Chapter 109
The light in the back bedroom on the second floor of the Victorian house shone brightly into the summer night, never extinguishing even in the wee hours of the morning. Distinguishable through the persistent glow of the window's light, mature tree branches waved occasionally in languorous breezes, casting dancing shadows onto the dewy grass. A few blocks over, a raucous catfight screamed into the streets, waking up more than one person from a sound sleep.
Lucky was sitting on his bed in the lighted back bedroom with his body pushed into the corner wall as tightly as he could manage. Harley was also on the bed, invited hours earlier by his master to stay as close to him as possible. The dog snored lightly, content to breathe in Lucky's scent and absorb the warmth of his bare feet. Lucky held an object loosely in his hand, his elbow resting on his knee and his wrist twisting the object back and forth like a rhythmic metronome. The butcher knife was four inches of wood handle topped by eight inches of tempered stainless steel. Its metal flashed and gleamed in the pooled light cast by the nearby desk lamp each time his wrist twisted to the right. He'd been making that motion for four hours now and not once did he stop to rest. His face looked rather pale, and his wide eyes were rimmed with several shades of dark circles. An hour or two earlier, he'd given up his extreme effort at remaining alert and now settled into a kind of autopilot daze as if hypnotized by the flashing movements of the knife. His mouth was slack and hung open slightly, giving him an artificial look of concentration.
Stacks of kitchen objects were carefully placed in front of Lucky's firmly closed bedroom door. There was an intricate pattern of glassware fronted by thin metal pie plates and silverware - all designed to act as a warning signal if anyone attempted to open the door from the hallway. Small juice jars lined the windowsill and promised to crash with a loud tinkle if the window sash were moved. Perhaps the broken glass would harm the hands and feet of potential intruders. If not, the butcher knife would serve as an effective backup.
Hours crept by, and Lucky still made no move from his battle position on his bed. His eyes were now hooded, and his mouth hung down more, but still the butcher knife twitched back and forth in his nervous hand. The sun began rising early on a summer day such as this. Its bright rays warmed the wood of the windowsill as they began streaming through the window. A cast sunbeam reflected off of a metal pie pan and shot a prism of intricately filtered color through a nearby drinking glass.
Harley grew restless and stirred on the bed, turning his head to look up at his master's face. It was nearly time for Harley to take his walk, and his young bladder reminded him of other necessities. He licked Lucky's hand to gain his attention, but the boy merely placed a heavy hand on his back to encourage him to remain still. Lucky's eyes never deviated from the door that he'd been staring at for seven hours. The whirls of woodgrain blurred in his vision, but the solid brown oak of the door registered in his mind. It still hadn't moved even though he expected it to.
6:15AM
Tony approached Lucky's bedroom door, slightly irritated at his nephew's reluctance to rise to greet the day. It seemed like Lucky resisted getting up in the morning as protest against attending the day center. He hesitated outside of the door and then knocked lightly. "Lucky?" he asked. Tony frowned and knocked harder. "Lucky." Sighing, Tony turned the door handle and felt adrenaline rush through his blood as a series of loud crashing sounds assaulted him.
"What the…?" Tony blinked in confusion when he pushed the door through several broken drinking glasses and a cataclysmic assortment of kitchenware. His head whipped up in alarm when he heard the sound.
Harley was sitting up stiffly on Lucky's bed with his bristled muzzle bared into a threatening grimace accompanying a low growl. Tony frowned, but his eyes opened wide in shock when he looked beyond Harley. Lucky was standing behind the dog on top of the bed, his posture slightly bent, and his entire body trembling. A stab of fear hit Tony's gut when he saw the butcher knife that Lucky had raised in a threatening position and the look of bewilderment, horror and anger splashed across his nephew's anguished face.
