Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Fifty-Three

A thin line of sweat ran down Johnny's forehead and dripped into his left eye, causing his vision to blur. He irritably swiped at his eyes with his forearm in an effort to concentrate clearing his view of the road and on his driving. He'd sped away from the gangland shooting but had soon slowed down to the posted speed limit as he instinctively took to the backstreets in order to avoid detection by the police. How many times had he been involved in Frank Smith's dirty business dealings and yet not once had he been apprehended. Johnny coughed and took in a sharp breath at the fiery pain in his torso. There was no way he'd allow the PCPD to be involved in this - he still was Frankie's employee and as such maintained a fierce loyalty to the boy.

Johnny worriedly glanced to his right at the slumped over posture that Frankie had assumed, leaning against the door like a sack of potatoes. Johnny coughed again and said hoarsely, "Frankie? Are you hanging in there?" When Frankie didn't answer, Johnny reached out his right hand and jostled the boy's shoulder. "Hey," he said louder. He noticed that Frankie's body was trembling when he touched him. Frankie moaned and blearily raised his head to look in the direction of Johnny's voice. Johnny's heart sank at the view of Frankie's face, which was covered with blood on the right side with an eye that firmly shut with the red swelling that compressed it. Frankie involuntarily dropped his head back, and it cracked lightly on the passenger's window.

"Oh shit," Johnny muttered as he reached into his suit coat for his cell phone. Thank goodness it was located in the lower portion of the suit and had avoided being blasted apart by a stray bullet. Johnny tried to work the phone and keep an eye on the road at the same time. Where should we go? How do I keep him safe? he wondered to himself as he dialed the number to Wyndemere and asked for Dr. Jeremiah Hill.  Johnny wasn't sure who had ordered the hit. The timing was suspicious and pointed a finger to Sonny Corinthos, but he figured that Sonny was too much of a small player to operate that way. Was it the Mafia?

"Dr. Hill. It's Johnny Callahan, Frankie Spencer's bodyguard. We've been hit after taking care of some business. We were both wearing our vests, but we took a lot of bullets. I'm hurting pretty bad, so I figure Frankie is, too. We can't go back to Wyndemere until we figure out what's going down. Can you meet us at Kelly's Diner? Frankie has a room there, but I don't think anyone is aware of it. It'll be safe for the time being. Great. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Johnny dialed information and asked to be connected to Kelly's Diner. When he heard the hearty voice of Ruby Spencer, he said, "Ruby, it's Johnny Callahan. Frankie and I will be there in about fifteen minutes. We'll come in by the alley entrance. We need to lay low. We were in the middle of an incident." Johnny listened to Ruby's fearful exclamations as he nodded. "I'm not sure. I think we both might be hurt. I'm just trying to concentrate on getting us off the streets. Bobbie's there? Good. Dr. Hill is going to meet us there." Johnny hung up the phone and wiped more sweat from his brow as he grimaced with pain. Frankie's silence was worrying him plenty, but he kept his eyes on the road so he could drive them to safety.

~*~*~*~

Johnny parked the battered BMW in an empty space behind Kelly's Diner. Ruby was already waiting at the open back door with a frantic Mrs. DeMarco hopping up and down and looking over her shoulder. "I have the door to his room open," Ruby called out as she walked toward the car. Johnny leaped out of the BMW but swiftly bent over double as he held a hand to his midriff. "Dammit!" he hissed as he groped behind him with a shaking hand and rested against the black vehicle. After getting his bearings, he slowly made his way over to Frankie's door and opened it, careful to inch it open as Frankie spilled into his waiting hands. Johnny's mouth turned down into a frown when he looked one more time at Frankie's obvious injuries. Frankie struggled lightly, swinging his arms back and forth and kicking a leg as Johnny handled him. The boy's uninjured left eye was open as a mere slit, and he didn't seem to be aware that it was Johnny who had him.

Ruby ran up behind Johnny and said, "You're going to need some help with him. I'll take his legs." Johnny gave Ruby a sharp look. "Don't touch his back. Be careful with him."

"I will," Ruby said in a soft voice that held a firm confidence in her abilities. "I'm no stranger to violence, men and boys," she explained as she took Frankie's lower calves into her hands. Frankie attempted to struggle several times while they carried him to the back door of Kelly's, but he calmed down when he heard Mrs. DeMarco's voice calling his name and telling him it was all right. Bobbie was right behind Mrs. DeMarco, and her wide brown eyes took in the pain that washed over Johnny's face and the blood that covered Frankie's. "Take him upstairs," she said in a low voice, as they were trying to sneak the boy upstairs without drawing the customers' attention.

