Chapter Seventy

Two days later...

Frankie lay sprawled on the deck outside and tapped the rubber tipped toe of one sneaker against the solid, wooden surface. He was encouraging Boris, his new pet turtle, to get some exercise by holding out a piece of celery leaf to coax the reluctant reptile toward him. He'd been diligent in applying the salve the veterinarian had prescribed to help heal the gash in the turtle's mouth and had already consumed two books about caring for a pet turtle. He was determined that this creature would gain a new lease on life, perhaps subconsciously in hopes that his own life would follow suit. At any rate, the animal had proven a good distraction from the problems and turmoil that wrapped around him in an uncomfortable stranglehold.

"Come on, Boris," he said under his breath as his blue eyes fixed intently on the small animal in front of him.

Physically, Frankie was continuing to improve with minimal muscle spasms in his leg, but mentally and emotionally he'd shut down and refused to allow anyone near him or enter the realm of his inner world. Luke had grown concerned at the distance his son was maintaining, as if he were building walls around him, and Sly had noted that Frankie wasn't making friends at school or even attempting to. He'd accepted the company of his brother, girlfriend and Emily at lunchtime, but never spoke to anyone at other times. Although Frankie's most common expression these days was one of blank indifference, it was obvious that something toxic was churning within.

Sly stood at the sliding glass door for several minutes watching Frankie and not interrupting him by speaking. His fingers pensively stroked the wood trim of the doorway as his mind turned. He and Frankie had been getting along fairly well since Frankie moved in. They'd had a couple of squabbles, testy comments thrown back and forth for the most part, but the air usually cleared immediately as neither of them seemed capable of holding a grudge. Sly was the younger brother, inexperienced in the treasures of women and the violence of the mob, yet in the household, he was actually the elder with experience in housecleaning and negotiating the peaks and valleys of family life. Frankie seemed to be a fish out of water, flopping and gasping for air as he tried to grasp the extreme changes in his life. His existence at Wyndemere had been easier since the lifestyle wasn't markedly different from his upbringing in the mansion at Atlantic City - servants and more servants were the common thread. Sly wondered if Frankie's apartment in the mansion had been close to the size of their entire house. Frankie sure had grumbled about the amenities in the bathroom, while Sly was grateful he had one that he only shared with his brother.

Sly gently slapped the doorframe with his hand to gain Frankie's attention. "Hey there," he said quietly. Frankie startled easily, so Sly had adopted a slower, more careful method of communicating his presence.

Frankie's hand reached for Boris and curled protectively around his turtle but soon relaxed when he saw it was only Sly who had called out. "Hey dere," he replied as he lightly stroked Boris' hard, ridged back.

Sly pointed toward the animal. "I think he's grown in the last few days. Don't you think?"

Frankie nodded and placed the turtle back into its condo. "He sure eats a lot. That makes him grow," he said sensibly.

Sly saw the wicked flash of Frankie's gold signet ring and felt a hot lick of anger within him. He had the same reaction each time he noticed the ring. It seemed to be a gaudy reminder of Frank Smith, the man who'd been responsible for his relatives' deaths. Why did Frankie insist on wearing it? Shouldn't it be placed in a box and hidden in the closet? What was he seeking by displaying it? Attention? Sly's face set, and he turned to walk back into the living room.

"Sly?"

Sly turned around to look at his brother, who was still sprawled on his stomach. "What?"

"What's da matter? You look mad."

"It's nothing," Sly lied. He turned again to leave but hesitated. "Oh. I was going to tell you that your mother is here. She brought Lulu."

Frankie's head whipped up, and his bright eyes didn't conceal his delight at this news. "Yeah?" he asked excitedly. He placed a firm hand on the deck and tried unsuccessfully to stand.

"Here," Sly said neutrally as he extended a hand. He grasped Frankie's hand and helped pull him up to a standing position.

"Thanks," Frankie said breathlessly. He picked up the turtle condo and limped back into the house.

Sly blinked in confusion as he continued to watch Frankie. His brother sure was a lethal mixture of death, mayhem and naiveté. He loved pets, girls, sex, babies, power, his mama, astronomy, guns, cars and blackmail - and not necessarily in that order. Could anyone ever figure him out completely? Did Frankie know himself? How could one person contain so many contradictions and exist?

