Devolution TOC

Chapter 110

Next morning...

Lucky's head was bent forward as if he were concentrating on an important task when he really was intently picking at the ragged cuticles that framed his nailbeds. His mouth was open slightly, and his breathing was quick and shallow. He jumped when the driver's side door opened abruptly, and Tony piled into the seat.

"Special order," Tony announced merrily, shaking the bag in his hand. Lucky glanced at him without smiling, and then returned to picking at his hands.

Lucky accepted a large coffee and mumbled, "We're gonna explode and die. Our arteries are clogging up so bad that the pressure is building. Kaboom!"

"I prefer Marcus Taggert's interpretation," Tony teased. He made a gripping motion with his fist and hissed loudly. "Shut those arteries down, old man."

Lucky shrugged and remained silent. He dug into the bag and pulled out a white powdered donut, taking a large bite out of it and chewing morosely. He took a large swig of his coffee and giggled.

"What's so funny, Lucky?" Tony inquired. "Share the humor. I could use a laugh this morning, and you've been quiet since I picked you up at the outpatient clinic."

Lucky shook his head. "I'm not supposed to have caffeine," he spoke in a singsong voice. "Caffeine's a drug." He darted his eyes over to his uncle and smirked. "You've been giving me coffee every morning, and I'm not supposed to have it." Lucky laughed merrily and sucked down more coffee, pausing to reach for a Dunkin' Donuts napkin to wipe off his white sugar mustache.

"What are you talking about?" Tony frowned with confusion. "I thought that was just hospital policy."

"Locked mental ward you mean?" Lucky questioned as his eyes darkened. "Don't give them any stimulants. The natives might get restless." He continued chewing in silence.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I've been making decaffeinated coffee in the morning. I've been trying to cut back," Tony explained. "And, the Dunkin' Donuts coffee has no caffeine in it either," he said, pointing toward Lucky's Styrofoam cup.

Lucky placed his coffee in a cupholder and turned away, curling up his body and nestling into the door. Tony looked at him and felt nervous, as if he didn't know what to say to his nephew or what to make of his behavior. What was the right thing to say or do? Their conversations in the hospital had taken on a natural rhythm with an easy flow, but Lucky had had a regular routine then. Now with Lucky home, a dizzying array of emotions and problems presented themselves. Tony wondered if they could keep up. Maybe that's exactly how Lucky felt - overwhelmed and underqualified. Tony let out a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair as he concentrated on his driving.

"Did Emily call while I was gone last night?" Lucky asked over his shoulder.

Tony's heart sank. "No, Lucky, she didn't call."

"Oh," Lucky said emotionlessly. He leaned his forehead against the window glass and spaced out as the landscape swam by his vision. Shades of green, brown and gray whizzed by his eyes, but he didn't bother to identify their shapes. He felt a sad yearning taking over his body, and he numbed down his feelings to avoid the pain.

Tony pulled into the appropriate outlying GH parking lot and stopped at the door of the day facility. "We're here," he announced. "I'll be picking you up two hours early today, remember? We'll be meeting Frisco at the airport."

"Yeah," Lucky replied. He opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement without saying goodbye. Tony reached over and pulled on the door handle to shut the car door. He watched Lucky walk slowly and mechanically to the day facility. Lucky flung open the door, causing it to bang against the building, and entered.

~*~*~*~

Lucky sat in a comfortable blue upholstered chair in the audiovisual room with three other people, two males in their early twenties and one woman in her late twenties. Everyone was watching a videotaped scene where a young man approached a subway station but couldn't find the correct train. He held a piece of paper in his hand with the name of the route but looked confused as many people rushed past him. The rehabilitation therapist paused the television.

"How is this man feeling?" she asked. "No right or wrong answers, just what you perceive."

The young woman spoke up first. "He's upset because he's lost."

Lucky made a face and slumped down in his seat.

"He knows he's in trouble now. He's pissed off," one young man observed.

Lucky set his face and refused to look at anyone or answer. The therapist glanced at him, noting his extreme discomfort with the situation.

The second young man laughed. "His old lady's gonna kick his ass cause he forgot to buy her flowers."

Lucky laughed delightedly, paused and then laughed some more. He smiled at the guy with the imagination. He lowered his head and started pulling at his hangnails, causing them to bleed. He sucked the blood off of one finger and reluctantly raised his eyes with his finger trapped in his mouth when the therapist addressed him. "What's your opinion, Lucky?" she asked in a neutral, encouraging voice.

Lucky looked stricken at first to be addressed by his name, and he set his face with a stubborn look. His eyes swept by the therapist, and he shrugged. A long minute crept by, and he became increasingly uneasy. "I don't know," he said loudly, his face turning red as the others looked at him. He turned away and his knee started jiggling with nervous energy.

"This isn't a test. No one will judge you for your opinion. I'm interested. How do you think this man feels?"

