Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Seventy-Eight

The annoyed driver slammed the door to the black Cadillac and cautiously approached with his gun drawn. Sonny was crumpled on the ground, lying flat on his stomach with his hands extended before him. The driver tapped at Sonny with the tip of his black, wing-tipped shoe to see what he'd do. Sonny raised his head to blearily look around him, then rose to his knees and opened his brown eyes widely at the sight of the menacing, black suited man staring down at him.

"Aliens," Sonny sputtered sadly as his eyes teared up and pleaded with the man.

"Get up," the man in black ordered with a wave of his gun.

Sonny scrambled to his feet, but staggered to the left with a hand held to his head. "Don’t feel good," he whined with a thick voice. Sonny held his hands up as if he were being arrested. He waved them back and forth and his face took on a decidedly queasy look as his knees knocked together with fear. "Jason?" he questioned feebly. "I want Jason." He opened his mouth widely and screamed, "JASON!"

"Get in the back," the man ordered as he nudged at Sonny with his gun.

"No!" Sonny screamed at the top of his voice, stumbling backwards. "You can't take me!!" The man in black looked decidedly alien to Sonny now that he'd taken a good look at him, and he wasn't sure why the street had turned into a black, wavy line with the spaceship parked in front of him. Sure, it appeared to be a large, black car, but that was only a disguise for its true nature, and Sonny wasn't buying it. "I don’t wanna go," he began blubbering. "Don't hurt me."

The man in black sighed massively and shook his head. "Fine," he said lightly as he drew back his large fist and crashed it into Sonny's face. Sonny flew onto his back and lay motionless, and thankfully, soundless. If he were a cartoon, he'd have black X's drawn over his eyes and bird tweeting around his head, so thoroughly was he taken out. "You had to do it the hard way," the man in black muttered as he dragged Sonny toward the back of the car and lifted the trunk, throwing the unconscious man into the generous space and slamming the lid down over him. "Dork," the man said as he entered the driver's door.

"Hurry, we've got to get to the hospital," the other man urged. "We've wasted too much time on Corinthos."

"He got hold of the beer," the driver said as he pulled quickly away from the curb and expertly maneuvered the car into a high speed.

"Obviously," his partner added dryly.

"I suppose people react differently to that drug."

"It brings up a person's underlying fears, causing them to overreact and hallucinate. Makes them wind up in some type of hospital ninety-nine percent of the time."

The driver snickered and gestured behind him with his thumb. "This one is afraid of little green men."

"Who's Jason?" his partner questioned. "I heard him screaming that name."

"Got me. I’m just glad I’m not him. This Jason's going to have a basket case on his hands."

~*~*~*~

Luke was on his second towel, grabbing it and placing it under his son's face, when he shouted at Alexis. "Why are you stopping?!!" The vehicle's lack of movement was tearing Luke up, twisting his guts into knots. If only the SUV were moving, then he might feel like he was doing something to save his boy.

Alexis failed at holding back her tears, and several streams coursed down her cheeks. She yelled back with a hysterical tone, "I'm stopped at a red light! Do you want us all to get killed? There's heavy cross traffic."

"Should have called for a police escort or a paramedic," Luke muttered.

"We're doing the best we can, Luke! Don't yell at me. I'm upset, too." She took in several deep breaths and held them in an effort to calm herself. Alexis looked over at Sly and shook his leg when she noticed he was crying harder. "How are you doing?" 

Sly shook his head and turned away in his misery. There were no words to describe how he was feeling. Frankie was dying, and it was his fault. He'd never killed anyone before, unlike his brother, and it felt terrible.

The vehicle filled with the gurgling sounds of Frankie choking on his own blood, and Luke noted that he wasn't fighting as hard to breathe. He was becoming cold and clammy with impending shock.  Luke pulled the blood saturated towel out from under Frankie's face and flung it onto the floor. "Hurry!" he said in a pleading voice. Frankie violently moved around the back seat of the SUV and hit at his father's helping hands and arms.

"It's okay, it's okay," Luke lied in a soothing tone. It was all he could think to say. His son was dying in his arms, and there was nothing he could do about it. The world seemed to stop, and hell opened up before him, breathing its fiery breath in his face.

The tires squealed noisily when Alexis floored the gas pedal at the first hint of a green light. Unfortunately, it was a green turn arrow, not her turn to go, and she had to jerk the steering wheel hard to avoid colliding with an oncoming car. The night filled with the sounds of honking horns, and the vehicle shook harshly with Alexis' evasive maneuvers. Sly banged his head hard against the door and moaned in response to his protesting injuries. The SUV was filled with the sounds of three Spencers crying out of fear and desperation.