~*~*~*~

"Alexis?" Frankie asked in surprise when he saw his stepmother sitting on the couch, rocking and crooning to his baby sister. His wide blue eyes looked to her with confusion. "Where's Mama?" He had a sinking feeling she'd dropped off the baby without asking to see him.

Alexis nodded to the front door. "She's talking to your father on the porch. She can't stay long."

"Oh," Frankie said in disappointment. When Lulu made a gurgling noise, he laughed and instinctively walked toward her.

"Wash your hands first," Alexis reminded him. "You've been playing with the turtle. They carry salmonella. You remember we talked about that?" Alexis looked concerned as she regarded the boy. He often had to be told something more than once, as if he couldn't concentrate or promptly forgot what he'd been told.

"Uh. Yeah," Frankie agreed. "I'll put Boris back in my room and wash up."

~*~*~*~

Laura held her face up to the sun and breathed in deeply. Luke's property was nice - a slice of the country in the midst of the city bustle. She fingered the newer wood of the porch rail and reflectively ran a finger over a rough knot in the surface. "This is a nice house, Luke," she said appreciatively as she remembered they had once talked about owning such a property. It was so long ago that she had trouble recalling the thoughts and emotions she'd held back then; however, she allowed herself to feel wistful for the enormity of what had been lost one night on a warm, Florida night.

"He's not happy here," Luke said with a low, tense voice as his fingers curled around a porch post. He looked out into the yard with a sad gaze.

"Luke," Laura said softly, pausing to look into his eyes. "He's fine."

Luke's jaw muscle twitched. "How do you know that? We're living with him. He doesn't want to be here - it's obvious."

"What might be obvious is he's having an adjustment period," Laura corrected him. "We're asking him to make an enormous number of changes in a short period of time. He's shocked and upset. It wasn't a picnic at Wyndemere, either. There were problems."

Luke shrugged and looked down at the painted clapboards that formed the porch floor. "It's me," he said with a leaden voice. "He doesn't like me."

"I disagree. He loves his father."

"Frank?" Luke asked with a sarcastic voice.

"He did," Laura asserted. "And now he's grieving. This is in no way personal to you. He'll come around."

"He didn't have trouble warming up to you and Stefan."

Laura placed her hands on her hips and sighed. "Luke, it's not a reflection on you." Her eyes blinked as they filled with tears at the welling emotions in her chest. "He seems to remember me."

Luke frowned and glanced at Laura. "What do you mean?"

Laura hugged herself with her hands rubbing her arms. "Mothers are physically closer to their babies. We nurse them, we handle them much more than their fathers do. I'm saying that I think he remembers me emotionally because of that. I seem familiar to him."

"I held him plenty," Luke protested. "I loved that boy."

"I know." Laura hesitated but decided to continue in a careful, quiet tone of voice. "He may have been forced to place you out of his mind. I can't imagine what it must have done to him to be separated from you, from both of us actually. He was old enough to notice our absence from his life. What choice did he have but to cling to Frank, to anyone who was nearby? He was an infant, Luke."

Luke sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as his whole body seemed to tense up by thinking about Frank Smith and the realities of Frankie's early life. "That bastard betrayed him. He used and abused that boy."

"Yes," Laura agreed. "He did. But we're dealing with it. We're helping him. He survived - he escaped. It's a miracle, isn't it?"

Laura's voice held a note of hope and gratitude that caught Luke's attention. He smiled. "I guess when you put it that way."

"I do," Laura insisted. "It's a good sign that Frankie has warmed up to Stefan. I think he's trying out certain behaviors with a father figure who doesn't hold the same stakes as his natural father. He's so afraid of doing something wrong, of losing you forever. I think he's terrified of that."

"Sounds like me," Luke said in a small voice. "He's a junior all right - a chip off the old block."

"I think so," Laura agreed. "He's very much like you."

"And you," Luke said reflectively. He gave his ex-wife a small smile of gratitude as he laid his hand on Laura's shoulder and guided her toward the door. "Why don't you tell our son goodbye. He's been missing his mother."