Lucky redirected his eyes to the screen and noted the creased forehead of the man and the masses of people around him. The man seemed to stand out in the crowd, not really a part of the group. "He wants to run away from all of those people," he answered. "They make him nervous so he can't think." Lucky straightened up in his seat and smirked at the man with the imagination. "He's so fucking nervous he forgot that he was supposed to take a cab. He's hosed." Lucky laughed loudly. Maybe this game wasn't so bad after all.

"There are many different ways to react to a situation. This man is in a public place, but he isn't sure which train to take," the therapist explained. "When I start the tape again, we'll show you one way for him to solve his problem. "What do you think his next move should be? What can he do?"

The young woman raised her hand and spoke first again. "He should ask someone nearby, someone who looks friendly, where his train is."

The therapist nodded. "Any other opinions?"

"He can go back to the board and read it again to see if he made a mistake," one man added.

"He should get on the train. They'll tell him eventually which one it is and then he can get off later if he has to. Or he can ride around the whole track until they come to the spot. He'd better bring something to read," the imaginative man offered.

Lucky smiled broadly. "He's an idiot. Everyone knows it's better to take a cab in New York City. There aren't any trains in Port Charles, so it's irrelevant."

The rehabilitation therapist laughed lightly. "This isn't a critique of his intelligence or the situation in general. We're trying to find some positive ways to solve problems. This is merely an example."

Lucky scowled and draped his leg over one arm of the chair. "Stupid," he muttered under his breath.

"Let's watch the rest of the tape," the therapist stated as she pressed the on button.

The man looked around and then marched back to the board. He looked down at his train schedule, but shook his head when he didn't see what he was looking for. He glanced at the people walking by him and gently tapped a businessman on the shoulder. "Excuse me. I'm looking for the Blue line, but I don't see it on this board." The businessman stopped and smiled. "That's because you're on the wrong side of the track." He pointed behind the man and explained, "Walk down those stairs and then take a right. It'll lead you to the other side. Good luck." The man smiled and nodded, and he walked to the stairs, hopping down them on his way to his destination.

The therapist turned off the tape and smiled. "As you can see, this man used several of your suggestions. Sometimes you need a repertoire of solutions. If one doesn't work, then you can try another. The key is not to give up if the first solution doesn't meet your needs. Be persistent."

"Yeah, but that's not real life," Lucky protested. "In real life, there'd be all these homeless people pestering him for money. And, if he touched that business dude, the guy might push him onto the tracks, and then where would he be? He's better off keeping to himself and figuring it out on his own. You can't trust people. Especially in a big city."

The imaginative guy picked up on Lucky's vibe and rolled with it. "That business guy could be an ax murderer. He'd give him the wrong directions and then creep up behind him when he was distracted. It happens every day."

"Listen to him," Lucky continued as he gestured toward his new buddy with an extended thumb. "Don't be a crime statistic, a dead body lying in the morgue, unidentified and mutilated because you have no head."

~*~*~*~

Lucky sat alone in the day facility cafeteria area munching on a hot dog. He quickly finished it and reached for a second one. Most people were in groups of two or three, but Lucky had chosen an out of the way spot to settle into.

"It's the ax murderer dude," the young man said as he sat across from Lucky and laid down his tray.

Lucky looked up, prepared to protest the destruction of his solitude, but he smiled instead. It was the imaginative guy from the rehabilitation session. "Gotta stay on your toes," he said lightly.

"Otherwise, you'll end up in the morgue."

"Right," Lucky said as he wagged a French fry in the direction of his companion.

"Too bad there aren't any cute girls in this program," the imaginative guy commented.

Lucky made a face. "They're all too old. Besides, I have a girlfriend."

The other guy nodded as he opened up a package of potato chips. "My name's Michael," he offered.

Lucky sipped his Coke and set it back down. "Lucky Spencer."

"So how long are you in for?" Michael asked with a grin.

Lucky rolled his eyes. "This prison? I have five more weeks. I can't believe it."

Michael nodded. "I'm in for another four weeks. I've already served two."

Lucky shook his head. "Man, how can you take it? I'm always ready to bolt. This therapy stuff is so lame."

"Makes them feel better, like they're doing something to protect society."

Lucky's lips tightened, and he grew quiet. "Sometimes it's the other way around. Society is screwed up, not you."

Michael laughed. "Got that right." He bit into an apple and noisily chewed.

Lucky looked with curiosity at his companion, who appeared to be about twenty years old. "So how'd you end up here? Where were you before?"

"Some private place, Fairlawn Hills. Have you heard of it?"

Lucky shook his head. "I was at General Hospital. My aunt and uncle work here. Hell, I used to work at GH." He rolled his eyes. "That was another life."

"My parents have money," Michael commented lightly. "Only the best looney bin for their son."

Lucky laughed. "You're crazy.'

"So they say," Michael replied with a lopsided grin.

