Chapter Sixty-Six
Several days later…
Lucky sat in a wheelchair with his arms firmly crossed against his chest, and his head bowed sadly. Kevin knelt in front of him. "Lucky," said Kevin. "I know you're disappointed, but we need to keep you safe. We can give you more attention on the locked ward, and it will allow you to progress faster with your therapy. You want to go home as soon as possible, don't you?"
"You think I'm crazy. You want to lock me up. I'm never going to leave here," said Lucky angrily as he avoided Kevin's gaze. "I don't care. Lock me up. Go ahead. Leave me alone." His chest heaved up and down with his strong emotions, and he choked back his tears and grief.
"No, Lucky, I don't think you're crazy. You have an illness, like the pneumonia you had months ago. And, like that pneumonia, we can help you to heal, we can make it better," said Kevin reassuringly. "It takes time and effort on your part to participate in therapy. It's not easy, but when you get through, you'll feel able to cope and handle your life. You want that, don't you?"
"I want to go outside," replied Lucky. "I can't breathe in here. I feel like I'm choking."
"I know it's hard," said Kevin. "I want you to be able to go outside, and you will, soon."
Lucky sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "I promised I'd stay. So, I'm here - for now."
Kevin rose to his feet and patted Lucky on the back. "Good choice. I'm proud of you for making that decision. It's not easy, but you're going to make it." He turned Lucky's wheelchair and headed for the elevator and the locked psychiatric ward.
~*~*~*~
Tony and Bobbie walked up on the porch of a huge, empty Victorian nestled in a restored district in the heart of Port Charles. Tony looked around while Bobbie wrestled with the combination on the lock box secured to the front door. "This is the third time I've asked to see this house," she explained. "So, the realtor is letting us look around without her being here. It'll help us to check things out privately and talk about it."
Tony glanced at the wide, curving front porch with the white wicker porch swing and daintily carved porch rails. All of the outside surfaces had been painted recently and the gutters replaced. There was an old-fashioned doorbell pull to the right side of the front door, and to the left was an antique iron mailbox with delicate metal filigree. The house definitely was well taken care of and lovingly restored. Tony touched Bobbie's arm. "I'm going to take a quick look around the outside of the house while you play with that," he stated.
"Okay," said Bobbie. She shook her head. Tony had such a short attention span sometimes, or were all men like that?
Tony stuck his hands deep into the side pockets of his navy blue jacket and strolled around to the back of the property. The ground was still moist and spongy from the series of snows that month, and he was glad he wore his leather zip boots. The house was situated on a double city lot, so the land was long and narrow, but generously spaced. There was plenty of room in the backyard for a patio or gazebo for summer cookouts. Tony envisioned a nice wood picket fence surrounding the backyard, making a more private area for Lucas and Lulu to play or a puppy to exercise. He noted the generous garden plot at the very end of the yard and the mature apple and pear trees. Lucas would have a blast with the tree climbing. One large oak toward the right had a very large V where two huge branches separated - a great spot for a tree fort.
On the sides of the house were the bare canes of climbing roses and lilac bushes, the kind of flowery plantings that Bobbie adored. Tony could see that the whole west side of the house would be aflame with red roses in the early summer. The two houses on either side of the property were smaller, but tidy and in good repair. Finally, Tony walked over to the carriage house on the back east side of the property. There was room for two cars and a half garage area for storing garden tools. A workbench was already built into one wall. Tony ran his hand appreciatively over its long, generous surface. There were even two shelves with room for all kinds of nuts and bolts.
Tony made his way to the back stairs and climbed slowly to the second floor. The upstairs apartment plumbing was roughed in, but not finished. It needed fixtures, appliances, wallboard, flooring, and a few decorative touches. Tony walked over to the window on the far wall and looked out at the view of downtown Port Charles. He could catch a glimpse of the towering GH structure in the distance and the university a bit farther. The property was only two miles from GH. Tony fancied himself walking or biking to work on nice summer days.
Tony took another general look around and smiled. This was the type of weekend project that he enjoyed. A few trips to the home store, and he'd be set. Tony's heart sank a bit when he thought of Lucky. This is the type of work that he'd enjoy teaching Lucky, and he certainly could use the brawn and agility of a younger man for some of the projects. Tony's thoughts shifted to his brother. Tony loved Frisco with all of his heart, but he and his brother were never as close as he'd like. Frisco was always into music and travelling, sort of a loner. The two brothers hadn't spent a lot of quality time together, and certainly the relationship had been strained over the last few years as Frisco jettisoned up the ladder at the WSB. Tony was lucky if he received two cards a year - usually a Christmas and a birthday card, and always mailed from the WSB headquarters. There were never visits or phone calls. Tony wasn't sure where exactly Frisco was situated on the globe. But Lucky…he and Tony had grown close and liked to spend time together. Lucky had been such a help in fixing up Tony's house. Tony figured it would need a good cleaning and that's all to sell it. We've got to get him well and out of that hospital, thought Tony with determination.