"Lucky?" Tony asked softly as he took one step toward the bed. He stopped abruptly when Lucky made a growling grunt and held the knife out further from his body and pointed in Tony's direction. Tony didn't like the look in Lucky's glittering eyes. He seemed dangerously detached although frightened and aware of someone's presence in the room. Tony took one step back with his eyes never leaving Lucky. Harley had immediately identified Tony as being a family member and relaxed on the bed while he watched. Tony reached his hand for the door and eased it open. He stuck his head out of the door, called loudly for Bobbie and then immediately turned his attention back to his nephew.
Lucky was still shaking but now he made a soft, wailing sound. Tony didn't like where this seemed to be headed, and he demanded, "Give me that knife, Lucky." He held out his hand and tried to engage him with his eyes. "It's Tony. Uncle Tony." When he made one step further, Lucky rapidly changed tactics and held the sharp edge of the blade along the side of his throat, and he started laughing in a desperate, low register.
"Tony?" Bobbie voice sounded as she poked her head in the door. "Why did you…?" The words died in her mouth when she saw the sight of her nephew standing on his bed with a butcher knife rammed against his throat. He was laughing and looking like he was trying to smile through his tears. "Get my medical bag. Hurry." Tony whispered. Bobbie backed into the hall and ran down the stairs, heading for Tony's study. Once in the study, she scooped up both his bag and the portable phone that lay on the desk. When she came back to Lucky's bedroom, Tony was still trying to talk to their nephew.
"I'm not making any headway," Tony whispered. "He acts like he's afraid of me. I'm not sure he's aware of who I am. Why don't you try to break through to him, and I'm going to find that sedative in my bag, the one I brought with me to the courthouse for Luke's sentencing. I think it's still in there. Be careful. Don't get too close to him. I don't trust him with that knife." Tony took the bag and phone from Bobbie and retreated to the hall.
"Lucky?" Bobbie asked softly. She held out her hand. Harley jumped off of the bed and sauntered over to her, placing his soft muzzle into her offered hand. Lucky's lips trembled as he looked down at his deserting dog. He frowned as he stared wide-eyed at Bobbie. He still had the knife at his throat, but a new air of hesitance and uncertainty rained down on him. "It's Aunt Bobbie. Won't you come off of the bed so we can talk?"
Lucky made a choking sound, and he pressed the blade firmer against his pale skin. His eyes narrowed and took on a cold, steely determination.
Desperate to reach the boy, Bobbie said hurriedly, "Lucky, what would Luke say? Luke would want you to set that knife down. Listen to your father. Listen to Luke."
Lucky eased the knife from his throat and looked confused as his eyes roamed the room. "Dad?" he squeaked.
Confident that she was making headway with that tactic, Bobbie continued. "Yes, Lucky. Your dad wants you to set your knife down and talk to your Aunt Bobbie."
Lucky's brow knit together, and he said plaintively, "Aunt Bobbie?"
"Yes," she replied firmly. "It's me. Won't you listen to your father?"
"Dad?"
Bobbie nodded.
"I can't," Lucky pleaded. "He's going to kill me. He threatened me. He said I told."
"Who said that, Lucky?"
"Faison," Lucky gritted out. He started breathing faster, and the knife shook violently in his hand. "It's either him or me. I'm not going back!"
"Faison?" Bobbie whispered. She frowned as she thought. "Lucky, did Faison call you on the phone?"
Lucky's face collapsed as he nodded slowly. He started sobbing and lowered his head.
Bobbie took in a sharp breath as Lucky's actions forced the sharp edge of the blade closer to his jugular vein. "No! Lucky! We can talk about it. Let's sit down." She held out her hand, and Lucky stared at it. Bobbie held her breath when Lucky stumbled backward. Oh God, help me keep him safe.
"I can't," Lucky wailed. "I'll fall asleep. I can't fall asleep or he'll come. Just like last time." He made an anguished sound and rubbed his free hand over his face as the sobs coursed through his body.
"Yes, you can," Bobbie encouraged. "You can sit down, and I'll make sure you stay awake. Nothing will happen to you."
Lucky listened to her reasoning and dejectedly lowered the blade. "I don't know."
