Chapter Thirty-Eight
~~Mother, mother, tell your children That their time has just begun I have suffered for my anger There are wars that can’t be won
The seven-foot tall man stood inside the doorway to ICU5 and looked back and forth from the boy lying motionless on the floor to the male nurse kneeling beside him. He narrowed his watchful eyes on his high cheekboned, emotionless face, scrutinized the situation, and then made a decision. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed the numbers that he'd memorized. The male nurse looked up with a puzzled expression at the sound of the unfamiliar Russian language. Artur placed the phone back into his pocket and impassively stood nearby with his hands on his hips.
"You're not allowed to use cell phones in the hospital," the male nurse protested. The tall Russian stood there staring at him with his large blue eyes, unaware of the meaning of the English words. He lifted his four-foot long arm and pointed to Frankie. The male nurse blinked his eyes and shook his head as he reached for latex gloves to protect himself from the blood that was spread out around the boy.
"We have a physician on his way to look at you," the male nurse said quietly to reassure the injured boy. Frankie weakly muttered something that was indecipherable, and he tried to rise up on his elbows to drag himself backwards away from the nurse.
"Stop moving around!" the nurse ordered with a frustrated voice. "You're might hurt yourself worse. Please stay still." The Russian guard stepped forward menacingly, and the nurse waved him away. "We're fine, we're fine," the nurse responded in a positive voice. He directed his full attention back to Frankie. "I can clean your arm off while we're waiting." Frankie protested when the nurse held his arm. He twisted it and pulled it back, trying to free himself from the man's grasp. "You're not the cooperative type, are you?" the nurse murmured as he wiped off Frankie's arm and placed Band-Aids over the torn IV sites.
Frankie sighed in resignation and lay back on the floor, blinking his eyes and trying to focus through the effects of his sedation. What had he done? He couldn't seem to control himself anymore - up one minute and down the next. He never knew what he'd say or do next. In the last half-hour he'd furiously threatened a nurse, ripped out his IV's and had taken a dive off of his bed. In the process of falling out of the bed, his catheters had been torn out, and his drainage tubes knocked loose. He felt something oozing out of his side, and he didn't even want to contemplate what that meant. It was strange, but his hip and leg, which had been hurting for days, had sung out in fierce pain when he'd landed on the floor, and they were completely numb. He had been able to move both of his legs before this latest incident, but now that one leg was like a heavy weight that had lost its vital power, or like a slab of dead meat hanging in a freezer. Even in his current predicament, he didn't want anyone to bother or touch him, and he kept saying "no, no" and trying to move away from the man who was helping him.
Frankie's gown turned red on his side with the blood seeping from his damaged drainage tubing. The nurse stepped away to access sterile bandaging, placing it over the wound and applying pressure to stem the flow. Frankie instinctively jerked away when the pressure caused him pain, but the movement jarred his bad hip, and it suddenly came alive, placing him firmly into the pit of hell. He screamed loudly and then whimpered repeatedly as waves of hot pain engulfed him and pulled him under. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he breathed out in a hoarse, desperate voice. "I didn't mean to. I won't do it again. Don't hurt me." His eyes closed, and the nurse felt the boy's tense muscles relax under the pressure of his hand. "Frankie?" he asked abruptly. "Don't go to sleep on me."
"Luke," Frankie called out softly. "Luuuuke. I want my dad." He started crying and flexing his hands as the pain refused to die down. "Ooooh," he cried. "I want my dad. Pleeeease." He's not coming, Frankie thought inconsolably. Luke hates me now. Fear hit him coldly as he realized that he was in pain and quite alone in the world.
"We'll call your dad in a minute," the nurse reassured him. "Just hold on." He picked up the Cookie Monster puppet and placed it into Frankie's extended hand. "Squeeze tight on this," he instructed. Frankie's hand rhythmically contracted around the plush blue fur. "Luuuuke," he cried. "Dad, dad."
"Keep talking to me," the nurse said. "I need you to stay awake."