Upstairs in Frankie's rented room, Johnny and Ruby very gently laid Frankie down on the bed on his stomach. Mrs. DeMarco turned his head so that the wound was exposed, and she lightly stroked his hair and murmured to him. Frankie's good eye was barely open, but he sighed raggedly and blinked tiredly when Mrs. DeMarco spoke to him. "He's trembling," Ruby said with surprise. Johnny frowned. "It was no picnic. I'm pretty shaken myself. I'm not sure what happened to him since they took me out first.  I flew over the car and landed on my back in the street." Bobbie carried clean towels and washcloths into the room with a bowl full of water. "We need to look you over, too," she said with a firm tone. "Go sit in that chair," she ordered Johnny. Johnny looked at Bobbie with surprise and laughed at Bobbie's authoritative nursing ways.

"Someone needs to wait for Dr. Hill," he explained. "I might as well meet him and explain what happened."

"Pull up a chair from the diner and sit while you're waiting," Bobbie said shortly.

"I'd better get back down to the customers," Ruby said in an indecisive voice as she looked back and forth from the door to Frankie.

"I'll take care of him," Mrs. DeMarco stated as she directed her brown eyes at Ruby.

Ruby nodded and walked to the door with a tense look on her face. God, take care of my boy, she thought as she and Johnny headed for the stairs.

Bobbie gently smoothed a moistened washcloth over Frankie's head wound to clean it off and determine what the injury was. She worked so quickly that Frankie wasn't disturbed, and Mrs. DeMarco held his hand to comfort him. Bobbie let out a silent whistle. "I think a bullet grazed his temple right at the hairline. The flesh is torn, and there's a large bump and bruising. He's very lucky the bullet didn't take his eye out." She opened a first aid kit that she'd grabbed from the kitchen and searched through it for some clean gauze. "I'll leave this for the doctor to decide what to do, but we can cover it so it might stop bleeding. It looks like he scraped his face on the concrete as well. That's got to sting."

Frankie let out a sound that was halfway between a growl and a whimper as he reached for his face when the antiseptic that Bobbie applied burnt his tender skin.  "Here," Bobbie directed Mrs. DeMarco. "Hold the gauze to try to stop the bleeding. I need to take his vitals." Bobbie took his pulse and respiration readings, which were both higher than normal. Although Frankie was obviously conscious, he seemed off to her, and she stroked his hair and tried to talk to him.

"Frankie, it's Aunt Bobbie. You remember me? I'm the lady with the tuna casserole and curly red hair." Bobbie frowned when Frankie didn't respond and merely stared straight ahead. She touched his arm. "Frankie, can you hear me?" Her concerned brown eyes met Mrs. DeMarco's, but she breathed a sigh of relief when Johnny crossed the threshold with Dr. Hill. "I'm going to his car to bring up some supplies," Johnny explained as he left the room. Bobbie immediately informed the doctor of the status of Frankie's vitals and his level of responsiveness.

Dr. Hill glanced at the head wound when Mrs. DeMarco raised the gauze. His face tightened at Frankie's general presentation. "Keep that gauze on the wound," he instructed. "It'll require stitches, but that can wait." He directed his gaze at Bobbie. "Help me get him out of this suit?" he asked her. Dr. Hill's stomach felt sick when he saw the tattered rag that Frankie's expensive suit had become with so many bullet holes joining together and creating broad gashes in the fabric. Frankie struggled weakly when they pulled the jacket off, but his fighting wasn't much of a deterrent to their mission. Bobbie let out a soft gasp when she managed to remove Frankie's shredded white shirt. "Oh my..." she trailed off. The bulletproof vest was essentially demolished by the impact of so many bullets fired at close range. It wasn't made to absorb that kind of ferocious impact, and ripped tufts of fabric rose up over the bumpy surface straight down to the protective metallic layers of the vest. Dr. Hill noted that there was a concentration of bullets in the mid to lower back region with a lighter splattering of indentations toward the shoulder area.

The doctor carefully unfastened the vest's side straps but hesitated when Frankie began jerking frantically. His brow creased when he noted that Frankie's bad leg failed to move at all, but he also noted that his other leg was moving less vigorously than it had before. When he laid a hand on the vest and slowly began pulling it up, Frankie let out a bloodcurdling scream.

