Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Fifty-Four

"Wait here a sec," Luke instructed his son. "I'll bring in your new wheelchair."

Luke soon returned with the wheelchair in tow and helped Frankie into the seat. It took several minutes for Frankie to maneuver himself into position without jarring his back. Several times, he made a false start and had to start the process all over again. When he was finally settled, Luke pulled up a chair so they could look at each other face to face. "I know you're anxious to get out of here," Luke said as he noted that Frankie seemed jittery and kept looking at the door.

"Yeah, can we go?" Frankie asked tiredly.

"In a minute," Luke answered. He reached out and took Frankie's small hand into his own large, callused palm. His serious blue eyes met Frankie's sad eyes. "I want to talk to you about what you just said. You mentioned that Frank's treatment of you, the beatings you received, were your fault. I want to know why you feel that way."

Frankie's face set, and he lowered his eyes to avoid Luke's gaze. He shrugged and nervously pulled on the crease of his pants with his free hand. Luke was surprised yet pleased that his son didn't try to pull his hand away from his firm grasp. "'Cause that's da way it is," Frankie insisted. "It's my fault."

"Why is it your fault?" Luke questioned. "Help me to understand."

Frankie's eyes filled with tears, and he sighed audibly. He looked down at the floor. "Frank said it was my fault," he explained in a small voice. "He's right. Sometimes I'd make a mistake. I'd get drunk at a business meeting and embarrass him. Or I'd fight with his whore 'cause she's around all da time. I hate her!" Frankie's face shifted from anger to dismay within the span of a second, and his voice lowered to a whisper. "I got sick of her, but Frank liked her better, so he hit me."

Frankie rubbed his leg with more intensity as his emotions flared. "He said I was too pretty like my whore mama and dat made me a weakling. I didn't like to kill nobody, and he knew it so it made him angry 'cause I wasn't a real man, not like him. Dat's what he said." Frankie gingerly removed his hand from Luke's. He hid both of his hands under his thighs and rocked slightly as he continued spout off a long string of words in a high pitched voice. "I didn’t do my job right, I wasn't only da strategic planner, I was supposed to keep da associates in line, I was supposed ta show 'em force, but I was too small, not big enough to respect, I wasn't no good, I was stupid, so why shouldn't he beat on me, and I was lucky he didn't kill me outright and maybe he'd do it tomorrow and take me out back to da...da woods...and...and..."

Luke reached for Frankie's arm to reassure him, but Frankie unexpectantly leaped up from the wheelchair in his haste to get away from Luke's touch. He shook off Luke's arm and shot out wildly into the room as his hands outstretched frantically in search of something to hold onto.  Luke stood up abruptly and instinctively reached for Frankie to prevent him from falling. Again, Frankie shook off Luke's hand as he clung to the rail molding on the wall and used it to slide along the length of the room to an opposite corner. He was out of breath from his exertion and cried out briefly when he stumbled, harshly brushing his shoulder against a cabinet. His good leg grew fatigued with his efforts, and he involuntarily slid down toward the floor as his fingers stiffly ran over the laminated surface of the medical countertop and down the side of the wooden cabinet. He sat down on the floor, collapsed into a puddle of his own misery, and hung his head.

Luke slowly approached him, worried that he'd startle his son further or make an inadvertent move or comment that would set him off again. He stood three feet away from Frankie and merely watched him.

Frankie ran the uninjured side of his face back and forth along the smooth, polished surface of the cabinet's cool, blond wood, and he said in a tear-choked voice. "But I killed him. I killed him good, didn't I? Right in da middle of da forehead. Bang. Aha. Dat's right." Frankie's right hand raised with his index finger pointed, and he made a downward motion with his thumb in the imitation of a firing pistol. "Bang," he said softly as his eyes glazed over. "Bang. Bang. Bang." He placed his index finger against his wounded temple and imitated pulling the trigger. "BANG!" Frankie's hand dropped to his side, and he hit his forehead on the cabinet and rested it there. His shoulders shook with his silent sobs.

