Chapter Sixty-Three
Dr. Ian Thornhart returned with Dr. Jim Perkins to ER1. He turned to Jim in confusion "He's gone. Lucky Spencer isn't here." Jim walked out in the hallway and flagged the ER nurse that was there minutes ago.
"Where is Lucky Spencer?" he asked. "The patient in ER1, he's not in the room anymore. Was he moved?"
The nurse got a puzzled look on her face. "I just left that room a minute ago to order his tests. He was lying on the exam table unconscious."
Jim ran back over to the room. "The nurse said she left him there a few minutes ago," he said worriedly. "You don't suppose…"
"Yep. He's escaped," said Ian angrily. "Damn it! Call security."
Ian stood alone in the exam room for a minute, lost in thought. He's under my care, he thought worriedly. This is my responsibility, and I let him escape. Damn. I've got to find him and bring him back. He needs medical support, and those heart irregularities…damn it! Ian hit the palm of his hand hard against the sink in frustration. He strode out of the room and down the hall to the room with his locker. He threw on an old, cream colored Irish fisherman's sweater and snatched his navy blue wool winter coat off of the hook, then slammed the metal locker door shut with a loud bang. God, help me find him.
Ian walked purposefully toward the metal Exit door and slammed it open, his face tensing with the blast of cold air that assaulted him. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on his leather-palmed black knit gloves. "The security guards will look first in the hospital. I'll check outside just in case," he muttered out loud to himself.
~*~*~*~
Lucky grew tense as the sun started setting. He'd already tried to rise from the snow-covered bench three times, but was too weak to lift himself up. He'd now been outside in the frigid air with no warm clothing for over twenty minutes. He coughed several times, then angrily pushed away from the bench with his arm cast. His anger gave him the energy to rise shakily to his feet. He looked around him with some confusion.
Initially, he'd been attracted to the trees, but now he wasn't sure what to do with them. He shivered violently and looked down at his wet feet. They were hurting him, and the cold moisture burned wetly between his white toes. He flapped his arms, seeking to warm them and make the blood rise. He walked several steps toward the trees, and then promptly lost his balance as his legs buckled. He involuntarily cried out as his hands desperately sought something to break his fall. He tumbled backward, and his hands scraped angrily across the cement of the unused water fountain as he caught himself before pitching butt-first onto the snowy ground.
~*~*~*~
Ian was standing on the edge of the parking lot, looking under and between cars for his escaped patient. Where is that kid? he thought desperately as his gloved hand smacked the truck beside him. The sound of a human voice in the distance grabbed his attention, and he squinted his eyes, trying to adjust to the low level of light as night relentlessly approached. The automatic lights surrounding the hospital turned on in response to the approaching dark, and Ian detected movement in the near distance of the adjacent park. His strong, muscular legs began running toward the hint of activity in the park grounds.
~*~*~*~
The thrill of his victory and freedom was wearing thin for Lucky Spencer. He crawled on his hands and knees back to the wooden bench, but his weak arms refused to lift him up off of the ground. He leaned his head back onto the edge of the bench seat in miserable defeat. He looked at the massive set of buildings comprising the General Hospital campus. He frowned lightly. It didn't look like Faison's compound. It was way too large for that, and there were lots of different types of cars there. Faison only had vans with blacked out windows. Where am I? he thought as he shivered with both cold and fear.
~*~*~*~
Ian huffed and puffed white steamy bursts of air as he ran quickly toward the cement fountain in the near distance. He spotted a human figure half-sitting and leaning against a wooden bench. He slowed his gait down to a casual walk. The closer to the figure he got, the slower his pace. He smiled with relief when he saw Lucky's long, light brown hair. Lucky! he thought. Gotcha! Oh, great, where is Kevin the psychiatrist when you need him. How am I going to talk to this kid? Oh, well, here goes.
Ian's frowned with worry when he saw that Lucky was clad in only a thin hospital gown with no protection against the elements and obviously no strength to move anymore. He very carefully approached Lucky so he wouldn't startle him. When he was a couple of feet away from the kid, he crouched down to his level so they could meet eye to eye.
"Lucky," he said gently. "It's Dr. Thornhart. What are you doing out here in all this snow and cold?"
Lucky slowly turned his eyes toward Ian and laughed bitterly. "I escaped," he said simply.
"Yes, you did," conceded Ian. "But it doesn't look like you're escaping at the moment. Why aren't you running?"
Lucky snickered and began coughing. "I'm resting and considering my options," he replied with Spencer sarcasm.
Oh great, thought Ian. At least I'm having a normal conversation with him, smart-ass that he is.