~*~*~*~

Sonny sighed as he paced back and forth in his living room. Jason watched him for twenty minutes, and then asked, "What's wrong?"

Sonny shot him a dark look and continued a path on the carpet, walking with a long, impatient stride and stamping his shiny, patent leather loafers that tossed the tassels back and forth with a soft plink every time he moved his feet.

"You're going to wear out the carpet," Jason pointed out helpfully as he gestured to the floor.

"Shut up!" Sonny growled with a menacing look splashed on his face. "You think I can't afford new carpeting?"

"Not after all the money you put into Frank Junior's businesses," Jason replied. "He cleaned you out." Jason reached for the remote and clicked it on, making the big screen television light up. He muted it and sank lower into the leather couch when he saw that Sonny was frowning at the noise.

"You may not need to think, but some of us need quiet to contemplate and reflect," Sonny intoned with an air of superiority. His dark eyebrows rose with the intensity of his convictions.

Jason looked at him blankly and blinked once. "Okay." He turned toward the television and began flipping the channels, pausing for a long time when he reached Nikelodeon and the Brady Bunch marathon.

Sonny headed toward the long bank of windows that filled one wall of the living room. He intently peered down from the penthouse's height and held up his hand to gain Jason's attention. "What's that?" he asked with a frown. "Those sirens. Don't you hear them?"

Jason cocked his head to one side as if that would enable him to hear more clearly. "Yep," he agreed. 

"Maybe something is on the news," Sonny said as he walked over to the couch and picked up the remote, swiftly moving his finger over it until he reached the local news. His eyes bugged out when the blond female news announcer said, "And now we join our team on the north side of the 800 block of River Street at the Wilson Towers."

Sonny looked sharply at Jason. "That's here!"

The camera zoomed in on a sad looking wheelchair with a bent wheel and a dramatic splash of blood on it. A dead person was covered with a white sheet, and a solitary black shoe stuck out from under it at an odd angle. Sonny gulped. That's Smith Junior's chair.

<<<Gunshots were heard for blocks away this morning as submachine guns were used in a mob-style killing. Police are closed mouthed about the victims and any possible motive, but eyewitnesses swear they saw a boy killed in the crossfire.>>>

Sonny's coloring fled away from his face, and he staggered back until his leg hit the couch. He sat down carefully on the leather upholstered arm as his heart raced. Who killed Smith Junior and why? Was it his businesses - correction, my businesses? What have I done? What have I gotten myself into?

Sonny looked at Jason, who smiled back at him with a grin. "It's like COPS," Jason said with an excited tone of voice. He blinked. "Only it's Port Charles."

~*~*~*~

Frankie's leg kicked out and solidly landed in the middle of Dr. Hill's stomach. The doctor jumped up with his hand covering his midriff. "Ow. Man," he complained. When Johnny entered the room with a box full of medical supplies, Dr. Hill said, "Hold down his legs so I can get that vest off. He's kicking up a storm." Johnny laid the box down and firmly held Frankie's legs as Dr. Hill began to peel the vest away from his back. Frankie screamed again as the vest separated wetly from his sweaty skin, making a sick sucking sound. Johnny's firm hand kept Frankie down on the bed, and Dr. Hill swore a light oath when he saw the condition of Frankie's back. "This is not good," he said as his eyes registered the extreme swelling and redness where the majority of bullets had concentrated. Frankie's entire back was black and blue as if he'd been severely and repeatedly beaten with a hard stick. His back muscles rippled in pain when the air hit his skin, and the boy made anguished, pleading sounds. The doctor frowned when he noted that there was a large, swollen area over the site of Frankie's earlier kidney injury, and he was anxious to determine if the boy were bleeding internally.

After taking Frankie's blood pressure and doing a cursory examination, Dr. Hill decided that the boy's reactions were mainly due to pain and fear and not reflective of a more serious, life-threatening injury. The swelling and bruising near his spine were probably affecting his ability to move well, and the doctor decided that quick pain reduction was the best course of action for the moment. "I'd like to take him to the hospital for x-rays to make sure he's not in danger, but I'm assuming since he's not there now, it's not an option?" he questioned as his eyes met Johnny's. Johnny shook his head wordlessly. "We don't know who is responsible for the hit, so we need to stay out of public areas," Johnny explained.