~*~*~*~
Luke walked down the hall of the hospital, heading for his son's room. He'd been away from the hospital for several hours, confident that Frankie would sleep through the afternoon because of his exhaustion, a result of his emotional outburst earlier in the day. He'd been thinking quite a bit about what Sly had told him - that Frankie might not think that he was worthy of his affections as a result of how Frank had treated him. It broke his heart that his child could feel this way. He was starting to realize that this was a delicate and complicated situation, not as easy as telling the kid to cease his mob misbehavior and straighten up so he could become his beloved Lucky again. Maybe Frankie didn't want to be Lucky.
As he came closer to ICU 5, Luke thought he heard Frankie's voice calling out his name. He frowned and picked up his pace. The hair rose on the back of his neck when he reached the doorway and heard Frankie crying for him.
"What's going on…" Luke looked down to the floor and his breath froze in his lungs at the sight of his son lying prostrate on the floor, his face screwed up in obvious pain, blood saturating his gown, and squeezing his puppet in a frantic hand. "…here?" Luke looked with wide eyes from the Russian giant to the nurse kneeling beside his son, applying pressure to some type of wound.
"What is my son doing on the floor?" Luke demanded loudly. "What happened to him?"
Frankie's fearful eyes drifted upward toward the strong, masculine voice that he recognized. "Luke?" he asked weakly. "Dad?"
"He's been agitated and uncooperative over the last hour," the male nurse stated. "He suddenly dove off the side of the bed and landed here. We're waiting for a physician who should be here in a minute."
"What the hell?" Luke asked incredulously.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Frankie whimpered. "Don't leave me." He reached out for Luke with his free hand. Luke rapidly knelt down behind his son and took his hand. Frankie squeezed it tight and hung on for his life. He shifted his body on the cold, hard floor, moaning and muttering.
"He ripped out his IV's and removed his monitor leads," the nurse explained. "His tubing is messed up. That's why it's bleeding."
"Frankie, what did you do?" Luke questioned. "Why would you do this to yourself?"
"I'm afraid," Frankie whispered with a shaking voice. "I'm so afraid."
Luke's face reflected his shock. This was the most honest answer he'd received from his son since they'd reunited.
"Why are you afraid?" Luke asked softly.
"Because," Frankie said haltingly. "Because you hate me. You weren't coming back." He took in a deep breath and sighed raggedly. His voice raised in pitch and intensity. "I'm sorry."
~~ Father, father, please believe me I am laying down my guns I am broken like an arrow Forgive me, forgive your wayward son
"I'm here," Luke reassured his son. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll never hate you - no matter what. You don't need to worry about being perfect. Nobody's perfect. I don't need that from you."
Frankie's lips trembled. "But I'm no good," he insisted as if Luke didn't understand the basics. "I'm not da baby Lucky. Dat baby died. I'm me - Frankie. Dat's who I am, who I wanna be." Frankie took in a sobbing breath and held it as he tried to rise above the pain in his hip.
"I know," Luke said reassuringly. He stroked the boy's hand while he spoke. "I'm sorry if I confused Lucky with you. You're Frankie, and I like you. It has nothing to do with being good or bad. It's blood. It ties you to me. Nothing or no one can take that away."
~~ Everybody needs somebody to love Everybody's bitchin' cause they can't get enough And it's hard to hold on When there's no one to lean on
The physician strode into the room, and Luke squeezed Frankie's hand. "I'm going to be right behind you," he stated as he moved away from his son to allow the physician access. The nurse began explaining the situation, and Luke flinched with queasiness in his stomach when the man moved the boy's gown aside to examine the damaged tubing, which was covered with blood. By this time, Frankie's eyes were closed. He'd lost his battle with exhaustion, and the sedative brought him down to a subconscious level of awareness.
The physician walked over to Luke. "You're the father?" he asked respectfully. When Luke nodded, he said, "Your son's fall has knocked loose the tubing in his abdomen, and it needs to be repaired. We'll only give him a local to fix that. He needs an MRI to determine if his hip has sustained further damage. We'll transport him from his room to radiology. He should be back within two hours. Otherwise, he looks good - no damage to his gunshot wound, and his vitals are strong."
