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.*･｡. EFF IT! .*･｡.
————SPY GAMES
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024.
A HAMMER TO HOPE.
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   Yeah— no fucking way, alright.

As is no fucking way was there any gold down there, in that shipwreck. No gold. No four hundred million. Not even the slightest penny. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. That much was apparent as they watched the drone screen in an eery silence. They couldn't believe it.

Sonny was used to disappointment. Even so, she still felt a building frustration.

It was like a ball pent up in her chest, burning away, rising higher and higher, and it would soon threaten to burst out of her ribcage. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep the lid on her boiling temper shut. It was brewing, too hot to slow to a simmer, too warm to go cold. And while Sonny was reluctant to say it, she really didn't want to have to be the one to say it, she knew that no one else would.

Who else would break it to John B that the gold wasn't there despite his dead father's beliefs?

No one wanted to say that.

Not even Sonny.

Okay. His father had been right about the Royal Merchant. The ship was exactly where he'd said it was, but that money? That wasn't. It was nowhere in sight either. The ship remains were baron of anything resembling any worth and there was really nothing more to it. After all that effort, the Pogues had been done in. Well and truly, done in — whether the gold had been snatched before they'd gotten there, or whether it never was actually there in the first place, anything that John B had to connect him to his father was gone. That money was what his father had died for. It was a lifeline.

And now, somebody had to break it to John B that his last lifeline had snapped. Maybe it was never intact to begin with.

"Give it a rest."

"No," Kiara's eyes narrowed.

"Why? I don't even know why you're still looking," Sonny  muttered, walking away from the drone screen. She ignored the glare on her back. "Don't you think it's time we call it? It isn't down there."

It wasn't that she didn't want to find the money. She did. It wasn't like she wanted to just shit all over John B's hopes and dreams either, but why lie? Why give him false hope? Would that help him with his grief?

   Sonny wanted to believe in that money as much as the rest of them, but it felt wrong to let John B think it could've been there— that it might still be there. Sonny couldn't watch him torture himself. That wasn't fair. Maybe she was being harsh. Okay, she was being harsh, but reality was harsh, and that was what John B needed. The truth. The money wasn't there, no amount of searching would change that. They couldn't cling onto useless hope.

"Can you just shut your mouth?" Kiara hissed.

Sonny scoffed at her.

"Can't handle the truth?"

"Guys—"

Kiara ignored Pope, "You're not helping,"

"No?" Sonny posed, shrugging her shoulders as she looked around the group. They avoided her eyes. "C'mon. You know we're all thinking it."

There was an unsettling silence. They dwelled on it. Sonny was right, even if they wanted to argue otherwise. How could they argue? All of them could see it. Clear as day. No money. Not a dime. Sonny was just being honest. She thought that it was better to be harsh than hopeful.

Sonny had shown John B compassion, before. Compassion they'd all been sure no Kook even had. She'd connected with him in a way the others hadn't been able to, she'd heard him and understood him like no one else, but Sonny had to put an end to it, to keep it from going too far. They knew that Sonny didn't want to be the bad guy, even if she was really good at it, but no one else could.

   They didn't have the heart.

   So if any of them was going to say no, to tell him the brutal truth, it was Sonny. It had to be Sonny.

And John B heard her. Loud and clear.

"She's right..."

They all glanced at him.

    "It's not there," he muttered softly, stepping away from the screen and roughly rubbing his face, trying to disguise his wet eyes behind his hands.

   Sonny suddenly felt really awful.

   John B was hurting and rightfully so. Still though, it wasn't worth the inevitable pain it would bring to him further down the line. Sonny was right and he knew it. The money wasn't there even if he wished it was. And, if anything, it hurt more to pretend that it could be.

    "Look, just— just pull the drone up." He sighed, waving a hand at Pope, "Shit..."

"W—we'll do another pass. Recharge the battery," Pope's face was hopeful, ever wishing to be the optimist. He looked between John B and Kiara, hoping for her support. "We can— we can go back down, guys!"

"For the third fucking time?" Sonny stressed.