Bobbie noticed that Johnny was becoming paler by the second and she insisted that he sit down in the room's chair and take off his own vest. Johnny was quickly becoming fatigued and didn't protest when Bobbie began stripping him. He made plenty of grunts and groans of his own when his vest was removed. He was surprised to see a bright streak of blood across his stomach. Bobbie frowned and said, "The force of the bullets must have forced the vest up, and a bullet grazed you. No wonder you've been in so much pain. I think you've broken a rib, too. Maybe from the fall." Johnny leaned his head back against the chair and allowed Bobbie to take care of him. "What would I do without you?" he murmured as his eyes closed tiredly. "Don't ask," Bobbie replied as she reached for the antiseptic.

Mrs. DeMarco continued to talk to Frankie and reassure him that he was in good hands, but she looked scared at Frankie's lack of responsiveness. "Why won't he talk to me?" she asked Johnny and the doctor.

"I'd say he's in shock - emotionally and physically," Dr. Hill commented.

Johnny nodded as his eyes were still closed. "He had to kill one of the men. You know how he is when he's forced to commit violence. Remember last time, Mama?"  Johnny suddenly shot up straight in his chair, almost knocking over Bobbie who was cleaning up his wound. "There was another man!" he said loudly. "But only one was shot. What happened to the other guy? And why is Frankie still alive if there were two shooters?"

~*~*~*~

Mac's unmarked vehicle parked near the crime scene. Ordinarily, he'd let his officers handle any crime scenes, but this one had the potential for a media frenzy. The preliminary reports he'd heard mentioned mobsters, frightened pedestrians, submachine guns, dead bodies, and mutilated wheelchairs. He was surprised the tabloids weren't there already.

Mac walked up to the lieutenant that was supervising the crime scene and nodded in approval at the respectful distance kept by the press and the morbidly curious onlookers. "What do we have?"

"One dead body," the lieutenant indicated with a motion of his hand toward the crumpled white sheet. "Shot in the middle of his forehead. Must have died immediately. There's a submachine gun lying beside him, probably his weapon. There's a lot missing, commissioner. The gun was fired repeatedly, and look at this wheelchair. What is it doing here full of bullet holes and no body? It's a confusing situation."

Mac leaned over and frowned when his eyes took in the color of the wheelchair backing and its small size. Frankie. His eyes brightened, and he craned his neck around to survey the rest of the scene. "Did you recover the murder weapon?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "Nope. It's pretty clean in the general area. There must have been a car parked nearby, though. See those tire tracks on the road? Someone took off in a hurry. Eyewitnesses reported seeing a black, foreign model vehicle being shot up with the submachine gun."

"And what about any other people being shot?"

"That's where it gets interesting. One person saw a man take it full in the chest and flip over a black vehicle, probably the same one that the other witness saw taking off. The lieutenant's eyes looked serious. "And one witness saw a boy being killed as he put it. He said the kid took it in the back numerous times. He saw blood on the kid's head."

"Anyone see Mr. Wonderful murdered?" Mac asked flippantly in his reference to the body at his feet.

"No. That's what's odd. With so much terror on the sidewalk, our witnesses only caught one glimpse before ducking or flattening to the pavement. Their recall is full of holes - no pun intended. No one saw the hit man being shot. No eyewitnesses to that."

Mac shook his head as he put together a possible scenario in his mind. Figures.  If Smith Junior were here murdering people, no one saw it. Damn! Mac pointed at the Wilson Towers building. "Any speculation as to why this event occurred outside of this building? What's housed here?"

"It's a multi-purpose building," the lieutenant replied. "There are businesses on the first fifteen floors and apartments on the upper seven floors. There is a penthouse that occupies the entire top floor."

"And who resides there?"

The lieutenant flipped his notebook. "Mr. Sonny Corinthos. Suspected small time mob boss. Haven't interviewed him yet. We wanted to clean up the scene and allow the witnesses to go home."

Mac's face set. Frank Smith Junior. Just as I thought. But who is trying to off the kid? Mac regarded his subordinate with a tight, tense look on his face and his hands on his hips. "This case needs to be cleared up ASAP. We can't allow one more incident of mob violence on our streets. I'm not pleased that we never closed the Sorel case."

~*~*~*~

The door to Kelly's diner rang merrily with the entrance of the Spencer family - Luke, Alexis and Sly. Luke couldn't wait to share the good news of Sly's adoption with his aunt and sister, so he'd insisted that they stop by the diner on their way home. Ruby was wiping off the counter and conducting general tidy up duties, but Luke frowned when he noticed that Ruby wore a tight, worn expression on her face, which usually meant trouble.