~*~*~*~

Luke couldn't take watching Frankie's misery any longer, and he said firmly, "I'm going to help you up." Luke retrieved the wheelchair and swiftly moved it toward his son. Frankie's pain was palpable from his dejected posture and inaudible crying. "I'm going to touch your arm, so I can lift you into the chair," he said slowly and calmly. Frankie's recent display had him fearful for his son's mental and emotional state, and Luke wanted to get him to neutral ground, to a place far away from the hospital and any other bad memories.

Dr. Hill opened the door to the room just as Luke bent to help Frankie. Luke shot him an intense look that said it all without words. Dr. Hill retreated to the hallway and allowed Luke room to deal with Frankie. When Luke touched his arm, Frankie squirmed away and huddled in the corner with his face to the wall. "No!" he shouted several times as he feebly swatted Luke's hand away. "No!"

Luke continued to talk to him quietly, hoping to reach a logical portion of Frankie's brain as his son seemed lost in bad memories and fears. "I'm only going to touch your arm to help lift you up and back to the chair where you'll be more comfortable. It can't feel good to be curled up on that cold, hard floor." Frankie flinched when Luke touched him again, but he allowed his father to position him in the chair. Frankie bent over and held his hands over the back of his neck, and Luke squatted in front of him.

"Hey," Luke said quietly. "You're the smartest boy I know. You earned your GED - and at age thirteen no less. Just because someone calls you a name doesn't mean it's true. We all make mistakes, even intelligent people. Don't give your power over to people who only want to control you. Stand up for yourself. No one in this family is going to hit you or call you names even if you do get out of line or make a mistake. We love you and want the best for you. Real love doesn't hurt. We're not going to hurt you. Why don't you take a chance and trust us? See for yourself what happens. We've been kind to you the few weeks you've known us, haven't we? We've tried to help you out with your problems and keep you safe."

Luke removed Frankie's hands from his neck. "Look at me," he said softly. Frankie raised his head and turned his attention to Luke. Luke gave him a small smile even though his heart was breaking at the sight of a young man who was hesitant to reach out for love because every time he did in the past, he'd suffered for it and had the scars to prove it. "Give us a chance, okay? Let us help you. It's a good bet with lots of return on your investment."

Frankie's eyes brightened at Luke's attempt to relate family matters to business lingo, and he laughed briefly. "Okay," he conceded. "I'll try." He sighed and ran his hands over his face, attempting to bring some order to its tear-stained surface. He shook his head. "Nobody loved me growing up. Now I'm too old, and I'm tired of trying. It hurts too much, and I can't stop thinking about it. And dis back thing," he said as he groaned and adjusted in his chair. "It's like I'm dere all da time getting beat up. I can't get away." He made a flurry of movement with his hands over his hair. "It's all mixed up in my head," he said in a scared voice.

Luke nodded with understanding. "You have to let yourself feel your grief," he explained. "It's hard work doing that, but it's necessary. Allow yourself some time to feel the pain so you can work past it. Before you know it, you'll be happy, and the past will stay there. You have so much to look forward to."

"Do I?" Frankie questioned seriously. "I guess da Mafia won't be after me no more. Dat's good."

"You don't have any more rival factions that want to shoot you up?" Luke questioned.

"Nah. We took care of all of dem. Da Mafia was too big and sneaky, though. Dey infiltrated our organization without us knowing until it was too late. Dat's why I got shot and Frank was killed.  It was dat fuckin' Caruso, da bastard. He's dead now, though." Frankie laughed evilly, and his face hardened with the knowledge that he'd shot the man in the head. He flexed his hands. "Why do I gotta do it?" he asked plaintively. "I shoulda shot myself instead so I didn't have to do it. It's done, and I can't take it back." Frankie frowned with confusion over the mix of feelings that swirled through him - pride at being a good marksman and shame at taking a human life. "I'm dirty," he whispered. "I'm damaged goods. Dere's no going back. I shoulda kept da businesses instead of selling 'em. Dat's all I'm good for."

"No," Luke said loudly as he shook Frankie's leg. He looked directly into Frankie's eyes. "I said no." Luke paused as he considered his next words. "Every human being is capable of change. You've already changed so much in the few weeks I've known you. Remember when we first met and you sneered at me for touching your car?"