"I do," Bobbie said confidently. "Everything is going to be all right. Sit down and talk to me." She took one step further and smiled, holding out her hand. Lucky stole a glance at the blade and then at her hand, seemingly debating on giving her the knife. "Let's talk," Bobbie said again.
Lucky made his decision and handed the butcher knife to his aunt, who sighed with relief. She placed the knife far away from them on the floor. "Come on," she said as she reached out her hand and pulled Lucky down. They both sat down on the bed, and Lucky collapsed against his aunt. He shook with fear, and she placed an arm around him as he leaned his head against her shoulder. "I see you set up a trap for Faison," she said, trying to get him to talk and explain himself. "Only it was Tony who walked into the room."
"Uncle Tony?" Lucky asked with a trace of bewilderment.
"Yes."
Tony entered the room and placed the syringe in his pocket when it looked like the high-powered sedative might not be necessary after all. Bobbie looked up. "Faison called and threatened him apparently," she said in a low voice, as she rubbed Lucky's back, trying to calm him. "He's been holding a vigil waiting for him. He's afraid to go to sleep."
Tony squatted down in front of Lucky so that they could see each other at eye level. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked. Lucky shook his head and buried his face in Bobbie's arm. Tony's eyes met Bobbie's, and he spoke again. "Lucky, my brother Frisco called me the other night. He said that they've been tracking Faison. They're close to capturing him." Lucky turned his face with real interest and looked into his uncle's eyes. "The house is being watched and guarded now. They knew that Faison would probably try to contact you, but I thought we had time. Frisco will be here tomorrow for the wedding this weekend. I wanted him to explain to you what his plan was for capturing Faison. Obviously Faison knows his time in the free world is limited, so he tried to scare you. I'm sorry we weren't able to warn you. Can you forgive us? I'm so sorry."
"The WSB is going to protect me?" Lucky asked.
Tony nodded. "Yes."
Lucky sat up away from Bobbie and ran his hand over his eyes. "I'm so tired. I thought you were Faison. I saw him come into my room."
"I know," Tony replied.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you," Lucky explained. "I didn't know who you were."
Tony frowned. "Why did you threaten to harm yourself? We were really scared for you."
"I'm not going back." Lucky said in a loud, tense voice with flashing eyes. "Either he dies or I do. That's it. I'm not going back to that compound. No one can make me. I'm not going."
Tony patted Lucky on the knee. "I understand. Why don't you take a shower? Kevin's going to meet us at the outpatient clinic before we head for the day center, okay? He just wants to know that you're feeling all right."
Lucky sighed deeply and held the heel of his hands against his eyes. "I hate that place."
"I know," Tony said sympathetically. "But it won't be that bad. Get cleaned up and join us downstairs for breakfast. Do you feel well enough to do that?"
Lucky nodded wordlessly. His eyes fell on his dog, and he asked, "What about Harley? He needs his walk."
"We can walk Harley tonight, okay?"
"Okay," Lucky agreed. He rose from the bed. "I gotta shave."
~*~*~*~
When Lucky left the room, Tony sat on the bed beside Bobbie. "Do you think it's wise to just let him be by himself in the bathroom?" Bobbie questioned. "I'm really scared for him. You saw the look in his eyes."
"And the knife," Tony stated as he bent down to pick up the blade. He surveyed the room. "He built up quite a defense system in here. It must have taken him an hour to locate this stuff and set it up. But I think whatever it was that had him in its grip has passed."
"Why didn't he talk to us as soon as he received the phone call? I don't understand, Tony. This is confusing me. Why didn't he come to us for help?"
"Maybe he was trying to protect us? I don't know. I talked to Kevin briefly. He was quite concerned. That's why I'm taking him to the clinic. They have beds if he needs to be inpatient for a day or two. Hopefully Kevin can sort out his behavior. I know I sure can't."
"I knew we should have told him about this before," Bobbie said shortly.
"Oh, rub the guilt in, why don't you?" Tony snapped back, his nerves frazzled and on edge. He hopped off of the bed and began pacing with one hand on his hip. "Life's feeling real difficult right now. Let's give each other some room for error. Nobody has all the answers."