"Thanks," Luke murmured. He watched as Frankie was carefully loaded onto a gurney. When the medical personnel glanced curiously at the seven-foot tall man who hovered nearby and looked like he was going to follow them out of the room, Luke explained, "That's Igor, the boy's bodyguard. He speaks no English. Just don't make any sudden moves." He laughed at the expressions on their faces. Luke walked over to his son and tapped him on his cheek with a forefinger to rouse him. Frankie's eyelids fluttered, and Luke said, "Frankie, I'm going to go with you now to get your MRI. I'll be there with you the whole time. Your bodyguard will wait for you in this room while you're being fixed up. Okay?"
"Yeah," Frankie smiled weakly with relief. "Thanks."
~~ Faith: you know you're gonna live through the rain Lord you gotta keep the faith
~*~*~*~
Frankie was back in his room with his leg elevated and ice packs surrounding his injuries. He was hooked back up to his IV's, monitors and oxygen that looped under his nose.
"Hip pointers with terrible bruising, soft tissue and nerve damage," Luke observed as he peered closely at his son. "The doc said that's a football player's injury. I guess you didn't score any points tackling the floor."
Frankie ignored Luke's teasing and said proudly with bright eyes shining, "I'm like da football player. Cool."
"Have those pain meds gone to your head?" Luke questioned. "You've just given yourself several weeks on crutches after you leave the hospital."
Frankie sighed, his mood mellow after receiving his pain medication. "At least dey took da tubes out," he stated wearily. "Dey said I didn't need 'em no more after looking at 'em. Dey took 'em out and sewed me up. Still hurts, though. It's sore."
"I'm glad you're making progress," Luke affirmed as he patted his son's arm. "You scared us quite a few times over the last two days."
Frankie yawned and nodded. "Me, too. Scared, dat is."
Luke hesitated, looking down at his hands folded on his lap. "Frankie, now that you're feeling better and are able to talk, we need to review what's going on in our lives. As you know, your mother and I have filed for joint custody of you in court. Right now, you're technically a ward of the state until the judge makes a ruling in our favor. I had a DNA test conducted, and it came back positive - you're my biological son, there's no doubt about that." Luke paused to look closely at Frankie in order to gauge his reaction to this news. Frankie's face was masklike with his efforts to hide his emotions, and his eyes shone brightly with his intense interest in the subject matter.
"What joint custody means is that you would live part of the time with me and Alexis and part of the time with your mother and Stefan. We'd have to work out the exact arrangements so they'll be for everyone's benefit. With custody, your mother and I will legally make the decisions regarding your care - where and how you'll live. For now the hospital has looked the other way and allowed us to be responsible for your medical care."
Frankie's chin jutted out, and he clenched his fists as he forcefully declared, "Nobody tells me how to live." His fierce eyes bore into Luke's, challenging him to refute that fact.
"Not even Frank?" Luke asked sarcastically. "I'm sure he had plenty of rules."
"Only in da business," Frankie retorted as he rolled his eyes. "I've been on my own for years."
"Where did you live?" Luke asked curiously.
"In da mansion," Frankie answered flatly. "I had my own suite of rooms and my own maid to take of da apartment. I only had to show up for breakfast in da morning or Frank would get pissed. He almost pulled me outta da bed when I got dis gunshot wound. He was so pissed, and den when I shot my gun at him, uh-oh!" Frankie's face took on a look of mock horror, and he giggled. "Dat stupid mob doc, I shoulda shot him between the eyes, da bastard."
Frankie paused, rubbing his nose and chuckling. "Oh, and I was always supposed to make sure dat my whore didn't fight with his whore," he chuckled. "Frank didn't want no fighting at da meals 'cause of his digestion. I hated dat Cathy bitch, so I used to sic Michelle on her when Frank wasn't around. Ahahaha." Frankie laughed merrily with the memories of the near catfights in the dining room and upset trays of food. Frankie's face fell suddenly with the recognition that the mansion and the lifestyle associated with it were gone forever. "I wonder where Michelle is?" he asked sadly. "I miss her - she's my favorite. I sure could use some…" Frankie clammed up when he saw the shocked, horrified look on Luke's face. He frowned. "What?" he asked irritably. "What's your problem?"
Luke gulped and willed his face to appear normal. "Are you saying that you associated with prostitutes?" Luke questioned.
"No, I boinked 'em," Frankie replied, shaking his head at his father's silly question. Frankie's eyes widened as he stared at Luke. "You know," he said with emphasis, making an obscene gesture with his hands.