~*~*~*~

"All clean," Frankie exclaimed with a smile and two hands held up for inspection. He sat down on the couch next to Alexis and watched her interact with his baby sister. His blue eyes looked speculatively back and forth from Lulu to Alexis. "You like babies," he noted.

Alexis brown eyes sparkled as she hugged and kissed the baby. "I sure do," she admitted.

Frankie's voice softened and lowered in tone as he ran a finger over the tiny sleeve of Lulu's dress. "Are you and my dad gonna have a baby?" He didn't look directly at Alexis and instead concentrated on Lulu. Sly was sitting on the arm of the couch on the other side of Alexis, and his ears perked up as he'd been wondering that as well.

Alexis cleared her throat, taken off guard by Frankie's direct question. What did they want as a couple? She and Luke had never really discussed having their own child - too much had happened in a short space of time with reunited sons and adopted ones. She painted a smile on her face in an attempt to recover and answer Frankie. "You boys are all we could hope for," she started. "Lulu is the icing on the cake. We'll enjoy her company tonight." That sounds a little lame even for me.

Sly and Frankie looked at each other as they knew an evasive statement when they heard one.

"I like babies," Frankie stated definitely as he reached for Lulu's hand and grasped it, watching her take a firm hold as he raised and lowered his finger. "Dad said I couldn't make one of my own, so I was hoping you would." His lips turned up in amusement at his stepmother's reaction.

Alexis' cheeks flushed red, and she blinked rapidly. "Well, Luke was right. You're too young to make babies or even to practice." She regained her courage and looked her stepson in the eye to reinforce her comment with her logical, attorney's presence.

"I know," Frankie scoffed as he shook his head. "I'm just kiddin." Don't know about dat practice. I ain't dead yet. I sure like to practice. His mind returned to Luke's earlier advice, and he mentally shrugged. Okay, I'll be good - for Maxie. He sighed out loud, catching Alexis' attention.

Alexis handed off the baby to Frankie and said, "Sly, why don't you and I fix us some drinks? Frankie, do you want a cola?"

Frankie nodded while he snuggled Lulu into the crook of his arm.

"Your mother should be in soon," Alexis said over her shoulder as she led Sly from the room.

Frankie looked deeply into Lulu's violet eyes and smiled when Lulu cooed out a greeting. "You know me, baby," Frankie whispered as he smoothed out her dress and pinched her fat knees. "I love you." He held the baby close for a second and then looked her in the eyes again. "You and me - we're brand new," he said in a low, confiding voice. His hand ran softly over her generous sprinkling of black hair. "I'm your big brother," he announced. "I'm gonna take care of you." After a minute, he held his breath as his eyes took on a haunted look. "Nobody's ever gonna hurt you. Not like dey did to me." He bit his lower lip. "I gotta start over. I gotta be new, too. But how do I do dat? I feel so old and used up. It's like I'm a thousand years old, ya know?" He hugged Lulu gently and felt the fear register in his gut with a sharp burn. Did he really have a chance or was fate playing a huge joke on him?

~*~*~*~

Sonny paced around his penthouse, making the finishing touches on his packing job and placing last minute items into large cardboard boxes that lined the living room floor. He stroked his chin while he held a hand on his hip and surveyed the empty premises. He'd been fortunate to have sold his entire wardrobe for $4,000, and the penthouse had sold the fourth day on the market. Now, he had a small nest egg to live on. It would afford him plenty of time to plot the revenge he had in mind for Smith Junior. Too bad he'd be doing his scheming in a small, one bedroom apartment.

His cell phone rang, and he looked at it with a puzzled expression on his face. Earlier, he'd been tempted to cancel his service as no employees or business partners would ever call him again now that he was out of the business. Who would want to talk to him now?

"Yeah," Sonny's bored, disinterested voice sounded.

"Sonny. It's Jason."

Sonny's brows furrowed in confusion, and he removed the phone from his ear, looking at it in surprise. "Morgan?" he questioned.

"Yes. It's me."

"I thought the Mafia took you out. You disappeared, and I never heard from you again."

Jason's nervous giggle sounded over the phone. "They were waiting for me in my apartment one night - the night after our long strategy meeting. They gave me the choice - leave the country or end up in the bottom of the Port Charles River. I didn't have a choice."