Silence grew between the couple, and neither spoke for a minute. Bobbie stood up. "I need to finish dressing," she said evenly.
"I'll go round us up some breakfast," Tony sighed.
~*~*~*~
Tony poured five bowls of Corn Flakes and set them around the table. Three unhappy faces looked back at him, and he waved at them annoyedly. "Eat. And I don't want to hear any whining. I'm not in the mood." He placed a half-gallon of milk on the table and instructed, "Pass it around."
Lucas glanced at his father. "Um, dad? Can we have spoons?"
Tony looked at his son and couldn't resist laughing. He opened up the utensil drawer and grabbed a handful of spoons. "Oh, picky, picky," he joked.
Lucky didn't say one word, and all articles passed on to him stopped there without him touching them. Tony walked over, poured the milk on his cereal and opened Lucky's hand, inserting a spoon in it. "Eat," he instructed as he rummaged around for a juice glass to fill for Lucky to drink with his medications. Unfortunately, Lucky had taken every available juice glass into his room the prior evening, and Tony had to settle for a coffee mug. He poured some orange juice into the mug and placed it before Lucky along with five pills. "Take your pills."
Lucky sat still with the spoon upright in his hand. He finally set the spoon down and grabbed the pills, shoving them in his mouth. He picked up the mug and tried to swallow. He choked the pills down, but not before spraying the orange juice from his mouth over the expanse of table in front of him. Lucas' eyes widened, and he laughed merrily, joined by Lulu. "Lucky spit up on purpose," he tattled delightedly. Lulu giggled behind a hand covering her mouth.
Orange juice dribbled down Lucky's chin, and when Tony turned to see what the ruckus was, he frowned and took a paper napkin, first wiping off his nephew's face and then the table. "What's the matter?" he asked. "You need to drink some more with those pills." Lucky took another sip and splattered that one out of his mouth as well. He frowned. "It's poisoned," he declared. "I can't drink it. It won't go down."
"Lucky," Tony stated with exasperation.
"You're trying to poison me!" Lucky insisted angrily. Tony didn't know that Luke had forced Lucky to drink orange juice soon after his return from Faison's compound, and that the juice had been drugged to enable them to take Lucky to the hospital. "You're trying to make me sleep. I won't!" Lucky glowered at his uncle, but Tony shrugged. He took the mug from Lucky and filled a glass with water. "Here. Fresh from the tap." Lucky took the water, and still with a frown on his face, he carefully sipped it while watching Tony with narrowed eyes. A trickle of the water went down the wrong way, and Lucky coughed repeatedly while he glared at Tony. Feeling overwhelmed, he began crying as well as coughing and lowered his head to the wooden table.
When Bobbie entered the kitchen, Tony was standing at the sink eating a bowlful of cereal, Lucas and Lulu were looking solemn and unsatisfied with soggy, uneaten bowls of flakes, and Lucky was sobbing with his head down on the table. She placed her hands on her hips and frowned. "So this is the great breakfast you fixed?" she snipped. Tony banged his nearly empty bowl of cereal into the sink and left the kitchen without saying a word. Bobbie raised her eyes to the ceiling and moaned. "Pre-wedding jitters?" she asked no one in particular.
~*~*~*~
Parking lot, Outpatient clinic
Tony reached into his pocket and produced a comb. "Come here," he sighed as he took hold of Lucky's arm. "You've not been combing your hair again. It's a mess." Lucky remained sullen and silent as Tony raked the comb through his hair. "There, that's better," Tony announced in a parental tone. Lucky reached up a hand and ruffled the side of his hair, making it stand out from his head. He smiled at Tony, who gave him a dirty look in return. "Spencers," he muttered under his breath.
