Chapter Forty-Four
Laura entered Frankie's room with Lulu nestled safely in her arms. Back in the nursery, Lulu had calmed down instantly when Laura had picked her up, feeling safe and secure in her mother's gentle care.
"How is he?" she whispered to Jerry, who was seated in a chair near Frankie.
"Tired," the doctor answered. "He overdid it for his first time out of bed. He'll be okay."
Frankie's face was drawn and pale. Laura frowned worriedly when she noticed he was back on oxygen.
"Why does he need oxygen?" Laura stroked Lulu's hair while she listened intently.
"It hasn't been long since he was shot," Jerry explained. "His lung is still healing, and he's not able to properly oxygenate his blood with only half a lung that's uninjured. He needs to see a pulmonary specialist soon, but for now he's comfortable."
Laura nodded and walked over to the bed. "Frankie," she said lightly. Frankie's eyes opened, and she noticed they appeared hazy with the sedative effects of the narcotics he'd received. "Look who wants to see you."
"Lulu-baby," Frankie said softly. He grimaced and rose up slightly on the bed, propping himself up with his elbow. Lulu made a few cooing noises and bobbed her head in his direction. "Her eyes are watching me!" Frankie giggled.
Laura laughed. "She's sleepy, and so are you." Frankie carefully lowered himself back to the bed and blinked his eyes repeatedly, trying to stay awake so he wouldn't miss a visit with his baby sister.
"I need to talk to the doctor for a minute. Would you like it if I nestled Lulu next to you? You can take a nap together."
"Sure," Frankie replied excitedly. "Bring her here." Laura arranged Frankie's arm so that it cocooned Lulu and rested the baby's head on him for support. "Don't move. Lay still on your back," she cautioned him. Laura intended to be only one step away from brother and sister, so she wasn't worried. Frankie's eyes gazed at Lulu, and he laughed when she blew a bubble. "Bubble baby," he teased as he ran a gentle hand over her pretty white lace dress. "Blow another one," he encouraged her. When Lulu responded appropriately, he said, "Good girl," in an encouraging voice. Frankie yawned and laid his head to the side of his pillow. Soon, his breaths came as regularly as the baby's beside him.
"I'm going to have the cook prepare a variety of broths and flavored gelatin for Frankie's lunch. Is that appropriate?" asked Laura. She sat down in a chair beside Dr. Hill and gathered her skirts around her knees as she kept one eye on Lulu. Jerry nodded. "That's fine to start. We'll keep him on a liquid diet for two days, and then he can graduate to baby food." Laura laughed in response. "It'll be like old times," she reflected. "He was on baby food when he was kidnapped."
Jerry's eyes flickered with compassion. "It must have been very difficult to lose your son like that."
Laura's face fell as she recalled that time. "Yes. It's like the world came to an end only we were the only ones who felt it. Everywhere people walked around like life was fine, but it wasn't. It destroyed us, really. Frankie's father and me." Laura nodded in Frankie's direction. "His real name is Lucky, short for Lucas. It didn't give him much luck, though, did it?" Laura's fingers played with the pleats in her skirt, repeatedly running over the crisp folds. Her voice shook when she spoke. "I would have preferred anyone else to raise him other than that man, Frank Smith. He was a monster."
Jerry nodded. "He doesn't seem to have been a good influence on the boy. But Frankie's resilient. Most kids are. He can be helped."
"Laura?" Luke's cautious voice sounded out his ex-wife's name as he entered the room. "You sounded frantic on the phone. How's the kid?" Luke gestured over to the bed. "He seems to be sacked out with his new baby sister."
Laura smiled at Luke. "He can't seem to get enough of Lulu. They look so sweet sleeping together."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Can I hold your daughter?" he asked with twinkling eyes. "I'd love to meet her."
Laura nodded and rose from her chair. "I need to return her to the nursery. Why don't you hold her while we walk down the hall? We can have some privacy in the nursery to discuss our son."
Luke gently ran a hand over Lulu's hair and lifted her from her sleeping brother's arm. He held the baby away from him so he could inspect her features. "She's gorgeous, Laura. Sort of a mixture of Nikolas and Frankie wrapped up into one cute little girl."