Sonny's face clouded with dark emotions. "Where the hell are you? I coulda used you a few days ago."

"France. Paris."

Sonny chuckled. "What? That doesn't sound like a place for you." Sonny frowned slightly when his mind took him back to the makeup collection he'd discovered in Jason's bedroom and the gushing of Elton. He idly wondered what Jason would look like with full makeup. Maybe Paris was the place for his former secondhand man. Still, they'd worked so closely together, spending days and nights in close proximity, sharing the details of their daily lives. Sonny's eyes misted as he realized he missed Jason.

Jason cleared his throat as he hesitated and reached for the correct words to explain his unique take on reality. "Paris is a great place, Sonny. It's...um...more liberal? You can be yourself here. No one judges."

Sonny nodded in understanding. He looked down at his newly spartan attire, a pair of khaki chinos and red polo shirt. He felt naked without his ever-present designer suits and silk shirts, but they represented another time and place. His fingers ran through his curls, newly loosened without the usual oily residue that had formerly kept each hair rigidly in place. Maybe his lifestyle had forced some restrictions on him that didn't belong. With absolutely no aspect of his former life in place perhaps he could start over and make only those choices that complemented him. "Um, Jason...some things have happened since you left. Smith Junior did me in. He arranged it so the Mafia could muscle in on me. I lost the businesses. I was just packing up my things when you called. The penthouse is sold."

Silence descended on the other end as Jason's limited brain attempted to process the news. It moved so slowly one could almost hear the gears squeakily turning due to the lack of lubricating intelligence. Finally, he spoke. "I'm real sorry, Sonny. I hate Smith Junior, too. He's a little punk who needs to be taught a lesson."

A wide grin spread evilly across Sonny's face. "Funny, that's exactly what I was thinking. Smith Junior requires a tutor."

Jason cackled knowingly. "He needs to mind his manners."

"Or else," Sonny filled in for him. He cracked his neck and sniffed. "I wish you were here, and we could take him out together."

"I'm only a phone call away," Jason reminded him.

"International phone calls cost money. I'm broke."

"You could always bunk up with me," Jason said hopefully as an indescribable feeling welled up inside his chest. He ran a hand through his spiky hair and waited with cautious expectation.

Sonny rubbed his lips together and frowned as he recalled Elton's comment: "Oh, he was simply divine that man cub of yours." Is that why he was so restless lately?Was it more than the loss of his livelihood? Did he miss Jason, too? "I have to finish off Smith Junior first. Nothing else can distract me now. You understand?"

"I guess so," Jason's soft, petulant voice answered. "Let me know if you need any ideas. I've already come up with ten different ways to kill him," he added proudly. "How creative do you want to be?"

Sonny absentmindedly rubbed his lips with his index finger, lost in thought over the vision of Jason's full, ruby red lips. He started and blinked as awareness came back to him. He cleared his throat and nervously ran his fingers through his hair. "No. Thanks. I'll get him." His eyes took on a flat, dead look. "It's only a matter of time. I'll let you know when I do it."

"A visit to Paris would be perfect," Jason said excitedly. "After the killing that is. You need to relax. Remove some of the tension from your life."

"I don't have a life," Sonny snarled as he angrily looked at the piles of boxes surrounding him.

"And that's your problem," Jason answered coyly. "You need to discover yourself."

~*~*~*~

Laura approached Frankie, who was seated beside Alexis, watching her cuddle with Lulu. He nervously rapped his knuckles on his knee, feeling the hard knock of his gold signet ring each time he brought his hand down. He jumped when he felt her soft hand on his shoulder.

"Mama!" he expressed happily with beaming eyes and a wide smile. He jettisoned himself into her arms with a force that made Laura laugh.

"Whoa!" she said breathlessly when they separated. "I'm happy to see you, too."

Frankie suddenly became shy when he realized over expressed his emotions. He sank his hands into his jeans pockets and toed at an imaginary piece of lint on the carpet. His cheeks flushed pink, and he said, "Sorry," in a soft voice. "I was just glad to see ya."

Laura stroked the boy's hair and pulled him into another hug. "I trust you'll help Alexis with Lulu."