Luke pulled Frankie upright in an attempt to assist him in breathing, but the boy's head hung down limply with approaching unconsciousness.

"The hospital is up ahead - only one more block!" Alexis shouted out.

"Good! Oh, God, hurry Alexis!"

Alexis pulled right up to the Emergency entrance and braked hard, causing Sly to jerk forward in his seatbelt and Luke to tumble onto the floor with Frankie sliding over top of him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Alexis repeated frantically.

Luke scrambled up and managed to fling open the door. He pulled Frankie out and threw him over his shoulder, running with him while becoming increasingly covered with his son's blood as it soaked through his old sweatshirt and coated his hands and neck. Luke's slippers made loud slapping sounds as he ran into the hallway, dressed only in a bloody sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. "Help me, help me!" Luke called out desperately. "He's having trouble breathing," Luke said to a nurse who ran up to him. "He took a hard blow to the chest. He's been a patient here before with a gunshot wound a few weeks ago. Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior - that's his name."

Luke laid Frankie down on a gurney that was brought out, and rolled him onto his side as the blood was still flowing from his mouth. Luke attempted to wipe his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his sweatshirt but only succeeded in smearing a long, generous streak of blood over his forehead. He looked like he'd wandered off of a war field with the shocked, panicked look on his face and liberal spots of blood soaking his skin and through his clothes. The gurney was whisked away, and Luke followed closely, attempting to answer the nurse's rapid fire questions while trotting behind the gurney. He was breathing hard, and his head felt fuzzy with the stress of the situation. He continually ran his hands nervously over his short hair, repeating the motions back and forth.

Chris Ramsey entered the exam room with his white coat and latex gloves, ready to help the blood covered young man, and he shot a questioning glance at Luke as a wave of recognition shot through him.

Luke extended a blood-streaked hand toward his son. "We were here a few weeks ago. Gunshot wound to the chest and...that, that kidney thing," Luke said, motioning toward his back.

Chris frowned as he remembered the incident and his previous suspicions of child abuse. Now Frankie was back in the ER with new injuries. "What happened to him?" he asked shortly as he waited for the nurses to finish stripping the kid and taking his vitals.

"He fell. He tripped and came down with his full weight on the deck railing," Luke explained. "My two sons were fighting. My other son will be here in a minute. He's not as badly hurt, but he's at least broken his nose."

"Do you have his records?" Chris asked the one nurse.

"Here you go," the nurse said, handing over a folder. "Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior. Age fifteen."

"He has that ITP," Luke added. "Maybe that's why he's bleeding so much. He saturated three towels worth on the drive over." He patted for his pockets and discovered he had none as he was wearing pajama bottoms. Luke was jittery and had a hard time speaking. "I don’t have my wallet. It has a list of his medications. He's on some psychiatric drugs as well as whatever else they put him on - the drugs I told the nurse about. Ivy Hills might have the records."

Chris turned away and ignored Luke when the nurse called out Frankie's vitals. "BP is 82/41 and dropping. Pulse is tachy and irregular at 148. Respirations are shallow and labored at thirteen. Pulse ox is 72. Lung sounds are absent unilaterally. He’s responsive to painful stimuli, and he's verbal, but not coherent."

"Go to the waiting room," Chris said shortly as his eyes met Luke's. "I'll send someone out when we have news."

Luke stood still, too shocked to move or react, and a nurse gently guided him out of the room by taking his arm and walking with him.

"Bring over the portable x-ray," Chris ordered. "He's in shock and heading for respiratory and cardiac arrest. I'm not waiting on this. Let's secure an airway before it's too late. I need two large bore IV's, 18 gauge. He's going to need platelets for his bleeding disorder since we'll be doing a thoracostomy.  Check his records to type and match."

"Hold him down," Chris said abruptly as he tried to suction the blood from the kid's throat so he could visualize an airway. Frankie growled and flung his arms around as he was receiving less and less oxygen in his brain and was losing his grip on consciousness.  His body panicked and fought to survive as his nonseeing blue eyes opened, scanned the room and then fluttered closed again. "Gaa...Mmuuhmmuh," he tried to speak.

"Atropine 0.01 mg/kg IVP," Chris instructed. "We're going to intubate. I need a tray. We'll bag him until the respirator arrives."

"Mamaaaa," Frankie called out softly and clearly in a drawn out voice. He jerked and tried to pull his arms away when they were pierced for IV sites, crying out and choking at the same time. An oxygen mask was placed over his face, yet he still tried to speak.

Chris patted Frankie's arm and briefly held his hand. "We're going to fix you up so you can breathe," he said gently, although it wasn't apparent if Frankie could understand him. Still, the tone of voice and touch offered some emotional reassurance to some area of Frankie's brain, and he stopped thrashing around and fighting so hard.