Luke paled. "I know what you meant," he said tersely. "I just can't believe that you lived like that. How long have you been…boinking?"
Frankie laughed giddily. "Only 'bout three years. Frank gave me da whore for my twelfth birthday. Happy birthday, Frankie, happy birthday to you!" he sang and pursed his lips in an exaggerated kiss. "Ahahaha."
"So you've been sexually active since you turned twelve?" Luke commented, shaking his head. "I'm hoping someone gave you the safe sex talk?"
"Geeeeeez," Frankie expounded. "You're an uptight dude. If it ain't carrying a rubber, it ain't a hooker." He shook his head. "Nah, dere's no little Frankie's bouncing around. No Lucky's either." He laughed delightedly at his own sense of humor and affected a fake prissy look. "I have my career to consider. No need for da rugrat patrol, hehehe."
Luke ran a hand over his face and rubbed his neck, suddenly noticing that his muscles had tensed up into a viselike grip over the area, complemented by a pounding headache. I can't believe my child is talking like this. I'm not even sure if there's a word for kids having sex with prostitutes. Was Frankie ever allowed to be a little boy? He sighed deeply. "Frankie, some social workers will probably come to talk to you. I need to coach you and give you some advice on what to say to them. Alexis has filled me in on some details. First of all, consider them the enemy, but one that's deserving of a healthy respect because they have the power to take you away from me." Luke met Frankie's startled gaze and held it for emphasis.
"What do you mean, take me away?" he asked abruptly with a gruff, suspicious voice, his attention newly refocused and no longer humorous. He gave Luke a look that was all business.
"Going back to our original conversation," Luke started, "This means the court can make you a permanent ward of the state and place you wherever they see fit - a foster home, children's home, wherever. We're trying very hard to prevent that. Alexis is building a good case for the courts to award us custody, so I wouldn't worry about it terribly. However, you need to be very smart and think before you speak. These are conservative people we're talking about. They're not going to understand about whores, killings or any other aspect of Frank's business. Keep that type of information to yourself. Your main emphasis should be on how you are looking forward to being reacquainted with your new family. And no references to killing Nikolas."
Frankie looked stunned. "Dang," he said. "Dis is bad. I'm gonna break outta here. Can you gimme da guns? Please?" Frankie affected a hurt, solicitous expression, hoping to win Luke over to his cause. "I can't stay here. I'm not goin' to jail. Frank said I should fight to da death to avoid dat. So I'm not talking to any social person. I'll kill 'em if I have to. Stuff 'em in da trunk."
"Frankie, we're not talking about jail!" Luke countered. "We're talking about who has the rights to determine your living arrangements. There's a difference."
Frankie crossed his arms as his face reddened. "Prove it."
"We're not talking about locking you up," Luke explained with exasperation. "And why are you always threatening to kill people?"
Frankie's eyes glistened with tears. "But what if dey find out?" he whined plaintively. "Dey're gonna lock me up!" He traced the lines of his IV's with an index finger. "I won't go down by myself. I'll kill 'em first before dey get me!"
"Find out what? That you're mobster junior?" Luke asked testily. "If you're so afraid of that, then cut your ties now. Free yourself."
"I am! Dat's what I'm doing!" Frankie shouted tearfully. He looked around to see if anyone were coming into his room because of his outburst, and then satisfied with his relative privacy, whispered conspiratorially, "I'm gonna sell da business, okay? But I gotta run it until dat time. It needs to be viable to sell it. Understand? Da business, it's legal, too, you know. I want to keep dat part. I'll be da legal CEO." Frankie laid his head back into his pillow with a self-satisfied look crossing his face in a broad grin.
Oh--my--God, Luke thought. What have I walked into? This is a nightmare. Where's Alexis when I need her? He cleared his throat and plastered a fake smile on his face. "Back to the social workers. If you tell them that you want your lawyer present when you speak to them, they might get suspicious that you have something to hide. Just keep your answers short and be positive about your new family, including Nikolas. I know it'll be hard for you to do that, but it's necessary. Lie, pretend, whatever you need to do, but hide the fact that you've had problems with your brother."