"I want to talk to you for a minute, son," said Ian. "Let's sit down on the bench. And, here, take my coat. I have a warm sweater. An Irishman is always prepared," he grinned. Ian took Lucky's hand and pulled him to his feet as he wrapped his coat around him and zipped it up. "Come here," he said, as they sat down on the bench. "Here, lift your legs and put this around your feet," he said, wrapping the blue and green plaid wool scarf around Lucky's frozen toes. He removed his gloves and pulled them onto Lucky's nonresistant hands.
Ian looked sternly into Lucky's eyes. "We need to have a talk, Lucky - man to man," he said seriously. Ian rubbed his hand over his short, spiky hair. "You remember me, don't you?" he asked with his foreign accent. "I'm the physician that saved your sorry ass from pneumonia and a drug overdose." Lucky studied Ian's face for a minute, and replied, "Yes," in a quiet voice.
"Now, tell me why you ran out of the hospital in nothing but a gown with your bare bum flying in the wind?" asked Ian. So much for my counseling skills, he thought wryly. Blunt, direct and to the point that's me.
Lucky frowned. "I was escaping," he protested.
"From what?" asked Ian sternly.
Lucky's eyes widened as confusion and emotional upset seized his mind and body. "I don't know," he admitted. "Faison."
"And who is Faison?" questioned Ian.
Lucky drew his arms around his midriff and looked uncomfortable. "He hurt me.He wants to kill me," he added in a tense whisper. His gloved hands tightly gripped his head.
"And what about all of the people who want to save you?" asked Ian. "Don't they outnumber this one man?" Ian gently took Lucky's chin in his hand and moved it toward the hospital. "Those people are in that hospital," he said, pointing to the distant buildings. "The good people who have helped you every day. When you ran from that hospital, you ran from all of the people who are trying to help you."
Lucky shook his head and started crying. The man was making sense, but he still felt so cold, tired, afraid and confused.
"Lucky," stated Ian firmly. "You need to make a decision. You have the freedom to decide what you want to do. You have choices. Life is about choices. You can choose to get better by going back to that hospital or you can keep running all your life. Which is it?" Ian placed his hand on Lucky's arm to gain his attention. "I'll help you either way you choose," he stated calmly. "If you want to run, I'll give you my coat, my shoes and the hundred dollars in my wallet."
Ian drew out his wallet from his back pocket, and opened it. He pulled out all of the bills and handed them to Lucky. Lucky looked down in shock at the thick wad of money in his hand. Ian removed his shoes, and placed them on Lucky's feet. They were about three sizes larger than Lucky's and dangled from the tops of his feet. "You want to run?" asked Ian. "What else do you want? Do you need an outfit to wear? A ride to the train station? Because here I am, Dr. Ian Thornhart at your service."
"You'll help me?" Lucky asked tentatively.
"Whatever you decide," replied Ian plainly. "You tell me what you want. We can go back to the hospital where I can give you medicine and heal your body. Kevin can heal your mind. Your family can heal your heart. That's a choice. Or, you can keep running for the rest of your life and never get better or see your family or experience love and happiness. So, which is it - it's all up to you. Choose." Ian looked intently at Lucky.
Lucky remained silent and fidgeted.
"What else do I have to do to prove to you that I'm here to help? Do you want my socks?" Ian asked mockingly as he pulled off a white athletic sock. "You can have it," he laughed. "But it's seen better days," he said, poking his finger through a hole in the toe. "And, it stinks terribly," he added, draping the sock over Lucky's shoulder.
Lucky laughed and flung the sock back at Ian. He stared down at the ground, lost in thought. "I'm afraid," he admitted and took in a ragged breath. "They lock me in," he said tensely.
Ian's face softened with compassion. "I've been locked up before," he said quietly. "I know how it feels."
Lucky looked sharply at Ian. "You do?"
Ian cleared his throat. "When I was sixteen, the British government thought I was involved in terrorist activities," he said. "My uncle was in the IRA, so they assumed the whole Thornhart clan was dirt. They pulled me right off the street, and no one knew what had happened to me or where I was." Ian ran a shaking hand over his chin and grimaced. "They hurt me and tried to get information out of me that I didn't have. I couldn't tell them if I wanted to." Lucky nodded and continued looking at Ian intensely. "I wasn't sure how long I'd been there, day and night kind of blended together. And, when they were finished with me, they dumped me back in the streets." Ian shrugged. "So I understand," he added.
Ian met Lucky's eyes again. "Lucky, just because someone or more than one person hurt you, doesn't mean that everyone will. You can trust people, and you can trust Kevin and me to take care of you in that hospital. Won't you come back with me? I really have gotten used to that coat, and my shoes don't fit you anyway. But, if you want them... Oh, and you can have my sweater, too," he added as he bent his arms and started lifting the sweater over his head.
"No!" said Lucky laughing. "Where's that sweater been?" he asked with his nose crinkled up. "It stinks," he protested. Ian's eyes turned up at the corners. "Oh, all the best sweaters are seasoned," he claimed. "For years and years."