Frankie nodded, his head brushing against his mother's shoulder. "Yeah. I'm lookin' forward to it."

"Stefan will be by later to pick her up. You can talk business for a few minutes if you like."

Frankie's eyes brightened. "He said dat?"

Laura nodded with a smile. "He sure did." She waved her hand at her sister in law. "Bye, Alexis. I hope she doesn't give you too much trouble. She shouldn't need a feeding, but I left a bottle of formula in her bag just in case."

Alexis nodded, not paying too much attention to her sister in law. "I think we have things under control, don't we, Lulu?" Alexis held the baby up and moved her back and forth, much to Lulu's delight.

Frankie pointed back at his baby sister with an extended thumb. "She's happy, Mama."

~*~*~*~

Everyone had their turn cuddling and playing with Lulu, even Sly who was reticent around the tiny baby, afraid he might hurt her with a wrong move. He laughed while he watched his dad play with the baby - it was obvious that Luke was crazy about babies by the way he carried on. Lulu was laid on a thick quilt on the carpeted floor, and Luke was on his hands and knees with his face making a myriad of silly expressions, each designed to delight and fascinate a small infant. Lulu constantly cooed and gurgled as she reached for his nose, his smiling lips and bugged eyes. Back and forth they carried on a private conversation that only they could understand.

Frankie shook his head and pointed at his dad. "You're having too much fun," he teased. "Are you sure you don't want me to make you one of dose? I'm willing to try ya know."

Luke made a face at his son, but inwardly he was pleased to see Frankie relax for what seemed like the first time since he'd moved in. "I think having Lulu visiting is wonderful. But remember that we get to give her back to her parents. It's no fun changing diapers day and night. And the vomit, and the accidents with the gross diarrhea..."

"Okay!" Frankie and Sly cried out in unison. "We get the idea, Dad," Sly said.

Alexis removed her fingers from her ears. "Honestly, Luke. We just ate."

"That's when they get revved up," Luke explained. "First they eat, then they..."

Frankie reached out and playfully swatted at his Dad. "Stop it," he laughed. "We're loosin' our cookies."

Luke grinned back. "Okay, I'll shut up - for now."

Frankie's head jerked up when he heard the doorbell. "Stefan," he said excitedly as he disregarded his crutches and limped quickly to the door. "Hi," he said as he held the door wide open for his stepfather.

"Frankie," Stefan's rich voice rang out as he crossed the threshold. He patted Frankie on the shoulder in greeting. "I trust Lulu has behaved for you?"

"She's perfect!" Frankie piped up. "She's great."

Stefan's eyebrow rose. "Do you wish to discuss your businesses?"

Frankie looked with indecision between Stefan and Luke. He didn’t want to exclude Luke, but he really wanted to talk to Stefan, who he perceived had the specialized business experience. However, he knew his dad would feel left out if he weren't invited into the conversation. He frowned lightly. "Um. Yes, I want to discuss them." His voice softened. "Can my dad listen, too?"

"Of course," Stefan agreed. "That is a fine idea. Where shall we talk?"

Frankie pointed toward the kitchen and hollered, "Dad! We're meetin' in da kitchen."

Alexis held out her arms to receive the baby from Luke. "Go on," she said. "Sly and I have things under control, don't we?" Sly nodded and watched his mother with the baby.

Luke dusted off his hands and followed Stefan and Frankie. He was surprised yet pleased that Frankie had included him. "Want some coffee, Stefan?" he asked politely. When Stefan nodded, Luke fiddled with the automatic coffeemaker, planning to brew several cups. Stefan laid out several folders on the kitchen table and looked distinctly out of place in the casual country décor with his impeccable appearance that reeked of old money and new money yet to be had. His hair was immaculate, a detail that didn't escape Frankie's sharp eyes. Stefan was a man after Frank, at least in terms of grooming and overall appearance. Frankie also noted that Stefan also wore a signet ring and that his fingernails looked like they were regularly buffed. This was a man he was comfortable directing his businesses.

"Here you go, Stef," Luke said briskly as he handed over a mug of coffee. "Sugar or cream?"

