Chapter Six: Charleen's Wish Comes True
Author's Note: Thank you, SilverIce523 and C.S. Allen for your reviews! I appreciate them so much; you have no idea! Here's a chapter. As a heads-up, my uploading timetable may be kind of wacky for a couple months—I'm taking two college courses simultaneously while working full time; I'll continue to try and upload most weekends as I try to do, but if I don't, please know that I'm still continuing this story! Thank you for all your support, my lovelies!
Sylvia drove the car and while she kept up with the traffic at an appropriate speed, Charleen side-glanced her warily before she turned her attention to the windshield, noticing a smudge just above the dash where a bug might've flown and said 'adieu' before the wipers got the best of him. She looked back at Sylvia again, noticing that despite seeing Sylvia at her most violent (aside from drowning a presumptuous teenager), the woman herself appeared much too calm after hurting an old friend.
Charleen had expected Sylvia to come at Barbara with full force with her anger but not in such a physical way, particularly causing harm to Barbara. There was something going on with Sylvia, and she aimed to figure it out. As she pondered the easiest way to inquire, her fingers fidgeted on her lap.
"So…" Charleen uttered softly. "That was uh…That was interesting."
Sylvia returned her glance before she turned her attention back to the road.
"I mean, I knew you were going to confront Barbara, but I didn't think you'd hurt her."
Charleen peeked at her. Sylvia didn't appear at all affected by it. Her face was mostly stoic.
"I thought maybe you might have some thoughts about that. Barbara was your friend at one point."
Sylvia tilted her head to the side. It was the first time since getting in the car for the past twenty minutes that she even acknowledged that what had just happened was not particularly characteristic of herself.
She agreed calmly, "You're right, to an extent. Barbara was my friend. Was. Keyword, there."
"Yeah, but…"
"You wanted me to confront her." Sylvia reminded smoothly. "That's exactly what I did."
"But it's not what you might've done before."
"You only think that because you didn't know me from before…Well…"
Charleen raised her eyebrows: "Before what?"
Sylvia's eyes cast downward briefly before they returned back to the road, her attention divided between her reluctant reminisce to her days before she met Oswald and how much she'd learned from him: The times that she had to take control when he'd been at his worst and when he'd not even been himself—all of which had allowed Sylvia to mature, to be less impulsive, less destructive. She'd noticed it in herself: The Tetch Virus had done a little more than make her 'less sad'. Along with her confidence and boldness, it had also allowed the impulsivity she'd tamed to come sneaking back, like a bad habit.
"You were pretty homicidal back there," Charleen continued patiently.
Sylvia scoffed, "You watched me kill Miles. You watched me drown him. You have seen me homicidal before."
"Yeah, but Miles wasn't your friend. Barbara is."
"She's not my friend anymore."
"But you two had history."
"History can make or break a relationship. Evidently, it meant nothing to her," Sylvia said bitterly. "As it seems, nothing else we shared mattered, considering how easily she turned on me when she saw an opportunity. A waste of friendship and all that energy, if you ask me."
Charleen nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip: "Where did you go after I left?"
"I took a trip. It gave me some time to think about what you said and a few other things. I did what I had to do, and I came back with a clearer head."
"'Did what you had to do?'" She repeated.
"Yes."
"What did you do?"
"What does it matter?" Sylvia questioned. "I'm not sitting in bed, crying. I'm not falling asleep, wishing I won't wake up the next day. I'm happy. I'm thinking clearly. I'm taking back what's mine." Her voice lowered to a resentful octave: "That's all you need to know. We're done talking about this."
Charleen recognized that stern tone. A similar tone that Oswald would take when he unknowingly went into 'Dad' mode. This must be Sylvia's firm 'Mom' mode. At first, the car ride seemed to tense.
Then, Sylvia said lightly, "Would you open the glove compartment in front of you?"
Wordlessly, but more encouraged by her gentler voice, Charleen nodded and did as she was told. When she did, there was a small pill bottle that caught her eye.
"Could you hand that to me?"
Charleen did as she asked. Curiously, she said, "What're those? More anti-depressants?"
"No. It's Motrin."
"Why do you need Motrin?"
"I just have a headache—nothing to be worried about."
Sylvia opened the pill bottle, popped three pills and dry swallowed them before she capped the bottle and handed it back to Charleen, who placed it in the glove compartment. She side-glanced Sylvia again.