~*~*~*~
Tony sat in the waiting area of the outpatient mental health clinic, perusing a two-year-old magazine about sailing and boating, an activity that he'd never engaged in. Every once in awhile he looked around the room and felt spooked by his previous memories of the place back when he'd taken his nephew here after Lucky had cut himself following his assault at GH. That was almost nine months ago, he reflected. A lot has happened since then. He glanced at his watch. Kevin has been with him for forty minutes. What's going on? Tony's mind shifted to his neurology practice, grateful that he had partners to handle the occasional appointment that he was forced to miss because of Lucky's illnesses and the continual drama in the Spencer family.
Tony's face relaxed with relief when he saw Kevin walking toward him carrying two large coffees. "Hi Tony. Let's go to the conference room," Kevin suggested as he handed a steaming coffee cup to Tony.
Tony accepted the coffee and raised it in a pseudo-toast. "Staff of life," he kidded.
"You've got that right," Kevin laughed as the two men walked down the corridor.
Tony and Kevin settled into comfortable upholstered chairs and placed their coffees on the end table that separated them. "How's my nephew?" Tony asked with a tight voice.
"It's good that you called me and brought him here," Kevin stated. "He's not completely oriented to his surroundings and his thought processes are disordered. His lack of sleep can account for some of it, but frankly, he was headed straight toward another psychotic episode." Kevin stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The on-call physician examined him and placed him on an IV for hydration. We're administering medication to prevent any more mental deterioration. We'll keep him here overnight, and then he can probably go back to the day center tomorrow morning."
A few tears glistened in Tony's eyes, and he coughed them away. "What caused this, Kevin? I thought he was getting better."
"Stress," Kevin replied. "Stress from leaving the hospital, starting a new program, losing a girlfriend, experiencing another seizure, threats from a madman. All of this within a period of a few days." He made a face and shook his head. "I was concerned about the Faison situation for good reason." Kevin took a sip from his coffee cup. "I spoke to the day center personnel, and they were concerned about Lucky's behavior yesterday. In fact, they had planned to call me this morning, only I beat them to it."
"He complained to me that he had a terrible day yesterday," Tony commented. "I told him to cheer up. Does that make me an insensitive boob?"
"Hardly," Kevin replied. "Lucky is responsible for the success of his days, not you."
"He told me that it was all building up on him - the brain diseases as he called them."
Kevin nodded. "They're temporarily pulling him out of group therapy and refocusing his time on stress management, communication, and skills development. They also have evening programs occasionally. I'd suggest that he continue to attend those after he leaves the day program. He needs the support. And, Tony, I don't think that it's a good idea for Lucky to combine his academic studies with a full-time job at this point. I'd rather he didn't work during his first semester if he's financially able."
"His brother Nikolas paid his hospital bill and his schooling for four years," Tony commented. "And the school refunded the one semester's tuition that he'd already paid. He has decent savings. I think he'll be okay for now." Tony gulped down his coffee and rubbed his neck. "Kevin, is this what we can expect from now on - an ongoing string of psychotic episodes? Is Lucky ever going to get better? You don't know what it was like to see him holding that butcher knife to his throat. I think it shaved ten years off of my life. And that look in his eyes. It was scary and creepy."
"Tony, his prognosis is mixed," Kevin explained. "You should consider that he has a chronic mental illness. It won't be totally cured and require no attention or medication in the future, but at the same time, it's not hopeless, and it can be controlled so that he can lead a somewhat normal life. Will he become psychotic again? Maybe. If we can train him to look out for himself, manage stress effectively, and be open with others when he has symptoms that point to a relapse, then we can forestall a florid psychotic episode that calls for inpatient hospitalization. Lucky achieved good social and occupational skill levels before the onset of his illness. This improves his long-term prognosis. However, the long delay in diagnosing and properly treating his initial psychotic episode may cause Lucky to have more frequent relapses in the future. I'm sorry, but there are no firm answers to your questions. Each case is unique to the individual."
Tony's face looked sad and resigned. "So he's only going to be here today and tonight?"
Kevin nodded. "It will allow us to adjust his medications and observe his behavior in a controlled environment. Plus, he needs to sleep. He indicated that he felt safer here, that this Faison person wouldn't look for him in this place."