"I can't even remember most of the last year," Lucky sighed. He resumed eating his hot dog.

"I was doing okay, living in the dorm at college. Then things got intense, and they carted me off. End of story."

"What'd you do?" Lucky asked.

"Other than trashing the dorm room? Oh, I stopped attending classes and kind of hung out on the streetcorners on campus yelling at people. I was the religious dude. I'd get mad when people wouldn't listen and started throwing bibles at them. They finally called the cops when my aim got better." Michael made a sailing motion toward his head with a cupped hand. "Those poor sorority girls were walking around with black eyes."

Lucky cracked up. "Too bad you didn't whack my ex-girlfriend." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I've seen the religious dude. He used to hang out across from our school. Only he didn't look like you. I think he was a little more seasoned."

"What's your story?"

Lucky shrugged. "Hmmm…other than the alcoholism and the drug addictions? I tried to off myself and when I finally woke up, after they shocked me, I found out I'd become a lunatic."

"That's intense," Michael commented as his understanding green eyes met Lucky's blue ones.

"Yeah," Lucky agreed. "Apparently I screamed for about two weeks straight. As soon as the drugs would wear off, I'd start it up again. I'm so tanked up on legal drugs I'm surprised I'm still walking. How about you? Are you a walking pharmacy?"

"Not too bad. I take two medications."

"Oh shit, I have five now. They keep adding them to my repertoire."

~*~*~*~

Lucky stood outside by himself in a sheltered area near one of the clinic doors. He reached for another cigarette, his twelfth that day. It was only two o'clock, and already he'd smoked half a pack. He wondered where his so-called WSB guards were. It might be nice if he could actually see a body. He knew he should cut back on the cigarettes, but he was on edge, the anxiety worming through his body, setting his reflexes on fire. His eyes carefully scanned the horizon for any movement. His hand trembled as he brought the cigarette to his lips again, and he took a deep drag off of it. I'm hooked, he thought. I'm totally hooked. Smoking seemed to dull his anxiety but only to a certain point where the sweet spot dimmed and turned the corner, plunging him right back into a worse version of his shaking, nervous self. I'm not doing myself any favors with this. I know I'm using them like a drug. Shit. Kevin was right. Amazing! Figure that. But Faison is after me, and I'm screwed. I'm dead. He won't stop until he destroys me. Doesn't he know that he's already accomplished that? I'm dead. Lucky Spencer doesn't exist anymore. I ought to take a new name. Avoid embarrassing my father by using his name. But then his name hasn't done me any favors either. Lucky's mind recalled the young black man who had accused him of being his murderous father.

Lucky placed the remainder of his pack of cigarettes into his jeans pocket and stuffed his lighter in the other pocket. That Michael guy was pretty nice. Seemed normal to me. It's been a long time since I've hung out with a guy and had a few laughs. He chuckled and leaned against the building, kicking his foot against the red bricked surface. They'll probably separate us now since we're troublemakers. Just like in school. Damn, I had a big mouth. I was always in trouble for smarting off. How many times did I have detention?

A small animal, a squirrel probably, rustled noisily through the underbrush near a large tree that formed a green, leafy canopy near the door to the clinic. Lucky's radar went on full alert and his eyes rapidly surveyed the area as his stomach painfully stabbed him. He breathed in with rapid pants and felt near a panic attack. He tried to control his breathing like Kevin had taught him, and it seemed to work until he heard the voice. Lucky, poor idiot Lucky, the Danish voice mocked in his brain. "I should go back into the building," Lucky said aloud.

~*~*~*~

Lucky walked stiffly down the hallway of the day center clinic with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. A few drops of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he was forced to remove one of his hands from a pocket to swipe at his eyebrows before the drops dripped into his eyes. His face was masklike with his efforts to control his emotions. The force of stuffing down his rising hysteria gave him a headache and made him dizzy. When he neared his destination, he moaned out loud and placed a hand over his stomach. He started jogging and finally reached the men's room. He yanked open the door and groaned when he fell to his knees in front of an open stall.

The floor grew blurry in his vision, and he panted as he gripped the toilet bowl, waiting for the inevitable. He vomited repeatedly with such violence that he surprised himself. He dropped back onto his rear and leaned his hot cheek against the cool metal side of the stall. Oh God, I'm so sick. Not again, not again. After resting for several minutes, he rose unsteadily and leaned against the stall for support. He walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face, raising his head to look into the mirror. A sad, pale face stared back at him, and he noted the dark circles under his eyes. Lucky wiped his face off with a towel and turned to leave the room. He walked to a nearby water fountain and bent to take in a long drink. As he was drinking, he heard Faison taunt him again. Why bother to run? I'm not going anywhere Master Spencer. Water shot out of Lucky's mouth, and he wrapped his arms protectively across his chest as he leaned against the wall. He looked up and down the corridor and made a high pitched whimpering sound. His eyes filled with tears as he stared at the floor.

