Chapter Five
The next few weeks were the most interesting and thrilling of Sophie's life. She'd obliged and gotten him a spare key for her apartment and made an attempt to buy some extra groceries that Victor would be able to eat if he cared to. After returning home from work one day she found two suits hanging in her closet along with a pair of shoes, socks and underwear folded neatly away. She smiled like a fool through her next three days, butterflies in heart.
Victor came and went with no pattern, but when he was home it seemed he wanted to have in her every way known to man, on every surface in her apartment, and she was only too eager to comply.
When she'd get picked up on the curb with Doctor Romalotti she would try not to let her gaze linger too long on his butt, and fought the urge to climb up his body and plaster her lips to his. She'd smile anyway as she and the Doctor talked and went about their tasks, because she she could feel his eyes on her, and that was enough. When he'd usher the mafiosi and the doctor out the door ahead of him, anticipation hummed through her being as he locked the door behind them and moved to bend her over a counter, or press her up against a wall.
She loved to sigh his name, and the way he'd always rumble in his chest in reply.
And then a drug by the name of Viper hit the streets. It led to a some of the worst times in the ED that Sophie had ever seen. Every night was filled with people coming in on gurneys dead or dying with the lethal drug coursing through their veins. There were takedowns happening every night, and the hospital had placed at least two or three officers in the ER every shift to assist. Tina had gotten a broken nose during her shift, a tech ended up with a black eye, and on her first night in the second week of the excitement Sophie got nailed in the jaw by a meaty fist as she pushed the plunger, sending a large dose of haldol and lorazepam into the patient's system.
Sophie was given a bag of ice, a short exam determining nothing was broken, and then back out onto the floor she went for the rest of her shift. Victor didn't show up that night or the next, so she was able to ice most of the swelling away without having that awkward conversation. That Wednesday had the news station blaring in the lobby that the GCPD had taken out the supplier of Venom and that without a manufacturer and seller, the cases would quickly disappear. The ED staff gave a 'huzzah' as they once more performed a takedown.
When Sophie exited the ED late as she had every night that week, her arm was around the shoulders of Ruth one of her CNAs for the day and they congratulated each other at a week of work done, and made each other promise not to pick up any more shifts. Sophie caught site of Victor cracking his knuckles and adjusting his skull ring further along the path, so she said goodbye to Ruth and walked his way.
"Romalotti said that your unit has been busy of late, said you probably couldn't peform any services for us after the days you've been having. You're nearly two hours late," he growled as she stopped beside him.
"Boy, was he right, " she laughed, and knew the moment his eyes found the discolored bruise on her jaw.
"It's alright," she supplied, taking his rigid cold hand into hers and pulling him after her, "We've had some experience with the drug Venom. Heard of it?"
Rage was rolling off of him in waves, and his grip on her hand was stiff, but unrelenting.
"Victor, I'm fine, really," she assured him and pulled him into the coffee shop on the way home. Sophie ignored the questioning and accusing looks cast her and Victor's way, and murmured happily as she claimed her reward for a rough week, a large white chocolate mocha with whip cream on top. Once more she claimed his rigid grip with her own and pulled him out of the shop and down the street.
"That doesn't look like nothing," he said through gritted teeth.
"It's healing, it just looks ugly. Hey, at least I didn't get my nose broken like Tina. The guy tried, but ho ho, not this gal, I'm gonna come up to you from behind with a needle, where ya can't see me!" she laughed to herself at her nurse humor.
When they got up to her apartment, he snatched her purse from her and grabbed her cell phone, slamming in digits with his large fingers, fury etched into his face. Finally he shoved the phone at her, "Call me next time," he snapped.
"Oo, I get your number," she said with a smile and a roll of her eyes, and moved to the shower, not feeding into the situation.
He was a silent, icy presence against her back, and she cleaned in the shower she felt his eyes do a once-over, and then his hands replaced his eyes, feeling for any possible injury.
"See? Just a bruise," she comforted, and put his large hand over her jaw gingerly. He pulled his hand back as if burned, and exited the shower and her apartment faster than she could comprehend. Sophie swallowed, walking around the apartment in a towel, silent.
Finding her cell phone, she dialed the number he'd entered and listened to it ring.
"Don't call me unless absolutely necessary," his voice snapped at her from the other side of the line.