"To-ny!" Bobbie's impatient voice called from the bottom of the carriage house stairs. "Come on, the door is open now." When Tony emerged from the second floor, brushing some dust off of his coat, Bobbie asked with twinkling eyes, "Does it meet with your approval, Mr. Fix-it?"
Tony laughed and hugged his fiancée. "Sure thing, beautiful."
~*~*~*~
Barb frowned as she reviewed the notes on Lucky's chart. "He's having some problems at night," she told Kevin. "He's been experiencing nightmares every night and wakes up screaming, but he's tighter than a clam. He won't talk about them. He generally seems afraid of something or someone. And, he had two toilet accidents at night. Jim recommended adult incontinence briefs for overnight, and he hasn't resisted. He does seem to be a bit twitchy for lack of a better term."
Kevin nodded. "We've been doing some trauma work, and he's been open and cooperative so far. He's been relating more of what exactly happened to him when he was tortured and held prisoner. I'm not surprised he's expressing some of his fears and anxiety through his dreams and his accidents. But, I want to warn you and the rest of the staff to the fact that he may blow at some point. So far, he hasn't shown as much anger as many PTSD patients, but it's in there somewhere. And, if something sets it free during therapy, we may be inundated with his display of anger and grief. So, be on alert and don't hesitate to call a code if you need to. Just be sure to page me immediately if that occurs."
~*~*~*~
Ian walked boldly into the recreation room and smiled when he saw Lucky sitting on a chair, looking out the window.
"Lucky," he said heartily. "How's my favorite emergency room patient? I can't say I've missed you - in the ER that is."
Lucky looked over at Ian and laughed. "I keep you in business," he retorted. "You can't make your car payments without me."
"Now there's a point," stated Ian as he sat down in a chair beside Lucky.
"You're not going to offer me any more socks, are you?" chided Lucky. "Because I have my own now." Lucky pointed at his white athletic socks and Velcro fastened sneakers.
"Yours look to be in better shape than mine," admitted Ian. "Mine all have holes in them. I need to make a run to Wal-Mart and restock. Hey, since I'm the one who convinced you to stay here in GH, I thought I'd come to keep you company. You must be bored sometimes."
Sadness flickered across Lucky's face, and he turned away. "Yeah," he said softly.
Ian pulled out a plastic dartboard and six plastic darts. "Look what I brought with me," he said. "I'm going to teach you how to play darts like an Irishman."
Lucky's eyes lit up. "That sounds like fun," he said. "My dad said that we're Irish - at least part."
"Then you'll make the mother country proud after I'm done teaching you," smiled Ian. He placed the plastic board on the bookshelf near the windows and handed Lucky three darts.
Ian stood behind Lucky and adjusted Lucky's arm while he held it midair. "It's all in the eye/hand coordination," he instructed. "Aim first with your eyes, then follow through with your arm."
Lucky threw the dart, but its plastic tip bounced off of the board's surface and clattered to the floor. Lucky sighed. "Here, try another," said Ian. "This time, throw it a little harder. Use those biceps and strong wrist muscles." Lucky threw the dart, and this time it stuck in an outer circle. "Good job," encouraged Ian.
Half hour later…
"I've been had by another American," complained Ian as he rubbed his spiky hair in frustration. "You and Kevin. I can't believe it. How many candy bars do I owe you?"
"Five," stated Lucky with a smug smile. "And no chocolate. I'm not allowed to eat it."
Ian sighed and shook his head. "Where did you learn how to play?" he asked.
"My dad owned a bar," said Lucky. "We had dartboards all over the place."
"Better question - where did you learn to hustle so grandly?"
"Same place," smirked Lucky. A look of worry suddenly ran over Lucky's features, and he seemed years younger. "Are you coming back to visit?" he asked tentatively. "You're not mad at me are you?"
"Ah, no," said Ian cheerfully. "Wouldn't miss it," he laughed. "Are you going to teach me some tricks next time?"
"How would you like to learn how to really play poker, like a pro?" asked Lucky with a raised eyebrow.
"That's my man!" smiled Ian as he hugged Lucky's shoulder and placed a light punch on his arm.
~*~*~*~
"The house is 2700 square feet, not including the walk-in third floor attic or the basement," explained Bobbie as she and Tony walked through the first floor of the Victorian house. "It has five bedrooms and three full baths. That would be enough room for separate bedrooms for the kids, one guestroom and an office or computer room. And, the best thing is that the master is separate from the other rooms. It's on the first floor." Bobbie looked closely at the printout that the realtor gave her. "And, it has two gas furnaces, one for each floor. They're only ten years old."