Lucky made a decision to find help, and he ran to the main area where there were two nurses behind a counter. He was shaking with big eyes and a scared look plastered across his face. "I need help," he said tensely. He tried to smile, but it looked like a grimace. His eyes constantly moved, surveying his surroundings. One nurse walked over to him and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I need a tranquilizer. I need to talk to Kevin, to Kevin. Uh, Dr. Collins."

"Is he your psychiatrist?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lucky answered. "I'm sick, I'm so sick, and he's after me. You gotta help me." Lucky's mind suddenly went back to the discussion that morning about the subway man. He laughed when he realized that he was doing exactly what he'd advised against. He shook his head, not realizing that the nurse was trying to talk to him. He jumped and yelped when she touched his arm.

"Don't touch me," he whined as he backed away from her. His eyes filled with tears. "He's going to kill me. He said he would and I can't see any guards." The nurse asked him the question again, and he stuttered, "What? What? Oh, Lucky Spencer - that's my name." The other nurse behind the desk picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Lucky, why don't we go to a more private room away from all this noise," the nurse suggested gently as she cautiously placed a hand on Lucky's shoulder. Lucky wordlessly walked with the nurse toward the same room where he'd recuperated from his seizure. "I've been here before," he said. He sat down on the bed and hugged himself as he began rocking. "He said he was going to kill me, but he already did it. Why does he want to do it again?" I love to torture you, sweet Lucky. "No!" Lucky cried out, holding his head in his hands. "Leave me alone! I'm going to kill you. I'm not going back." He flopped over on his side and sobbed. "I want Kevin," he muttered. "I don't feel good."

The nurse quietly told him that they'd called Kevin.

"Okay," Lucky said, taking in measured breaths and trying to calm down. He remained on his side, relieved to lay down his aching head.

The other nurse came into the room with a syringe and spoke in a low tone. "I talked to Dr. Collins. He ordered this sedative. He'll be down when he's finished with his appointment. Apparently, this boy does have someone who wishes to harm him, so he's not making it up. The situation is interfering with his recovery."

The nurse accepted the syringe and approached Lucky. "Lucky, Dr. Collins ordered a sedative for you. I need to inject it."

Lucky stirred on the bed. "Okay." He remained still as the nurse swabbed his arm and gave him an IM injection.

"Dr. Collins will be down in a few minutes."

Lucky didn't reply. His eyes were closed, and he started relaxing.

~*~*~*~

"He fell asleep soon after he received the sedative," the nurse told Kevin. "I didn't want to wake him. He's been like this for about thirty minutes."

Kevin pulled up a chair beside Lucky's bed and observed him for a few seconds. Lucky seemed to be having a nightmare, and he flinched occasionally as he moaned dejectedly. He suddenly cried out and covered his head with his arm as if he were warding off blows. "Lucky," Kevin said. "Wake up." He tapped Lucky on the shoulder, and the boy sprang up to a sitting position with wide eyes as he craned his neck, looking around the room. "Kevin?" he asked tiredly.

"It's me," Kevin reassured him. "I came down here as soon as I could. What's wrong? What's bothering you?"

Lucky flopped back down onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. You told, you have to pay the price, Faison warned. Lucky pummeled his head with his fists and made a few anxious sounds. "Stop, stop," he pleaded.

Kevin frowned with concern. "What are you hearing, Lucky?" He reached out and pulled the boy's hands away from his head. "Take it slowly and tell me what's happening."

"It's Faison," Lucky replied breathlessly. "He's in my head. He's been bothering me all day and even when I sleep. Ohhh, I feel so sick." He gripped his stomach and looked nauseous.

"Has this changed recently? Are you hearing him more than usual?"

"Yes," Lucky said dejectedly. "For the last few days, more and more. I'm so nervous. I threw up like before when I had those dreams."

"Do you think this is in response to learning about his threats, to hearing his voice on the phone?" Kevin questioned. "How often did you hear his particular voice before then?"

Lucky nodded. "I'd heard it before, but not too often. Every once in awhile. I kind of learned to ignore it. You said they'd eventually go away, the voices, so I didn't worry about it. But after he called me, nothing's been the same. I don't feel right. I feel unsafe, on edge."

Kevin nodded. "I can tell the stress of the situation is doing you no good." He ran his hand over his hair and sighed. "We have several options. I can write you a prescription for a constant, low dose tranquilizer until the situation is resolved, and you can continue your current program with the day center and remain at home. As an alternative, you can stay evenings at the outpatient clinic for a week or two if you don't feel comfortable or safe at home. Or, we can bring you back to GH for a period of time. It's mainly up to you and how you feel. Do you feel like you're a danger to yourself or others?"

Lucky frowned as he contemplated Kevin's words. "Not really. I don't want to kill myself or hurt anybody except for Faison."

"Can you control your mood and behavior?"