"Nikolas who?" Frankie asked in mock innocence. "I don't know any prick named Nikolas."
Luke shook his head as his face reddened. He felt like he'd covered zero ground with Frankie. It was as if father and son both spoke foreign languages that the other had no knowledge of. Luke had one more bombshell for his son and took in a deep breath to prepare himself for shooting it in Frankie's direction. He let his eyes sweep over his son and took in the tension and fear that radiated from every cell in his young body. Poor kid, this is a lot to take in all at once, but time's running out. "Frankie, Alexis and I have also sought to adopt Sly as our son. As you know, he's my nephew and has been living with me for two years since his father was killed." Luke didn't mention that Frank Smith had killed Bill. "So, when the adoption goes through, Sly will be your brother, not just your biological cousin. Sly will be your younger brother. Does that make sense to you?"
"Sorta," Frankie said hesitantly. He'd already started shutting down emotionally out of self-defense a minute earlier when Luke had announced his plans. He'll have his son. He doesn't need me. Sly knows da score. He knows how to behave. I'm walkin' in da dark without a flashlight. "I'm not living with you," he announced imperiously, making his decision to push away Luke before Luke could hurt him. "I'll live with my mama and Stefan. Or maybe Johnny and I can live together. He's my man. He has to do what I tell him." Frankie hid his face by turning his head on the pillow, biting down on and sucking in his lower lip. A weary sadness welled up inside of him, and he felt like he was 100 years old, an old man who had run out of usefulness in the world and who was ready to die. Luke would never understand him or want him as Frankie, only Lucky the pure and blameless. Sly was a better substitute son than he was. He'd never measure up. Too much had happened during their fourteen-year separation.
~~ Mother, father There's things I've done I can't erase Every night we fall from grace It's hard with the world in your faith Tryin' to hold on, trying' to hold on.
Luke saw the quick change in Frankie and guessed correctly at the origins. "Sly's adoption has nothing to do with our relationship," he indicated firmly. "I certainly have enough love for two sons. There's no limit on that. You'll always be my firstborn."
"Your firstborn is dead! He died in dat fire!" Frankie shouted with bulging eyes that threatened tears. He turned away again and covered his head and face with his arm.
Luke reached out and tugged on Frankie's arm. "Come on," he said softly. "Look at me." Frankie shook his head and refused to turn it. He didn't want Luke to see the hurt emotions blatantly displayed across his face. Luke's hand remained on Frankie's arm. "Hey, partner, look at me," he cajoled the boy. He reached out and tapped his finger on the cartoon lassos and spurred cowboy boots, which sprinkled across the boy's gown. "Howdy there, cowboy," he said in his best John Wayne accent. "You got the spurs and the lasso, but where's the horse?" Frankie's face turned red with his efforts to ignore his father and contain the laughter that was dying to explode from within. Finally, he settled for a coughing fit slash burst of laughter. He cleared his throat, hoping that he'd thrown his father off track. He sneaked a look at Luke from underneath his arm. Luke's face took on a craggy, mountaineer expression with one eye squinting and one wide open, and he croaked, "Dis here Dad has only one first son. His name's Frankie. Have you seen him around these here parts? He's full of holes, and he can't walk 'cause he tackled the floor."
Frankie giggled and turned toward Luke. "You're funny," he observed with a shy smile and sparkling eyes. "I like dat."
"Anyone named Junior gets a hug from the old prospector," Luke stated. "I can't go home until I get my hug - it's against the law in this crazy place. I refuse to go home hugless." Luke picked up the Cookie Monster puppet that was wedged between the bed and the rail, and he held it close to his face. "Where's my Junior?" he demanded the silent puppet, shaking it and making its eyes bob. Luke placed his hand over his brow as if he were squinting in the bright Western sun. He alternately wagged his right and left eyebrows up and down.
"I'm a Junior," Frankie smiled. He lifted up his arms. "I get da hug."
Luke drew Frankie into a careful hug and breathed in his son's scent as he stroked his hair. Oh, kid, he sighed to himself. It's been such a long time. God must be smiling. Don't shut down on me now, Frankie.