Frankie stirred on his bed and opened his eyes, surprised to see his father holding Lulu. "Luke?" he asked sleepily as he ran the back of his hand over his eyes.
"I've just met your little sister," Luke explained. "She's a beauty."
"Yeah," Frankie agreed with a soft voice. He moved his head distractedly on his pillow, but didn't say anything else.
"We're going to take her back to the nursery, and then I'll be back to talk to you," Luke said. He seems out of it, Luke observed. He's never this quiet.
~*~*~*~
"How's life for Frankie Spencer?" Luke joked as he pulled a chair next to his son's bedside. He winked at Frankie and gave him a lopsided grin. Luke knew that Frankie didn't recall the scene that had upset his father so greatly, so he decided to start fresh and not mention anything that would possibly trigger a harsh reaction from his son.
"I don't know," Frankie said vaguely, his face impassive and his eyes wandering around the room.
"Sly told me to tell you he said hi," Luke stated. "He misses you."
Frankie coughed repeatedly and turned away from Luke without answering. He curled up on his side and began playing with the blanket that was flung beside him. After a minute, he said in a small voice. "Dat's nice. Tell Sly hi back from me."
Luke reached out and stroked the fabric on Frankie's arm. "That's a real nice sweatsuit. Purple. I like that."
"Mama gave it to me," Frankie explained. "It's Stefan's but he won't wear it so it's mine now."
Frankie grew quiet again and stared at the wall, not his father. Luke's face flooded with concern when he couldn't get Frankie to open up or engage in conversation. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Can I help?"
Frankie shrugged noncommittally and kept a blank expression on his face. His eyes glistened, and a tear slowly leaked from his eye and ran down his nose, onto his lips. He caught the tear with his tongue, and sniffed.
Luke held his hand firmly on Frankie's arm. "What's the matter?" he asked again. He knew he had to be tenacious as he recognized some of Frankie's behaviors from his early encounters with Sly. Sly's thoughts and feelings often had to be coaxed and wheedled and pried from him, particularly soon after Bill's death. Luke wondered if this was Frankie's problem as well.
"Nothing's the matter," Frankie lied.
"Then why won't you talk to me?" Luke countered. "Usually, it's hard to get a word in edgewise with you. Why the clam imitation?"
Frankie didn't even respond to Luke's attempts at humor and instead began to cry soundlessly.
"Are you feeling sad?" Luke prompted. His eyes never left Frankie's face as he waited for an answer.
Frankie nodded wordlessly and sighed. His fingers grasped firmly on the blanket and released. He repeated the motion in a rhythm spaced out by several seconds. "I wanna go home," he said in a high, thready voice thick with tears.
"What do you mean? Back to New Jersey?"
"Yeah."
Luke frowned as he contemplated the implications of his son's answer. Surely he doesn't miss Frank. "What happened? What made you feel that way?"
Frankie remained turned away from Luke, not wanting to meet his eyes or reveal more than he intended. "I want my life back. I want my rooms and da furniture and da beer and Michelle and even dat ugly Helga buggin' me about getting out so she can clean," he rattled out in one quick breath. On a roll, he couldn't seem to stem the flow of words. "I want my dad. I miss my dad. He's never comin' back," Frankie wailed softly. "Nobody wants me. Michelle don't wanna be with me no more. I thought she liked me. And Johnny wants to sell da business so he can get away from me."
Luke sat stunned in his chair, his heart feeling like it had been stabbed by a jagged steak knife. Okay, Luke. He says he misses his dad. It's natural, not a comment on you. He's telling you because you've built a rapport. Be cool. Don't lose it. It's going to be all right. You can get through this. Luke finally found his voice and willed it to be strong yet casual. "Johnny wants you to be safe - that's why he's so focused on selling the business. He'll still be in your life." And porking your aunt no doubt. "Who's this Michelle?"
Frankie sniffed loudly and placed a hand over his eyes. "She's my who...ore," he cried forlornly. "She don't wanna do it no more. She couldn't wait to get away from me. I need my whore."
Luke swallowed the lump in his throat. Did he ever name that whore? I don't recall that name. Damn. "What did she say to you? When did you talk to her?"
Frankie finally turned onto his back and looked at Luke with his teary blue eyes. "I called her on da cell phone and told her I wanted to set her up in Port Charles, but she said no. She wanted da education."