"Do you always have headaches?" She asked.
Sylvia shook her head: "Rarely."
"So why are you having them now?"
"It's minor. Don't worry about it."
Charleen sighed with annoyance, "You're not telling me everything."
"You're a kid. I don't have to tell you everything."
"When I left the mansion, you could barely get yourself out of bed. You were crying, hopeless, you didn't even care that I got hurt," Charleen insisted firmly. "When you come back, you look different, you act different—"
"—I am not acting different—"
"Stop lying to me! Everyone in that fucking club saw your eyes go all red and stuff, and that creepy way your veins turned black—that's not normal! That's abnormal. So, you'll forgive me if I do worry!"
"I have it under control."
Charleen said angrily, "So you did do something!"
Sylvia ignored her implications as she responded, "Why didn't you come back home when the Flea was burned down?"
Charleen blinked, looking at her oddly: "I wrote it down. In a note. I had business to take care of—hey! Don't you change the subject!"
"What business did you have to deal with that you couldn't come to Oswald or myself?"
"It was my business. No one else's!"
Sylvia sent her a piercing stare. For a second, Charleen's heart fluttered rapidly. It was that same look she'd given Barbara when she admitted to going back on her own 'deal'. Instantly, she felt like a toddler, and she quickly submitted.
"Couple of guys I knew owed me money from working with Miles," Charleen answered meekly. "I went to the Flea, looking for them—found out that they were on the Mainland. Miles' crew were basically divided by that time. When I came back to Gotham, I learned Lucas was taking over—"
"—From whom?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who told you about Lucas?"
"Oh. Well, Freddie and Joe."
Sylvia quirked an eyebrow in her direction.
Charleen was certain she'd be furious, hearing how she got back in touch with Miles' old friends after everything that had happened, having revealed long ago that she, along with Miles, Freddie, and Joe, had been scamming Isaac Paddock until the day he passed away.
Charleen braced herself for the same kind of lashing that Barbara had received but instead, Sylvia pulled over, turning off the engine, and peered at her curiously.
"Freddie and Joe? These are the same two kids that were with Miles when you and I came by to get your things?"
"Yeah, the same. They told me Lucas was put in charge of the Fences, and that Barbara Kean was in charge of the Underworld."
Sylvia spoke with an eerie calm, "And, where are they?"
"Oh, um, well, they're shacked up in that same apartment. You know, the one where Miles…"
"Ah."
"Yeah."
"So, is this your way of telling me that you've gone back to your old ways?"
"Not at all! I was cashing out old debts. You know—payback and stuff." Charleen promised and she nervously bit the inside of her cheek as she added, "I was going to hurt them for teaming up with Miles and coming at me, but then they told me about Lucas. One thing led to another so now they're spying on him for me."
Sylvia tapped the steering wheel with her fingers thoughtfully: "What leverage do you have that deters them from telling Lucas they're working for you?"
"They're afraid of me." Charleen answered dutifully. Thinking it might give her some brownie points, she added, "And they're afraid of you. They still remember what you did to Miles. Is that good enough leverage?"
Unconvinced, Sylvia muttered with a roll of her eyes, "Sure: 'Good enough'."
When she slipped into silence again, Charleen asked uncertainly, "So, are you going to talk to them now or…?"
"No. No…I was just curious how you found out about Lucas."
"Yeah, well…Now, you know. Imagine finding out that way—"
"You must have been so angry, receiving that news about Oswald, about me." Sylvia said sympathetically. "Even so, you shouldn't have gone to see Lucas—alone, of all things."
Charleen frowned, turning in her seat: "You're criticizing me? Seriously? At least I was ready to do something. At least I was trying to do something! You were just lying in bed, crying. I actually decided to take action!"
"And what came from all that action! What happened when you got there, Charlie?"
"I got hurt, but—"
"—You weren't prepared."
"I had a gun!" Charleen retorted pitifully.
"And, yet, he got the best of you, despite that."
"He had a gun too! It wasn't a fair fight."
"How many men were around him?"
"None. He was alone."
"One-against-one? Seems like a fair fight to me."
"He was bigger!" Charleen snapped. "He was faster! I couldn't get away! And how dare you tell me that I should have been able to! I'm a fucking kid—"
"Exactly!" Sylvia said harshly. Charleen flinched. "I told you not to go and you deliberately disobeyed me. I didn't make that rule just so I can hear myself talk! I knew you were no match for him—"
"—You didn't even know who he was until I told you!" Charleen snarled, glaring.