"Administer succinylcholine 1.5 mg/kg IVP."  Soon the muscle paralyzer took effect, and he stopped moving at all. Chris expertly guided a tube down his throat and handed him off to a nurse who used an ambu-bag to rhythmically push oxygen into his lungs.

"We can't wait on a chest x-ray," Chris said hurriedly. "He probably has a tension pneumothorax as well as a hemothorax. We'll place two tubes, one posterior to the other. I want to dose him up with lidocaine first in case he can still feel some pain." He looked again at the wide swath of bruising that led from Frankie's chest to his abdomen. The amount of blood loss was disconcerting, congealing as it did all over the boy's face and upper body, appearing red and sticky.

Chris and his medical team worked expertly, positioning Frankie onto his side, cleaning him off and giving him local anesthesia. Chris worked fast, inserting a needle first and nodding with satisfaction when he heard a rush of air. It was as he suspected - tension pneumothorax - and they weren't wasting any time in reinflating the collapsed lung with the chest tube. The second tube would allow the collected blood to drain away from the chest cavity. He worked quickly, and soon two chest tubes were sutured into place. Standing away from the boy, he took in a deep breath and glanced at his watch. Only twenty minutes had passed since Frankie had been brought in, and now he was receiving oxygen, his lung was being reinflated, and his color was returning to normal. Cases like this were satisfying and why he'd chosen emergency medicine over other specialties. It felt good when he brought back patients from the brink of death. Now, he could take his time and determine if the kid had any other injuries.

~*~*~*~

Sonny was still knocked out with a trail of drool seeping from his mouth to his chin when the men in black unloaded him from the trunk. They'd parked their vehicle near back entrance to GH where there wasn't a lot of activity in order to avoid any witnesses to their dirty deed. Their goals were to lose Corinthos and check to see if the Spencers had arrived.

"Where's his little yellow car?" one man gritted out as he took hold of Sonny's legs and dragged him halfway out of the trunk. He lost his grip on the legs, and Sonny's head hit the bumper of the car with a loud bang. "You didn't need that head, did you?" the man joked at the insensible former mobster.

"What I want to know is how he got hold of the beer," his partner answered as he pulled up Sonny's head with a harsh yank on his black curls.

"He must have slipped into the woods while we were at Starbucks, the sneaky little rodent."

"He does have kind of a weasely look about his face, doesn't he?"

"Let's place him in these bushes. He ought to scare the hell out of someone who walks up."

The other man stopped and giggled. "I’m sorry. I’m just picturing a little old grandmother being chased by Space Alien Corinthos."

"Screaming, 'Jason' at the top of his lungs."

The two men placed Sonny butt first into a large yew, which was dense enough to hold the man's weight. They spread out his arms and legs so that he appeared to have been dropped out of the sky.

The driver clapped his hands together. "All we need is a 'Kick Me' sign. That'd complete the picture."

"Or Beam me up, Scotty."

"Let's go find out if Smith Junior, correct that, Spencer Junior is in GH," his partner said tensely. "We'd better not mess this up. The boss is running off a short fuse as it is."

~*~*~*~

Luke was led out into the waiting room, and he stood there motionless and staring, seemingly enraptured in the wavy cream wallpaper that lined the walls. His mind and face were blank, failing to take in the drama that took place around him, which pulsed with screaming babies, wheezing, gray faced old people and harried parents. He stumbled to one side when he heard his name called.

"Luke, how is Frankie? What's going on? We just got here, and they won't see Sly yet. They said he's not seriously injured so he has to wait. Luke?"

Luke's blue eyes directed to his wife's frightened, anxious brown ones, and within seconds his reserve melted, and his face became more animated. He reached for Alexis and enfolded her in his arms, standing there and holding her for what seemed like minutes. "They're taking care of him," he said simply. "He has that same doctor who saved him last time."

Alexis separated from Luke and searched her husband's face. "That's good," she said with relief. "What are they doing for him?"

Luke frowned and looked down at the floor. "I don't know. They rushed me out. I gave them information, and then..."

Alexis looked worried at her husband's odd, drawn out reactions, as if he weren't fully present with her. "Luke? They didn't tell you anything?" she asked with disbelief.

Luke jumped slightly and stared hard at Alexis. "He...he wasn't doing well. They were shouting out a bunch of numbers. Vital signs?"

Alexis led Luke to a chair beside Sly and sat him down. "Stay here with Sly," she stated firmly. "I'm going to find a nurse to get some answers."