"Is that so bad? She's making a new life for herself."
"But what about me?" Frankie sniveled.
"It's your opportunity to make a new life, too. I know it's hard to change or when you mourn people who've died, but you have to start over. You have a whole new family that's delighted to have you. Why won't you let us care about you and welcome you?"
"I tried," Frankie protested. "But it's too hard. I'm tired and sick and everything's too hard." Frankie held an arm over his face to shield the fact that a new round of tears was flowing.
"You've had a strenuous day so far," Luke reasoned. "Your wounds are still healing, and it's hard to get around. You'll get better day by day. Give yourself time."
"I want my guns," Frankie replied firmly.
Luke's mouth dropped open in shock. "What?"
"First I'm gonna blow Nikolas' brains out like da Picasso, den I'm gonna do me." Frankie lifted a pillow and covered his head with it. "It's better dat way," he mumbled from under the pillow.
Luke lifted the pillow away and held it on his lap. He pulled the fabric under the tension of his fingers. "No, it's not better that way. I want you and Sly and Nikolas to be happy and healthy. I won't accept any other alternative. You're brothers and have to find a way to get along. End of story."
Luke rose from his chair and stood over Frankie. He reached out a tentative hand and stroked the boy's hair before gently reaching for his chin to turn his son's face toward his. "Frankie, I love you more than my own life. You're not going to take yourself away from me. Do you understand me? I won't allow it." Luke's gaze bore into his son's eyes until Frankie lowered his eyes and removed Luke's hand from his chin. "I don't know," Frankie replied.
"I do know," Luke quickly answered. "You're going to try with everything that you have to get better, and when you feel bad or depressed or upset, you're going to talk to me or your mother or whoever else you need to. You're going to fight and win. You're going to be happy and successful and have a good life."
Frankie studied Luke's face with interest but made no comment. He blinked away a few more tears. "What am I gonna do without da whore?" he lamented.
Luke felt a spark of anger build in him. "Do you have a hand?" he asked tersely.
"Yeah," Frankie scoffed.
Luke caught his gaze with intensity. "Use it."
Frankie stared at Luke with a confused look on his face until he got it. "Ahahahaa!" he laughed merrily. "AHAHAHA! I like dat." He stirred on the bed. "Uh-oh."
"What's the matter?"
"I gotta go to the bathroom," Frankie replied in a small voice.
"See?" Luke replied. "Progress. Need help into the wheelchair?"
"Yeah," Frankie stated resignedly.
~*~*~*~
Luke was sitting in a rocking chair, moving his feet up and down to keep the chair in motion. He stroked his goatee and stared into the distance, lost in thought. His eyes swept around the room, and he wondered idly how Frankie liked living in an old Victorian mansion with its gloomy gothic presence. It has to be very different from what he's used to. Of course, our home will be a postage stamp compared to his Miami Vice mansion in Atlantic City. Luke sighed and rubbed his hair. He's scaring me. I haven't seen him this down. Before, he was hurting physically, but now he's had time to consider what he's lost. Of course, with Frank, it's good riddance; however Frankie doesn't see it that way. Laura and I will have to be careful not to badmouth Frank around him. Let the kid come to his own conclusions.
Luke jumped to his feet when he heard the loud thud emit from the bathroom. As he walked across the room, he heard Frankie's weak voice calling his name. Luke quickly opened the door to the sight of his son sprawled in a heap on the tile floor, on his stomach with his legs flung widely. He was huffing and puffing and trying to rise up. Luke scooped him up under his arms and lifted the boy back to his wheelchair. "What happened in here?"
Frankie made a face and coughed. "I thought I'd try to walk without da wheelchair. My leg wouldn't work, and I fell."
"You need physical therapy. You damaged the nerves and muscles, remember?" Luke wheeled Frankie back to his bed. "It's going to take awhile until you have use of that leg."
"No duh," Frankie replied smartly. "Sucker is only attached. It don't work. How come I could walk on it for ten miles before?"
Luke regarded Frankie curiously. "That was before you tried to tackle the hard floor. I'd wondered how far you walked to make it back to Port Charles." So far, Frankie had remained mute about his ordeal after Frank's shooting.