Frankie laughed at that memory. "Hey, nobody messes with my cars," he said in a voice that indicated he was poking fun at himself.

"But now we're having a nice, reasonable conversation," Luke asserted. "See? You've changed. You can do it if you try."

"Maybe," Frankie said. He rubbed his nose and stared at Luke. "I was da one who fucked up your bar," he admitted. "I got drunk and had myself a good time. I smashed it up. I like to smash things. Makes me feel better. Drinking does, too. Dr. Jerry said I'm an alcoholic. Been drinking since I was a munchkin. Frank liked it, but of course dat's no good. I didn't know it. What else did he lie to me about?" Frankie's face reflected his terror and confusion. It was as if he'd been transported to Mars from Earth and forced to live on a different planet without oxygen and three moons orbiting in the sky instead of one.   

"I'm sorry," Luke said simply. There was nothing else he could say. Frank had been a lying bastard, and now his son knew it. Luke didn't need to rub it in.

~*~*~*~

Luke wheeled Frankie down the Emergency Department's hallway, eager to pick up Alexis and Sly and return them home. It had been a long day, and it still was only three in the afternoon. He saw a small group of people sitting and standing together in the waiting room - Alexis, Sly, Stefan and Laura. Laura rose from her chair with a smile when she saw Frankie. He waved at her and smiled happily in return. "Mama!" he called out.

"Freeze!"

Luke turned toward the voice that made the exclamation and looked surprised to see Mac with two other police officers. A cautious, hard look washed over Frankie's face, and he tensed up, ready to take off if necessary.

Mac sauntered up to Luke and Frankie and shot a no-nonsense gaze in their direction. "Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior, you're under arrest for the murder of Matthew Monardo."

"What?" Luke breathed out in surprise. Alexis jumped to her feet, fully armed in her attorney mode. Frankie looked warily from one adult's face to another.

"And what is the basis for this arrest?" she questioned seriously with her hands on her hips.

"There was a gangland shooting this morning outside of Wilson's Towers," Mac intoned in a bored voice as he tried to stare down Alexis. "There was blood on the pavement beside the body and blood on an abandoned wheelchair. Our little visit to this hospital confirms that it is a match for Spencer Junior here, or should I say Smith Junior?" Mac's eyes narrowed as he looked angrily in Frankie's direction. Frankie's face was impassive and impossible to read, but his hands were gripped firmly on the arms of his wheelchair.

"And what does that have to do with a corpse?" Alexis demanded. "I've heard no evidence to link my client to a crime."

"Client?" Mac laughed. "Okay. Whatever. He's under arrest. I want him off the streets before any more violence hits this town. It's been one murder after another since he's arrived in Port Charles."

"Again," Alexis stated firmly. "Where is your evidence?"

"I have enough evidence to hold him," Mac countered defensively.

"Overnight," Alexis corrected. "But why bother? You have no case."

"Yet," Mac replied.

"Commissioner, this is ridiculous. You're coming awfully close to violating my client's civil rights, and I'm afraid we'll have to sue if it comes to that."

"Good luck," Mac stated. "We have no intention of violating Mr. Spencer's rights. We only want him off the streets while we continue our investigation."

Alexis looked pissed, and her face turned red as her mind raced. He's got us. He has the right to do this, and it looks like he intends to. I've got to go into damage control mode. "What would placing him in juvenile hall do?" Alexis questioned as she tried to reason with Mac. "It serves no purpose. Frankie just left the hospital, and he needs his medications. He won't be leaving his home for the rest of the day or evening. We can guarantee that. He's in a wheelchair for heaven's sake. Surely, you don't believe..."

Mac cut her off with a sneer. "Like you guaranteed his good behavior this morning. Why is Spencer Junior in the hospital now? Is it for injuries received while murdering a man in cold blood?" Mac's eyes bore into Frankie's, and he hinted ominously at eyewitness testimony that he absolutely didn't have. "Surely, you didn't think you could get away with this in broad daylight - with the eyewitnesses and all."