"This madman is a real threat, Kevin. That's what makes me so angry," Tony stated. He sighed and drained the rest of his coffee. "My brother will be in town tomorrow. Hopefully he'll have good news and be able to calm some of Lucky's fears. Not to mention they'll be bunking together. I wonder if I should tell Frisco about the butcher knife?" Tony's eyes twinkled. "Nah," he said. "Let the big time WSB agent defend himself."
Kevin laughed. "Keep your sense of humor, Tony. It's a valuable commodity."
"Funny, that's the exact same thing I told Lucky yesterday."
~*~*~*~
Tony walked into the room at the back of the clinic. It was a small, private room, one of two in the building. The lights were turned off, and there was only the cast light from the hallway to illuminate the spartan interior.
Lucky was lying on his side, curled up tight with his left hand held gingerly over the top of his body in order not to disturb the IV site puncturing his vein. His eyes were open, but he was barely awake.
"Hey Lucky," Tony said quietly. "How are you feeling?"
Lucky blinked slowly. "Tony?"
Tony sat down on a metal chair. "It's me," he answered.
I'm tired," Lucky replied in a voice made hoarse from lack of sleep.
"Why don't you close your eyes and sleep?"
"I can't," Lucky said breathlessly. "I can't or he'll come."
"You told Kevin that you felt safer here."
"I do, but nowhere's safe," Lucky said dejectedly. "He's everywhere."
"Frisco's going to be in town tomorrow. He'll explain to you all the safety measures they have to protect you. You're going to be fine."
"I don't know," Lucky replied sadly. He sighed and shifted in the bed. "When can I leave here?"
Tony frowned. "Didn't Kevin tell you?"
"Oh, yeah, tomorrow morning. But I want to go home now."
"I thought you felt better here," Tony tried to clarify. His nephew's logic was taking him down a winding path, so he redirected the conversation. "The doctor said you were dehydrated. You haven't been drinking enough water. Why not?"
"I can't remember to drink. There's too much going on. It's confusing." Lucky suddenly sat up and looked around.
"But you're so careful to make sure that your dog is watered and taken care of," Tony pointed out. "Why won't you do the same for yourself?"
"Harley," Lucky said. "Who's going to take care of him? He needs his walk tonight."
"I'll give him a nice walk," Tony promised. "Don't worry."
"But I want him with me on my bed," Lucky protested. "Harley!"
Tony's face grew tense as he recalled Kevin describing the fact that Lucky was disoriented to his surroundings. "Harley's at home. We're at the outpatient clinic."
"Oh," Lucky said, turning his head to look at the IV. "Why am I here? Who hooked me up?"
"They're giving you fluids to rehydrate you and medicine so you'll feel better."
"I'm not sick! They're not giving me sleeping pills are they? I can't fall asleep. You know that. I told you that, Tony." Lucky started breathing faster and widened his eyes, trying to keep them from closing. His hands were held out tensely from his sides.
Tony ran a hand over his face, trying to relieve his frustration. "Kevin didn't mention any sleeping pills," Tony answered honestly. Truthfully, he was unaware of the exact medications Lucky was receiving.
"Good."
"Why don't you lie back down?" Tony asked. "You'll be more comfortable. I have lots of wedding plans to talk to you about so you might as well settle in."
Lucky complied with a sigh. He laid his head on the pillow and wrapped his right arm around his head.
"Close your eyes for a minute," Tony said gently. "I need you to envision what I'm describing."
Lucky closed his eyes and said, "Okay, what am I looking at?"
Tony rolled his eyes as he tried to determine what he could ramble on about in order to bore his nephew to sleep. While he was thinking, he noticed that Lucky's hair seemed longish to him with the back of it curling down his neck. "Are you going to cut your hair before Saturday?" he asked.
Lucky shook his head on the pillow. "No," he answered sleepily. "I'm going to grow it out again. No more short hair."
Tony's eyebrows rose. "Your Aunt Bobbie sure liked your new short haircut."