    "Sonny—"

    "There's nothing there, Heyward!"

"Shut up!" Kiara seethed.

"Why?" JJ was the one to back Sonny up, staring at Kiara with a look that read fucking stop. He knew it was harsh but it was best for John B. "It's fucking true!"

"The gold could be buried!" She tried to argue with them, struggling to find the words. It wasn't that she didn't agree; it was that she didn't want to agree. Like Sonny, Kiara could see how much this money meant to John B. Maybe it was wrong, letting him concoct after always telling him not to, but it didn't make him cry. She hated watching him cry. "We don't know! We'll only know if we look!"

Huffing, Sonny pulled her denim shorts on and ripped her hair from it's damp, salty bun. She yanked her hand through the mess of it and frowned, wincing when it hurt her lip. She was close to kicking that stupid drone. Fat load of good it had done Sonny, huh?

    "If it was there, then it would've been found on the metal detector, okay?" John B sighed, looking out at the water and back to his friends. He shrugged at them, unsure of what he could say. "Somebody beat us to it."

"Or it was never there," JJ muttered quietly.

   Sonny rubbed her eyes.

Before the silence could weigh on her shoulders, she swiftly slipped into the cockpit, deciding only JJ's company would do her, right now. She didn't want to watch as Kiara and Pope's hope shattered and she didn't want to stare at John B's sullen face the whole way back.

   Being honest was hard, and it was heavy, and Sonny didn't always like the outcome.

The truth hurt. Always had, always would.

   Being the honest one fucking sucked.

Sighing harshly through her nose, the sharp stream of air making her busted lip sting, Sonny slumped to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. She rested her chin on them, a furrowed in her brow, and she said nothing to JJ, who spared her a quick glance but said nothing either. What was left for them to even say?

Instead, JJ took off his cap and placed it on her head.

She reverted into the small shelter silently. It made her feel safe and hidden away. Protected. Just as her bubble had always made her feel. She missed her bubble.

   Maybe she shouldn't have let it go.

————

The journey to land was quiet.

   No one really said a lot. It was like that until they reached the docks at Sonny's house, bidding her a miserable farewell that she easily returned.

"You'll be okay?"

Sonny shot Kiara a look, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Kiara gestured to her mouth.

Right, Sonny ran her tongue over her bottom lip, her face got fucked up. She sighed softly.

It was nothing she hadn't had before.

"M'fine," she shrugged, shooting a glare toward the drone that sat in the corner, like it was in time-out for not finding any gold and hitting Sonny in the face. Sonny grabbed her bag, a furrow in her brow as she gathered her belongings. "Was just a bump, not a hammer to the face."

"Looks like a hammer to the face," JJ remarked.

She shot him a glare, "Doesn't even hurt."

Purposely ignoring the hand Pope offered to help her, she shouldered her bag and clambered out the boat. There was a brief moment where she stumbled on the dock and she tried not to fall, relying on her years spent in ballet classes that she hated to maintain her balance. There was a snort behind her but it didn't sound amused.

"Lose your balance, princess?"

Still facing forward, Sonny flipped him the bird from over her shoulder and started walking. She could hear the boat in the distance as she left the docks and trudged her way across the backyard, never having wished it was smaller so much in her life. It felt like hours had gone by before Sonny slipped in through the French doors and slid them shut, throwing down her bag as she delved further into the kitchen. She wanted to nap more than anything, but she knew what she needed first was ice for her mouth.

...maybe it did hurt. Just a bit.

She wrapped some ice in a dish cloth and pressed it to her face, wincing slightly at the cold. It felt good though, once the icy sting had mellowed into cool relief. Sonny let out a heavy sigh. It hurt but it couldn't have been any more than John B's broken heart, right about now.

Sonny paused.

Wait— did she chip a fucking tooth...?

"Sonny?"

She shot around, eyes squinted.

"What the fuck, Topper?" Sonny hissed. She hadn't heard him come in, "Get out!"

"I just want to—" he stopped, gawping at her face. Sonny quickly placed the ice back to hide it. But Topper had seen it clear enough already. His face started to go red, "Shit— what happened to your face?!"