:"Black is fine," Stefan stated as he paused then respectfully took a sip from his ceramic mug. He looked at the lettering on the side, which read, "Hogan's Hauling and Brush Removal. Get the Crap Out." His lips worked with amusement as he laid it on the table top. Frankie leaned in toward Stefan, his shoulder touching his stepfather's, obviously at ease with the elegant man.

"What's up?" Luke asked good naturedly with a nod toward the folders. Stefan nodded and opened the first folder. "I am first having auditors review the accounts and transactions for all of the businesses to ensure that they are legitimate and legal. If any discrepancies appear, we will correct them. This is for your protection."

"Cool," Frankie said appreciatively. "Dat's cool with me."

Stefan's intelligent green eyes bore into his stepson's curious blue ones. "You are aware of the businesses' total worth?" he questioned.

Frankie shrugged. "Not exactly. I knew da illegit, but not dese. Dese were small to us."

Stefan shot Luke a look. "Not small, young man. Your combined businesses are valued at $750 million dollars."

"What?" Luke breathed out as the color fled from his face.

Frankie merely smirked with satisfaction. "Frank," he said with assurance. "He was da man." He stroked his chin. "I can't believe he gave me all of dis. I thought he hated me."

"Apparently not in the way you think," Stefan replied. "The man was mentally ill. You realize that?"

Luke watched his young son's face struggle to retain its composure. "I guess," he said in a voice that sounded young and small. The subject of his father's mental health made his insides turn cold and set his brain on fire. He struggled for several moments, but lost the battle. "Excuse me," he said with a strained voice as he leaped up from his chair and limped toward the nearby half bath.

"It's a sore subject," Luke said apologetically to the man seated across from him.

"I didn't intend to upset the boy," Stefan said as his eyes saddened.

"He deserves to be told the truth," Luke stated. "It does him no good to pretend that his life was a picnic. He lived under the thumb of a madman."

Stefan nodded in agreement. "A madman who was a business genius. He taught your son well. Frankie is a virtual prodigy when it comes to business."

"That's what I'm worried about," Luke confided. "When does he get to be a fifteen year old boy?"

~*~*~*~

Next day...

The spring sun shone down on top of Sly and Frankie's bent heads, illuminating and brightening Sly's blond hair and making Frankie's hair appear a dark shade of blond, rather than brown. The two boys sat on a concrete bench outside of the school cafeteria, enjoying the last ten minutes of their brief lunch. Maxie and Emily had gone to the restroom for "girl stuff," they called it - applying makeup and checking for shiny noses. Frankie had been quiet all day, not saying much as they got ready for school and not talking much at lunch, either. Something had happened when Stefan had visited the house the prior evening, but Sly had been out of the room, and no one discussed it with him. He looked curiously at his brother, wondering at the veil of sadness that seemed to cling to Frankie like a second garment.

"You've been pretty quiet," Sly observed.

"Nothin' to say."

"How's the physical therapy going? Is your leg getting any better?"

"Sort of." Frankie adjusted himself on the bench and stretched out his leg as he regarded the offending body part. "It hurts so much to do the exercises. Da therapist dude said dat's because it's healing. It'd be a bad sign if it didn't hurt."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Silence grew between the two brothers, and Sly folded his hands, taking a new interest in his fingers, while Frankie sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

"How many times have you gone to that Ivy Hills place?" Sly asked curiously. "Other than that one time we all went and got fed the rules."

"Da rules," Frankie snickered. "Stupid."

Sly looked intently at his brother as if trying to decide what really made him tick.

"You're used to living by your own rules, aren't you?"

Frankie shrugged and looked blank. "I'm used to a hierarchy. Everyone in his place, no one gets outta line, or..." He looked down at the ground and rolled a stray twig beneath his shoe as his mind recalled another time and place. "But I was number two," he added wistfully.

"That was a lot of pressure," Sly observed. "Isn't it better to just worry about what our mom and dad say?"

"Two moms and dads," Frankie reminded him. He rubbed his palms over his pants and bent forward at the waist, a pensive look overtaking him. "And dose fucking doctors," he said as an afterthought. "If dey think I'm gonna talk or listen dey got somethin' comin.'"

"You mean the doctors at Ivy Hills?"