"I don't know," Lucky answered shakily. "No. I mean, I can't seem to concentrate on what I'm supposed to be doing. I can't control what I'm thinking or feeling. I'm scared. That's why I asked for you because I was losing it."

Kevin recalled the nurse's description of his behavior and nodded. "I trust you to know whether or not you need to be hospitalized. Tell me what you want."

"I want to go to Tony and my aunt's wedding tomorrow. I'm the best man. I have to be there. Maybe I can have the tranquilizer and then we can see what happens after that, see how it goes. But I'm scared, Kevin, I'm really scared. I don't feel right or normal. I don't know. These voices are bothering me. I didn't use to have them so much before."

Kevin looked closely at Lucky and made his decision. "We're having a rational, calm discussion about a problem," he stated. "I'm comfortable with your reasoning. Let's give you the meds to help you through this weekend, and then meet at my office Monday morning to review the situation again. You can call me at any time if you change your mind or decide you need some more help. Fair enough?"

Lucky nodded. "Okay."

~*~*~*~

Tony nervously tapped his fingers on his desk as he held the phone to his ear.

"Nikolas Cassadine."

"Nikolas, it's Tony Jones. Sorry to disturb you."

"Not a problem. What's up, Tony?"

"Nikolas, I know you agreed to stay with Lucky this weekend while Bobbie and I are on our honeymoon, but some things have come up, and I wanted to let you know in case you change your mind."

Nikolas frowned and grew more attentive. He gripped the phone harder and sat up straight in his executive desk chair. "What's going on? Is Lucky all right?"

"He's been upset lately and rightly so. Faison is back in the picture."

"What?" Nikolas breathed out incredulously. "How is that possible?"

Tony sighed. "They were never able to pin any crimes on him. It was Lucky's word against Faison's since no one knows where the madman's compound is. My brother Frisco and the WSB have been investigating his whereabouts and apparently Faison is uneasy with the attention focused on him. He called Lucky and threatened him."

"What did Lucky do?"

"Nikolas, he set up an elaborate trap for the man, only I was the one who entered the door and knocked over all the glasses and silverware. Lucky had stayed up all night watching the door, so he wasn't on top of his form. We took him to the outpatient clinic where he stayed for a day and night. Kevin adjusted his medications, and he seemed calmer this morning, although in a bad mood. I just spoke to Kevin, and Lucky had another meltdown at the day facility. They sedated him. In fact, he asked for a sedative."

"So he's not coming home?" Nikolas questioned.

"Well, Kevin had a discussion with him and felt that Lucky was rational enough to make a decision for himself. They've agreed that Kevin will send him home with a new tranquilizer prescription so he can get through the weekend and attend the wedding. He'll meet with Kevin on Monday morning to review the situation again. But for now, yes, he's coming home. Only, I'm not sure it's right or fair to ask you to stay with him this weekend while we're on our honeymoon. You'll be alone with him for two nights. The kids will be staying with Mac and Felicia, but I still think this is a lot to ask of you. What are your feelings about it? If you can't commit to staying with Lucky, I understand. We'll just have to make other arrangements or postpone the honeymoon."

"No, Tony," Nikolas replied with determination. "You and Bobbie are definitely going on your honeymoon. You deserve it, and I won't allow you to change your plans. I'll stay with Lucky. I mean, you've written out precise instructions for his medications, and I have a series of backup numbers to call if a problem occurs. I think we have it covered."

"Are you sure?" Tony hedged. "He can be difficult to deal with at times."

"Lucky is my brother," Nikolas stated. "I know he has problems, but we're close, and I'm going to enjoy spending some quality time with him. It'll work out."

~*~*~*~

Tony pulled up to the drive-thru pharmacy window and accepted the package. He handed the bag to Lucky. "Your new meds," he explained. Lucky held the bag in his lap but didn't reply. Tony looked closely at Lucky for a minute before pulling away from the pharmacy. His nephew was pale and wore a very weary expression on his face. I'm really worried about him.

Tony pulled into traffic and said happily, "Are you ready to go to the airport to pick up Frisco? You'll have your own personal WSB agent as a guest. You've met Frisco, haven't you? I know it's been a long time."

Lucky nodded while keeping his head bent down, studying his hands as they fiddled with the bag in his lap. "I'd met him a couple of times at family get-togethers," he said softly. He cleared his throat. "Back when BJ was alive."

Tony nodded seriously. "Yeah, I forgot."

"It's been a long time," Lucky added.

Tony remained silent, amazed that so much time could pass by after losing a child. When he'd lost BJ, it had seemed like time stood still and nothing in his life would ever again resemble normalcy.

"I'm sorry," Lucky said sadly. "About BJ."

Tony's face softened in response to his nephew's kindness. He patted Lucky on the knee. "You're a good kid. Thanks, Lucky."