"Aunt Bobbie's old," Lucky mumbled. "She's doesn't know what looks cool."
Tony's face turned red as he stifled his laughter. "Don't let her hear you say that. She'll scalp you bald."
"Not if she can't catch me."
Tony heard the trailing of Lucky's words and knew that he was near sleep. He sat watching his nephew for a minute or two until Lucky's regular breathing heralded the fact that he'd indeed fallen asleep. Good, kid. You get your rest. Tony rose from his seat and very quietly tiptoed out of the room.
~*~*~*~
5:30PM
Tony carried an Eli's carryout bag with him through the halls of the outpatient clinic. He stopped a nurse to talk about Lucky before entering his nephew's room. "My nephew is Lucky Spencer. He's staying here overnight. How's he been today?"
The nurse laughed. "He's a handful, that one. For some reason he decided this afternoon that he was going to run off to Canada. He talked a lot about his dad and how he said you always have to keep moving when there's danger. I wasn't sure whether or not to believe him when he explained that he'd been to foreign countries all over the world."
"Believe him. He's been everywhere. He had no stable upbringing until his tenth year. His parents were the proverbial rolling stones."
"Well, we finally convinced him that he needed to stay here overnight. He said he'd consider Canada tomorrow."
"I have his favorite food with me," Tony stated as he held up the bag from Eli's. "Mind if I give it to him?"
"Go right ahead. I'm sure he'll be happy to have it."
~*~*~*~
"You're awake." Tony entered Lucky's room and set the food down on the nightstand beside him.
Lucky muted the television set and smiled when he saw the Eli's bag. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked merrily. "Thank you."
"Yep. Special junk food order for Mr. Lucky Spencer."
Lucky made a face. "Ribs aren't junk food. They're good old fashioned protein."
"It seems like you feel better," Tony commented.
"Not really, but I'm pretending," Lucky replied. "I think I need to blow this joint and get on the road. Then I can stay ahead of Faison. I'm a sitting duck here. I can't stay."
"There are WSB guards nearby," Tony said. "I called Frisco and let him know you were here. You're safe."
A shadow of fear crossed Lucky's face, leaving him looking tense and drained. He held a hand to his forehead. "I've never been able to shake him," he stated nervously. Lucky constantly surveyed the room and hallway with uncertainty. "He never left." Lucky's wide eyes locked into Tony's concerned ones.
"I don't understand. What do you mean, Lucky?"
Lucky's voice lowered to a whisper. "Everywhere I go, he follows me around. Faison. I can't get him out of my head."
"In what way?" Tony was still confused as to where Lucky was heading with the conversation.
Lucky looked down at the bed and plucked at the blanket with his fingers. "I used to have those flashbacks a lot, remember? Like I'd relive the bad stuff that happened to me. Kevin and I kind of worked through that stuff, and I stopped having them." Lucky's voice took on a fearful quiver, and his forehead wrinkled. "But I can still hear Faison in my brain. He taunts me all the time. It drives me nuts and makes me feel like he's always watching me and listening to what I say."
"Have you shared this with Kevin?"
"Yeah."
"What did he say?"
"He says it'll get better soon. That I won't hear Faison as much after I've been taking my medications longer. I believed him, but now I'm not so sure. What if Faison implanted something in my brain, and he can monitor what I say or put ideas in my head? Maybe that's why I started having seizures."
"Faison is mainly an obnoxious jerk, nothing else," Tony stated plainly. "He doesn't have any special powers other than using force against a person. He doesn't have any special technology. You don't have to give him your power - your thoughts and feelings. I agree with Kevin. If we can find the right combination of drugs for you, then many of your symptoms will be reduced."
Lucky continued to look worried as he glanced around the room. "I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin, Tony. My thoughts are all over the place, and I'm antsy. I want to take off. Canada is looking real good. I was feeling better before, so why is everything falling apart again? I'm scared. What's happening to me?"