"Commissioner," Luke warned as he stepped away from Frankie to get into Mac's face. "Let's not make this personal. I know you have issues with my son and his relationship with your daughter. Why don't we discuss this over a cup of coffee like reasonable adults?"

Mac gestured angrily at Frankie with a nod of his head. "Cuff him, Nichols. We're taking him downtown to lockup."

A panicked look flooded Frankie's face, and he gritted his teeth as he used his hands to lift himself from his wheelchair.

"I thought you were taking him to juvenile hall," Alexis inserted.

"I never said that," Mac intoned. He planned to do a 'scared straight' maneuver on Frankie to knock some sense into the kid while removing him from the streets so he could complete his investigation and perhaps pin a crime on him. Either way, he might be able to neutralize the punk. "Juvenile hall is full, and this is a serious felony. He'll be downtown in a special lockup unit."

"Wait!" Luke said loudly. "No way is my son going to be locked up with a bunch of drunks and adult criminals."

"Cuff him and read him his rights," Mac ordered again.

Frankie had risen from his wheelchair and edged back toward the wall with a terrified look on his face. He'd never been arrested in his life. Frank had been too careful for that. He and his son had always remained clean in the eyes of the law. If anyone ever went down it was a lower level associate who was paid well for the inconvenience. There was no way he was going to be arrested. Frank had said never let them take you. Never.

"Come here," Officer Nichols said with a bored, irritated tone of voice as he advanced on Frankie with the metal cuffs brandished in his hands.

Frankie was sweating as his wide eyes regarded the large, uniformed man coming toward him. Within a split second he reached down toward his right sock and pulled out the small pistol that he'd packed earlier that morning for his meeting with Corinthos. "No," he said in a low shaky voice. He slid further away from the officer with the gun at his side.

"Freeze, don't move!" Officer Nichols warned in a loud voice as he reached for his own service revolver. The kid looked freaked out, and he wasn't happy to see that he was armed. The officer waved his hand at the small crowd nearby. "Get back," he ordered intensely as he had no way of knowing how this would play out. Laura was holding Sly in a protective hug, as tears filled her eyes, and Stefan looked grim and anxious.

Frankie's eyes darted from the officer to Mac and back to the officer as the feeling of hysteria rose within. Dis is it, he thought dazedly. No way out. There was no way he was going to be arrested. Officer Nichols blinked in surprise when Frankie swiftly moved the gun to his own temple. Frankie's thumb cocked the firing mechanism of the small revolver as everyone in the crowd held their breaths in shock. Frankie laughed in a light, eerie tone that trailed off in a sound of despair. His face was masklike in his efforts to maintain his cool guy reputation and not betray himself with a display of fear or grief, but he was rapidly losing the battle to compose himself. His hand shook as he stared into the distance with a blanked out expression on his face.

"Okay, son, put the gun down," the officer said firmly as he fingered his own revolver. The kid intended to take his own life rather than be arrested - that was apparent.

"Frankie, don't!" Luke called out. "We'll fix this. It'll work out. Put the gun down."

"Frankie, please," Laura pleaded tearfully. "Listen to your father."

Frankie smiled as he realized that it really was over - the wreck that had been his short life was finally over, and he wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again. He looked up to the ceiling as he pulled hard on the trigger. There were several screams and shouts of dismay in the crowd, and Frankie frowned when he heard a click instead of a loud bang. He pulled his hand down from his head and cursed loudly. "Fucking piece of shit!!!" he yelled as he shook the pistol, trying to figure out how it had misfired. He threw it across the room in his anger and took off in the opposite direction from the police officer as he futilely attempted to avoid arrest. "Retrieve that gun and send it for ballistics!" Mac yelled to an officer. Frankie barreled into the hallway with a ferocious hopping movement, dragging his bad leg behind him but determined to achieve some distance. His mind was far, far away from being logical, and all he could think about was moving - fast.