~*~*~*~

Tony and Lucky waited for Frisco's plane to arrive at a far away gate near the end of the PC International airport. Frisco always flew in private WSB planes these days, never on commercial flights. The two men were silent, and Lucky was sprawled out with his head resting on the seat beside him. His eyes weren't closed, and he stared straight ahead. Tony's arm rested protectively on his nephew's shoulder, and they remained that way for twenty minutes until Tony heard the footsteps sound off the plane and the familiar hearty laughter of his younger brother. Tony patted Lucky. "He's here." Lucky sat back in his seat and rubbed his face to achieve a more alert appearance. Tony expectantly walked over to the doorway and laughed when he saw his brother carrying a blue suitcase with a shoulder strap.

Frisco dropped his suitcase to the floor and the two brothers fell into a big, boisterous hug. After much backslapping, they separated and stared at each other, memorizing the small physical changes in one another after being apart for two years. Tony had a few more wrinkles around his eyes, and Frisco sported more gray hair amidst his blond locks. Frisco picked up his suitcase and said, "It's great to see you Tony. I missed my big brother."

"Sure you did," Tony teased. "How was the flight?"

"Not bad," Frisco commented. "I was able to get some paperwork done, so it worked out fine."

Lucky stood up from his chair when Tony and Frisco approached him, and he staggered slightly to the side with the effects of his sedation. He reached his hand out and steadied himself before he fell. Frisco brushed his blond bangs out of his eyes and smiled at Lucky as he extended his hand. "Hi Lucky," he said in a friendly voice. "You're all grown up. I remember when you were about this high. That's the last time I saw you. It's been years, hasn't it?"

Lucky smiled shyly and took Frisco's hand. "Yeah, it's been a long time. It's nice to see you, Frisco."

The trio walked through the airport, with Tony and Frisco chattering as if they'd last seen each other the day before. Lucky dragged a bit, and remained silent, not wanting to intrude and feeling too dopey to contribute to the conversation. Once in the Jeep, Lucky sat in the back and stared out the window.

"Are you hungry, Lucky?" Tony called out over his shoulder. "Bobbie is fixing her lasagna tonight. That's one of your favorites, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Aunt Bobbie makes great lasagna. She's a good cook," Lucky commented. He didn't tell Tony that his stomach was in knots, and the idea of anything with tomato sauce in it gave him a chill. He held a tense hand to his stomach in anticipation of the upcoming dinner. His aunt watched every bite he ate and became suspicious if he ate less than usual. What was he going to do?

~*~*~*~

"Uncle Frisco!" Lucas leaped into Frisco's arms with a delighted grin.

Frisco was kneeling in the foyer, and he accepted Lucas' hug with a broad smile. "Hey buddy. How's my favorite nephew?"

"Great!" Lucas replied. "How long are you staying, Uncle Frisco?"

Frisco stood up and rubbed his hand over Lucas' hair. "Two days, Lucas." His eyes crinkled as he looked down at Lucas. "Don't go too far. I have an official WSB gift for you in my suitcase."

"Oh boy!" Lucas clapped his hands and raised his hand toward his uncle. "Gimme a high five," he exclaimed.

Frisco playfully slapped Lucas' offered palm and turned to smile at the shy little girl peering at him from several feet away. "And you must be Lulu. I'm Frisco, Tony's brother." Lulu stepped forward and batted her eyelashes at him. He's handsome! she thought. "You don't look like Uncle Tony," she said. "You're not as old." Frisco cackled and stroked his chin while he looked at Lulu. "I'm Tony's younger brother," he explained. "Your Uncle Tony is crazy about you. He's told me so much about you. He even described your long pigtails." Frisco reached out and tugged on one of Lulu's trailing pigtails, and the girl tittered with amusement.

Lucky had been leaning against the front door as Frisco introduced himself, and he cleared his throat. "I'll take your suitcase to the room if you'd like." He reached for Frisco's baggage, and the man nodded. "Thank you, Lucky."

Once in his room, Lucky laid the suitcase onto the trundle bed that had been made up for a guest. He sat down on his own bed and opened up his laptop, preparing to type another to his dad. He smiled at the Luke's letter to him, resting on the desk.

~*~

Dear Lucky,

I'm sorry you had such a bad day. I worry about you when you sound so down. Sometimes you have to get through a bad day to get to the other side. I hope you're feeling better now. Those seizures of yours can't be pleasant. Let me know how you're doing.

It's good that you have Tony and Nikolas in your corner. I'd say that they're friends because they like you and care about you. You're not an obligation. You're a very special, intelligent, creative and friendly young man. I'm sure you'll make lots of friends when you return to school.

Give your new program a try. No, you won't like everything about it, but the point is for you to learn some skills that will help you. I know you, son. Do your best to lose the attitude. It won't help you in the long run. Listen to other people before you spout off.