Alexis walked off quickly and left behind two people who were absorbed in their own silence and guilt. Sly fidgeted and bopped his leg up and down as he held several tissues to his still bleeding nose. Occasionally, he bent his head back and coughed and choked as he swallowed a small trickle of blood. Luke stared at a spot on the blue carpeted floor with his head down, not noticing the curious stares of his waiting room companions as they whispered amongst themselves and speculated on his appearance with his hasty dress and liberal blood streaks and smears. Anything unusual was a welcome diversion to the bored stiff waiting room atmosphere.

Luke blinked back to awareness and noticed that he had another injured son sitting beside him. Sly was coughing and hacking when Luke placed a hand on his leg. "What's up? Are you okay? Should I get a doctor for you?"

Sly shook his head and said with a tear roughened voice, "The nurse said I had to wait. I'm not on the top of the list. They'll call me when they're ready."

"Pinch your nostrils together and place your head between your knees," Luke instructed. "That should stop the bleeding. Leaning your head back won't help."

"I noticed," Sly said wryly as he followed his father's instructions. After a few minutes, he sat back and sighed, twirling the blood streaked tissues in his hand. "It helped," he said. "It's not as bad." His red rimmed, puffy, bloodshot eyes met Luke's and then looked away. "Is Frankie going to die?" he asked emotionally.

Luke's face set, and he didn't answer immediately. "He might," he said honestly. "Your mother is checking on his progress now. He didn't look good when I was with him. He's having trouble breathing." Luke looked away and caught his breath in an attempt to ride out the swelling tide of hysteria that rose within him. "Um...we'll see."

Sly was surrounded by an aura of tension and shame, but he asked what was on his mind. "Do you hate me now?"

Luke looked sharply at his youngest son, the boy with whom he'd shared the last two years of his life. He saw the terror that lurked behind that question, reflected in Sly's wide, uncertain green eyes, and the unconscious insecurity that Sly still felt about not being Luke's biological son. He took hold of Sly's hand and squeezed it, not letting it go. "I'll always love you no matter what. You're my son, and you always will be, regardless."

"But it's my fault he might die," Sly's high-pitched, frightened voice answered. He started crying again and removed his hand from Luke's to cover his face so other people wouldn't see the devastated emotion splashed over it.

Luke sighed deeply. "You both were fighting. What happened to Frankie was an accident. You didn't mean to hurt him that badly, did you?"

"I don't know," Sly mumbled. "I think I was trying to kill him. I lost control. My mind was exploding."

"Even the best men can lose control of their emotions under some circumstances," Luke said. "That's why it's better to walk away and live another day. Sometimes you start something you don't mean to finish."

"Yeah," Sly agreed. "I wanted to kill him but have everything be fine when it was over with."

Luke laughed in spite of himself. Talking with Sly was taking his mind off of Frankie's struggle, and he felt some of the tension leaving his body. "I like how you put that." He hesitated, but decided that now was the time. "What were you talking about earlier at the house when you accused Frankie of killing Bill?"

"He did," Sly said plainly. "Well, not directly I'm sure, but he hired someone to do it. I told him about Frank, that he'd killed my family, and he acted like he didn't know that."

"He didn't."

"I know, but it made me mad to hear him say that, so I shoved the photo album at his face - opened to the page where Bill was holding me when I was a baby. I kept screaming at him to look at it, and he did - he couldn't move his eyes away. That's when he started acting weird and saying things like, 'Don't make me do it. They don't need to die.' Stuff like that. I could tell that he felt guilty about it. It came to me all at once. It was him, not Frank, who'd ordered the killing."

"But Frank made him do it. Frankie didn't know Bill or the fact that he was related to him. He'd never met any of us. If he didn't do what that man said, he'd be killed himself. What choice did he have?"

"I know," Sly breathed out. He ran his hands over his hair and held them at the back of his neck. "But it still hurts," he said tearfully. "He died, and it didn't have to happen." When he began sobbing in spite of the audience around him, Luke pulled Sly toward him with the boy's head resting between Luke's chest and arm. "I hate myself," Sly said harshly.

"No you don't," Luke said in a soft voice. "You're upset and feeling guilty, not to mention reliving Bill's death and thinking about the possibility of someone else dying. That's all." He stroked Sly's silky blond hair while he talked. "I'm upset, too. There's just...there's just been too much violence around this family. It seems like we can't get back to normal or get ahead."

"Yeah," Sly agreed. "I want to stop worrying. I'm tired of it." He sat back fully in his seat and wiped at his eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "I like having a brother, but sometimes I miss when it was only you and me."

"We had some good times in that apartment, didn't we?"

"I could do without the beanie weenie," Sly snickered. "Once a week was too often."

"I'm devastated. I thought you loved my cooking."

"Not," Sly corrected him. "We ate out all the time in self defense."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Luke teased.

"But Mom isn't doing so hot with the cooking either," Sly observed.