Frankie nodded and turned away as he suddenly felt exposed and uncertain. He wrapped his arms around himself and made a derisive sound under his breath. "Bastards," he muttered.

"Why do you hate it so much?" Sly probed. He was genuinely trying to understand his brother and couldn't relate to his attitude. Sly never accepted vague answers as he liked specifics and a world that made sense.

Frankie leaped up from the bench so quickly that Sly drew back, startled at the sudden movement. Frankie reached for his crutches and leaned on them heavily, his back turned toward his brother. "I'm NOT gonna talk about my dad," he said angrily. "It's nobody's business. I got a right to keep stuff to myself. He was my dad, and I don't care if he was mentally ill." Frankie sneered the last two words as the feelings of hurt and desperation built inside of him. "And dose little pricks in dat alcoholics group. Dose stupid little kids. I'm gonna start a network inside dat place and sell 'em all da booze dey want. Let 'em kill themselves if dey want. I'll help 'em do it." Frankie turned around on his crutches, and he seemed to grow larger in size as he glowered darkly.

Sly felt a shiver of fear run through him at the sight of Frankie - so much like Frank he supposed - imposing, angry and forceful. Frankie's brow furrowed as he continued to glare, but his face abruptly changed and sank back into a scared boy's features. "I don't wanna talk about it," he reiterated in a much softer, more uncertain voice.

"But maybe they can help you," Sly replied. "What if you felt better? That would be good, wouldn't it?"

Frankie had already started to walk away. "I'm never gonna feel different," he shot over his shoulder. "Why bother?"

Sly looked after him with concern, but hopped up from the bench and silently followed his brother into the school building as the bell rang for the next period.

~*~*~*~

The entire Spencer family was relaxed in front of the television, sharing several bowls of popcorn and laughing hysterically at the comedy on channel five. Alexis and Sly sat next to each other on the couch while Luke and Frankie half reclined nearby on large cushions. It was more comfortable for Frankie to sit that way with his leg propped on top of a line of smaller cushions, and Luke enjoyed spending some quality time near his eldest son.

Luke smiled and glanced at his son. It seemed to him that Frankie was making small improvements in the way he interacted with the family as if he'd finally decided to relax and let the chips fall where they may. Luke reached back and patted Sly on the knee. Sly looked down at his dad with a small smile before directing his attention back to the television. His sons seemed like mirror opposites of one another in temperament. Sly was the old soul who, although emotional, was usually placid and easy to please. He was introspective and analytical whereas Frankie was moody and brooding. Although technically younger, at times Sly seemed to be older than Frankie or more mature in his interactions with the world. Frankie could be a tough businessman and knowledgeable in worldly vices, but it was obviously a front, one of many that hid the real Frankie and protected him from a harsh and demanding world. Now, however, Frankie seemed to be shining through, and it gave Luke hope.

Frankie grabbed an enormous handful of popcorn from Luke's bowl and smirked at his father. "You don't need alla dat," he said mischievously.

"Hey!" Luke protested with a protective hand covering the bowl. "I'm still growing."

"Yeah!" Frankie retorted with amused eyes. "Dis way," he said with his hands spread wide apart. "Horizontal."

"Just wait until you're my age," Luke teased. "A man becomes very attached to his stomach."

"And ya got more and more to look forward to," Frankie answered quickly. He smiled as he enjoyed the back and forth banter with his dad. Luke was a lot smarter than he'd originally given him credit for. And, he had business skills to boot. Maybe he wasn't elegant like Stefan, but he got the job done. His new landscaping business was booming.

"I'm going to pop some more popcorn," Alexis said as she rose from the couch. "It's about my only skill in the kitchen." A father and two sons gave each other knowing looks.

Sly leaned in toward Luke and whispered, "You're going to have to start sharing those sub sandwiches you've been sneaking. We're growing boys."

"Yeah," Frankie agreed as he leaned into the father and sons huddle. "We know your modus operandi, and we're gonna blow your cover if you don't produce and quick like."

Both Luke and Sly bust out laughing at Frankie's mob terminology used to extort a little junk food.

A firm knock at the door interrupted their pleasure in each other's company. Sly looked at Luke and then walked over to the door and peered through the peephole. His stomach dropped when he saw who was standing outside. "It's the cops," he said tensely as he turned around and spread his hands on the door as if to keep them from invading their living room. "There are two of them. Uniformed cops."