The visiting room in this prison is very informal. No gray walls and metal bars. It'll be a nice change of pace for us. I'm looking forward to seeing my son. I'm counting the days. Life is pretty good so far. This prison is 100% better than the last one. And, yes, the food is recognizable. They placed me on library duty again. It's a good fit because I can study during the downtimes. Fancy that - me reading books.

Chin up, Lucky. I'm pulling for Miss Emily to come around. I know how much she means to you.

I love you.

Dad

"I love you, too, dad," Lucky said softly, his eyes glistening with tears. He sighed deeply. "I miss you."

Dear Dad,

Thanks for your letter. I'm looking forward to seeing you, and I'm glad that the visiting area is nicer. I'm trying my best to stay out of the hospital. I've had some problems. Faison is back and threatening me. It's kind of driving me crazy you could say. I keep hearing his voice in my head, and it makes me real nervous. I had to stay one night at the outpatient clinic, but now I'm home again. Aunt Bobbie and Tony's wedding is tomorrow, and I'm the best man, so I'll be there. Tony's brother Frisco is in town. He's going to use the WSB to protect me from Faison. I hope it works.

I still don't like the day center, but I've made a new friend. His name is Michael, and he has an attitude, too. I can't help it. I was always in trouble in school for smarting off and running my mouth, remember?

I'll let you know how the wedding goes.

I'm having a hard time, and I'll feel better if I know you're thinking about me. Thanks.

Your son,

Lucky

~*~

"Hey, Lucky, Aunt Bobbie said that dinner's ready." Lulu stood in the doorway to Lucky's bedroom and smiled at him. "I'm supposed to tell you."

"Lulu-belle, my favorite sister," Lucky joked as his eyes danced.

Lulu entered the room and hopped onto the bed to sit beside her brother. "Whatcha doing?" she asked curiously.

"I just sent a letter to Dad," Lucky explained. "Have you sent him any letters recently? I bet he loves it when they show up in his mailbox."

Lulu held a finger to her lips and nodded solemnly. "Yes. Aunt Bobbie sends him my drawings every week. I write on them, but only short sentences. I can't write well yet. I'm too little."

Lucky hugged Lulu and patted her on the head. "I'm sure those drawings make Dad very happy. They used to cheer me up when I was in the hospital."

"Lucky, you're not going away again, are you?" Lulu's big eyes sought her brother's face. "I'm afraid you're going to leave me. Everyone else does. Mommy, Daddy, you." She looked down at the floor and sniffed away a few tears. "You didn't come home last night."

Lucky's heart sank at the sight of his sister's pain. "I'm sorry, Lulu," he answered softly. Lucky reached out and drew her close to him as he rubbed her arm. "I felt sick, so I was in a clinic overnight. I'm home now." Lucky felt a twist of worry and shame as he realized that he wasn't able to promise his baby sister that he wouldn't have to go away again. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed out her hair. "None of us wanted to leave you. What happened had nothing to do with you, baby sister. Everybody loves you. We all had problems at the same time. It was sad, but it happened. Dad asks about you all the time. He writes you letters, too. And, soon you can see him face to face. I'm going to visit him next week, and then the week after is your turn. Are you looking forward to it?"

Lulu's face set into an uncertain, confused expression. "I don't know. I don't remember Daddy very well. He's been gone a long time. What if he doesn't like me anymore? I'm scared to see him."

"It's okay to be scared," Lucky replied gently. "But I think you'll like seeing our dad. I know he loves you. Don't worry about that."

"Okay," Lulu said quietly, looking down at her folded hands. "Lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"How come Mommy doesn't love us anymore?"

A hard lump rose in Lucky's throat, and he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"Why do you think she doesn't love us?" he asked with a choked voice.

"She was mean to you. I remember. And then when I was with her by myself, she used to smack me a lot. Why did she do that?"

"I don't know, Lulu. Some day I'm going to ask her why. If I find out, I'll let you know."

Lulu leaned closer into her brother and said, "I love you, Lucky. I'm sorry Mommy said bad things to you. You look sad all the time. I want you to be happy." She snuggled into his arms and sighed.

Tears filled Lucky's eyes. "Thanks, little sister. That means a lot to me."

~*~*~*~

"How about taking that dog of yours for a walk. We can talk while we stretch our legs."

Dinner was just finished, Tony and Bobbie were stacking up dishes by the sink, and Lucky was still seated at the table. Frisco had noticed that the kid was very quiet at dinner and didn't eat much even though Bobbie had fussed at him several times. Lucky was playing with the fringe on the placemat in front of him, repeatedly pulling on the decorative edging and keeping to himself. He jumped in his seat when Frisco addressed him. "Um, sure Frisco," he answered as he rose from the table. He sauntered over to the pantry and grabbed two dog biscuits to take with them for training purposes. Frisco followed Lucky to the side door. The leash was hanging from a hook near the door, and Lucky wrapped the leather strip around his hand.