"I didn't have to know!" Sylvia shouted. "You don't know how these tough characters work—"
"But I've listened to you and—"
"You think you know how the Underworld works because you've secretly listened in on our conversations? You don't know anything—"
"—You can't fucking tell me that you were just plotting a way to get back at Barbara or something secret until I came along!" Charleen shouted indignantly, slapping her hand on her arm rest. "You were just letting everyone take your shit and walk all over you. When someone finally does something about it, you try to tell them that they're wrong? That I was wrong? I got hurt, trying to defend you—"
"You got yourself hurt when you defied me!"
"Because you were just letting people walk all over you! And, just so you know: At least I was forthcoming about what I was gonna do! I've been nothing but honest. What about you!"
Sylvia looked as if she were shutting down, beginning to ignore her. However, Charleen raised her voice.
"You want to get all high-and-mighty on me for going in, guns blazing without a plan, but you won't tell me why the fuck your eyes got all red or why your face got all creepy-black-veins, why you're acting so different all of a sudden—"
"—It's not for you to know!" Sylvia growled.
"Because you think I'll judge you for what you've done?" Charleen guessed loudly. "You're doing something out of someone's best interest—it can't be for yourself because everyone in Gotham knows you don't care about your own fucking self-preservation. I don't care why you did whatever you did! I just wanna know what you've done!"
"You don't need to know anything. All you need to do is do what I say! And you can't even do that—"
"Maybe I wouldn't be questioning your judgement if you'd just level with me for a change, huh!" Charleen said defensively. "Stop treating me like I'm some damaged kid. Like, I get that you lost yours a while ago, but you can't put me in that role—trying to protect me from only god-knows-what, but for me, it's too fucking late. I'm already damaged, okay!"
"If you know too much, you might get hurt—"
"—I'm not gonna end up like her, okay! You can level with me. You can tell me what's up. I just want to know the truth! And don't fucking shut me out just because you don't like what I have to say! Maybe if you tell me what's going on, maybe even why, I might be able to trust you just like you wanna trust me. Is that so much to ask? How can I trust you if you won't level with me, huh?"
Sylvia looked at her for a long time, for so long that Charleen suspected that she might get slapped again. After a momentary pause, Sylvia put the car back in 'drive' and the car started down the street again.
"You want to know the truth?" Sylvia challenged.
"I do!" Charleen voiced loudly. "Believe it or not, I might bust your balls a lot, but I do care about what happens to you. I don't like seeing you when you're sad—that was scary when you were in the bedroom."
"Yet, you don't like seeing this side of me either. Murder isn't exactly off the table in my family—"
"I don't care about that. I just know it's weird to see you cry and it's weird seeing you not affected when you hurt people you like. It's one thing to hurt someone like Miles and another to hurt someone who used to be a friend."
"I hurt Barbara because I was angry."
"So, some of it was anger. But you're sad that your friend betrayed you."
"No, I'm mostly mad."
"Yeah, but you're still sad—you're just using anger to fill the void. Or maybe that's the only thing you can do because you're not able to feel sadness because of whatever you did," Charleen called her out. "And I'm not stupid: People who don't know you can think you're all better because you're like this now—but I know better. That weird shit with your face when you started getting really violent—that ain't even a bit normal."
"Do you really think it would make it easier to know? What if the truth scares you?"
"I wanna know what you did. I wanna know why. Because it scares me not knowing." Charleen said quietly, and her emotions reflected in her eyes. "Besides, if you're gonna do all that creepy-red-eye-weird-black-vein-thingy each time you get pissed, wouldn't it be a smart idea to have someone nearby who knows when you've gone off the deep end?"
Sylvia considered her words. For a few minutes, she was silent. But her stoic expression changed to one of deep love and understanding. Her hand reached out and touched Charleen's cheek as her thumb stroked it lovingly. Finally, she sat back in her seat.
"You're right." She said finally. "I can't expect you to trust me if we don't have transparency. It's asking a lot for you to blindly follow someone, even if it is me. So, fine. I'll tell you. But you will not tell another soul—not even my brother. Not even Victor. Or the twins. Got it?"
Charleen nodded dutifully: "I promise."
Sylvia relayed her interaction with Strange, the long-lasting anti-depressant with the 'kick'. Once she'd finished, Charleen's mouth was agape, as she stared at her.
