Chapter 5

Carisi walked down the hallway to his apartment. He pulled his soaking wet jacket off and draped it over his arm. The storm had come out of nowhere, and he had gotten caught in the middle of it. It had been a month since he had his chat with Carson, and they hadn't had any incidents yet. Maybe this is what their life was like now. Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finding a way to move on and still live their lives, but always knowing he was out there. He pushed the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door, he stepped inside.

He heard something coming quietly from inside and stopped in the doorway to listen for minute. Tru was singing along to matchbox 20. She loved that 90's grunge music. He chuckled to himself as he walked in.

She was standing in the kitchen, with her back to him. She had music coming from the smart speaker that was perched in the corner. He could hear her chopping something, the knife hit the wooden counter, once, twice. She was wearing one of his old concert tee's and a pair of shorts, her curly hair was thrown up with a claw clip, and her hips swayed in rhythm of the music as she hummed along. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her for a minute. He wanted to come up behind her, wrap her beautiful body in his arms and squeeze her tight. Maybe kiss her neck. But he didn't want to startle her, he wanted to watch her enjoy herself. He didn't even mind the wet clothes anymore.

"How was your day?" She asked, without turning around to look at him. He sighed in relief that she already knew he was there, and he didn't startle her, or ruin her moment.

"It was good," he walked up next to her, and took a look at the countertop: strawberries, oranges, watermelon, blueberries, all kinds of fruit cluttered its surface. "What are ya makin here?"

"I was in the mood for some fruit salad." Tru continued to chop the fruit and place it in the bowl.

He liked watching her, and he couldn't help but smile as he did so. A piece of her hair had slipped from the grasp of her claw clip and hung across her cheek. He reached up and gently tucked it behind her ear, rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb.

"I got this from the fruit stand around the corner, it's so good." Tru chopped a piece of strawberry and brought it to his lips. "You have to try it."

She slipped the piece of fruit inside his mouth and her fingertips lingered on his lips, her eyes caught his own. His heart began to swell, as he became aroused. With everything that had been going on the past few weeks, being romantic with each other was the last thing on their minds. But here in this moment it was the only thing on his mind.

Sonny lowered his mouth to hers and as he kissed her, gently, softly, but he felt fire there, and heat, and they poured into him, seared through him.

Tru's blood pounded in her veins nearly as hard as the rain on the roof above them as she rose up on tiptoes to meet him more than halfway.

Sonny kissed her gently at first, and then more passionately, devouring her mouth, he found her as hungry for him as he was for her. Unreserved fire and passion met him, incredibly. One hand cupped her face and the other wrapped around her waist, he lifted her up onto the countertop in front of him. His hands found their way to the claw clip, and he squeezed, letting her wild hair fall free. Her strong fingers slid into his own hair to pull his mouth down against hers.

Her body seemed to melt against his.

He could feel her, the fullness of her, the supple length of her against him, and the sheer need for intimacy overcame him.

Blindly, he scooped her up, her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried her toward their bedroom. He needed to feel her against him, the need to touch, be touched, to take and give, nearly overwhelmed him.

Hunger surged inside him. A demand. As he gently laid her down on the bed, falling on top of her himself, he used the arm that was still underneath her to reposition her, slide her up towards the top of the bed, so her head was resting on a pillow. He pulled his lips away for a moment, catching his breath he looked down at her. Her big brown eyes searching his for why he had pulled away.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

Her hands dug into his hair as she pulled him back down to her, "Yes," she said breathlessly as she kissed him again. Their bodies moved in unison as they made love. It was something neither of them realized they had needed so badly.

The two of them lay peacefully in each other's arms. Sonny's arms were wrapped around her, and his hand clasped hers on top of his chest. He gently kissed the top of her head that rested on his shoulder.

"I love you so much," he whispered.

She lifted her chin to look at him and smiled, "I love you, too."

It felt so good to lose himself in her, even for a short while. He didn't worry about the lawsuit, or Carson or even protecting Tru. He just enjoyed being with her. His thumb made circular motions of her hand.

"How have you been feeling lately?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Any more dizzy spells?" He asked, "You haven't fainted again, have you?"

"No, I feel fine. I think it was just all the stress from the parole stuff." She said. "Why do you ask?"

"Why do you think?" He kissed her forehead again, "I was worried about you."

"You worry too much," Tru said, her voice was softer now, slower. She was falling asleep. "We're okay, we're gonna be okay."

It wasn't long before he felt her drift off to sleep. He pulled her tighter, wanting to hold her there, in their bed forever, but also knowing he couldn't. He had a gut feeling that the raging storm outside was a sign that the worst was yet to come.