Lucky whistled and called for his dog. Harley came bounding over to the fence, anticipating his evening walk and merrily wagging his stump tail. When Lucky opened the gate of the fence, Harley paused and barked furiously at Frisco.

"Shhh, boy. Simmer down. It's Frisco. He's family. He's okay." Lucky brushed his hand over Harley's back and whispered to him.

Frisco smiled at the rapport between boy and dog. "He's a good watchdog."

Lucky nodded. "He's not fierce, but he's protective. He barks a lot if he doesn't recognize someone. But that's a good thing. Foster was like that, too. Foster was the dog I used to have. He was killed."

Frisco walked up to Harley with a slow pace and offered the back of his hand for the dog to smell. Harley carefully sniffed Frisco's hand, his whiskers tickling Frisco's skin and making him laugh. Harley picked up the scent of lasagna and began licking Frisco's fingers. "Eww," Frisco exclaimed as he shook the dog saliva from his hand. "I should wash my hands before coming near you, Harley. You must like Italian."

"Harley likes anything resembling food," Lucky said. "Sit, Harley." When the dog obeyed, Lucky produced a dog biscuit and broke it in half, tossing it to the dog. "Good boy," he praised. "He's learning."

"Operant conditioning," Frisco observed.

Lucky cracked up. "Is that WSB talk? Or have you been watching Get Smart?"

"Ha ha," Frisco replied. "You've been hanging around Tony too long. I can see he's influencing you with his corny sense of humor. But, yes, that's a WSB observation."

Lucky began walking Harley down the blacktop driveway. "So are you going to convince me that the WSB can protect me from Faison?" he asked tensely. "Because the man found my unlisted phone number. He knows where I live."

Frisco fell in step with Lucky and chose his words carefully. "The WSB has four guards stationed around the perimeter of the house, and two guards that shadow you wherever you go. They're undercover, and you'll never notice them."

"Oh, I figured that out," Lucky said shortly. "But what if it would make me feel better to see someone. A squirrel freaked me out this afternoon. You don't know what it's like being a sitting duck. I was the one who was tortured for an entire year. You don't know what it's like."

"We need to lure Faison into a confident state of mind," Frisco explained. "He won't strike otherwise. But when he does, he's history."

"That's what you think. I carry him in my mind 24/7. I hear his voice all the time. He tells me I'm an idiot and that he's coming to get me because I told." Lucky took in a gulp of air that betrayed a slight sob. He shook his head and willed himself not to cry.

It was dark, and Lucky couldn't see the pained, sorrowful expression on Frisco's face. Frisco's heart tightened in response to Lucky's words. Tony had written to him about the monumental hurdles that Lucky had faced over the past year, and it was hard to see the effects first hand. He'd noticed the number of pills that Lucky took with his dinner and the changes in the kid's personality. "I'm going to bring him down, Lucky. That bastard is going to pay. We have the technology and the manpower to do it. You're going to rest a lot easier when the man is in prison. He's never going to see the light of day again."

"Has he ever?" Lucky replied. "The man isn't human. I bet he'd shrivel up and disintegrate into dust if the sun hit him. Maybe you should look for him in Transylvania."

Frisco clapped Lucky on the back. "I know. I'm sorry for all he's put you through. We should have destroyed that creep years ago when he first messed with the Scorpios. But, it makes me more determined to keep you safe. Faison won't be able to avoid justice."

~*~*~*~

Frisco reclined on the trundle bed with his elbow lifting him from the soft surface. The room was bathed in a soft yellow glow from the nightlight that Bobbie had placed in the electrical socket on the far wall. He winced with the discomfort that he felt in wearing his gun holster to bed. Undershirt, boxers and a leather gun holster, yeah that's me, he thought wryly. No woman, but I'm packing. If he'd been in his apartment or a hotel room, Frisco would have laid the gun on his nightstand, but in his brother's house, and especially around his brother's fragile nephew, he didn't dare leave a gun lying around.

Lucky seemed to be in the middle of a nightmare again. Two times that night, Frisco had woken to the sound of Lucky crying in his sleep. Frisco glanced over at Lucky's bed and registered the positioning of his arms, always in a protective mode. Frisco didn't want to violate Lucky's privacy, but he wondered what the kid was dreaming about and so he listened to the words that Lucky occasionally spoke.

"No. Lulu. No. Leave my sister alone! I told you. Uhhhh. That hurts. Don't do that. I don't know anything else. No! Oh, god, oh god."

Frisco's blood chilled at the implications of Lucky's pleading, and he watched the boy thrash on the bed as if he were in great pain. It's not possible to go through that and emerge whole and sane, he reflected. Many captured WSB agents never go through what this kid did. Frisco recalled the salient points of Faison's profile. The man is a sadist. Lucky didn't have a chance. But I can't let Faison completely destroy him. It's not going to happen. The kid's worked too hard to regain his life. Faison's going down.

Next...

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