"You went to him? After everything he's capable of doing. That's stupid." Charleen said incredulously. "Why did you do that?"
"Strange may be a little unorthodox and while his practices are unethical, he tends to have what is needed for his clients. My situation was no different." Sylvia replied calmly. "It's doing what I'd hope it would do, and it's giving me the results I wanted. Tenfold."
"But it has the Virus in it. Won't that drive you insane?"
"Oswald's death has done more to me than what any Virus is capable of doing. I don't think we have to worry about that."
"Does the Virus have a cure?"
"A cure is being worked on, but I doubt I'll ask for it. I kind of enjoy it."
"That's what an insane person might say, but okay." Charleen pointed out. "What would happen if you did get cured?"
"I'd come right out of it." Sylvia said with a small smile. "Poof. Virus, gone."
"Nothing else?"
Sylvia thought about relaying the truth, the caveat to the cure. The loss of something you value most. She valued Oswald above all things, including herself. Having him gone was more painful than any sort of sacrifice that could have been placed upon her.
However, now that she had the Virus inside of her, Sylvia felt an overabundant value placed upon Charleen—she was, in some ways, a product of Oswald and Sylvia's short-term of affections and mediation. Having Charleen near her, Sylvia didn't feel as if Oswald was completely gone. Charleen's argumentative side reminded her of him, how he'd argue with her over her judgment and vice versa.
Her fondness of Oswald was another thing she and Charleen shared, and it was this, too, that kept Oswald's absence from weighing on her too heavily.
Was it possible that if she received the cure, the cost of it would be the second thing she valued most? Even as an assumption or a guess, telling Charleen when this teenager was already frazzled with worry wouldn't help things along, so Sylvia took a breath and instead of her telling her everything (as she had promised to do a few minutes ago), she lied instead, believing it was for the best.
There were just some things that a child had no place in learning nor would understand until they were much older.
"The only thing that would happen is that I'd be cured. Nothing else."
Charleen smiled: "Oh, well, that's good news, I guess."
"Yes, I suppose it is."
Charleen pressed her lips tightly together. She said curiously, "I heard the Virus brings your darkest desires to the surface, like, your darkest parts of you. Is rage one of yours?"
"What we think is darkest about ourselves is primarily subjective." Sylvia said logically.
"So that said, would rage still be one of your dark parts? Like you wanna just slaughter everyone around you just because you can? Like, go on a bloody massacre on everyone who told you 'no' or, I don't know, parked in your parking spot."
Sylvia chuckled at Charleen's last example, but she said seriously, "I don't like my rage. It scares me. But it has always bubbled underneath the surface. My most violent moments—they felt euphoric, like really good, in the moment, but what I feel after is just…fear, exhaustion…disgust."
"Like when Miles implied that I was a whore. That pissed you off. So, you drowned him."
"Mm-hmm. Admittedly, not one of my proudest moments."
"You did it for me, though." Charleen reminded encouragingly. "You knew he wasn't the best influence in my life. You saw that. You got rid of him to protect me."
"Yes, I did it to protect you from him. But I also did it because I felt that he committed an injustice to Isaac's memory. What you both did to Isaac was unforgivable."
"So, if you were angry at both me and Miles, why did you only hurt him?"
"Isaac asked me to protect you. Killing you for dishonoring him would not have been his wish. And I cared for you."
"Is it possible that you can only feel one emotion at a time?" Charleen asked interestedly. "You talk about rage having full control over you, but then you talk as if it no longer has control when you're talking about love or caring for someone."
"It's not that simple." Sylvia uttered softly. "I feel things very deeply. Sometimes, I feel them too well; it muddies things up."
"But wanting to protect someone isn't dark. It's not ugly. That's a good part of you."
"Not when it leads to murder." Sylvia said modestly. "My impulsivity, my need for instant gratification, my desire to protect people I love from getting hurt, my rage—all of it: none of it is healthy."
"But you knew the virus would bring all of that stuff out. You knew that before you took it. If you knew that before taking it, why did you do it?"
"It was the only way that I could take back what was stolen from me."
"I hear diet and exercise work just as well."
"Charlie…"
Charleen said jokingly, "I know, I know. I'm just saying. All kidding aside, your wish to protect people isn't unhealthy."