Frankie coughed for a long time, and Luke noticed that he could hear his strained breathing. "It was about five miles to da highway from da estate and den when the truck driver kicked me out, I hadda walk about another five miles to da truck stop. I don't know how I made it. I put one foot in front of da other and kept moving. I knew I'd die if I stopped. Course I kept stumbling and fell a bunch of times. I had to crawl out of a ditch once. Oooohh..." Frankie laughed evilly. "Dose mystery meat sticks. Oh boy. Dey suck."
"What do you mean?" Luke prompted.
"All I had to eat was a bunch of cookies and dese meat sticks. Dey didn't stay long with me. Frank, he said only eat da steak and potatoes, and I agree."
Luke frowned. "What happened with the truck driver? Why didn't he take you to the truck stop?"
Frankie made a disgusted noise. "We had a standoff. I had my gun to his head, but his arm was longer. Ahaha. I pissed 'em off when I pointed my gun at him, and he kicked me out."
"Do you blame him?" Luke asked incredulously.
Frankie shrugged. "I dunno. No."
"Why did you decide to come to Port Charles?" Luke asked lightly. This had been a question that he'd wondered about since day one of Frankie's return.
Frankie looked down at his lap and played with his hands. His face colored and he looked away from Luke, convinced that any revelation of his feelings was a sign of weakness. "I tried to think of what Johnny would tell me to do. I didn't know if Johnny was dead or not at dat point." Frankie's pained blue eyes met Luke's. "But I thought he'd say to ask you my questions, ya know. Find out for myself." Frankie's voice took on a plaintive tone. "It hurt me so bad when dat baby picture fell outta da wallet." He paused and took in rapid gulps of air. "Frank was right. I wasn't his kid. He told me when he was dyin.' He was covered with blood. Dere was blood everywhere and on me." Frankie tried to catch his breath as he looked at his flexing palms. "Blood?" he questioned in a shaky voice. His chest moved up and down, and his eyes darted around. "Luke, I can't breathe," he said in a small, desperate, breathy voice. He started feeling woozy, and his head began dipping downward as his eyes closed.
Luke abruptly lifted Frankie into the bed and laid him back. He handed the oxygen apparatus to Frankie, who received it gratefully. Frankie moaned dejectedly and pulled his arms closer to his chest as he huddled into himself.
"Frankie, I'm going to find the doctor," Luke said hurriedly as he exited the room.
~*~*~*~
"What's wrong with my son?" Luke asked intently, his eyes boring into Dr. Hill's. "Why can't he breathe right? Shouldn't he be in a hospital? Are you properly equipped to deal with him?" Luke stood with one hand on his hip, and his facial muscles were tight, betraying his extreme tension.
"As I explained to his mother earlier, Frankie is healing, but he sustained a serious injury to his lung. His other lung doesn't have sufficient capacity to make up for the deficit. I've recommended that he see a pulmonary specialist next week to be on the safe side. The problem is that he's not the most even tempered boy. He doesn't think and consider the consequences of his actions, and when he's upset he requires more oxygen and then feels like he's suffocating. It's partly psychological."
"So if we can keep him calm and happy then he'll heal better and be more comfortable?" Luke questioned.
"Exactly."
Luke rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and let out an exclamation. "Damn. That's not so easy."
"I realize that."
"I wanted to take him on a brief outing this afternoon in his wheelchair. My wife and I are buying a house, and I wanted Frankie and his brother to take a tour and tell us what they'd need for furniture. Is that too ambitious?"
Dr. Hill remained silent for a moment as he thought. "It may be a good idea if you can make it a low key afternoon - only an hour or two. I think he's bored, and he needs a distraction or else he creates his own drama." Jerry laughed and folded his arms when he noticed Luke's bemused reaction to his comments. "You've noticed that, too?"
Luke nodded and chuckled.
"Ask him what he wants, and if he's agreeable, I'll make him mobile," the doctor offered.
~*~*~*~
Luke carefully lifted Frankie into the back seat of the car and handed him the buckle to his seatbelt. Jerry leaned in and positioned the portable oxygen tank on the floor of the back seat. He covered Frankie with a blanket and tucked it in. "Be good," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "You can manage that, can't you? No upsets."
Frankie nodded solemnly, eager to begin his adventure.