Ruby looked up to see Luke and family approaching in all their finery, and she couldn't help but laugh delightedly at how handsome a family they made. Her eyes lit up, and she rounded the counter to hug Luke and kiss him on the cheek. Sly waited patiently for his complimentary Aunt Ruby bear hug and smooch. Alexis smiled continually with her happiness, and she said, "Thanks, Ruby," when she received her hug as well. Ruby ran an affectionate hand over Sly's hair. "You're still my bestest great nephew," she teased him. "You don't get out of that duty, Sylvester."

Sly shuffled his feet as he grinned. "Don't want to," he said happily.

"Let me get you something to eat and drink - on the house," Ruby stated decisively. "Pie and coffee - cola for you, Sly?" With the satisfied nods, Ruby headed toward the kitchen. "Come help me out, Luke," she stated casually, fully intending to inform him of Frankie's status in a non-public place and away from Sly's young ears.

Luke's face fell when he followed Ruby into the kitchen and caught the expression on her face. "Ruby, what's up?" he asked firmly. "Is it bad news?"

Ruby nodded with her lips pressed together. "Frankie is upstairs with Johnny, Bobbie and the doc. He was hit in a gangland shooting." Ruby laid a restraining hand on Luke's arm when he started and lost all color in his face. "He's not in danger, technically. He was hurt by the impact of the bullets on the vest, and he was grazed with a bullet in the temple."

Luke's eyes filled with tears, and he held his breath while his aunt continued.

"Johnny was hit, too. He has a broken rib and a flesh wound on his stomach. We can't get Frankie to talk, so maybe you can help him open up. Mrs. DeMarco managed to calm him down, but he was kicking and carrying on earlier when we carried him in here."

"Why isn't he in the hospital?" Luke asked with anger and suspicion.

"Can't take him out in public," Ruby replied. "We're not sure who scheduled the attempt on their lives, and Frankie isn't talking."

A few tears streamed down Luke's cheeks, and Ruby pulled him into another hug, stroking his hair and trying to calm him down before he went to see his injured son. "He's going to be all right," she reassured him. "The doctor is with him, and you know what?" Ruby pulled away from Luke and wiped the tears from his cheeks as she met his eyes. "They sold the illegal businesses this morning. That part of it is over. He's free."

Luke rubbed his lips together as he stared at the floor and ran his fingers through his hair. "Is he?" he asked shortly with an angry, set face. "Frank as good as shackled his son to a life of pain and violence."

"Frank is gone. He's history, Luke. Don't forget that. Frankie needs you to point him to his new future, not dwell on the past."

"I know," Luke said tearfully. He rubbed his hair again to try to calm himself. "But, it's hard, you know?" Luke's plaintive tone hurt Ruby's heart, and she stroked the side of his arm and gave him an encouraging look. "You're a great father - the best. You have the opportunity to start new with a wonderful family. We'll get over this bump in the road."

Luke smiled tentatively. "Thanks for reminding me, oh wise one."

Ruby sliced two pieces of pie and said, "I'll feed your family while you attend to your other son. When Sly is occupied, I'll pull Alexis aside and let her know what's going on."

~*~*~*~

Luke's heart was heavy and clenched with fear as he walked up the stairs to Frankie's rented room. He heard the voices of several adults, but not his son's.  He was greeted by the sight of Johnny leaning back in the chair as the doctor looped stitches over his flesh wound.

"Luke!" Bobbie said when she saw her brother. "Frankie's okay. We're taking care of him. I know it looks bad." She almost tumbled over her words in her efforts to spare Luke some pain, but it had the opposite effect and made him more wary.

"You gonna live?" Luke asked Johnny in a short tone that conveyed his disapproval over Johnny's failure to fully protect his son.

"Yes," Johnny answered simply. "We all are."

Luke's lips tightened to a white crease in response to Johnny's words, and he inched over to Frankie's bed, frowning when he saw the sight before him. Frankie was hooked up to an IV with a generous dose of morphine, so he was nearly asleep, still on his stomach. Mrs. DeMarco was holding his hand and talking to him in a low, calm voice. Luke's stomach lurched, and he turned away abruptly with his hand to his mouth at the feeling of extreme nausea that twisted his guts. He didn't bother trying to stop his flow of tears when Bobbie approached him and laid a hand on his back.

"What happened to his face?" Luke whispered as he pointed a shaking finger toward Frankie. "I thought he was going to be okay, that's what Ruby said. She told me. I believed her..."