Before she could stop him, Topper had crossed the distance between them. He took the cloth away from her skin to see all the damage, the muscle in his jaw feathering when he realised it was recent. Really recent. His eyes flicked between her mouth and her blank stare, she wouldn't fully look at him. "Are— are you kidding me? Who the fuck did this?"

The words were more of a demand than a question. Sonny had never listened to anything from Topper's mouth though, it was no secret all he did was spew shit, so she didn't reply. She just stood there, lips sealed and unmoving, even when a harsh stream of air passed his nostrils.

"Sonny," he said.

She stayed totally silent.

"Can you seriously stop being so fucking stubborn, and just tell me the asshole that did this to you?" Topper groaned out.

Sonny finally looked him in the eye.

"Why?" She asked, voice as hard as her stare. "So you can beat 'em with a golf-club?"

He looked confused for a moment. But then his eyes went wide and he took a step back, rubbing his face. She let out a dry chuckle but it wasn't funny.

"Yeah," her voice sounded like a threat, "I know."

   Topper gulped.

   He shook his head, "Sonny, you don't—"

"Just shut up, Topper!" Sonny slammed the ice down onto the kitchen island. She could taste metal on her tongue. "I'm so sick of listening to your bullshit! You beat Pope with a golf-club for fucking breathing!"

    "Rafe—"

    "I don't give a fuck about Rafe," she glowered, "This isn't about him, this is about you!"

    "Is it?" He asked, jaw locked. "Or is it about you?"

   Sonny scoffed.

    "Yeah, okay— so I helped jump a dirty Pogue," Topper put his hands up, shrugging. She glared harder. "But is this really about that? About Heyward? Or is this just another way for you to push me out?"

    "You are so fucking full of yourself—"

    "Answer the question, Sonny!" He snapped at her, taking three steps forward. "What is this really about? Because you know what? I really don't buy that it's about some Pogue—"

    "It's about you turning into a psycho!" Sonny pointed at him, "It's about you constantly fucking up, always coming to me whining!" She turned her voice nasally to mock him, the tone making his face scrunch; "I'm sorry, I'm sorry— like, fuck, Top! I'm so sick of it— I'm sick of having to baby you all the damn time! It's ridiculous!"

    "You baby me?"

   When she nodded, he laughed.

    "You baby me?" Topper shook his head, "No, Sonny. You see, I baby you!"

    "Jesus," she breathed, "You are insane!"

    "I baby you all the time! Every single day!" He told her, a curl in his lip. "You and your anti-social attitude! The whole holier than thou bullshit you pull! Like you're better than every other Kook out there," a humourless laugh escaped him, the sound making her grimace. "They all hate you too, ya know. You're not special, Sonny,"

   Sonny had suddenly lost her voice. She didn't know what she was supposed to say to that.

    "But you think you are, and I always let you. I babied you our whole lives, Sonny! Even when you're fucking ungrateful for it!" Topper was venting now, like he was finally getting a terrible secret off his chest.

    "I'm ungrateful?" She croaked.

    "I've always stuck by you," Topper spoke, his voice quieter than before. "When everybody said I was your bitch. It never mattered to me,"

    "You were never my bitch, Topper." Her words were more spiteful than ever, "You were just a bitch."

   His face dropped.

   Topper thought on her words, nodding slowly. He gave an inaudible huff of laughter and rubbed at his nostril, turning on his heel slowly. "Yeah, okay."

   She watched him walk back to the French doors he snuck through in the first place, not looking back at her even once. He didn't need to know. He could feel her glare on his back. He didn't need eyes to know it was there.

    "Have fun with your dirty Pogues," he told her, "Don't act all shocked when you shut 'em out and Maybank doesn't feel like sticking around."

   Sonny's vision flashed red.

   She grabbed the pepper grinder and threw it at him. It hit the wall just left of him, the noise making him jump back. A moment passed with Topper staring at the grinder, before he slowly moved his stare to meets hers. Her eyes were glassy. It made his chest ache.

    "Fuck you," she seethed at him.

   The pain vanished.

