Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Twenty

Johnny dropped his garden tools and removed his leather gloves when Reggie, the guard at the front door, told him the news. The whole household had been abuzz all day about the mysterious gunfire earlier that morning in the Smith private residential wing. Reggie had heard that Frankie was seriously ill and asking for Johnny.

Reggie looked closely at Johnny. "Sorry about the demotion, man," he sympathized. "It’s inevitable if you work too close to the top men. Frank has an evil temper. I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten pissed at me for opening the door wrong." Johnny didn’t respond to Reggie’s comments as he still was loyal to a fault. It was a long-ingrained habit from years of experience in the Smith organization.

"You didn’t hear any specifics about Frankie?" he inquired worriedly. "He wasn’t hurt was he?"

"Nah, I don’t know any specifics. It was passing through the grapevine, and I intercepted. I knew you were close to the boss, so I thought you’d like to hear about it."

Johnny scratched his head and said distractedly. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for telling me." He stood motionless in the garden for several minutes before a determined look crossed his face, and he threw his garden gloves onto the ground as he marched toward the mansion.

~*~*~*~

Johnny stood at Frankie’s door and looked around nervously. No one was in the main hallway, so he knocked lightly on the door and punched in Frankie’s code on the keypad. He opened the door and called out, "Hello, it’s Johnny," before he entered. Johnny’s heart dropped when a nurse emerged from Frankie’s bedroom.

"He’s hurt?" he asked fearfully.

The nurse approached him. "You’re Johnny?" When Johnny nodded, she added. "He’s been asking for you. I’m glad you came by because he’s upset."

Johnny followed the nurse into Frankie’s room, and his throat tightened when he saw the IV’s and a very sick looking kid lying motionless in the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat beside Frankie. "Hey, boss," he said gently. "What happened to you? You didn’t look this bad last time I saw you."

Frankie turned his head toward Johnny and gave him a small, tight smile. "I got an infection," he said. "Da gunshot wound isn’t healing right." Frankie moaned and twisted restlessly in the bed. His dull blue eyes darkened. "Oh God, it hurts, it hurts," he said in a soft, grim voice. "It’s like last time."

"When you were shot several years ago?" Johnny prompted.

"Yeah," Frankie agreed. He closed his eyes briefly, and then slowly opened them again. Johnny’s eyes ran over the IV’s, and he noted the morphine. "They’re giving you something for the pain," he said. Frankie nodded. "It makes me feel woozy, but it only takes da edge off. Da pain pills didn’t work neither."

"When is the doctor coming back to see you?" asked Johnny while he smoothed the sheets around Frankie upon noticing him shiver. Johnny felt his muscles tense involuntarily after noticing how bad Frankie’s wound looked.

"I don’t know," Frankie replied. "He wasn’t here when I woke up." Johnny glanced at the nurse who only shrugged nonchalantly. "All I know is that I’m supposed to watch him for the next five hours until my shift is over."

Johnny’s face darkened with anger. Why isn’t anyone caring about this boy? They just let him lie there with less attention that a sick dog! This situation is impossible. I don’t know what to do. There’s no way I can help him.

Johnny reached out and took Frankie’s hand in his. "Close your eyes and try to relax," he said. "I’ll stay with you so you can sleep." Frankie took in a shaky, deep breath and nodded as he closed his eyes. Johnny continued to hold his hand while Frankie drifted off to sleep. While he was asleep, Frankie jerked occasionally and moaned with pain. God help him, thought Johnny. God help us all.

~*~*~*~

Johnny was asleep in his chair, his head tilted back and his hand covering half of his face. His other hand still encircled Frankie’s. Frankie woke up and smiled when he saw Johnny asleep in the chair. He slid his hand out from under Johnny’s light grasp and sat up, edging carefully toward the end of the bed. The nurse was still engrossed in her Danielle Steele novel and ignored her patient. Johnny opened his eyes at the slight movement and rubbed at his face, trying to wake up. "What are you doing?" he questioned Frankie. "You need to stay in bed."

Frankie leaned in closer to Johnny and fiercely whispered, "I gotta go." His eyes darted over to the nurse, and Johnny picked up on Frankie’s embarrassment. "I’ll walk with you," he volunteered. "Nurse, please roll the IV this way. We’re heading for the restroom," he instructed. Johnny held Frankie’s arm in a firm grip as the boy wobbled on his feet. He walked slowly and carefully behind his ex-boss, watching to make sure he didn’t lose his balance. The nurse shrugged and went back to her book.

Several minutes later, Johnny led Frankie back to bed, depositing him into the soft surface and covering him with a sheet and blanket. He rolled the IV pole around the other side of the bed and made a tiny, disgusted sound as he passed the inattentive nurse.

"You want to talk?" Johnny asked Frankie, looking closely at the boy and feeling satisfied that he seemed better after his nap.

"Okay," agreed Frankie. "Hey, I talked to dat Maxie chick," he whispered conspiratorially "We have a date for Saturday night. It’s firm." Johnny nodded. "That’s nice," he said. Frankie frowned. "Did you talk to dat redhead Bobbie? She likes you. I can tell. It’s always in da eyes." Frankie pointed knowingly to his own eyes for emphasis. Johnny laughed. "After my recent demotion? I don’t dare. It’ll wait until things cool down."