"She's trying. It's all she can do."

"Popcorn is all she can do," Sly laughed. He leaned his head down between his knees again, and Luke laid his hand on his back. "Nose acting up again?" Sly nodded while keeping his head down. "The crying was a bad idea," he said with a stuffed up voice.

"Maybe not. It helps to get it out."

Sly sat up again and held his hand to his nose. "I’m going to be ugly now with this broken nose. Emily won't like looking at me anymore."

"No chance of that," Luke replied. "Girl's crazy about you."

Sly's eyes lit up. "You think so?"

"I know so. I've seen her look at you. You're better to her than ice cream on a hot summer day."

Sly laughed again, but yelped in the middle of it, leaning to the side of the chair and holding his hand over his stomach. He held his breath, but the pain persisted. "I don't feel so good," he said leadenly.

"Let me see," Luke said firmly as he lifted Sly's sweatshirt and looked at his side. Sly's side was turning black and blue over a wide area extending toward his stomach, and streaks of red puffiness cut through the angry bruises.

"Does it hurt to breathe?"

"A little bit. It's my insides that are bothering me. I feel like I'm going to throw up."

When Sly's face screwed up and he made low noises, Luke jumped up from his chair. "I'm going to find someone to take a look at you, even if it's just a nurse. Don't move."  

"I'm not going anywhere," Sly stated tiredly.

~*~*~*~

"Keep him warm after you clean him up," Chris Ramsey ordered while he wrote notes on Frankie's chart. "Two blankets minimum. He's still in danger of shock. Let radiology know that he's coming for a CT scan. His abdomen wasn't rigid, but with the distention and bruising, I want to make sure he doesn't have abdominal trauma as well."

Chris took down the chest x-rays from the lighted box on the wall and placed them into a folder. "The tubes are positioned correctly, but it's wait and see in terms of the bleeding. Many veins will repair themselves. What I'm most concerned about is blood clots, but we won't know until tomorrow if he'll require surgery. Check who his physicians are and notify them, particularly the pulmonary specialist and hematologist. They'll want to see him while he's admitted, and I need to speak with them as well."

"There's a backlog, Dr. Ramsey. It'll take at least forty-five minutes to prepare him a bed in ICU," a nurse stated.

"He's not going anywhere," Chris joked with his usual macabre humor. "He only has a fourth of a lung on his left side, and his right lung is still reinflating."

"His mother wants information. Should I let her in?"

"I’m through until the CT scan is completed. You can let her see him when you're finished. We need to report this one," Chris said conversationally as he placed his pen back into his coat pocket. "This is the third time within weeks he's been in here with injuries received from a beating or unusual circumstances. He's missing a tooth this time and has numerous contusions over his face."

"His father seemed awfully upset when he brought him in," one nurse observed.

"You can't tell by that," Chris stated. "Perhaps he felt guilty or panicked he'd be found out. At any rate, it's neglect not to protect this kid. It's my obligation to report any suspicions, and I am suspicious. It's the law. Your average fifteen year old isn't in and out of the ER and ICU on a regular basis. At this rate, he won't live to be sixteen. We almost lost him this time, and he's still in critical condition."

~*~*~*~

"Call the boss. The plan is ready to be activated," one man in black whispered to the other in a remote hallway in GH. "Check to make sure the specifics are to his liking."

~*~*~*~

Alexis walked into the ER exam room with some trepidation. Frankie lay motionless on the table, with multiple tubes sticking out of his body and several white blankets tucked carefully around the medical paraphernalia. The room was quiet except for the hiss of the respirator that breathed for the paralyzed boy and the insistent bleep of the cardiac monitor.

Alexis held her breath as she approached him. She took hold of one of his hands and smiled briefly with relief when she felt its warmth. She blinked back tears when she surveyed his appearance. He was pale with blood loss, and there was a unit of blood transfusing into his veins. Another IV was connected to his other arm, and she was careful not to jar the sites.

"We'll be moving him to ICU when they have the room ready and after he's had a CT scan," a nurse informed her as she checked the readings on the cardiac monitor.

Alexis cleared her throat and pointed to the respirator. "What's wrong with him?" she asked weakly.

"Dr. Ramsey will be out to discuss his condition with you after he completes his notes." The nurse didn't want to say that Chris had to go to his office to retrieve a new jacket as his other one was splattered with blood stains. "For now, your son's vital signs are stable."

"Frankie?" Alexis asked in a soft, teary voice. She ran a finger down the length of his cheek. "Baby? I'm so sorry. I know you hate hospitals. Your dad is here, and your Aunt Ruby is on her way. You're not alone."