    "Did those assholes sink my boat?"

   Sonny said nothing. She just stared, her chest heaving.

    "Alright," he muttered, nodding slowly. Topper shrugged, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. "I'll see you around."

————

"What do you want, Cheryl?"

"Let me in, Sondra."

Sonny rolled her eyes and slammed a hand up against the buzzer, a heavy sigh passing her lips.

    "I'm not happy about this," she drawled out.

    "When are you ever?"

   Sonny grunted. Fair point.

She swung the door open and leant up against it, snapping her gum as she watched the woman walk in through the gate and up the drive with intent eyes. She hadn't changed a lot in the last month. Come to think of it, Cheryl hadn't changed a lot in the whole time Sonny'd known her.

Cheryl and Sonny went way back.

So far back, Sonny hardly even remembered the first time she met Cheryl. She knew it was pretty early on in life. Back when it was still new to her — the whole you're here 'cause your parents sorta don't want you right now but you're still valid to us thing that foster kids went through. Cheryl was one of her very first social workers within the DCS, and she was also the lady that had placed Sonny with the Penbrook's. After that, she'd been around for about as long as Sonny could recall. It was hard to get rid of her, too. She lingered like a bad smell. Sure, it was her job to follow up and visit time to time, but Sonny wanted her gone regardless.

They had a tricky relationship.

Now there was an important distinction to be made: Sonny didn't dislike Cheryl. Well okay, maybe she disliked her, but she didn't hate her. She had been her social worker for years, and in that time they'd built up a rapport.

   Really, Cheryl had been the one consistent thing in her life. She was always there. Even when Sonny told her to shove off and get out of her business.

   Cheryl had done a lot for Sonny. She had placed her with a great family, ensured she could still see her biological father as often as possible, and had never once decided Sonny wasn't at all worth it. She never gave up on her. Sonny probably should've been more grateful, thanked her for it— but why? Cheryl was no saint. She was paid for this.

   So Sonny decided that she didn't like Cheryl.

   How else did you expect her to feel about the woman who had told her that her mother was dead and her dad couldn't look after her anymore?

"You've grown."

Sonny arched a brow, "You shrunk."

Cheryl sighed, still the same.

"We weren't supposed to meet for another month," Sonny told the woman standing on the patio, "What do you want?"

"It's good to see you too, kid." Cheryl rolled her eyes, but stopped. "What happened to your face?"

"I asked first."

Cheryl rolled her eyes, "Tell me, Sondra."

Sonny ground her teeth. Aside from her awful aunt, Cheryl was the only one who called her Sondra. Though, Cheryl did so because she had known her since a child. Her aunt did it to irritate Sonny with her arrogance.

    "Boating accident." She gave in after a ten second staring match between them. It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't completely a lie either. Besides, it wouldn't have been the first time she had lied to Cheryl. "And yes, it fucking hurt." Sonny sent her a sarcastic smile that she easily returned, "Your turn, what're you doing here?"

   Deciding to ignore how familiar that excuse sounded and letting it slide just this once, seeing as Sonny had never been enough of a troubled kid to land herself in fights, Cheryl let out a sigh, crossing her arms and clicking her tongue. Fights aside, Sonny had this way of irking her. It was a wonder she didn't get into more fights for that reason.

    "I've been working with John Routledge," she said. "Came to get him and he vanished."

   Sonny managed to keep her expression neutral.

   Inside, however?

   Holy shit. They came to get him?

   She was certain it would take DCS a little longer to prove that his uncle wasn't being a good guardian, even with John B's shitty attempt at lying his way to freedom.

   What shocked her more though, was that he'd been able to get away. Her eyes drifted past Cheryl's shoulder and took in the cruiser outside the gates, jaw setting.

   John B outran the cops?

   Now, that was some crazy shit. The kind not even Sonny had pulled off in foster care. Given she was only a kid, but she still commended him for it anyway. Turns out Pogues could make a clean getaway when they tried.

   But, still, if he wasn't with Cheryl then where was he? He wasn't stupid enough to go back to the chateau, surely. And Sonny doubted he was with the others, that was too obvious.