"Yeah, well, too much of a good thing becomes bad after a time. There's such a thing as being overprotective, too angry, too impulsive, and reckless. I admit that I may go overboard from time to time."
"I guess. But I still don't see it. You're not an angry person, per se. You're chill in my opinion. I've never seen your rage—up until now. Even when people annoy you, you never really lash out. You're more on the passive-aggressive side, I think."
"I have rage for people who've hurt my family, who have hurt me, or who have wronged myself and others. I was close to killing Tabitha back there—even closer to killing Barbara—"
"—But you didn't."
"I wanted to, though. It took all my willpower not to. All of it."
"Why didn't you?"
Sylvia shrugged, "I don't know. I just remembered you were in the room. I didn't want you to get the impression that I'm…"
"A monster?" Charleen offered. She smiled despite it. "You're not a monster to me. Barbara deserved what she got. Tabitha got off easy, if you ask me. Isn't she the one that killed Oswald's mom or…"?
Sylvia's eyes slowly became engulfed in red and the creepy black veins started creeping from her neck up to her face. Charleen's eyes widened.
"…I meaaaaaan, hey, look, there's an ice cream shop ahead," Charleen said quickly, tapping Sylvia on the arm. "We should definitely stop by and get some before we go take care of that awesome business we got to do, right?"
Sylvia looked at her before she glanced ahead to see a billboard sign for the advertised ice cream shop that was a couple miles down the road.
"Some delicious vanilla ice cream, hey, even a banana split would be good right now, won't that be amazing, yessiree." Charleen rambled nervously.
When the red faded away and Sylvia's face relaxed once more, Charleen let out a deep sigh of relief.
"If that's been in you this entire time, why do I only now see it? Like the Virus brings it out, I get it, but you weren't so…expressive. You're like a weird, psycho version of a wild child." Charleen asked in soft wonderment. "What was holding you back before the Virus? Before all of this stuff?"
Sylvia smiled sadly at her. Charleen instantly realized the answer.
"It's Oswald, isn't it?" She said knowingly. "He was able to hold you back from doing something stupid, something impulsive, or destroying everything around you. Wasn't he? And now that he's not here, it's harder for you to maintain—although, I bet that weird fucking injection ain't helping much."
Sylvia shrugged: "The important thing now is that you're safe, the people under Barbara have a barrier between her and themselves, and what's more: You now get to see what it's like to go into a situation fully prepared."
"What?" Charleen looked at her, surprised. "What do you mean? Go into what situation?"
"I'm going to confront Lucas. You're coming with me."
"Why?" Charleen challenged. "Wouldn't it be easier if I just sat this one out?"
"It'll be a good learning experience for you. You'll see how it's properly done, how a real woman fights."
"How does that benefit me?"
"Because, after, I'm going to teach you how to fight."
"But I don't want to fight."
Sylvia stared at her in disbelief: "What do you mean you don't want to learn how to fight?"
"Because rabbits don't fight."
"…What?"
"I've got a reputation to keep," Charleen said airily. She gestured to her outfit. "I'm the White Rabbit. Rabbits don't fight; they run."
"So, you're going to run from every confrontation?"
"No. I'm going to engage and then escape."
"Like a tease." Sylvia assumed.
"Yeah. It's more fun that way."
"How will that get you what you want?"
"Because it'll get you what you want. We can do that with Lucas. I can come in, do my thing; it'll lower his guard and before he tries anything, you can get the drop on him. When you do, I'll be sure to stay out of the way. Or when you get hurt or something, I'll distract him again and then so on, and so forth. Or I can also be kind of like your radioperson, where I can tell you where he's at."
"The club isn't that big."
"True, but it pays to see things at all perspectives when you're fighting the big dog yourself."
"You can't see from multiple perspectives when you're standing in one spot. You'd have to become two people at once."
"Hey," Charleen said proudly. "Every girl's got her dream."
"You want to be able to be at two places at once?"
"Call it a personal ambition. It'd certainly make the whole 'decoy' thing a lot more interesting. Not to mention, I'd never get caught."
"So, your plan is to be the bait?"
"It's a really good plan. I know what I'm doing. And I plan on doing this after we get done with Lucas."
"In what situation would being an escape artist be useful?"
"Any situation, actually."
"But why would you need to do it? If you're prepared, you don't need to learn how to escape from anything."
"I'd need it at a crime scene."
"Like at a robbery?"