~~ Faith: you know you're gonna live through the rain Lord you gotta keep the faith Faith: don't you let your love turn to hate Now we've gotta keep the faith Keep the faith Keep the faith Lord, we gotta keep the faith *
~*~*~*~
"Ruby. Hi, it's me, Johnny. Do you remember me?" Johnny leaned casually against Kelly's counter with his arms crossed and a shy smile on his handsome face.
Ruby looked up with surprise from the dishes that she was stacking on the counter. "Uncle Johnny," she commented sarcastically. "You have two more weeks left on your rent. Where've you been? Or is that a trick question?"
"No trick question," Johnny answered smoothly. "You have a right to know where I've been." He sighed deeply as his apologetic green eyes met Ruby's worried blue ones. "Did Bobbie tell you what happened after the coup at the Smith estate?"
Ruby nodded wordlessly, but kept her intense gaze trained on the man in front of her.
"I've been living in a motel, Ruby. I didn't want any potential mob violence to come near you or your niece. Today, I've been in New Jersey, picking up a woman that was close to Frankie. He needs to see her. I was wondering if she could stay in my old room? I'd feel more comfortable if she were staying here."
"Johnny!"
Johnny and Ruby turned to see a woman in her sixties striding into the diner, waving her hand in their direction and smiling with her red lipsticked lips. "I can't wait in da car no more!" she announced. "I'm so excited to be here. I wanna see my Frankie, but dat's gotta wait 'til morning, I know." Mrs. DeMarco paused with her hand to her chest to catch her breath and looked at Ruby. "Mrs. DeMarco," she introduced herself with a handshake. "And you must be Miz Ruby Spencer. Dat's what Johnny said. He likes you lots, you know. Always talkin' about your good food." She raised an eyebrow. "And Johnny oughta know."
Ruby stared speechless at Mrs. DeMarco, her mind working a mile a minute. Oh my. Now I know where Frankie acquired his accent - and his fake last name. She finally found her voice and said curiously. "So, you're Johnny's mother?"
Mrs. DeMarco waved away her question with a laugh. "Oh, I'm his mama, but dat's what everybody calls me. Nah, I'm his ex mother-in-law, ain't dat right, Johnny?"
Johnny blushed and nodded. "Yes, that's true."
"Cup of coffee?" Ruby offered as she held up a full pot in Mrs. DeMarco's direction.
"Oh, isn't dat perfect? Thank you," Mrs. DeMarco declared as she lowered herself onto a stool behind the counter and groaned loudly. "Oh, dose Cadillac's. Dey don't make 'em like dey used to!"
"Isn't that the truth?" Ruby agreed. "I can hardly ride in a car these days. They're all flash but no performance. A person ought to be comfortable -what's this world coming to?"
Mrs. DeMarco nodded, and her untidy gray and black bun bounced precariously on top of her head. "Oh, I know," she sympathized with a knowing look as she took a sip of her coffee and exclaimed with delight. "Dat's very nice. Thank you."
Ruby looked pleased. "So you'll be staying with us for several nights? Johnny mentioned that you needed a place to stay. You're going to be visiting Frankie."
Mrs. DeMarco's face fell. "Oh, dat poor baby. I've been worried sick since I found out what happened to him. I hafta see him."
"I just found out that I'm Frankie's great aunt," Ruby confided as she sliced a piece of lemon cake and placed it in front of Mrs. DeMarco. "I helped raised his father, Luke."
"Oh, dat's nice," Mrs. DeMarco said as she sampled her cake. "Oh, divine!" she complimented. "Dat's real good." She smiled broadly. "I love dose babies, too. I got lotsa dem. My own babies and da unofficially adopted ones like Frankie. I loved dat boy. He was cute and smart. Too smart. I could hardly keep aheada dat one."
"I'm happy that he had someone to care about him in his early years," Ruby stated frankly. "His parents adored the boy for his first year, but then he was kidnapped."
"I couldn't believe dat when I heard it. For all dose years, I thought he was Frank's." Mrs. DeMarco laughed and exclaimed, "Oh my!" as she patted her stomach. She removed her light coat. "I forgot da apron again. I'm always goin' outta da house with it!" She reached behind her back to untie the flower-covered fabric.
"I do grocery shopping in this number," Ruby chuckled in agreement, fingering the blue ticking stripes of her full front apron. "It's my best fashion piece," she laughed as she held her hand up in a fashion pose.