Bobbie rubbed his back and spoke quickly to interrupt Luke's hysterical train of thought. "He was grazed by a bullet. It's been stitched and cleaned. He has a scrape as well. He'll be fine when it heals."

Luke bent closer to peer at his son's slumbering face, taking in the swollen, red appearance of the area and the bruising as well as the presence of two inches of thick stitches stretching from his hairline to the corner of his eye. "He could have lost that eye," Luke breathed out.

"But he didn't," Bobbie said firmly. When Luke reached out to pull up the cold, soaked towel that served as a compress on his son's back, Bobbie grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye. "It looks awful, Luke, but he's not permanently damaged, okay? He'll heal."

Luke shook off Bobbie's restraint and determinedly pulled the entire towel off of Frankie's back, letting out a soft cry of dismay when he saw what looked like the worst beating he'd ever seen crisscrossing his son's slight back. "Ohmigod," he said repeatedly, at least six times.

Dr. Hill left Johnny to go reassure Luke. "I've checked him out, and he shows no signs of internal injuries or broken bones. It's mostly soft tissue injury from the compression of the vest when it absorbed the impact of the bullets. We've counted fifteen indentations in the vest - that's why his entire back is affected. He was very lucky, in my opinion.

"He's in pain?" Luke asked shortly.

Dr. Hill rubbed his eyes as he considered what to say to Luke to relate the truth in a kind way. "Physically, he was shocked. Who wouldn't be at such a brutal impact? Emotionally, he's shut down. He tried to fight us off when we helped him. He hasn't said much - mostly, he's made a few noises, which we interpreted as pain and fear, normal reactions to the event. I think with you here, he'll open up. Maybe you can get him to tell us the full story. Apparently there were two hit men, but only one was killed."

"By Frankie?" Luke asked in a small voice as he recalled how Frankie had handled killing the hit man only a week ago.

"Yes," Jerry answered.

"That's not good," Luke said worriedly.

"No," Jerry agreed.

"What's with the towel?" Luke asked.

"It serves as a cold compress to reduce the inflammation. We've been wetting down towels and sticking them in the freezer, replacing them when they warm up."

"He doesn't need a hospital?" Luke asked puzzedly.

"A hospital visit would be good for some x-rays and a few tests. But..."

"I'll get him to talk," Luke said firmly. "If we think it is safe for him, then I want him checked out at GH."

~*~*~*~

Mrs. DeMarco had left to make some more frozen towels, and Luke was alone with his son while Bobbie and the doctor concentrated on Johnny. He squatted in front of Frankie so that he was eye level with the boy and ran his hand over Frankie's hair. "Frankie, it's your dad. It's Luke. Will you wake up and talk with me for a minute?"

Frankie frowned and opened his eye at the sound of Luke's voice and the feeling of his touch. Luke thought that he looked as sad and tired as he'd ever seen him. "Thanks," he said to Frankie. "We need to talk."

"Dad?" Frankie's tremulous voice whispered.

"It's me. It's your dad," Luke confirmed.

Frankie began crying. "It hurts so bad."

"I know," Luke said sympathetically. "Does the pain medicine help?"

"Yeah," Frankie breathed out.

"You seem upset apart from your injuries," Luke said carefully. "Why are you upset?"

Frankie sucked in his lower lip as he frowned and grasped the pillow with his balled up fist. He didn't speak for several seconds. "I don't wanna kill nobody. I thought dat was over. I never wanted to hurt nobody."

Luke ran a finger over Frankie's fist. "I know."

"I can't get away. Dey won't let me. Frank said I'd never get out."

Luke shook his head. "Frank was wrong. He died, and now you're free. You sold the businesses. That's such a good thing. I'm proud of you."

"I didn't wanna kill him," Frankie repeated.

"You didn't have a choice," Luke reminded his son. "That man chose his life. He knew it was dangerous. He wanted to kill you, so you had to survive."

"I don't know," Frankie breathed out. "It's so hard. I'm tired."

"Frankie? Do you know who tried to harm you?" Luke asked hesitantly. He didn't want to push, but neither did he wish to be in the dark.

"Da Mafia. Dat fuckin' Mafia," Frankie said with a choking sound. "Dey want me dead. Dey hurt me over and over and over again." Frankie cried silently while Luke framed his next question.

"How many men were there?"

"Two," Frankie answered. "One ran away."

"Why?"

Frankie screwed up his face in pain as he tried to move his legs to adjust his body on the bed. "I told 'em I was a civilian and he didn't hafta kill me. I sold da businesses to Corinthos. I was out."

