed, glaring at him, and then turned to Abbie. "You'll be alright if I leave?" She nodded, and he gave her one final kiss before climbing out of bed. "OK. I'll see you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Cathryn accompanied Willard out to the parking lot. "She's going to recover quite nicely, I think."

Willard nodded. "Yeah. Thank you for calling for help. Cathryn, you weren't the one that?" He left the sentence hanging, and Cathryn shook her head.

"No! Oh God no. I was actually in the neighborhood-on my way back from a rather disastrous date-and I noticed her. Luckily, I had my cell phone with me. I did see the car that clipped her though. It was a light blue Cadillac. I jotted down the number."

Willard's eyes gleamed. "Do you still have it?" Cathryn handed him a scrap of paper, slightly mystified, and Willard read the number, a slightly mad grin on his face. "Thank you."

Cathryn nodded, still a bit confused. "You're welcome, but what did you need the number for?"

Willard grinned. "Never you mind. I've got to go. There are a few things I need to take care of. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

As soon as he arrived home, Willard set to work on his plan. The first step was to make a very important phone call.

"New York State Department of Motor Vehicles, how may I direct your call?"

"Uhhh…yes…I was in a slight accident this evening, and unfortunately I forgot to exchange information with the gentleman I hit. I did get his license plate number, and was wondering if perhaps you could give me his name and address so I could write him an apology?"

"What's the number?"

"CDF 3247."

"One moment, please."

Willard waited ten minutes before the operator came back on the line.

"That license tag goes to a blue Cadillac Seville registered to a Mr. Robert Steiner Junior. Address is 1247 Southwest Street, Greenwich, New York."

Willard's eyes widened in anger and he gripped the phone tightly. "Thank you. You've been most helpful." He hung up, fuming, then went into the basement and gathered up his rats, then made his way to the home of Abbie's boss, growing madder with each passing moment.

The house was dark, and Willard noted with glee that the garage door was partly open. He giggled. "Perfect." He opened the bags, setting them down on the driveway. "Out!"

The rats poured out, heading towards the garage door. Willard grinned. "Good. Now, the tires. Tear them up."

He laid himself flat on the driveway, peeking under the door, and giggled in triumph as his rats shredded the Cadillac's tires into useless rubber. "Very good. Now-the seats-shred them! Tear them!" He giggled at the sound of his rats chewing up the leather seats. "Now…into the hood. The engine. The wires. Tear them up." The rats streamed into the hood, and soon finished the task, then came back out at Willard's low whistle. "Good. Now, in!"

The rats climbed into the bags, and Willard grinned, then pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and taped it to the garage door.

'You should never have tried to hurt her. Be glad all that happened was some car damage. I will do much worse should there be a next time.'

He nodded to himself in satisfaction and went home to sleep.

Abbie sat up in the hospital bed, gawping at him. "My boss tried to run me down?"

Willard nodded. "Yeah, and I thought my boss didn't like me."

Abbie snorted. "Oh, Steiner Jr. likes me alright. He's asked me out seven times in this past week."

"You said no, though. Right?"

Abbie laughed. "Of course I said no. The man's a grade A macho asshole, plus he's about as interesting as a dead fish. He's also rather ugly-looks like his face has hit a brick wall a few times."

Willard giggled. "He sounds like a charmer. But still, you refusing to go out with him seems like a poor excuse for him trying to hit you with his car."

Abbie bit her lip. "Well…my exact words may have been a bit more…acerbic." She sighed. "He seemed a bit angry, but I honestly didn't think I made him that mad. But he started it-going on and on and on about his new Caddy with the leather seats and I just got sick of it." She raised her eyes at Willard, who was grinning in triumph. "Willard, what haven't you told me?"

Willard giggled. "The Caddy sustained some damage last night. Damage of the…ratty variety."

Abbie gaped at him. "You didn't!"

"I did."

Abbie fell back against her pillow, laughing. "I…wish…I could have been there! I can just imagine the look on that asshole's face!"

Willard smiled tightly. "He's lucky that's all I did. Abbie, if you had been badly hurt, my rats and I would have….paid him back tenfold."

Abbie scooted closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek, and he immediately placed his hand on hers. "I know, Willard. Could you do something for me?" Willard nodded, and Abbie smiled shyly. "Hold me." She gulped, and then spoke in a voice on the verge of tears. "I….need you."

Willard climbed into the bed, pulling Abbie into his arms, and gently kissed her forehead. "I'm here, Abbie. You're safe."

Abbie sighed, snuggling closer to him. "Willard?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for teaching my boss a lesson. Karma's a bitch, ain't it?"

Willard laughed, running his hand up and down Abbie's arm. "It certainly is. Now, try to get some sleep."

Abbie pouted at him. "But I'm not a bit"-she yawned cavernously, and Willard chuckled.-"Tired."

Willard grinned at her. "Really?" Abbie nodded sleepily, and pressed herself closer.

"Stay until I fall asleep."

"Of course." He kissed her.

Abbie smiled softly, and drifted off to sleep, her arms wrapped around his waist.

Willard watched her sleep, his heart feeling lighter than it ever had before. He softly kissed her forehead, and then spoke quietly, not wanting to wake her.

"I love you, Abbie."

Author's Note-I promise, there will be sex soon. Bear with me. *Grins shyly*