"Lucky, you had too much on your plate and became overloaded. You need to take it easy, not start so many new activities all at once. The symptoms of your illness flare up again if you become stressed. The day center programs should help you to recognize those feelings and deal with them before you're overwhelmed. That'll prevent things from getting out of hand. Oh, and they did pull you out of group therapy, by the way. Does that make you happy?"
Lucky grinned devilishly. "Yeah. It does. I can't stand talking about myself around other people. It drives me crazy."
Tony smiled at Lucky's choice of words. "Does this mean that you're going to work extra hard at the activities that they do plan for you? They're being awfully nice to you by dropping you from the group and designing a special program for your needs."
Lucky nodded. "I know. I'll try harder. I will, Tony."
~*~*~*~
Lucky lay back in bed, feeling satiated from his Eli's dinner of ribs and French fries, and sliding towards sleep. He fingered the IV site on his hand, thinking about how that nurse had injected stuff into it a couple of times. He wondered idly if they were trying to make him sleep - it seemed like he'd slept most of the day away, and now he could hardly stay awake. He yawned and ran a hand over his tired face. No group session tomorrow. He smiled. Too bad. I was going to have to kick that George guy's ass if he didn't shut up about Lucas Lorenzo Spencer and the murder. I wonder if I could kill somebody like my dad did. Could I kill Faison? Lucky's face tightened into an angry mask. I guess we'll find out.
~*~*~*~
"Did you ever notice that you Spencers attract trouble?" Tony teased as he poured a glass of wine for Bobbie.
Bobbie looked quizzical and laughed lightly as she accepted the red wine and took a sip. "Trouble and Spencers? I thought they were intertwined, inseparable. Trouble is our middle name."
"Oh, I assumed that was Lorenzo," Tony joked. His eyebrows rose. "For the males that is." He joined Bobbie at the small two-seater table nestled in one corner of their master suite. Two slices of chocolate cheesecake lay on fancy porcelain on top of the white linen tablecloth, and Tony handed one to Bobbie.
"This early honeymoon idea is brilliant," Bobbie purred as she batted her eyes at her fiancé.
Tony appreciatively drank in the sight of his bride to be as his eyes registered the curves of Bobbie's red silk draped figure. "Every night with you is a honeymoon," he murmured.
"Mmmmm, this cheesecake is heavenly," Bobbie sighed. "Yummy."
Tony took a bite of the cheesecake and smiled. "I bet the kids are going to loving their Jungle Kingdom trip with the Garcias. And with Lucky in the clinic tonight, well, the opportunity presented itself."
Bobbie nodded. "We'll need to be careful to nurture ourselves and our marriage. We're being pulled in many directions. I don't ever want to lose the closeness that we've recaptured."
Tony encircled Bobbie's small, soft hand with his larger hand and squeezed. "I don't intend to ever let you go, Barbara Jean Spencer." He winked and sat back in his chair. "I think we're going to need help dealing with Lucky," he stated as he folded a white linen napkin over his black, silk pajamaed lap. He picked up his silver fork and inserted it into his cheesecake. "Kevin gave me a list of support groups for families with mentally ill loved ones. We need to look it over and choose a group. Evenings like this are great, but we need day to day support, people we can call for suggestions or a pat on the back if the going gets rough. It'll be difficult to raise two young children and at the same time help Lucky recover and stabilize. Not to mention we both have challenging careers."
Bobbie's face looked sad, and she gave Tony a small smile. "You're right." Tears built up in her eyes, and she wiped them away, taking in a deep breath. "We need to prevent meltdowns like Lucky had this morning. I want to hear what other people are experiencing. This has been such a lonely time. I feel like we're the only ones going through this, but I know we're not."
Tony rose from his chair and held a hand out to Bobbie. He pulled her close, luxuriating in the fresh scent of her auburn curls and the soft silky feel of her white skin. "You always have me, Bobbie." He leaned in for a light kiss that deepened and filled with desire, passion, and warmth. When their kiss ended, Bobbie looked deep into Tony's eyes and whispered, "I love you."
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