"Quick thinking," Luke complimented.

"Why is it always like dis?" Frankie whispered dejectedly. "Everybody wants to beat on me or kill me or leave me? I can't take no more. It ain't gonna change."

"It already has," Luke said reassuringly as he picked up Frankie's tear-stained hand into his own. "You're out of the business, you have your family, and we'll never leave you."

"Frank hurt me," Frankie confided in a soft voice, so soft that Luke could barely hear it. "He hurt me."

"He beat you?" Luke asked for clarification. He knew he was treading on shaky ground and didn't want to scare Frankie off from a discussion that he'd wanted to have with his son for a long time. 

Frankie closed his eye in response to Luke's question and whispered, "Yeah. All da time. I'm always hurting. It's never gonna go away. I can't have nothin' dat I want."

Luke bit his lip as his mind raced frantically. What do I say? He's talking about more than the physical pain, I can tell.  "Over time..." Luke began in a confident voice that was low enough to convey confidentiality "...you'll be able to think about things from the past without feeling the hurt. We're going to help you make good, new memories that will take the place of the bad ones. They won't be so important anymore because you'll have so many good feelings that you want to remember."

"I don't want to remember nothin,'" Frankie commented wearily. He closed his eye and sighed. "I need a phone," he mumbled. "It ain't over."

"Why?" Luke asked quizzically.

"Phone," Frankie repeated tiredly.

Luke offered Frankie his cell phone and watched his son struggle to a kneeling position on the bed with his forehead resting against the hard headboard. He dialed a number that apparently he knew by heart. "It's me," he intoned. "Da businesses are in Corinthos' hands." He paused. "However, I need one more favor from ya. One for da road. Find me Donado's personal cell phone number." Frankie listened intently and grimaced in pain while he waited. "I gotta set some things straight," he explained. "It'll be good for both you and me, okay?" After a minute, Frankie nodded. "Thanks. Good luck." He rapidly dialed another number as his breathing picked up in anticipation of the man answering on the other end of the line.

"Donado," Frankie gritted out. "Frank Smith Junior here." Luke visibly flinched at Frankie using his old, mob-related name. "Don't hang up," Frankie said abruptly. "You wanna hear dis." Frankie paused as he tried to catch his breath and ride out the flare of pain the emitted from his head. "I'm no longer in da game, okay? Corinthos and Morgan have da businesses. I sold dem dis moring, before your boys messed with me and my bodyguard. Dey were too late, ya know. I'm not da target no more. I'm out. I never wanted ta be in in da first place, see? With Frank dead, I decided it was time for me to leave. I don't want no hassle with da Mafia no more." Frankie paused. "And don't kill dat hit man. He's not stupid. He knew da score. Too much heat when ya kill da civilian in public like dat. Oh, and here's a free tidbit. Morgan is da weak link. He'll fly as soon as ya set a fire under his behind. Yeah. Don't need to kill a wuss like dat. Too messy if ya don't hafta. Ciao." Frankie turned off the cell phone and let it drop from his hand as his knuckles turned white from gripping hard on the headboard to keep himself upright. The headboard began rattling back and forth with Frankie's desperation, and he finally sank back down onto the bed with a groan.

"It's safe," he whispered. "Finally."

~*~*~*~

Johnny smoothed his hand over Bobbie's curls and kissed the top of her head. "I have to go," he said quietly as his green eyes looked at her with intensity. "I know you're worried about me, but I'm used to this - functioning after an incident. I have to safeguard Frankie and make sure the cops have no trail. I need to dispose of the gun and get the car to an underground repair shop so they can't trace the damage to the mob hit." He drew her into a hug and held her for a minute. "It's almost over," he whispered in her ear.

"What about the party tonight?" Bobbie asked. "Do you think we should postpone it?"

Johnny nodded. "We have no idea if they'll let Frankie out of the hospital, and the party is for him and Sly. Let's put it off for two days? I'll call our special guest."

Bobbie's eyes twinkled at the same time as her mouth pouted. "I was looking forward to this party. We'll have to make it extra special when we actually have it. What in the world are we going to do with the cakes we made?"

"Freeze them?" Johnny suggested as he blew her a kiss and a wave.

~*~*~*~

Alexis walked up to Luke and Sly, who were seated in the Emergency Room waiting area. "I called Stefan and Laura," she said. "They're both on their way. Stefan is in a meeting, so it'll take him a few minutes. Laura is predictably upset."

"Thanks," Luke said gratefully.