"Perhaps. If a robbery were taking place, I could go in, wait for the coppers, and get out. They'd try to chase me, but I'm gonna be quick. They'd never catch me."
"Why would you want to do this?" Sylvia inquired.
"Because it's fun."
"But why?"
"I just said."
"So, you'll go to a robbery, not steal a thing, and just enjoy being 'almost caught' and then leave?"
"Yeah!"
"That's not practical."
"No one said I was," Charleen said smoothly with a mischievous grin. "Just let me be me. We can keep going down this rabbit hole, if you like—pun totally intended—or you can just do what you do, I'll do what I do, and call it even."
"And when you do what you do, what happens if you get caught?" Sylvia proposed.
"If I get caught, it's because I want to be caught."
"So, getting your ass handed to you by Lucas—that wasn't one of those circumstances, I hope?"
Charleen frowned again. She said huffily, "I wasn't ready that time. I didn't have a plan, I admit it. Okay? I was just fucking angry and I didn't think it through. But I'm making better decisions now. I got Freddie and Joe working for me."
Sylvia made a scathing noise as she said, "They're fucked up."
"They're gullible. That's what makes them useful. And they work for me."
"They used to work for Miles."
"Yeah, so?"
"I don't want you to hang around them."
"But they can help us. Once Lucas is out of the way, they can work as informants."
"I do not want you hanging around them, Charlie. I'm serious."
"I've got this. You just need to trust me."
Sylvia sighed exasperatedly, "You didn't think it through with Lucas and you got hurt. These friends of Miles—I don't trust them any more than I—"
"Then trust my judgement, would you? I promise. I'll think things through better. That Lucas incident was just a slip."
Sylvia advised, "You need to think these things through, Charlie. All the way through."
"I know."
"And you need to be more careful."
"I know. But so do you," Charleen said cleverly. "You took that Virus thingy and didn't think about how bad your headaches would be after, or how strong it would make you—like you literally took Tabitha and smashed her into the floor. The floor crumbled."
"Fine. We'll both be careful."
"Agreed."
"We'll also stay smart."
"I am smart."
"And you need to stay that way: Both street and academically. That said—and I just decided—you're going to school."
"What?" Charleen looked at her.
"If you're going to be living under my roof, you're going to go to school."
"But I don't—"
"—Oswald was right: you need to be around people your age. Maybe even make a few friends in your peer group that aren't idiotic sheep like Frederick and Joseph. And it wouldn't hurt getting a valuable education."
"Ugh."
"Don't 'ugh' me—getting a diploma will help you in the long run. Trust me."
"Why do I need to go to school? Everything that I need to know, I can learn from you. I had this exact conversation with Penguin a long time ago. And he agreed with me, by the way." Charleen said smartly.
"He may have agreed with you, but I still say you're going."
"Fine. But just so you know, schools don't take random stray kids. And I'm not going to go to any orphanage—and if you think you can make me, I'm getting out of this car."
"We're going 60 miles per hour."
"I don't fucking care. Death is better than going to an orphanage." Charleen started taking off her seat belt.
Sylvia reached over (keeping her eyes on the road) and grabbed her wrist that held the buckle. Charleen peered up at her interestedly.
"Let's make a deal." Sylvia mediated with a small smile.
Charleen released her seat belt and said slyly, "I'm listening."
"You can keep your weasel friends—Freddie and Joe—on your radar. I'm trusting your judgment, alright? I'm choosing to trust you to keep them in line. In return, you go to school, get an education—no skipping classes, I mean it. I have feelers all around this city—I will find out. Agreed?"
"Agreed." Charleen smirked. "But you can't get passed the fact that schools ain't taking in some stray girl. They'll be asking who's in charge of me and it can't be any 'some woman I live with'."
"What happened to 'Mom'?" Sylvia humored.
"I call you that sometimes, but, legally, it ain't worth shit. School District of Gotham ain't going to accept that."
"Oh, there's a way around it."
"How?"
Sylvia smiled fondly, saying, "Well, after we deal with Lucas, I was going to take a trip to the courthouse."
"To do what? Pay a traffic ticket?"
Sylvia chuckled at her joke, but she said seriously, "No. I was going to adopt you, but if that's something you don't want to do, we can—"
Charleen unbuckled her seat belt and wrapped her arms around Sylvia's shoulders tightly. She whispered with unbridled joy, "I thought you'd never ask!"