"Oh, hahaha," Mrs. DeMarco laughed. "You're so funny. I like dat."
Johnny stroked his chin and smirked as the two women rapidly conversed, completely forgetting the handsome man that had introduced them. Pot meet kettle, he thought.
~*~*~*~
"Yes," Nikolas exclaimed abruptly as he opened his bedroom door. "Mother."
"You bet it's your mother," Laura replied tersely. "You're coming with me," she announced as she grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room.
"What?" Nikolas asked with irritation. He frowned and shook his head as his mother marched him down the hallway.
"I'm tired of your blasé attitude about your baby sister. You're going to spend some time with her - now! She'll only be a small baby for a short while, and you need to bond with her."
Nikolas shrugged his arm away from Laura and stopped in the middle of the hallway. "I've seen her," he protested. "She's a baby. Am I supposed to have deep, intellectual conversations with her?"
"Why not?" Laura retorted. "You do with your horse."
Nikolas glared at Laura and refused to move.
"Now, buster," she said, pointing her finger to the nursery. "And I might as well teach you how to change a diaper."
Nikolas looked aghast. "Mother," he exclaimed incredulously. "We have servants to do that."
Laura raised her hands to the heavens. "Why did I raise you this way? I've spoiled you. Now you have no idea what real life is like."
"And you do?" Nikolas replied snottily.
"That will be enough," the masculine voice intoned. "I could hear you in the nursery." Stefan walked down the hall and stood in front of his son. Even though he was shorter than Nikolas by two or three inches, he had a regal, commanding presence that demanded attention. "What has gotten into you, young man? Your tone and your words are very disrespectful. Apologize to your mother and then go learn how to change a diaper." Stefan raised his eyebrows. "Now!" he ordered.
Nikolas shrugged and looked sheepish. "I'm sorry I was disrespectful." He glared at his father, challenging him to call him on some other misbehavior.
Stefan ignored Nikolas and leaned toward Laura. "I'll be in my study. I need to talk to you about several matters when you're finished here." He looked deeply into Laura's eyes, smiled and then lightly kissed her cheek before striding down the hallway.
"Diaper duty!" Laura announced happily as she led a scowling Nikolas to the nursery.
"What do you have for us, Lesley Alexandra?" Laura asked as lifted Lulu from her crib and laid her down on the changing table. She unfastened Lulu's diaper. "Oh! A poopy diaper - that's good practice for your brother." Laura handed a container of baby wipes to Nikolas and motioned toward the baby.
~*~*~*~
Laura carried the baby monitor with her when she entered Stefan's study. "Hi Honey," she said brightly. "Nikolas had his first bad diaper experience. I think he's recovered by now. He's rocking Lulu in the rocking chair, but I have the monitor with me so I can check up on them. What did you want to talk to me about?" Laura leaned over Stefan in his executive chair and gave him a very long, seductive kiss. She stroked and pulled on his goatee and laughed. "Cutie," she teased him.
Stefan wrapped his hands around Laura's waist and pulled her onto his lap in the chair. He held her close, nuzzled her hair and then stared at her with a lustful gaze. "How long do we have to wait?" he asked wearily. "Three more weeks, dearheart," Laura reminded him as she tapped his lips with her forefinger. Stefan sighed when his wife rose from his lap and seated herself in a chair.
"It's about Frankie," he stated. When Laura looked alarmed, he held up his hand to stop her train of thought. "It's not an emergency. He took a spill from his hospital bed. He's okay now, just a few more bruises on his hip. He'll probably need to walk on crutches for a few weeks when he leaves the hospital. Luke is with him, and everything is under control."
Laura held her hand to her forehead. "I can't believe it," she said incredulously. "Something is always happening to this child. What's going on? How did he fall out of bed?"
"According to my guard, he took a dive - on purpose," Stefan answered. His expression softened as he looked at his wife's grief. "Laura, we know the boy has problems - how could he not with the way that he was treated? But, we're here now, and we can help him as we gain his trust and he recovers his health."
"I don't know what to do for him," Laura confessed in a plaintive voice near tears. "If I knew, then I could do it, but what does he need? What does he want from us?"