"We're going to pick up Sly at the high school," Luke said as he slipped into the driver's seat. "Are you comfortable?"
"Ya," Frankie answered quickly.
"Alexis will meet us at the house. I can't wait for you boys to see it. Now, remember, I need your expert opinion on bedroom furniture. Okay?"
"Can do," Frankie replied happily. He plastered his face to the window, drinking in the different sights, sounds and colors of the passing landscape. His eyes were bright and attentive, memorizing the various landmarks. The sun filtered onto his face, warming it with its generous rays, and Frankie sighed contentedly, relaxing for the first time in hours. He sat up higher in his seat. "Dere's da high school," he announced. "I see Sly! He's wavin' at me."
"Hi," Frankie said shyly when Sly entered the front passenger seat. Sly turned around and grinned at Frankie. "I'm glad you're coming with us, Frankie." Sly took in the pain that haunted Frankie's features and the attendant medical paraphernalia. He swallowed hard and wondered when his new brother would ever feel better.
"Me, too," Frankie piped up. "How's school? I miss astronomy."
"Oh, it's the same as usual. I could use your enforcer help in gym, though. Those guys are getting cocky again."
Frankie's features clouded. "What are dey doin' now?"
"They're pushing guys around when we play basketball. Tripping them and stuff. The stupid PE teacher is too busy flirting with the girls' PE coach, and he doesn't pay attention."
"Why don't you discuss this behavior with the teacher? I'm sure he'll listen," Luke offered helpfully.
Sly met Frankie's eyes and both of them shook their heads at Luke's ineptitude. Gym was a free for all - everybody knew that. The tough guys took no prisoners and now with Frankie gone, the boys were jockeying for his place as chief tough guy. Sly could see the wheels turning in Frankie's brain and waited eagerly for a solution.
"Da computers," Frankie said finally as he snapped his fingers. "I got an idea. You know dose stupid programs dey made us watch?"
Sly nodded. "The ones that show the proper techniques for playing ball with the dorky actors pretending to be in high school?"
"Yeah." Frankie raised an eyebrow. "Can ya get hold of a camcorder?"
"Uncle Luke, can I borrow the camcorder for the afternoon?" Sly asked.
Luke hadn't been paying attention to the boys' chatter and started in his seat. "Oh. Why do you want the camcorder?"
"It's for a school project," Sly explained vaguely.
"I suppose," Luke replied. "As long as you return it in one piece."
Sly nodded excitedly at Frankie who giggled and grinned in return as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation of his next project.
Luke frowned as he sensed that he was being left out of something. "What are you two so excited about?"
"Nothing," two pseudo-innocent voices replied.
~*~*~*~
"I have the key," Alexis exclaimed excitedly as she held the object in the air. "Let's have a look."
Luke laid down several boards that he'd packed into the trunk of his car as makeshift ramps. The boards covered the steps to the front door of the house, and Luke wheeled Frankie up onto the porch. "Looks new," Frankie commented as he craned his neck.
"It's about two years old," Alexis explained. "Almost new."
"I like dat," Frankie observed as he pointed toward the large stone fireplace at the end of the living room. "Fires are cool." Frankie rolled his eyes at Sly as he gave his new brother a lascivious grin. "Da girls like dem a lot." Sly smiled widely as he imagined nestling in front of the fire with Emily. He frowned quickly when he also imagined Luke barging in on them and spouting out rules of conduct.
"Can we see our bedrooms?" Sly asked.
"Let's go," Luke said breezily as he wheeled Frankie with some difficulty over the carpeting. "Hardwoods would be better, wouldn't they?" he mentioned to his son. Frankie nodded wisely. "Now both of you boys have your own bedrooms. They're small, but they work. What I want to know is what you need for storage, studying, and the like. Sly, your room is first, and Frankie, yours is at the end of the hall next to Sly. Our bedroom is on the other side of the house. Sly, you look around for a minute while I help Frankie."
Luke wheeled Frankie into his room, and Frankie noticed the two windows that overlooked the wooded yard behind the house. He nearly reared out of his chair in his hurry to look out the windows. Luke laughed as he tried to keep up with Frankie's wish to see everything at once. "It's bigger dan da DeMarco's," Frankie stated. "Dey had bunkbeds in dat room. I had to share one with Mario. Frankie scrunched up his face. "Dey all snored, and it smelled like da locker room. Dirty socks. Yuck."