The next day after her shift at the morgue, Tru hurried into the women's center. She took a sip from her Starbucks coffee, silently willing for the caffeine to kick in, so she wouldn't be so tired. She had gotten a really good nights sleep last night, but she still felt tired. Maybe it was one of those things where she had slept too much. Ugh, sleep was so high maintenance, she thought. Too much or too little, it was never satisfied.

She grabbed her files for the day off the receptionists' desk and turned the corner, ready to head into her office when she ran smack dab into Carson. It took her breath, the coffee and the folders slipped from her hands and landed on the floor between them. She did a double take, making sure she wasn't imaging things. She wasn't.

"Carson," she exclaimed. "What are you doing here."

"I—I didn't know you'd be here." He stammered. She had never heard him stammer before. He knelt to pick up the stuff off the floor. Stuffing the white pieces of the paper back into the yellow folders.

"Don't," she snapped as she bent down and scooped her files up, grabbing one from his hands, she glanced at the name on it, it was Abby's file. "I find that hard to believe."

Tru turned on her heel to walk away, and she felt his hand grasp her arm. She stopped dead in her tracks, frozen in fear as his touch flooded her with memories she didn't want to remember. She jerked her arm away so hard it hit the wall behind her with a thud. He held his hands up, a come in peace motion. Too little, too late.

"They told me to get counseling, remember?" Carson said, "That's why I'm here."

"This is a women's center." Tru said, "It's not a place for people like you. Women come here because of people like you."

"Look, I'm just trying to move on with my life." Carson took a step back and bumped into the wall of the hallway. "You don't have to send your boyfriend after me to threaten me."

"What?" Tru narrowed her eyes on him.

"Oh, like you didn't know."

"I knew." Tru slipped her hand into the purse at her side, and gripped her pepper spray, but didn't pull it out yet. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Sonny hadn't told her about going to see him, but she knows her boyfriend, and she knew he would pay her attacker a visit.

Carson's face glazed over with anger. There was the man she knew, not the stammering imbecile that she had seen just a few moments ago. "I didn't ask him to come see you, but I know why he did, and I don't blame him. You're lucky all he did was tell you to stay away from me."

"All he did?" Carson exclaimed, his voice raising. Tru looked around to make sure she wasn't making a scene at her workplace, but there was no one in sight. "He threated me with his gun, in front of my parole officer's building. He saw it from the doorway, it was all I could do to keep him from calling the cops."

Tru scoffed, "Sonny wouldn't do that."

"Are you sure about that?" Carson asked, he was coming closer to her now, and her breath caught in her chest as fear overwhelmed her. "What wouldn't he do for you?"

He was just inches away from her now. She took a shaky step back to escape but she ran into a wall, and she felt trapped. She opened her mouth to scream for help but as she did, he brushed past her, making sure his arm bumped hers.

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "By the way, you look great. Positively glowing." And with that he was gone.

It sent a noticeable shiver up her spine. Glowing, she scoffed again. Who the hell did he think he was? She didn't believe for one second that running into him was an accident. But how did he know where to find her? Was he following her again? Her thoughts we racing as she rushed into the office and shut the door. She lay the folders down on her desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She looked down at her trembling hands, willing them to stop shaking.

The door behind her opened and Tru whirled around with the pepper spray, ready to use it, but it wasn't Carson. It was Abby, her blue eyes wide with concern.

"Whoa," Abby said, shutting the door behind her. "Are you okay?"

Tru sighed in relief as she scolded herself for not being more professional. "Hey Abby," she forced a friendly smile, "How are you doing today?

Abby slung her backpack off her shoulder and plopped onto the sofa, "Okay I guess we're pretending I didn't just scare the shit out of you."

Tru let out a small laugh, "Well, we're here to talk about you, not me." Abby nodded, accepting that answer. Tru sat in the chair across from Abby and placed her notebook in her lap. "So," she cleared her throat and tried to muster up a professional composure. "The umm- the last time you mentioned were having some trouble with the other students. You felt like they were 'slut shaming 'you."

"Someone tagged my dorm room door with the word whore." Abby's voice was flat, like she was sick of dealing with the aftermath of her rape. Tru could relate.

"That must have been upsetting." Tru said.

"Well it wasn't pleasant." Abby snapped, and then she sighed, rubbing her temples with her hands. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be snippy."

Tru shook her head, "Do not apologize, you're entitled to feel however you feel right now." Tru tried to jot down a note, but when she put the pen to the paper, she noticed her hand was still shaking. She pressed her hands together. Abby eyed her suspiciously.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Abby asked.

Tru let out a sigh, "Let's just say, there is a reason I understand what you're going through."

Abby nodded as it clicked, "I just want it all to be over." She said finally, "Does it ever get better?"