A guarded look crept up on Frankie, and he gripped the sheet firmly in his hand. "I thought Frank mighta been da one who was after me," he shared with Johnny. When Johnny looked shocked, he added, "But he wouldn’t do dat, would he?" Johnny looked into Frankie’s wide blue eyes and answered, "I don’t know. I don’t think he would. He cares about you."

"Yeah," Frankie answered lightly, as if he still weren’t convinced. "I think I might have shot at him earlier," he said. "Dere was lotsa shootin,’ and I remember Frank’s voice yelling at me. And a bunch of people sittin’ on me." Frankie laughed.

~*~*~*~

"We’re out of town now," stated Robin logically. "Why are you still crouched down in the back seat?"

"I don’t want to be seen?" replied Jason shortly. "For all we know, we’re being followed."

"You’d better hope not," said Robin as she glanced nervously into her rearview mirror. "I don’t have time for this."

"Where are you headed? Did you decide on a place that I can hide out?" Jason asked tensely. "Sonny and whoever set me up are less likely to find me if it’s your idea. They already know how I think and act."

Robins sighed audibly. "We’re headed for my college dorm. It’s at a university one hour from Port Charles. We’ll be there in half an hour. I’m going to deposit you in my dorm room after I buy you some groceries. Then, I’m going to return to Port Charles for the rest of my spring break. Hopefully no one will notice that I was gone for so long."

"So I’m going to college," Jason muttered, shaking his head.

"You’d better lay low while you’re there, too." Robin instructed. "Some girl might show up at any time. If your hairy legs are sticking out from under the shower stall, expect the campus police to be knocking on your door."

"Bossy," Jason observed quietly as he pursed his lips and thought about the plan. "It could work," he agreed. "No one would ever think to look for me in a women’s dorm."

Robin tittered. "No, you don’t look like the lucky type."

~*~*~*~

"What do I pay you for, Benny?" Sonny barked. His dark eyes flashed as he paced back and forth in the penthouse. "I want you to find Jason Morgan," he insisted, pointing a finger at Benny’s face. "No excuses. Do it. Now!"

~*~*~*~

"We still have no leads on the Sorel shooting?" Mac asked Taggert. Taggert shook his head and slammed some paperwork down on his already overloaded desk. "All of our snitches have dried up. The lowlifes on the streets are jittery. The best we could do was a lead to a source in Chicago, but the man disappeared and was never heard from again. Great timing, huh? Think it was a coincidence?" Taggert wearily rubbed his head and took a sip of his coffee, then made a face when he discovered it was cold. Taggert’s eyes met Mac’s. "Corinthos has been very active lately, and Jason Morgan is missing."

Mac sputtered in frustration. "What is going on in this town? My intuition tells me that another mob organization is moving into Port Charles, but we can’t prove it yet. Taggert, I want you to contact law enforcement agencies in cities within a 200 mile radius. See if you can dig up any dirt on organized crime in those areas. There’s an ill wind blowing this way, and I want to know exactly who and what we’re dealing with."

~*~*~*~

"Johnny, I need my computer," Frankie said hoarsely as he stiffly sat up in bed and placed several pillows behind his back to prop himself up. Johnny took one look at Frankie’s haggard, tense face and refused. "Frankie, no. You need your rest. The business will wait."

"No!" yelled Frankie angrily, his face twisted and fierce. "It will not wait. I got a meeting with Frank tomorrow, and I still got some stuff to do. I’m da boss. Now get me my laptop."

Johnny rose from his chair and returned with Frankie’s laptop. He plugged in the electrical cord and phone line before he lightly placed it on Frankie’s lap. Johnny sat back down on the chair and ran his hand through his hair as he shook his head.

When Frankie began furiously typing into the computer, his face became more animated and excited. "Our guys stole da shipment from Corinthos! He never suspected nothin.’ Dey planted da merchandise in Jason Morgan’s penthouse apartment." Frankie rubbed his hands together expectantly and lightly bounced on the bed in glee.

"Stop bouncing like that," Johnny said tiredly. "You’re going to bust your stitches again."

Frankie shrugged. "I’m havin’ a good time, Johnny. Dis is soooo good. Da mission is gold."

Johnny looked at his watch. "The nurse left an hour ago, and the doctor might be coming back. I’d better go before Frank finds out I’ve spent the whole afternoon here." Johnny rose from his chair and gently placed a hand on Frankie’s shoulder as he searched his eyes. "You have my pager number," he stated. "Call me anytime if you need anything. Promise?"

Frankie nodded. "Thanks, Johnny," he said softly. His blue eyes brightened. "For everything."

~*~*~*~

Nikolas frowned when the knock on the door turned continual, not just one or two discreet raps. When he swung open the door to his room, Sly was standing there with Elektra several steps behind him. Sly turned around abruptly. "Stay," he ordered with one hand held up and the other pointing at her. Elektra took one step forward when Sly began entering Nikolas’ suite. "Stay," he repeated, and then quickly closed the door. He stood with his back plastered to the door, his hands extended protectively from his body as if he were trying to hold the door shut. His face was red, and his features betrayed both relief and impatience.