Tony nodded and squatted before a fireplace in the parlor. "Look at these fireplace tiles," he said appreciatively as he ran his hand over the decoratively imprinted surfaces. "They're antique, but perfectly cleaned," he commented.
"One expense that I can see will add up is curtains," said Bobbie. "There must be hundreds of windows in this house, and many of them are irregularly shaped."
"Well, you'll just have to get your little sewing machine out and get to sewing, woman," teased Tony. "I bet you can whip up some curtains in no time."
Bobbie slapped Tony on the arm. "Sexist pig," she teased back. "You'd be better at sewing curtains than me and you know it!"
"What are the average heating costs for the place?" asked Tony. "All of these windows must let out a lot of heat."
"Hmmm…" said Bobbie as she turned over several sheets of paper in search of the information. "I see they have a gas budget here, and it's $175 per month. That's a little steep, but we are in the chilly northeast. The newer furnaces must be pretty efficient, though." She folded the papers back and looked at Tony with a twinkle in her eyes. "You must see the master suite," she said merrily. "You'll love it!"
As the couple entered the master suite, Tony let out a long whistle. "I can see where they put all of the money," he chuckled. The bedroom wallpaper was a reproduction of an old, soft pastel, Victorian cabbage rose print, and the layers of crown moldings were impressively refinished to their natural walnut beauty.
"Look at this bathroom," Bobbie's voice echoed from the room. Tony joined her and let out a laugh. "I'll never be able to get you out of that tub," he said, pointing at the separate porcelain, slipper shaped cast iron tub with fancy brass fixtures. "You'll turn into a prune woman! But, this shower, man, you won't be able to get me out of there. Look, it has two shower heads and lots of beautiful marble."
Bobbie leaned into Tony and placed a light kiss on his lips. "I did the math, and if we both get decent prices for our homes when we sell them, with a decent down payment, the mortgage would be just right for our budget," she said happily.
~*~*~*~
11:30PM
Light and sound swirled around him as its jabbing harshness assaulted his mind and body. He felt a hand on his arm and heard a woman talking. "Oh, man, what have you done to yourself," she said. Lucky frowned and turned over on his side, confused by the cold feeling of air and ceramic tile on his skin. "No, you don't," the voice said, as the hand gripped his shoulder and rolled him onto his back.
"Is Jim on call tonight?" asked the voice. There was a pause and a murmured answer. "Okay, call him. He has a patient in need here. Kid, why did you do this?"
Lucky felt cold all over and starting shivering. "We need some muscle in here," said the voice, which sounded very far away in his ears. He flinched and struggled futilely as he heard multiple voices and felt hands on him. "One, two, three, lift him up," they said. Lucky moaned when his back hit the bed. "Jim's on his way," said someone.
Lucky sighed, and the voices blended together and faded.
~*~*~*~
"AAAAHH!!" Lucky screamed as he felt intense pain. His eyes opened and closed several times before they finally stayed open at half-mast. He cringed and recoiled in confusion and fear as several faces looked down at him. He tried to move and scoot back up against the headboard of his bed, but only succeeded in moving a few inches.
"Lucky, it's Jim," a familiar male voice said gently. "You need to lie still while I examine you, okay?"
Lucky frowned in confusion. "Huh?" he asked groggily as his eyelids flickered.
"You have some serious wounds here that need cleaning," explained Jim. "I'm sorry if I'm hurting you."
Lucky felt a wave of hot pain again and twisted his body while he cried out. "Would you bring 5 mg morphine?" Jim asked. "He's not going to be able to cope with this."
Minutes later, Lucky felt an intense stinging pain in his arm and tried to rise up, but was held down by several pairs of hands. Numbness invaded his veins, and he felt his muscles relax as his mind faded to a gray place.
"I found it," said a nurse, carrying a bloody, broken plastic utensil out of the bathroom.
"He worked himself over pretty well," said Jim, shaking his head. "He's going to need sutures on his side and upper arm. The wounds are deep. We'd better put him on an IV antibiotic right away. Last thing he needs is another infection. How was he able to do this?" Jim asked.
"It only takes a minute," said the nurse, shaking her head. "We can't watch them constantly, although we do our best."
Jim shook his head as he threaded a needle and began making sutures. "He already has significant scarring on his abdomen, and of course he will on his left forearm. I hope this knits together well enough so he won't add another set of permanent scars to his current list."
"Kevin is concerned that this patient isn't expressing enough emotion during therapy," said the nurse conversationally. "That's why he's having so much trouble at night," she stated.
"He needs a break," said Jim shaking his head. "I hate to see him hurting himself like this."
"Yeah, me, too," said the nurse with a sick look on her face as she watched Jim stitching up the inside of Lucky's upper arm.