"Yes," Tru said. "But there are good days and bad days. We just have to help you understand how to handle those bad days."

Tru listened intently as Abby began to open up in a way she had never seen her do before. She told Tru about feeling like she deserved to be assaulted because of sexy pictures she had posted on Instagram. She blamed herself for revealing so much of herself online. The night of the assault she had been flirting and dancing with several of the frat boys, other boys at the party. She felt like she led them on and deserved it. It broke her heart to see this beautiful young girl so destroyed and she wanted to help. She found herself worrying about Abby and her safety.

Tru jotted her cell phone number down on a scrap of paper, in case she needed to talk between their sessions, or in case she needed anything at all. It was crossing a line, but a small one, and Tru remembered the first line Sonny had crossed for her. When he stayed the night to watch over her and protect her sleep. And while the motivation behind her crossing this line wasn't romantic, she could see the parallels between the two actions.

Carisi and Rollins sat in their squad car, they were on their way to question a suspect in the murder of the girl on the beach. Rollins was chatting about Jessie and Billie and how Billie was growing up so fast, she was already getting into everything. Carisi loved Rollins' daughters, and he thought of them as nieces, he smiled thinking about them, but he also felt a twinge of pain knowing he was probably never going to have that.

His phone rang, breaking through his thoughts. He brought it to his ear, "Carisi," he said.

"Hey Sonny," Tru's voice came from the other end of the line.

"Hey," he smiled, remember the amazing night they had the night before. "What's up?"

"I just thought I'd let you know…" he could tell by her voice that she wasn't calling to reminisce about their romantic night. She sounded worried, "I saw Carson today."

"What?" Carisi exclaimed, "Where?"

"He was at the center when I got here today."

"What was he doing there?" Carisi pressed, in his peripheral vision he saw Rollins roll her eyes as she fidgeted in her seat.

"He said he was here for counseling," Tru continued, "It was obviously a lie."

"I'll be right there," Carisi said, Amanda shot him a dirty look.

"We're in the middle of something," Rollins said.

"No, he's gone now there's no reason to come here." Tru was saying.

"I just want to make sure he's gone," Carisi looked at Rollins, unsure why she was giving him attitude about this.

"He is, I had security check, they saw him leave." Tru said, "Go back to work, I'm fine. I just wanted you to know."

Carisi looked at Rollins, she looked like she was ready to bitch him out. "That was our turn," Rollin's said as they passed a street.

He let out an annoyed sigh, "Okay fine, but I'll pick you up, or send someone. I don't want you walking home today."

Tru sighed as well, she wanted to protest but she didn't. "Okay, that's fine."

"I love you," Carisi said, he gave Rollins a sideways glance when he saw her roll her eyes at that also. "I'll see you tonight."

"I love you too," Tru said before hanging up the phone.

Carisi laid his phone down in the cup holder of the car and gripped the steering wheel tighter as he turned into a parking lot to turn the car around. "What the hell was that?"

"She said so herself, she was fine. We're trying to work here." Rollins said.

"What's with the attitude? you know what she's been through and what this monster is capable of!" Carisi turned the car onto the right street.

Rollins sighed again, she had more she wanted to say but she chose not to say it. "Never mind," she said instead, "Is she okay?"

"For now."

Tru ran a dry towel over the last plate before setting it in the cabinet where it belonged. She was straightening up the apartment. She had already dusted everything she could think of. Washed all the dishes, dried them, which was a step she usually skipped, she would just let them air dry. But tonight, she was trying to keep her mind occupied. She had the tv on in the background, but she wasn't really listening to it.

She opened the fridge and began tossing the leftovers into the trash can. Left over pizza, half eaten cartons of Chinese food, man they ate out a lot, she thought. She opened the half empty gallon of milk and took a sniff, then immediately regretted it.

"Shew," she exclaimed, almost gagging at the spoiled smell.

She dumped the milk out in the sink and left the water running to rinse it down before throwing the empty gallon away. Then she took another look around, to see if anything else needed to be thrown away. She didn't see anything, so she pulled the trash back from the can, a small groan escaped from her mouth from the weight of it. She tied it shut and headed toward the door with it.

The bag was heavy, but she finally made it to the trash chute, she struggled to lift the bag into the small opening, but she couldn't get it to fit. She let out an aggravated sigh and debated on taking it back to the apartment or just taking it outside to the dumpster. The bag was beginning to smell, and she didn't really want to take it back in, so she decided to lug it down the two flights of stairs and out the back door.