Frankie struggled to his feet with an exclamation. Luke stood behind him and placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder as it seemed like Frankie was prepared to flee. The two cops entered the room with grim expressions on their faces and hands on their guns. Frankie began trembling as memories of the last time he'd had a run-in with the cops flooded his mind.

"Frank Smith Junior?" the one cop questioned as he looked down at a slip of paper in his hand and bored his beady eyes into Frankie's wide, blue ones.

"Spencer Junior," Luke said in a disgusted voice. "His name is Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior."

"Yeah," Frankie breathed out in a defensive whisper as he quickly and repeatedly nodded his head.

The other cop stepped forward and made an annoyed motion with his hand. "Come with us," he directly sternly. "You're wanted for questioning in the murders of Joseph Sorel and..."

Alexis entered the room well-armed with her attorney's logic. "Gentlemen," she interrupted them. "My client has already answered all questions concerning the recent gangland murders in Port Charles. What is this? It's evening, and he has school tomorrow. Can't this wait? Better yet, why don't you find a bona fide suspect to harass?"

Although Frankie appreciated Alexis' defense and tried hard to hide his grin, he couldn't help but feel the panic rising within him. This was a nightmare. The sight of the cops made him feel as vulnerable and uneasy as they did in the hospital. No way was he going back to jail. He tried to throw off Luke's arm from his shoulder as his eyes wildly scanned the room for a method of escape.

"No," Frankie said in a brittle voice that made Luke's heart hurt with a mixture of alarm and compassion. Luke instinctively slipped his arm around his son's collarbone in a protective yet restraining motion.

Frankie felt his mind go fuzzy in response to the stress building within him, and his squirming motions increased in intensity. "NO!" he shouted angrily as he began panting.

"Let me talk to my son for a moment," Luke said calmly as he restrained his son. "We'll step over here," he pointed toward the end of the living room. "And then we'll all accompany you to the station."

"We need to cuff him," the officer stated as a warning. "He's listed here as a flight risk. It's procedure."

"All of us are coming to the station," Alexis informed them. "I am his attorney as well as his stepmother." She gave them a withering look. "Better warm up the coffee, gentlemen."

The cop in charge shook his head at Alexis' statement but waved his hand to permit Luke to talk to his son and calm him down. Sly stood by and glared at the cops with his arms crossed in defiance. He looked into one cop's eyes and held his gaze. Even he knew this was ridiculous. They didn't have anything on Frankie - they were just harassing him.

"Settle down," Luke said in a stern yet soft voice. He slightly shook Frankie to get his attention and stared him in the eye. "They're just shoveling us bullshit. You know it, and I know it. All we have to do is go down to the station. Alexis will be with you as your attorney, and she'll protect you. Sly and I will be waiting, and then we'll all go home. There's no need to give them trouble or to try to run."

Frankie's eyes fell as his face with flooded with a sad desperation. He pulled back from Luke's grip to no avail. "I don't wanna go," he whined in a higher pitched voice. "Dey were mean to me." He started sinking to the floor, and Luke allowed him to sit down in a puddle of misery and despair. He knelt by Frankie and tried again to reassure him. "You're not alone. Your stepmother is a fine attorney, and your dad and brother will be in the next room."

Frankie's wide eyes gazed at Luke as if to determine if he were telling the truth. "Promise?"

Luke crossed his heart. "Always." He pulled Frankie up and gave him a brief hug. "It'll be like cops and robbers," he instinctively said as he felt like Frankie had becomequite young in the last minute. "You'll get to wear the handcuffs and sit in a police cruiser. It'll be fun. Look at it that way. We'll follow behind you all the way in the SUV. You'll know we're right there."

Frankie's face merely looked blank, and he didn't respond.

"Come on," Luke coaxed him, pulling him forward with a gentle motion. "You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

"Okay," Frankie responded in a dazed voice that indicated he wasn't fully present. He looked at a spot on the wall as the cops encircled his wrists with the cold, metal handcuffs. When he was led away limping, he reminded Luke of a robot that walked on command, but mindlessly.

Next chapter...