Alexis took in a deep breath and sighed. It was like they were back at square one, with Frankie seriously injured in the hospital. He'd made such progress with his whole new life laid out before him. It would be a great injustice if he died now.

"Alexis?" Alexis turned abruptly at the sound of her name. "Ruby," she breathed out with relief as she laid Frankie's hand carefully back onto the table. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"I raced over as soon as you called. Bobbie is on her way as well. You don't mind that I called her?"

"No. The more family here the better. Luke is a mess."

"Where is he? I didn’t see him or Sly in the waiting room."

Alexis frowned until she figured it out. "Oh. Sly was injured, too. They must be checking him out now. He had to wait."

"What's wrong with him?" Ruby asked with concern.

"He broke his nose, and other than that, we're not sure. Nothing serious."

"How's our boy?" Ruby asked with a catch in her throat as she moved closer to Frankie's side.

"The doctor hasn't given us a report yet, but a nurse told me that he's stable. They'll be moving him into ICU soon."

"Again?" Ruby asked with a pained voice.

"I know," Alexis replied. "I'm really worried about Luke. He isn’t taking this well and seems spacey to me."

Ruby walked beside Frankie and stroked his arm above the IV site. She swallowed a lump in her throat, and her eyes filled with tears when she contrasted the last time she'd seen Frankie. A few days ago, he'd been active, vigorous and full of personality, whereas now he was totally motionless, like a corpse, and sporting a deathly pallor.

"Hey buster," she said in her no-nonsense manner. "We've got to stop meeting like this. You've already claimed two or three of my nine lives." She looked down at Frankie's still face and remarked, "He's so pretty. I know I shouldn't say that about a boy, but I can't help it. He's a heartbreaker."

Alexis nodded. "He favors his mother in some ways - around the cheeks and mouth. I'd kill for his skin, though," she laughed. "I know Maxie thinks he's a good looking guy."

Ruby's eyes met Alexis'. "I know," Alexis said tiredly. "That poor girl has been through the wringer."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Ruby noted.

Alexis glanced at two new nurses who walked in to replace their colleagues. "Let's leave him for now. I think the nurses want to monitor him. We need to find Luke."

"Did you phone Laura?" Ruby asked as they walked down the hallway.

Alexis stopped dead in her tracks and slapped her forehead with exasperation. "It completely slipped my mind! Why didn't I think of that?"

Ruby laid an easy arm around Alexis' shoulders. "You can call her now that you know Frankie's condition. It's good timing." She glanced at her nephew's wife and smiled. "You're much too hard on yourself, do you know that? You're doing a great job with those boys, and they love you for it."

Alexis' tired, drawn face broke into a smile. "How do you always know to say the exact, perfect thing? Thank you."

~*~*~*~

Sly moaned as he sat up. Luke leaned against the door, anxious to hear if his younger son were in danger.

"You have some deep bruises," the doctor said. "You need to rest and take it easy. No more fighting."

Sly shook his head and reached for his sweatshirt. "No way. I’m through with that," he said.

"You'll have two black eyes within a few hours," the doctors stated as he gestured at Sly's nose. "However, I wouldn't worry about this break marring your movie star career," he quipped. "It's been set back in place and should heal nicely. Don't bang it, though."

"I won't," Sly said as he gingerly fingered the stiff bandage that covered his nose. "Ow," he whispered when he touched a sensitive spot.

"Why is he nauseous?" Luke asked pointedly.

"Getting kicked in the ribs and pounded on the stomach will do that to a person. He's also swallowed blood, which produces nausea."

Luke nodded, but still looked unhappy as if Sly weren't receiving the treatment he deserved. "Those ribs don’t need bandaged?" he questioned.

The doctor shook his head no. "They're not broken, merely bruised is all.  Besides, binding ribs has gone out of vogue. Makes it harder to breathe."

"Come on, Sylvester," Luke said as he placed a hand on his son's back. "We'll sit in the waiting room. Plenty of rest to be had out there."

~*~*~*~

"There you are!" Alexis exclaimed as she jumped up from her seat. "Sly, are you all right? That's quite a bandage on your nose."

"It's broken," Sly sighed. He walked into Alexis' arms and let her hold him as he was becoming more fatigued by the moment and still felt emotionally upset and guilty. He felt safe in her arms and let the tears roll down his cheeks.

"Ruby," Luke stated with relief. He smiled at his aunt, but it didn't meet his eyes, which looked haunted and tired with dark circles under them.

"Lucas Lorenzo, what have you gotten yourself into now?" Ruby mocked scolded her nephew.

"There was a battle royal at the house," Luke explained as he led Ruby away from Alexis and Sly. "Sly figured out that Frankie was responsible for Bill's murder, and he lost it. He went after Frankie with his fists flying, and the two duked it out until Frankie fell onto the deck railing and injured himself. We never heard a thing until Sly came pounding on our bedroom door."