"Duty of the in-law and sister," Alexis said with a half-hearted smile. "I didn't mind doing it. How are my husband and sons?"

Luke made a face and shook his head. "Frankie is not being cooperative. He's pitching a fit. He's certain that his life is over, and they won't let him leave. We practically had to hog tie him to get him in the ambulance."

"I don't blame him," Sly said softly. "He was in here a long time just recently. I wouldn't like it either. He told me that he was in the hospital for like three or four months when he was a little kid. That's bad."

Luke nodded. "That's probably what he's reacting to."

"Have the doctors told you anything yet?" Alexis inquired with worried brown eyes. She sat down beside Luke and took his hand into hers.

"He just went for an MRI," Luke stated tensely. "They're worried about the kidney he'd previously ruptured. It might be bleeding again." Luke grasped his hands together, and Alexis noted that they were shaking a bit, so she reached out to wrap her arm around his, squeezing gently and resting her head on his shoulder.

Sly rose up from his chair and wandered off to a window, sticking one hand deep in his pocket and using the other to twirl his tie around, the same tie that he'd abandoned an hour ago as he had his limits to how uncomfortable he was willing to be for fashion. Luke and Alexis had given him a carefully edited version of what had happened to Frankie, and he'd accepted it without comment or question. Mostly, he was feeling was sorry for his older brother. He wanted him to be well and home in the new house. He hadn't even had a chance to ask Frankie what color he wanted for his new bedroom. Sly had been looking forward to living with Frankie and Luke and Alexis, and he'd grown impatient with Frankie always being at Wyndemere. He was ready for them to go to school again and lead normal lives. Normal had been missing out of all of their lives for the last few weeks.

Sly turned and watched as Luke followed Dr. Hill down the hallway of the emergency department. Would Frankie be staying again? He jumped a bit when he saw Stefan walk swiftly in Alexis' direction and take a seat beside her. They seemed to be having an intense conversation, and Stefan looked plenty worried. Alexis looked like she was trying to hold it together, and she wiped away a few tears with her tissue.

Sly lightly hit the window with his fist several times and hung his head. He opened his fist and turned his palm to the window, allowing its coolness to absorb through his skin and soothe the fire of his emotions. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. Everyone always seemed to die on him. His mom, dad, aunt, uncle and now maybe even his cousin slash new brother. He didn't know if he could take visiting another cold stone in the graveyard. And what about Frankie? It couldn't be any fun not being able to walk and carrying around all of those scars. At least Bill had never beat him up like Frankie's dad had. What would it be like to always expect to be hit and fear for your life every day?

~*~*~*~

"He asked for his dad several times, so I came to get you," Dr. Hill said. "Ideally, we'd keep him overnight for observation, but he seems emotionally fragile, and perhaps home is a better place for him right now."

"He'll be okay?" Luke asked anxiously.

Dr. Hill nodded. "Sore, but he'll recover. The kidney bled slightly, but it stopped. He'll need to take it easy for a few days."

Luke opened the door to the sound of Frankie yelling, "Lemme GO! I wanna go HOME!"

The nurse looked to Dr. Hill with relief.

"What's all the fuss?" Luke asked with a laugh. "You're going home to Wyndemere. No need to wake up the cows."

Frankie's face was red with his protest, and Luke could tell that he was near tears. "I wanna go home," he said with a slight whine. "I hurt all over."

"We'll take care of that," Dr. Hill said. "We just wanted to make sure you didn't have any new, serious injuries."

Frankie ignored him to concentrate on Luke. "Don't leave me here," he said plaintively.

Luke tensed as he sensed that Frankie was recalling being left alone by Frank to languish in the mob hospital. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll even stay with you tonight at Wyndemere if you want."

"Okay," Frankie said with some relief.

"I'll get his paperwork, and he can leave in a few minutes," Dr. Hill stated as he and the nurse departed from the room.

"I don't have a wheelchair no more," Frankie said.

"We found you a new one."

"My other one got shot up."

"Like you, huh?" Luke replied softly.

Frankie nodded, and he held his hand to his eyes as he lost his composure. Luke placed a hand on his arm, and Frankie flinched away with wide eyes. He trembled as he stared hard at Luke. "I'm not going to hit you," Luke said calmly with serious blue eyes. "Never will I hit you. Never."

Frankie's lower lip quivered, and he turned away in shame.

"It's not your fault," Luke stated.

"It's always my fault," Frankie replied. "Dat's da way it is."  

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