"Fine, you ass," she hissed back and hung up.
Victor was absent for awhile, but this time Sophie didn't know if it was some kind of punishment or if it was work related. Doctor Romalotti called one night asking if she wanted to make extra cash, telling her that her presence had been requested, but not by whom. She declined the offer, figuring if he wanted to be stubborn she couldn't meet his attitude with her own, toe to toe. For the first time in her life though, Sophie began to read the papers. She read about the mob war between Maroni and Falcone, about a deal that was supposed to bring some long needed peace to Gotham's streets.
One day the articles read that an art gallery owner and girlfriend of a Gotham City detective had been abducted and terrorized, so maybe the mob wars weren't going away after all. After two and half weeks she caved, and texted him, 'are you okay?'.
'Fine', came the immediate reply, and her relief cancelled out her desire to reach through the phone and throttle him.
That night as she stared up at her ceiling, Sophie attempted to remember Victor's mother. Mona Zsasz was a small woman with a heart shaped face and a cap of red curls that had framed her face. Her son had inherited her deep brown eyes, and her skin had always been pale, and dusted with bruises in Sophie's memory. She'd survived so many years of abuse to end up succumbing to breast cancer. Mona had always looked kindly on Sophie, but she was a woman of few words, as their house was either one of silence or screams. Recalling her made Sophie shudder and feel cold inside. She wondered if when Victor remembered his mother, if he was filled with rage or sadness, loneliness or emptiness.
Sophie woke in the dead of the night, and when turned, Victor was there, laying on his back behind her, still and naked in the bed. His breathing was strong and steady, and she reached out and touched his arm, then stroked his cheek. His face turned slowly into her touch, and then his hands were moving and pulling her over to him, on top of him.
Their breathing became eager as she moved herself onto him and leaned down to claim his lips her own, their hips rolling restlessly against each other.
Her fingers trailed over new scars raised up on his left arm as he moved to grip her hips and brought her down hard, and she felt him spasm beneath her in pleasure.
Sophie bit her lip and laughed breathlessly, bending down to place a kiss on his cheek, at the corner of his lips and ran her nails down his chest lightly before rolling off and collapsing at his side. Only the sounds of their ragged breathing filled the room when his phone buzzed on the table next to them.
Sophie groaned, "Ugh, turn it off," she moaned, but when she moved to roll over and throw an arm across his chest, he had rolled off the bed.
"Stay, you just got here," she grumbled sitting up in bed.
"I do not answer to you, Sophie Summers," Victor growled and disappeared into the bathroom, the shower springing to life a moment later. As Sophie rolled her eyes and flopped back into the bed, her cell buzzed to life with a call. Minutes later found Sophie in her closet pulling on scrubs and Victor emerging from the bathroom, head and face freshly shaven, naked as the day he was born. He stood next to her, and piece by piece dressed the part of a made man, ending with a firm adjustment of his cuffs and tie.
She felt his eyes on her as she slipped passed him and moved to the bathroom mirror to braid her hair.
"I thought you had to leave?" she said aloud to the silent apartment, having not heard the door open and close.
"You work today," he said aloud, too proud for it to be a question.
"I have to save lives while you end them," she offered bitterly, and brushed past him in the darkness of the bedroom.
He said nothing as she threw a quick lunch together, and they walked out the door in silence, parting ways outside the building.
As Sophie walked to work, her heart pondered. Victor was the man she shared her bed with, once he had been the boy she loved, but was he the man she could love? Should love? Girlfriends and boyfriends, spouses got into fights all the time, and as two different people they were bound to clash sometimes. When they were younger, they had been two silent and fragile children, putting their heads down and doing what was safest for themselves, for each other. Now they were full grown, adults who had visions for themselves, goals they wanted to accomplish, and they were much more opinionated than the voiceless selves they had once been. Victor's road had taken him from being a victim to the predator, from the weak to the dangerous. Sophie found that her road had taken her still within the confines of the same city, helping people that in her mind's eye were all a pale, hollow-eyed little boy who looked at her beseechingly before he entered his home. Sophie found that her road had started with abandonment, and she had continued on the path of loneliness until he had entered her life once again.
But what was the price of her happiness, of feeling not so alone? Sophie wondered, was it worth it?