Luke laughed. "Well, you can be responsible for cleaning your own room."
"Nah. I'll get da maid," Frankie replied distractedly, not realizing that servants wouldn't be a part of the modest household. Luke added that comment to the growing pile of issues that he needed to clarify with his son before he moved in.
"Okay. What's da budget?" Frankie asked breezily with the command of a forty year old businessman asking for a financial report. When Luke looked at him blankly, he added, "Right. I'll buy da furniture myself. I require Danish Modern, cherry preferably. Dat's what I had before. Oh. And I need a mini fridge. Dat's a must. Dat and a big screen TV."
Luke regarded Frankie with amusement. "And how do you propose to fit all of that in a twelve foot by thirteen foot room?"
"I'll go custom," Frankie explained as he spread his hands out toward the walls like an architect surveying the property. "Murphy bed or something like dat. It'll be cool." Frankie looked toward the floor with distaste. "Dis stuff has gotta go," he stated as he looked aghast at the tan carpeting.
"And how will your brother feel if you have custom furniture while he makes do with the cheaper stuff?" Luke questioned.
Frankie shrugged. "Okay. I'll buy his den. Whatever he wants. Dat's fine."
Luke's jaw worked, but the words escaped him. He sighed. "Maybe I'll let you do that."
~*~*~*~
"How do you like your room?" Luke questioned Sly as he placed his hands on his shoulders.
Sly turned around and grinned. "It's nice. I like it. It's bigger than the bedroom in the apartment."
"Everything is larger than the apartment," Luke commented.
"That's for sure," Sly said. "It'll be nice to stretch out and have a yard to mess around in."
"What do you want for the room?" Luke questioned.
"I don't know. A bed and a desk. Maybe a cabinet to store my CD's and other stuff. How's that?"
Luke reached out and hugged Sly, grateful for his simplicity and easy contentment. He looked Sly in the eyes. "Your brother, of course, wants to go custom. I told him he had to buy his own and yours as well if that's what he wants. What do you think?"
"If that's what he's used to, why not have it?" Sly conceded. "If he wants to pay for mine, I say let him." Sly smiled a smile that revealed most of his teeth and raised his eyebrows. Luke cracked up and punched him in the arm. "You're bad, but I like you that way. Go tell Frankie what you want. I'm sure he'll add his own twist to things."
Alexis poked her head through the door. "I've finished my measurements of the rooms and windows. Why don't we survey the yard and then pack up Frankie and take him back to Wyndemere?"
~*~*~*~
"Tomorrow afternoon?" Frankie clarified with Sly before Luke wheeled him away from the car. "Da camcorder?"
Sly gave Frankie a thumbs up sign, smiling secretly with the knowledge that Maxie would be accompanying him the following day.
"Did you have a nice time?" Luke asked good naturedly as he bent down toward his son.
"Ya," Frankie confirmed. "I'm glad we're back though 'cause I need some more pain medicine." He shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair, and Luke's heart sank at the knowledge of Frankie's ongoing problems.
"We'll have you back in your room in no time," Luke promised as he wheeled the chair closer to Wyndemere's front door.
~*~*~*~
Luke sat back in the sofa positioned under the window in the Cassadine study. His face wore a serious expression bespeaking the topic at hand.
"Our son threatened to kill Nikolas and then himself. He wants his guns."
Laura paled and nodded. "He and Nikolas had an ugly fight this morning. Frankie said that he enjoyed it and would shoot Nikolas in the face. Nikolas kicked his cell phone under the bed. Well, the rest you know from when I called you." Laura shifted uneasily in her chair. "Luke, this is getting complicated - and scary." Laura's lips reddened with her strong emotions, and she began squeezing her hands together with anxiety. "I think we should have the whole family together for a discussion to establish some ground rules for behavior."
Luke stared at Laura and made a dismissive sound as he shook his head. "That's very logical and reasonable, but remember who we're dealing with. Do you think that Frankie acts out of logic or reason? No, he reacts out of pure emotion and impulsive temper."
"Then what do you suggest?" Laura asked with irritation.