"I'd say that he needs a steady influence, a foundation of some sort," Stefan answered. "From what Frankie's bodyguard has shared with us, he's had an unsavory upbringing."
"I know," Laura said tearfully. She reached for the box of tissues that Stefan kept on his desk for these moments. "He's my baby boy, and it kills me that he was mistreated. I'm so grateful that he's alive, but to find out that he never had any mother and a father that handed him off to strangers is terrifying. How did he survive?"
"We must develop a positive attitude, Laura - for the boy's sake," Stefan interjected. "Yes, he's had problems, but we can work on those. The boy has many good points in his favor - he's intelligent, capable of kindness and love. Let's concentrate on those attributes and encourage him in the right direction. It will do none of us well to concentrate on the painful past. The present and future are more exciting and promising."
"You're right," Laura nodded. "I have a tendency to be weepy and maudlin. It's such a miracle that he's alive. I'll remind myself of that every day."
Stefan cleared his throat. "There is one more matter." He hesitated and crossed his hands on the desktop. "The boy has not adjusted well to being in the hospital. As you recall, the child psychologist told us that he'd been shot before, at age ten, and that he was angry and upset to be in the hospital again. Frankie's condition continues to improve, but his attitude has deteriorated. There was an incident at the ICU today. Frankie verbally abused and threatened one of the nurses. Upon further investigation, I discovered that two other female nurses have had problems with him not cooperating and giving them respect." Stefan seriously regarded his wife's stricken face. "We may have to move him out of General Hospital if this continues. I have a responsibility to provide a safe workplace for professionals. Threats and obvious mob activity are making staff uneasy and concerned for their own safety.
Laura let out a long breath. "What are we going to do, Stefan?"
"As soon as he's well enough to be moved from the ICU, I'm going to suggest to Luke that we transfer him to Wyndemere for the time being," Stefan replied. He leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers together as his mind logically worked out a solution. "We can have a medical facility set up in the house - it's certainly large enough. There is an elevator to the suites on the second floor. It seems like an obvious solution while he's convalescing. And, I believe that he'll be safer here than in a public place like a hospital. It may take some time to extricate him from his organized crime associations. We're very defensible here on the island. I already have a top security system and staff in place. Besides, the custody hearing is next week. We'll need to consult with Alexis, but it may look better for us all if he's already established in a home."
Laura's lips turned up slightly, and her eyes sparkled. "You are analytical man, Stefan Cassadine. What haven't you thought of?"
"I don't know," Stefan replied as he winked at Laura and rubbed his right temple. "I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Oh, yes…how do we keep our sons from killing one another?"
"When you figure that one out, bottle it and sell it," Laura said merrily. "We'll have even more millions in the bank."
~*~*~*~
"Where's my blushing bride?" Luke called out into Alexis' apartment. He sighed and closed the front door. Did I get married this morning? It seems like such a long time ago. Luke looked down at his thick gold band and smiled. Hey, I like this. He frowned and walked over to a table in the living room. There was an opened bottle of champagne on it with the cork laid carefully to the side, and a plate full of crackers and cheese. There were two champagne glasses - one clean and one used with the smudge of rose lipstick on the tip of the glass. Luke picked up the note and read:
~*~
Dear Husband,
Your new wife has pooped out and is now sound asleep in the proverbial marital bed. Have a sip of celebratory champagne and join me in slumberland. We went from newlyweds to old married couple in less than twenty-four hours. Did we set a new world record?
Love ya big guy!
Your devoted wife,
Alexis
Xoxoxoxo (tomorrow, please?)
~*~
Luke laughed out loud and poured out a generous glass of champagne. He looked at the delicate glass and made a face. "What the hell," he muttered, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a big swig. "Ahh," he exclaimed, rubbing his hair tiredly. "Spencer, you picked a good woman," he complimented himself with a small, secret smile.
~*~*~*~
"We've located him," the gravelly voice spat out. A hairy hand adjusted the phone earpiece as the wide mouth smiled evilly. "Our man will arrive this evening. Tomorrow morning, the kid won't know what hit him." The hand hung up the phone, and the mouth parted as the laughter floated through the air with a piercing ring.
* Lyrics from "Keep the Faith" by Bon Jovi