"If I go back, do you promise I won't get in trouble?" asked Lucky in a trembling voice. "No one will beat me?" They beat me when I tried to escape before."
Ian's heart broke as he watched Lucky's reactions. "No one will beat you," he answered softly. "Look at this arm," he said, flexing his massive biceps. "Does anyone want to take me on? Because I won't let anyone hurt you."
"What will happen to me?" asked Lucky in a haunted voice.
"We'll head back to the hospital, and you'll walk through the door like a man who has made an important decision," replied Ian. "Then, we'll walk to the hospital room that I had prepared for you. I want you to be brave and take some tests so I can determine why you're not feeling well. We'll give you medicine in your arm, and you can bother the pretty nurses," he smiled. "When you feel better, you'll go back with Kevin to his area of the hospital. You'll talk to Kevin and listen to him carefully. He'll help you to find ways to feel better here and here," said Ian, pointing to his temple and chest. "When you feel better inside, you'll go home and be with your family. You can tell me what you'll do when you leave, because that's your choice. It's all your choice, my man."
"I can't remember things," said Lucky in a flat voice.
"That's okay," replied Ian. "It's Kevin's job to help you remember."
"I can't answer their questions. They hate me," Lucky replied. "I'm afraid."
"And who says it's bad to be afraid. I'm afraid sometimes, too. Everybody is at one time or another. You scared me today when you disappeared. It's a natural thing."
Lucky nodded.
"So what's your decision, Mr. Spencer?" asked Ian. "Do you need more information before you decide?"
"I want to get better. I don't want to run anymore," Lucky stated.
"Are you ready to go?" asked Ian. He held his hand out to Lucky when the boy nodded.
Lucky coughed and swayed dizzily when he tried to get up from the bench.
"Hey, Lucky, do you want to see what a he-man I am?" asked Ian in a silly tone of voice.
Lucky frowned. "What?"
"How bout if I throw you over my shoulder and walk over to the hospital so you don't have to trudge through all that snow. Then, I'll let you down so you can walk through the door. Do you dare me to do it? Come on, dare me!"
"That's funny," stated Lucky.
"That's me, the Irish simpleton," said Ian with a grin as he crossed his eyes.
"Okay, he-man," laughed Lucky. "You're like one of those wrestlers on TV."
"Up we go," responded Ian lifting Lucky over his shoulder and walking with heavy steps toward the hospital as Lucky alternately laughed and coughed.
~*~*~*~
Ian let Lucky down gently when they reached the ER door. Lucky's eyes were half closed, and he felt the world spin around him as he tried to catch his breath.
"Here we are," announced Ian. "You've made your decision, and it's time to walk through those doors - like the man that you are."
Ian held Lucky firmly around the waist and draped Lucky's left arm around his shoulder. "Let's go," he said gently. The doors to the ER whooshed open as the two men stepped on the pressure sensitive rubber pad. Lucky's bare feet made the up and down motion of walking, but Ian pretty much dragged him into the hospital. As the two men proceeded toward ER1, Ian detected a group of tense people talking and milling about - Jim, Kevin, nurses, and security.
Kevin's eyebrows raised, and his face relaxed in gratitude and relief at the sight of Ian and Lucky. Ian made eye contact with Kevin and placed his left index finger to his lips. He then made an 'away' motion with his hand, indicating that they should clear the area. Kevin nodded and placed his hand on the security guard's arm, whispering something, and the guard left the area with every other person except for Kevin.
By this time, Lucky had laid his head down on Ian's shoulder and his long hair spilled across Ian's chest as the man maintained a tight grip on his patient. Ian and Lucky stopped in front of Kevin. "This young man has made a decision," declared Ian. "Lucky, tell Kevin what you've decided."
It took all of Lucky's strength to lift his head, and his eyes were merely slits. Kevin's face blurred and danced before his eyes. He coughed several times, then made the great effort to speak. "I came…back," he said softly. "I…want…to get…better."
At that moment, Ian felt the entire weight of Lucky's body dragging on his arms, and he said loudly, "Bring a gurney, quickly." As Lucky was wheeled into ER1, Ian ordered over his shoulder to the nurse behind him, "Prepare a warm IV, and for the love of God, draw the necessary blood on this young man. Let's go people. We have some tests to run."
~*~*~*~
Three hours later, Finegan's pub…
"So tell me again why you decided to specialize in emergency medicine and not psychiatry," teased Kevin.
Ian shrugged. "It was nothing, just a man to man discussion."
"You managed to do in fifteen minutes, what they rest of us have been struggling toward for months," protested Kevin.
"When you have an emergency, you do what needs to be done," replied Ian simply as he sipped his warm Guinness brew. "Oh, and thanks for the free beer, Kevin."
"You deserve free beers for the rest of your life!" declared Kevin.
Ian toasted Kevin with his pint glass.
"And I'll remember that," he grinned.
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