Chapter Twenty-Two
Luke Spencer walked slowly down the dark prison corridor in his best blue jeans and light blue chambray shirt prison outfit. His legs were shackled, which contributed to his odd gait, and his hands were chained together as well. His white crew-cut head was slightly bent in his attempts to watch his feet and regulate his steps. He headed steadily towards the first visitor that he had consented to receive since his imprisonment at Pentonville nearly a year ago. At first, he'd thought about turning down the visit, but then curiosity got the better of him, and he'd agreed.
Luke's isolation in the tough prison environment was grinding him down, and he appeared a bit thinner and had maybe aged about 10 years worth with sunken and lined cheeks accented by a rough, fuzzy covering of beard growth. He eased himself into a wooden chair that had been repainted over twenty times with several different colors of paint showing through the various chipped and rubbed down places. He cleared his throat and looked through the bulletproof, metal mesh infused glass that separated him from his visitor. Luke bent his arm to pick up the black telephone on his side of the barrier.
"And to what do I owe your humble, gracious presence?" Luke asked his visitor. Luke's dead eyes regarded his former enemy, Lt. Marcus Taggert, with a jaded, see-through weariness that had crept up on him in the last months.
"I'm here to talk about your son, Spencer," Taggert replied, spitting out the last distasteful word. His brown eyes hardened a bit looking at Luke.
"What business do you have with my son, Tagz?" Luke asked with a sneer. "Out to bust the entire clan?" He was starting to perk up in the presence of a person that he could antagonize.
Taggert's eyes softened a little, and he replied, "Lucky is in the hospital, dying, as far as I know," he said off-handedly, watching closely to gauge Luke's reaction. "I thought you might like to know, or did I judge wrongly about that?"
Luke's prison pallor lost even more color as the news registered in his brain. "What are you talking about," he yelled. "What's happened to my son?" Luke banged his shackled fist onto the glass for emphasis.
"If you had kept up with your son, Spencer, you might know. He's been homeless for a period of time and collapsed with pneumonia. He'd stopped breathing by the time we rushed him to the hospital, and he's in ICU as we speak," Taggert related calmly and evenly. "Oh, and I forgot. Lucky tried to kill himself with a bullet to the brain." Taggert raised his hand and clicked an imaginary gun at his temple for emphasis. Taggert sat there calmly with a steely gaze. "Good thing he missed," Taggert added.
Luke became flustered and turned several shades of red. "WHAT?" he screamed into the black phone. "He was living at Jake's. Jake said she'd watch after my boy."
"When's the last time you even talked to your BOY, Spencer," retorted Taggert. "I seem to recall it might have been when you screamed for him to get out of your face."
Luke silenced for a minute and looked down at his hands. "DAMMIT!" he yelled as he pounded his wrist shackles into the desk. Luke blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of this news and trying to regain his composure in front of his enemy. "Why are you here telling me this?" he asked softly.
"Because I care about that boy, and I know you do, too, somewhere under all of that accumulated bullshit, bullheadedness and bravado, my man," said Taggert. Taggert's eyes challenged Luke to fess up to the truth.
Luke's tear-filled eyes regarded his tied up, fidgeting hands. "And what can I do in this place? I'm no father, I'm a prisoner, prisoner number 1002387, to be exact. I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm no father," he whispered.
"It would do a world of good for that boy to know that his dad is thinking about him no matter where he sits," stated Taggert.
Luke stayed silent, stunned at the news of Lucky's misfortune.
"Tell you what," Taggert offered, rising from his seat. "You send me some letters to give to Lucky, and I'll make sure that he gets them. In return, I'll keep you updated on his condition. Sound fair to you?"
Luke looked up with what one could almost call gratitude, but not quite. "Fair enough," he stated plainly.
"You know where to reach me," Taggert said.
~*~*~*~
Tony strode into the office and slapped an official, folded, white paper onto the desk. "I now have temporary legal guardianship of Lucky Spencer," he said, smiling and looking over at Kevin Collins and Ian Thornhart. "That's brilliant," said Ian as he rose from his desk. "The kid needs someone to look after him, to make decisions for his care. Kevin and I were just discussing his case."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "And," he prompted.
"We're concerned about Lucky's mental status as well as his physical condition," stated Ian.
"He is showing clear signs of depression," added Kevin. "I attempted to speak with him two times today, but he was very unresponsive and agitated. I think we're also dealing with something beyond depression, but it will be difficult to uncover if he won't talk to anyone. He seems very afraid of social interaction and contact of any kind. I was just suggesting some anti-depressants to add to his current medications. If we can break through his depression, we might be able to help him with his other problems."
Tony nodded. "What about his physical condition?" he asked. "Any improvement?"
"His mental status is interfering with his physical health," Ian stated. "He fell this morning because he refused a nurse's help. He's cracked a rib, and that may hamper his recovery from pneumonia if it adversely affects his breathing. And, I'm concerned that he is not able to tolerate any food. He's receiving nutrition from his IV, of course, but not enough to gain weight. I'd like to order an endoscopy to see if there is anything wrong with his digestive tract. I'm recommending that he receive nutrition from a feeding tube, at least until he gains ten pounds or so. He's not very cooperative. I'd recommend transferring him to the psychiatric floor, but he needs to stay in ICU for at least another day or two." Ian sighed and leaned against his oak desk. "He's a tricky one, for sure."
Tony looked concerned. "I wonder if he ever received any counseling after his kidnapping? That could have precipitated his mental decline and substance abuse, which ultimately lead to his homelessness."
"Kidnapping?" Ian raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What's this, then?"
Kevin sighed and began explaining. "Lucky was kidnapped for revenge against his father. He was rescued over a year ago. Soon after that, his father was arrested for the murder of Stefan Cassadine. Luke is currently serving a long-term prison sentence for that crime at the state prison. And, no, Lucky did not receive any psychiatric services at General Hospital. I checked with all of my colleagues, and no one has seen him or any member of the Spencer family."
"Bobbie, his aunt and my ex-wife, told me that he started drinking shortly after he was rescued. Of course, his family life started disintegrating not too long after that," said Tony. I'd like to talk to Lucky about the feeding tube and his need to cooperate with medical professionals. He has a small amount of trust for me. Hopefully, that will make a difference."
Kevin patted Tony on the back as they walked for the door. "Good idea. I need to speak with him. Maybe you can convince him to open up."
Ian laughed. "Bribe him if you have to!"