Work ended, and after four codes that resulted in living patients being cared for in the ICU, the day-shift decided to congratulate themselves with some libations. They met at a nice high-end bar in downtown Gotham, Mooney's, and got a nice table. Sophie and her co-workers laughed and drank, toasting each other and reminiscing about their grossest stories.
A band played on the stage and a fresh round was bought, and as the night went on, their party began to slowly dwindle. Sophie looked at her watch, feeling warm, but not quite drunk, not being a big fan of drinking anyway had paced herself heavily. Voices began to escalate behind her back, at the bar. A small black woman with a shock of red in her hair that had been sitting at a red velvet booth nearby slid from her seat, flanked immediately by men in suits and moved to the shouting, behind Sophie.
A gunshot rang out, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor as the band's music came to an abrupt end. Most everyone hit the floor, and screaming began.
A woman was shouting for people to be quiet, but the customers who had hidden underneath tables were screaming and shot rang out, this time into the bottles behind the bar.
"Shut up and get out. You have exactly one minute to get out, or you're dead," came the commanded, and the voice insinuated there would be pleasure taken from their deaths. Sophie went still for a just a moment, before she put a hand on a co-worker's back, and together they scrambled out from under the table and towards the door.
Sophie felt strangely calm, even as tears leaked out of her eyes in a silent stream and she pushed her co-workers forward, blinking as people rushed past her, jostling her to and fro. Ruth was the last to emerge from the table, and her small hand slid into Sophie's pulling them both forward.
They ran forward, Sophie stumbling forward and time seemed to slow as Ruth pulled her forward towards the safety of the open door, past two women in black leather wielding guns half their height. Her green eyes were dull as they looked up and met Victor's eyes for just a second. His manic grin didn't falter, but she saw his grip tighten around the pistol in his upheld hand.
"A mob joint!" Ruth raged as they ran down the block.
Eventually they stumbled to a stop, and squatted, catching their breath. They heard someone calling their names and looked up to see Maureen running to them, waving her cell phone in the air.
"I called the police," she breathed coming to a stop beside them, "They said units were on their way, but I don't hear anything!"
Ruth frowned and stood up straight, "It's because that place belongs to the mob, and the police are in their pocket, so they aren't gonna go break it up. They're gonna do nothing, that's what they do," she said, spitting on the ground in distaste.
They hailed a cab, and each woman had miraculously made it out with their belongings, so they texted everyone to confirm safety.
Sophie was the last one to be dropped off by the cab, and handing the driver her cash, she slid out numbly.
She made it to her apartment before she had to run to the bathroom to vomit, fear emptying her insides. Sophie took a shower and in a numb daze she collected the suit in her closet, the only thing of his in there at the time, and draped it across her couch which she then sat on. Time passed and she slept, a blissfully dreamless sleep. When the door opened, she moved to sit up and look at him, but she found it hurt to look at his hairless face, at his angry brown eyes as they went from her to the suit. Victor's fingers closed around her arm and pulled her up, standing flush to him as he bent his head to snarl at her.
"Don't ever go to that club again, ever,"
"I don't answer to you," she said placidly, echoing his words from before, and pulled her arm out of his grip, and moved to look through the blinds at the city outside.
He followed her, standing silently behind her, a burn she felt across the expanse of her back, her calves, her thighs.
"I wasn't going to go back anyway, I can't," she ended, her voice cracking, she took a ragged breath, "I think you should leave."
He said nothing still, and made no move to leave.
"You don't answer to me, you said it yourself. It wasn't like you were planning on staying with me anyway, we both know that. I think I love you, I always have, but you're not that boy anymore, and I think I'm still partially that girl. I don't even know if you can love me," Sophie sobbed.
He moved away from her then, and his distance gave her words strength, but left her physically weak.
"You're a fool," he snapped at her, hate dripping from his words.
Sophie heard him collect his suit, and out the door he went, slamming the door behind him. With a last burst of adrenaline she moved to lock the door behind him, and then went back to the window, where she moved aside the blinds and pressed her hands to the glass, staring into the sun that shone between the buildings, over the Gotham skyline.
Don't leave me. I'm always alone, so alone.
Sophie swallowed her wants, her dreams, her fears and she pushed them down. She'd been without him for ten years, she could do it again, she hoped.