Luke ran after Frankie, but the arresting officer pushed him aside in his pursuit. The officer easily reached Frankie and firmly grabbed him by the arm, pushing him face first into the wall. Frankie struggled while the man locked the metal bracelet over his left wrist and then fastened it to his right. Frankie made a noise and started sinking toward the floor as he slid down the wall. The officer roughly pulled him up and shook him.

"Be careful with him!" Luke said loudly in a worried voice. "He's been hurt. That's why he's in Emergency. Watch out for his back, particularly his kidneys."

"And how was he hurt?" Mac asked curiously as he sidled up to the scene.

"Ask his lawyer," Luke replied harshly.

"I want a guarantee for his safety," Alexis said as she ran up to Mac. "He's been recently checked out at the hospital, so we'll know if he has any additional injuries. Won't you reconsider and allow him to be admitted to the hospital? It's obvious from his behavior that he needs help."

"He needs to be locked up!" Mac snarled. "Take him downtown," he ordered the arresting officer. "Be sure to read him his rights when you place him in the car. And be careful of his back," he added.  Privately, Mac was a bit freaked out by Frank Junior's display a moment ago. He'd only seen Frankie when he was playing Mr. Cool to impress his daughter or acting the adult, tough guy in front of the police or school adminstration. He hadn't seen the scared, frantic boy - or the suicidal aspect that lurked within him. He would prefer to see Frankie in the hospital as well, but it was too late to back out now - he had his pride and reputation to consider.

When the officer jerked Frankie away from the wall, Alexis objected. "What about his wheelchair? He isn't able to walk."

"But he was able to run," Mac interjected. "He won't need the chair where he's going to cool off. He can hop to the car."

"This is ridiculous!" Alexis protested. "We'll have him out in the morning, and you know that."

"Check back with me in the morning, then," Mac replied as he walked on the other side of Frankie. The second officer had him by the arm, and Frankie was escorted to the door, more dragged than walking.

Luke walked alongside his son as he desperately tried to insert some damage control. "It's going to be all right," he said reassuringly. "Alexis will have you out by morning. Just keep your cool and don't say anything. We're going to get you out of this. Don't worry."

Frankie didn't reply, in fact he didn't really register Luke's words as his racing emotions cancelled out his ability to process. He periodically struggled against the arresting officers, growling and trying to dig in his heel or pulling his arms away, but they held firmly and marched him out the doorway to the waiting police cruiser.

"We'll add resisting arrest to his other charges," Mac said firmly as he entered the passenger's seat. Frankie was carefully positioned into the back seat of the cruiser, and he stared straight ahead at nothing as his rights were read to him.

~*~*~*~

A cloud of confusion descended on the Emergency Department waiting room after the terrifying scene with Frankie and his forced departure in handcuffs.

"I'm heading down to the jail," Luke said hurriedly. "Alexis, you're coming with me as Frankie's attorney?" Alexis nodded and took his hand as she gave him a determined look. "I'm with him all the way."

Luke glanced worriedly at Sly, who was very quiet and huddled against Laura with teary eyes and a stunned expression on his face. "Laura, would you be willing to take Sly back with you to Wyndemere until we find out what's going on with Frankie? I can call you with an update." Luke's facial expression was easy for Laura to read, and she picked up on his fear for Sly. Laura looked down at Sly and nodded silently. She hugged him tighter. "We'll be at Wyndemere." Laura thought that Nikolas would be a good resource to help comfort Sly, and she knew he'd be home by the time they got back.

Stefan's eyes met Alexis.' "Should I go with you?" he questioned. "Perhaps my influence..."

"...could be misinterpreted," Alexis said, finishing her brother's sentence. She mouthed the word "custody," to Stefan to warn him that she didn't want Mac to associate Stefan too closely with Frankie. The last thing they needed was for the police commissioner to discover that a judge had been bribed to win Frankie's custody.

Stefan nodded. "I'll consult with Dr. Hill on his necessary medications. The doctor can bring them to the police station and also check on the boy."

"Good, that's good," Luke said in a rush. "We have to get going now so he's not by himself too long." Luke paused to give Sly a reassuring hug. He looked his son straight in the eye and said, "I'm sorry this happened on our big day. Frankie is going to be all right, everything is going to be all right. You stay strong, and I'll see you tonight. Okay?"