"Finally," she mumbled, lifting the lid to the dumpster. She hoisted the back up and attempted to sling it over into the top of the dumpster. She failed miserably, and the bag hit the ground with a loud clank. She picked it up again, this time setting it on the top and attempting to push it in. Another set of hands suddenly appeared next to her and helped her push it the rest of the way in. the bag fell to the inside with another loud clank, and she exhaled in relief, dusting her hands off on her pants.

"Thanks for the help," she turned to thank the anonymous helper. Her eyes landed on Carson, he was standing right next to her, clad in a dark pair of sweatpants and black hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head.

"Anytime," he said.

She fell back a step, fear creeping up inside her. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?"

"I didn't know it was you," Carson excused, "I was on my nightly jog, saw someone that needed help and helped."

"You expect me to believe you accidentally ran into me twice in one day?" Tru cried. "At my work and my home?"

"You can believe it or not," Carson said, "It's the truth."

Her breath caught in her throat, and her legs felt like they might buckle out from under her. It infuriated her that her reactions to him were so weak. She wanted to stand up to him, to yell and scream and hit, instead of just buckling like a coward. She didn't want to be afraid of him, but she was. She looked around, realizing they were in a dark alley, and she was afraid. She didn't even have her pepper spray with her. She didn't want to make him mad or give him a reason to attack she just wanted to get back inside where it was safe. Carson sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked annoyed, surprised, like he didn't like seeing her any more than she did him. Was he telling the truth?

She began to walk away, back to the door, when she heard his voice call after her.

"You know, after everything that happened before…" he trailed off.

"You mean when you stalked me?" Tru spat.

"I thought you would be more careful, but it's like you haven't learned anything." His tone was piercing, like he was mad at her.

"What? What are you talking about?"

He was coming closer now, she backed up, ready to turn on her heels and dart away. But something inside her made her stay. Curiosity. What hadn't she learned?

"Your routine is different, but it's still a routine." He mused, "And look at you right now. Coming out here at," he glanced at his watch, "Nine-thirty at night to take the trash out alone, without even a little pepper spray or personal alarm? Not even your phone?"

Tru looked down at her empty hands, was he seriously grilling her on safety? Him of all people? Tru began to feel enraged, and a little stupid. He was right, after all.

"Don't you know you're not supposed to take the trash out until the morning of?" He asked, "You're like a stalkers dream come true."

She glanced at the dumpster, a new kind of fear creeping up inside her. "What does the trash have to do with anything?" She found herself asking, she really didn't want to stand there and talk to him, but she wanted an answer.

"Your whole life is in that bag," Carson motioned to the dumpster. "Someone could come by, go through that bag and bam," he slammed a fist into the dumpster, making a loud bang, Tru jumped, "they know everything about you. What you eat, how often you shave, what medications you take…when it's your time of the month."

Tru's hands began to shake again as she stared him down, he was walking closer now, his eyes set on her. Had he been doing that? Had he done that five years ago? She turned her back to him and began walking toward the door as fast as she could when she heard his voice call out from behind her again.

"How far along are you, anyway?" Carson asked.

Tru stopped in mid step, with her hand still stretched out for the doorknob. She slowly turned around and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her mouth was dry, and her words caught in her throat. She looked down at him from the steps of the back stoop.

"You didn't know?" Carson asked, raising an eyebrow. "You probably would have put it together sooner if you weren't so preoccupied with…well…me. The fainting at the courthouse, the dizzy spells at crime scenes, the late-night cravings for that delicious fruit,"

Oh god, her knees felt weak again as she got a sickening thought. Did he watch her and Sonny make love last night? Her whole body was trembling now.

"The coffee at 5 in the afternoon because you're just so exhausted," he continued, letting out an exaggerated yawn.

No, it's not possible, she told herself. He was just trying to get under her skin, inside her head and it was working. "Not that it's any of your business," she said through gritted teeth. "But I not able to get pregnant."

"Are you sure about that?" a sinister smile spread across his lips, and he took a few steps backwards, ready to leave. He had accomplished what he wanted, and he was done now. "Take care of yourself, Tru. For the both of you."

Before she knew it, she was running up the stairs, taking them two at a time when she could. Her mind was racing just as fast as her legs were. He had been watching her the entire time. This whole month she had let her guard down, thinking he wasn't going to cause trouble and there he was. She felt so stupid, for being so predictable, for letting her get to him, for entertaining the thought that she could even be pregnant after what had happened the last time. She reached her floor and burst through the door into the hallway. She spotted Sonny walking out of the door to their place, eyes wide with worry when he saw her.

"Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you." He threw his arms up, relieved to see her, and she ran into them. Throwing her arms around his neck, he instinctively wrapped his already open arms around her waist. "Whoa, what's wrong? Are you okay? What happened?"

She didn't answer, she didn't speak. She just clung onto him for dear life.