"Luke, you look like hell," Ruby said softly. "You're covered with blood and your pants don't match your shirt and shoes."

Luke laughed, which had been Ruby's intention for making the comment. "I'm in my PJ's," he complained. "Complete with bedroom slippers and ratty old sweatshirt. I even forgot my wallet. We were in such a hurry to get here. I don't know. Maybe we should have called the paramedics, but I thought we could get him here quicker by car, rather than having to wait for them to arrive."

"I saw him," Ruby said quietly.

Luke's eyes took on a sharp look. "You did? And? How is he?"

"The nurse said his vitals were stable," Ruby stated. She was careful to give Luke the good news first to avoid overwhelming him.

"Okay," Luke breathed out with relief.

Ruby's eyes looked worried, but she bravely continued. "Luke, he'll be transferred to an ICU."

"He just got out of there," Luke protested.

"I know," Ruby said sympathetically. She took hold of Luke's hand, which he interpreted as being the harbinger of terrible news, and he tensed up in anticipation. "He's back on a respirator and is hooked up to a lot of medical equipment and monitors," she said. "Like before. That's all we know. We'll have to wait until the doctor arrives with news. He should be out soon."

"I'd feel better if Barbara Jean were here," Luke said. "She's always been our translator for all the medical jargon."

"I called her. She's on her way."

"Good."

~*~*~*~

"Sly, you're shaking," Alexis said worriedly. "Sit down and talk to me."

Sly's hands were still shaking when he gingerly sat down in a chair. He seemed to be twitching all over as if he were a live wire in a puddle of water. His cheeks were wet, and he hadn't bothered to wipe off the tears. He took in rapid breaths, but seemed more upset by the second.

"What are you feeling?" Alexis probed as she tried to figure out how to help her son.

"I don't know," Sly said distantly. He wouldn't look at his mother as he was filled with shame over what he'd done. "I feel like I need to scream. I’m so upset."

Alexis rubbed his shoulders to see if that would help. He needed to talk out his emotions, but until he achieved some control, that wasn't going to happen as his responses were jerky and disconnected. "We're all upset. You don’t have to carry all of those feelings for the rest of us," she observed. "You seem upset enough for five or six people."

Sly's green eyes met Alexis' concerned brown ones, and he looked away as he shrugged. "I hate him, yet I'm scared he'll die. I’m confused, and I can't feel right. It's my fault. He's going to die, and I killed him. He killed my dad, and now I've killed him. It makes me feel like I want to die."

"I'm not saying that fighting or hitting someone is ever right," Alexis began. "But how would you expect someone else to react if they discovered what you did? Would you expect them to be calm and rational and kind and polite?"

"No," Sly answered softly. "I guess they'd be mad."

"We have emotions like anger for a reason," Alexis noted. "Sometimes it's appropriate. The problem is seeing that it doesn't get out of control, like what happened tonight."

"It's my fault," Sly repeated.

"It's your fault and Frankie's," Alexis noted. "Frankie didn't take it lying down. You have a broken nose and sore ribs. He fell. It was an accident."

"I pushed him - hard," Sly admitted. "He doesn't have full use of that leg, so he tripped."

"You're fourteen years old," Alexis reminded him. "Why do you have to be a grown up? Why do you have to be perfect?"

"So..." Sly held his breath as the emotional volcano opened up inside. "So nobody else will die!" he cried out.

"It's not your fault Bill and your aunt and uncle died," Alexis said gently.

"Yes it is! He had to work so hard to start up that business because he had to take care of me."

"He loved you, that's why he wanted to take care of you."

"He was never there for me," Sly said, sobbing. "He had to work."

"Oh, baby," Alexis said as she cupped his head with her soft hand. "You've got it so mixed up." She didn’t try to talk Sly out of his guilt as it wasn't the time or place, but she tried to be there for him at that moment and comfort him.

"I have to go to the restroom," Sly said sniffing and standing up. He raised an arm to wipe off his cheek. "There's one down the hall."

"Hurry back," Alexis said. She felt concerned for him and didn't want him to be alone.

"I will."

~*~*~*~

"Luke!" Bobbie ran up to her brother and gave him a big hug. "I'm so sorry. Ruby filled me in on the details. How are you? And how's Sly?"

"We're holding out. Now we're waiting for the doctor to report on his condition. The man sure takes his time." Luke glanced at his watch and then at Johnny, who had accompanied Bobbie. Luke decided that he looked concerned enough. The man still rubbed him wrong, but he obviously cared for Frankie and that was enough at times like these.

Everyone turned when Dr. Ramsey approached, and Alexis ran over to join the group.