Sly nodded wordlessly, but he still radiated fear, confusion and upset throughout his entire body.

Luke met Laura's gaze. "Thanks," he said simply. "Keep your cell phone with you, and I'll call you as soon as possible."

Luke broke into a trot as he ran for the exit door with his hand firmly entwined in his wife's hand. Alexis hair flew behind her as she tried to keep up with the fast pace of Luke's long legs.

~*~*~*~

Laura had chosen the back seat of Stefan's Mercedes as she didn't want Sly to sit by himself all alone. Sly sat quietly beside Stefan with a slumped over posture and his head hanging down. Sly wondered if he should cry, but he felt too numb to think let alone emote. In his mind's eye, he kept seeing Frankie holding the gun to his head and purposefully firing it. He'd been certain that he'd see Frankie's head blown off, and he'd been one of the people in the crowd who had screamed. His heart still raced with the unused adrenaline left over from the hospital incident, and his hands shook slightly as he folded them in his lap.

Stefan glanced at the boy beside him several times, worried about his silence and demeanor. The scene at the hospital was no place for a sensitive fourteen year old boy, and especially not in light of the fact that his brother was involved. Stefan was aware that Nikolas had developed a special friendship with the boy, and he decided to bring up a conversation about Nikolas to help take Sly's mind off of Frankie.

Stefan cleared his throat and turned his face toward Sly. "Nikolas has talked about you frequently since your trip to Greece," he started. "I take it you enjoyed your holiday?"

Sly's eyes brightened for a second as he recalled that trip. "Oh, yes," he replied eagerly. "It was great. My dad and mom got engaged there. And, I had fun with Nikolas. He showed me the beach and how to dive off of the docks. He didn't even make fun of me when I thought the Jaws shark was after me. He's nice."

"What else did you and Nikolas do on the island?" Stefan queried. He felt like he'd hit upon a successful topic and wanted Sly to open up and talk some more.

"Hmm..." Sly said as he tapped his forefinger on his lips. "Let me see... we went fishing with my dad. We caught an octopus! It was fun, but kind of gross. We put it back into the ocean."

"I'm sure the octopus thanked you," Stefan observed with a small smile and a bemused look on his face.

"Yeah," Sly agreed. "I didn't do too much more with Nikolas because he was with that girl all the time."

Stefan's antennae went up immediately. He wasn't aware that Nikolas had a close friend, particularly a girl, on the island. Perhaps that was why he was always asking to visit. "Which girl was that?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I can't seem to recall her name," Sly replied. "But I sure remember her sister. Man. She wouldn't let me go, followed me around everywhere trying to kiss me. Her name was Elektra. Nikolas hooked me up with her, but I was mad and told him no way, I have a girlfriend at home."

Sly wondered at the man's silence beside him and started feeling uneasy like he'd said something that he shouldn't.

"Elektra?" Stefan questioned. "Laura, do you recall a girl by the name of Elektra on the island?"

Laura nodded. "There's a girl that lives on the island. She belongs to one of the Cassadine families. She's the only one with that first name. We never socialized much with that branch of the family."

The wheels of Stefan's mind turned as he continued to drive towards Wyndemere. Cassadine. "Is she a cousin?" he asked.

"Yes," Laura replied. "She'd be Nikolas' second cousin. Her father is your first cousin. I don't remember his name, though, because he's deceased. Her mother was a woman that he'd met in Greece somewhere. A peasant, but beautiful. That's how I've heard her described."

"Can you recall the other sister's name?" Stefan asked over his shoulder.

"I'm trying to think," Laura answered. "It's another name from Greek mythology."

"Diana?" Stefan asked.

Laura shook her head and laughed. "No, silly. You know better than that. Diana is a Roman equivalent name for a Greek goddess. Oh! Wait! The Greek name for Diana is Athena. The cousin's name is Athena. I remember now. I haven't seen her since she was a little girl."

"That's right," Sly inserted. "Her name was Athena. She was real beautiful - like a goddess with a bunch of dark, curly hair."