Luke remained silent. He rubbed his head and said loudly, "I don't know, I don't know. This is outside my range of experience. Sly is a very even tempered young man, not much trouble to manage. What is your assessment of Nikolas' involvement in this war?"
"I believe there are several layers of animosity that Nikolas carries. He is jealous of another sibling who is the same sex and close in age. He's used to being an only child."
"Ditto with Frankie," Luke replied.
Laura sighed and glanced over at the bookcases. "Nikolas was illegitimate, you know that," she said softly as her face fell. "You knew that I'd had a child when we married."
Luke looked at Laura with sympathy and nodded.
"Nikolas has insecurities about that. The nature of the Cassadine Empire has changed - there are no princes or royal titles now. Stefan changed that. But if there were, our son would be ineligible for a title because of the circumstances of his birth. He was teased quite a bit when he was younger." Laura paused and took in a deep breath. "And, he's told me that he felt abandoned. The photos that he received were filled with shots of me and the happy, legitimate baby - Lucky or Frankie I mean. So the rivalry has been in place for years. We just didn't see it. Now that our son is alive, it's a miracle, but not everyone is happy about it."
Luke nodded knowingly. "I can understand that. But times have changed. Why can't Nikolas move on? I'm still not sure why Frankie hates Nik so much. I spent a lot of time with Nikolas on the island. He's a very pleasant young man."
Laura's eyes took on a distant aspect as she thought hard. "I might have a clue," she announced. Laura sat up straight in her chair and began to speak animatedly. "They're so different in appearance. I think Frankie is put off by how much taller and more well built Nikolas is. Wouldn't a younger teenaged boy be sensitive about that? Nikolas has pushed him around, knocked him down, hit him, commented on his stature."
"He is short and slightly built," Luke agreed. "The doctors said that he should be taller, but with Johnny's description of his upbringing I think he wasn't fed well or taken care of properly at times. There's a chance, too, that he's a late bloomer. He still has some years to catch up on his growth." Luke groaned. "I had a talk with the boy, with Nikolas. I explained that he was the older one, that he should act maturely and set the standard of behavior."
"But that concept seems to fly out of his head when he's near his brother," Laura added.
"Yeah. What about Stefan? Has he talked to Nikolas?"
"Sure. He dragged him to the hospital to see Frankie when he was doing poorly. He said that Nikolas was moved by his plight and tried to be civil."
"Hasn't lasted long," Luke commented.
"No," Laura said resignedly.
"Sly likes both brothers," Luke observed. "Maybe he's the key."
"Or the bridge?" Laura asked. She raised her eyebrows. "Let's work on that angle."
Luke held up his hand. "But we need to table that discussion for a minute and get back to Frankie. I'm not comfortable with how depressed he seems and how he's expressed himself. We need to keep him safe and make sure he's not alone for long periods of time."
"I agree," Laura said. "I spoke to the doctor, and he indicated that patients that are as severely injured as Frankie can sometimes become depressed when they look to the future and see all that has to be dealt with. Plus, he knows how difficult the healing process can be because of his previous injuries. I think he's simply overwhelmed with all of the events and changes in his life right now."
"It makes sense," Luke agreed. "But do we need professional help in dealing with him?"
"I'm not sure," Laura stated. "I did speak to the doctor about that as well. He mentioned that a child like Frankie might have a hard time bonding with people and that it could take some time. He pointed out that Frankie might not be able to bond sufficiently with a professional to receive any benefit and that we had a better chance of succeeding with the boy."
"I have seen progress," Luke remarked. "He's starting to open up to me. Heck, the fact that he agreed to take my last name is a major coup in my book."
"So it's wait and see."
Luke nodded. "Wait and see - cautiously."
~*~*~*~
Frankie sat up in bed and cradled the cell phone in his hands. Laura had given him use of the phone to occupy him while she and Luke conducted their discussion.
"Johnny, it's me," Frankie spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm okay. I dunno. I just don't like dose closed spaces, ya know. Anyway, I got a job for ya. I need a laptop computer pronto." Frankie paused and craned his neck to be sure no one was nearby listening. "I need it now, Johnny. Right away." Frankie's face creased into a wicked smile. "I'm gonna be on top," he announced. "I just gotta use my brains." Damn dat Nikolas, he thought angrily. He's gonna be under my thumb only he don't know it yet. Tra la la.