"How is he?" Luke said with rushed words.

"Your son is stable but in critical condition," Chris explained. He tucked his hand into his fresh white coat pocket and continued. "He suffered a combination of hemothorax and tension pneumothorax as a result of his chest trauma." Bobbie and Johnny paled at the implications of that explanation, but everyone else looked confused.

"What that means is that the blow to the chest that he received from his fall injured a major blood vessel, which in turn caused his chest cavity to fill with blood and produced a moderate to massive hemorrhage when he tried to breathe.  It also displaced his lungs within his chest, collapsing one and pressing it into his heart. We placed two chest tubes in him - one to reinflate his collapsed lung and the other to drain away the collected blood. He was near respiratory and cardiac arrest when you brought him in here, so he was placed on a respirator to ensure his survival."

"How long will he be on the respirator?" Alexis asked.

"Until we see how this progresses, probably twelve hours," Chris explained. "We need to check on the bleeding. If it continues, it's likely that surgery will be necessary to repair the damage to his chest. It's very possible that it will resolve on its own, however. That's usually the case. Complications are possible, but we'll wait and see."

"Any other injuries?" Bobbie asked.

"He's been beaten," Chris said with a trace of anger as he met Luke's eyes and gave him a cold look. "He's missing a tooth and has numerous contusions over his face and abdomen. His CT scan indicates no other major traumas, however."

"That's a relief," Johnny exclaimed.

Chris turned to leave yet hesitated. "There's one other thing. I'm reporting this case to the authorities as there are indications of abuse. This child has been in the ER far too many times for my comfort."

Luke's face reddened with anger, and he retorted, "That child has NOT been abused by anyone in Port Charles." His eyes narrowed. "Just make sure that my kid gets the best medical treatment," he added firmly.

"Of course," Chris sniffed.

"I want to see my son," Luke said strongly.

"He's still in the ER exam room," Chris said. "You can visit him there until he's moved to his ICU room." Chris looked at the crowd of concerned adults surrounding him. "Two persons at a time," he added.

"What a piece of work," Luke exclaimed when Chris was out of hearing range.

"He's legendary," Bobbie sighed. "But a good personality won't save Frankie. Chris IS one of our best emergency physicians."

"No one in their right mind will believe that Frankie has been abused by this family," Alexis said.

Johnny was frowning and rubbing his chin, not joining in on the discussion, as other thoughts troubled his mind. "Luke, did you send for his bodyguards when you brought him here?"

Luke's face drew tight as a moment of panic descended on him. "No," he said slowly. "I was primarily concerned with saving his life and getting him medical care."

"He needs protection," Johnny said quickly. "I'm going with you to that exam room."

Luke picked up on Johnny's vibe and became agitated as well. "Let's go," he said firmly as his nerves and intuition began firing up.

~*~*~*~

Sly finished using the restroom and leisurely washed his hands, taking his time and enjoying the silence of being the only one in the room. He was starting to feel a sense of calm returning to him after his talk with Alexis, and his muscles relaxed more than they had in the last few hours. Bending over the sink, he splashed his face repeatedly with cold water, wishing he hadn't looked into the mirror and seen the two black eyes staring back at him. He looked like crap and felt like it, too. A nice, soft bed sounded good to him right now, but he knew they were in for a very long wait to see how his brother was doing.

Why hadn't he stopped after he threw the first punch? It felt too good, he decided. He wasn't the person he thought he was. Everyone always complimented him on how calm, rational and grown up he acted, but no one knew what lurked beneath the surface. Sly learned an important lesson that day - that rage and violence were never extinguished in a human being, but always loitering around the edges of civilization, waiting for the right event to be activated into an explosion.

Sly's eyes were still closed when he reached for a paper towel to dry off his face. He decided to leave when he heard the door open with a rush of air. Maybe he could find a chair in an unoccupied waiting area and take a nap. The emergency waiting room was too full of human noises and movements. He took in a sharp breath when he felt the cold, hard object in his back and jumped slightly out of fear. He dropped the paper towel from his face and stared into the determined brown eyes that were reflected in the mirror. It was a man dressed all in black, holding a gun to him.

"You're coming with us," the man said in a low, forceful tone.

When Sly opened his mouth to protest, the man slapped a large palm over his mouth and forced him to march toward the door.

~*~*~*~

~ Love me when I'm gone...

The closer Johnny and Luke got to the ER exam room, the more their nerves shouted out in warning. The two men broke into a trot and slammed open the door. They were greeted by a sterile, empty room with no nurses or patients in it, only hastily discarded medical equipment - a turned off cardiac monitor, a disconnected respirator and two blood-stained blankets heaped on the floor.

Next chapter...