Stefan frowned as he knew that he was on to something, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. He'd have to ask Nikolas about this friend of his. She didn't sound particularly suitable for a boy who was planning on attending an Ivy League university. Nikolas should begin making friends that would help him in business.

~*~*~*~

Frankie had been silent for the drive down to the lockup. He'd spaced out during the ride, willing himself to be away from the company of the police, if only in his mind, and he hadn't even responded when the police officer read him his rights and asked him ten times if he'd understood. The police officer finally gave up and informed the commissioner that Frank Junior wasn't talking.

Mac stepped out of the cruiser when they arrived at the PCPD, and he spoke to the driver outside the cruiser in a low tone of voice. "We're doing a 'scared straight' situation with this kid. See that no harm comes to him, but let him see the rougher side of jail, okay? The kid needs to learn a lesson. He's gotten off easily with the power and money that he has, but he's not going to bring any more havoc to our city. He needs to see what his life will be like if he doesn't toe the line."

The officer nodded as he opened the back car door and pulled Frankie from the car. The other officer positioned himself on Frankie's right side, and the two men dragged Frankie up the steps and into the police station.

Frankie blinked and looked around him as he chose to focus on his surroundings. He'd watched plenty of movies and television programs featuring police procedure, so he wasn't afraid - yet. However, he kept feeling the noose around his neck tightening with each passing minute and each step to the lockup. He was in panic mode as Frank's advice kept bouncing around his head. It's over if they take you in. Don’t say one word without an attorney, but realize your ass if fried if they have you in custody. No one will be able to help you then. I'll have to distance myself from you. Frankie laughed forlornly as he reflected that Frank had left anyway - permanently. He couldn't help him if he wanted to.

Mac looked at Frankie with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Why is he laughing like that?

Frankie laughed again as he was seated in a chair. He leaned back before he remembered his injuries, and he shot forward with a cry of pain. His hands were still behind his back, shackled with the bright, metal handcuffs, and the positioning of his shoulders was killing him by pressing a few sensitive spots together. His head hung down as he tried to get his bearings and deal with the pain as well as put on his tough guy act for the pleasure of the cops.

"Book him," Mac said loudly.

"Come on," the officer said as he dragged Frankie over to the fingerprinting station. Frankie looked on the scene with horror as it dawned on him that the cops would now have his fingerprints on file forever. He looked over his shoulder at the door and twisted fiercely in an attempt to make a run for it. Two officers had him by the arms and removed his handcuffs, pulling him harshly forward. Frankie's hands shook as they forced them toward the ink. "No!" he shouted. Ohmigod, I'm going down. Frank was right. Frankie looked wildly around the room with wide eyes. "Alexis?" he asked several times.

"Your attorney isn't going to stop you from being booked," the exasperated officer intoned as he forced Frankie's fingers onto the ink. "Hold still so we can get this over and done with."

Frankie was now calling out the name "Frank" in a panicked voice, and Mac's heart clenched as he knew that Frank Smith was dead. Mac was mad at himself, but he couldn't help it. Here his kid was calling out for his dead father, asking for help. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

The officer filled out a card with Frankie's ID and hung it around his neck. He pushed Frankie toward the lineup marker that would record his height in a photograph. He pulled Frankie up higher as he was slumped over, but he couldn't help but note that the kid was shy five feet four inches tall, and he was being processed in an adult manner. He shook his head as he didn't agree with Mac's 'scared straight' philosophy. A kid this young and small should have been taken to juvy. Of course that was no picnic either but at least the procedures and facilities were age appropriate.

Luke and Alexis raced into the room just in time to see Frankie's photograph being taken. The flash that lighted up his son's face showed a boy who was scowling with wide blue eyes that reflected hate, fear, pain and distrust. The scrape alongside his face and bandage at his temple gave him the look of a street urchin who was a definite danger to the community. Luke felt an overwhelming sadness pour over him, and he hugged Alexis close beside him.  As Frankie was lead away from the lineup, he turned his head to peer over his shoulder at his dad with a look that told Luke the boy had given up.

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