   So where'd he go?

   Better yet, why did Cheryl show up here?

"We need to locate him, take him back to the mainland." Cheryl continued, "You don't know where he'd be, do you?"

    "You think all DCS kids hang out together?" Sonny asked, face completely blank. She thought she deserved an applause for how well she hid her surprise. Maybe Sonny was born for acting. And annoying people. "Well that's stereotypical of you, Cheryl. Actually kinda fucked—"

    "People have seen you around with him, recently." Cheryl was always one step ahead, it seemed. But Sonny was a quick runner, as quick as she was a swimmer, and she bolted to the finish line in a matter of seconds.

    "Me? With John Booker?"

   She hummed.

    "Kid has less braincells than he does cash," Sonny scoffed, her tone un-telling of any lies. Rule number one of surviving the foster system: never lie, just bend the truth. And bend the truth Sonny did. "In case you haven't noticed this Cheryl, me and John Booker are very different people. Sure, we've been to a few of the same parties, and I bumped into his little friends a while back when I got stranded on my boat—" both true, "—but I've not seen him around more than that." Lie. "That's it."

    "So, you haven't gone to eat with him in The Wreck? And you weren't seen at the markets with his friend, who was it..." she thought, "Maybank, recently?"

   Fucking bitch!

    "You're real fucking nosy, Cheryl." She quipped, "But, no— I saw them eating food, and JJ bumped into me, then kindly paid for my apple."

Truth? Consider it twisted.

  Cheryl watched her, clearly skeptical.

   In the time she'd known Sonny, Cheryl had found that she wasn't a liar. Sometimes she wasn't entirely truthful, yes, but it was no secret that Sonny got some kind of kick out of being brutally honest.

   Cheryl also knew Sonny was pretty fleecy when it came to friendships. When Sonny let someone in, which was rare, she would only rush to force them back out. It was in her nature. So, if she had let John B into her bubble, Cheryl didn't doubt that he would have been out by now. Him and his friends. Or, if not, yet, then they would be soon. Pushing people away was something they'd tried to work on, the system and Sonny, for years— however, it was an issue that went unresolved. No one really knew why it was so hard for her to—

    "Earth to Cheryl? You there?"

   Cheryl blinked.

"I don't have all day, ya know." Sonny sighed.

Cheryl frowned, as unamused as ever. "I didn't know you were so busy, these days."

    "There's a lot you don't know about me," she replied with an easy shrug. Sonny then smiled tightly, "We done here? Or are you gonna get Big Head over there to interrogate me too?"

   Sonny nodded to the drive, where a cop had watched their conversation closely, and Cheryl followed her gaze. His head was big. So big, John B might've been hiding behind it all this time. Sonny smirked.

    "Maybe he could tase me," she said, "I've always wanted to know how that feels, you know."

   Cheryl sighed.

    "One day, you'll learn to shut your mouth, Sondra."

    "Until that day, Cheryl." Sonny drawled out. She gave her an obnoxious wave as she slunk her way down the patio steps and back to the cop cruiser, Big Head in tow. Her forced grin dropped when they drove away, "Until that day."

   When they were gone, down the street and completely out of sight, Sonny pursed her lips in a line and sighed. She ran a hand through her hair.

   John freaking Booker. Lately, he was always dragging her back into his shit. The past week had been full of all things John B and his little mystery gang, pulling Sonny into the mix— half of which she'd done on her own free will, the other an ordeal Sonny had hardly been able to get away from; her life was all saturated with John B now.

   Covering for him, as inconvenient as it was, was the least she could do. After all, she'd told him DCS wouldn't find out. She hadn't lied, either. They wouldn't find out and he wouldn't go to the mainland.

   Not if she could help it.

   Maybe this was a good thing. Not because John B was being hunted by DCS, but because it stopped her from falling back into old habits. Back to her bubble.

Snatching her keys from the hook on the wall, Sonny swiftly slipped out of the front door and headed to the garage for her car. Cheryl wasn't going to find John B.

How could she if Sonny found him first?

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⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