"Nikolas!" he said sharply. "All afternoon, the entire afternoon, I tried to talk to that girl in the hall. She speaks no English. Why didn’t you warn me?"

Nikolas shook his head. "Her sister Athena mentioned that her English was bad."

Sly folded his arms and tapped his toe. "She knows ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ and ‘cute.’"

Nikolas’ eyebrows rose. "Cute?"

"Yeah, cute," snipped Sly. "She kept wanting to kiss and stuff."

"And the problem is?" Nikolas laughed.

"I’m with Emily!" Sly protested. "We have a date as soon as I get back to Port Charles. I don’t want to date a bunch of different girls. I like Emily. I don’t go to the mall with whomever is around at the time."

Nikolas looked puzzled, and Sly blushed deeply when he realized that he’d slipped.

"There isn’t any mall on Cassadine Island," Nikolas explained.

Sly huffed and puffed. "It’s a slang term. It means making it with somebody, you know." Sly squirmed with embarrassment.

"Oh," Nikolas said, nodding sagely. "I understand." He walked over to Sly and placed a loose arm around his shoulder. "I didn’t mean to offend you or cause you trouble, Sly. I wanted you to have fun. Do you understand? No evil motives."

Sly looked uncertain, but nodded his head in acceptance of Nikolas’ apology. "Elektra’s okay, but only in a group of people who speak both languages. I want to spend more time with Luke and Alexis tomorrow. It’s our last day."

"Good," stated Nikolas with a wide smile. "Keep them occupied. I want more time with Athena."

Sly’s face twisted with confusion. "She’s your cousin, right?"

Nikolas nodded. "Second cousin," he said. "Emphasis on second."

"What’s that mean?" Sly asked in a puzzled voice.

"Kissing cousins." Nikolas smirked and rocked back and forth on his heels as Sly’s mouth hung open in surprise.

~*~*~*~

"Mom!" Make her stop following me. Georgie’s being a pest." Maxie stood in the entrance of the kitchen with her arms crossed. Georgie stuck her tongue out at Maxie and quickly hid the rainbow pad of paper behind her back when Felicia walked over to the girls.

"Maxie," stated Felicia, "Practice some tolerance. Georgie, give your sister some room to breathe. Okay?" Felicia stood with her hands on her hips. "I’m trying to bake a cake as a surprise for Mac. You know how bad of a cook I am. Give it a rest. Get along for two minutes, both of you. Georgie, go play outside. Maxie, keep me company. I’ve been wanting to talk to you." Georgie rolled her eyes and exited the kitchen, careful to hover near the doorway, within earshot of her sister and mother. She was ready to capture any Frankie comments with a freshly sharpened pencil.

"We never had a chance to talk about your date the other night," Felicia commented as she played with the measuring spoons, trying to find the one teaspoon measurement.

"It was fine," Maxie replied simply as she leaned against a kitchen counter. "We had fun."

"That’s it?" Felicia asked suspiciously. "I thought you were excited to go on that date."

"Yeah, I was," Maxie answered evasively. "He was a real gentleman, opened my car door and stuff like that."

"He seemed rough around the edges when we met him briefly," Felicia commented lightly as she stole a look at Maxie out of the corner of her eye. "Are you sure he’s not a tough guy? The kind of kid that gets in trouble at school? He’s not involved in drugs or anything, is he?" Felicia held her breath as she waited for Maxie’s reply.

"Mom!" protested Maxie. "I can’t believe you. You’re so judgmental. Just because he talks with a little accent you think he’s a bad kid? Don’t you trust me? Do you think I would date someone that was into drugs?"

"No, Maxie, I don’t think you would," replied Felicia as she hunted for baking soda in the corner cabinet, sighing because she was too short to see into the top two shelves. She dragged a chair to the counter and stepped on it. "Mac and I are just concerned because you are a little young to be dating. We both trust you, but we want you to be responsible and be careful in choosing who you spend time with."

Maxie harrumphed and turned pink, fuming at the perceived insult. "So now Mac is turning into the dating police?" she asked impudently. "Is he ever going to like anyone that I date?"

Felicia turned her head. "Now, that’s not fair, Maxie. You know that Mac cares about you. He’s only looking after your best interests."

"Well, I wish he’d spend more time catching real criminals," she shot back.

Felicia’s eyes widened with shock, and she stepped down from the chair. "Maxie! What’s gotten into you? You’re usually not this rude."

Maxie’s eyes pooled with tears. "I like Frankie," she said tearfully as she tried to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. "And he likes me, too. I want to be with him. He’s going to pick me up on Saturday night to take me out to eat." The events of the first failed date and the intensity of her emotions got the best of her, and Maxie began sobbing, much to her dismay.

Felicia walked over to her daughter and drew her into a hug, rubbing her back to try to calm her. "I understand," she said. "You like this boy and want everything to be perfect." Felicia stepped back and tidied Maxie’s long hair with her motherly fingers. "Mac and I just want to get to know him better – this boy that our daughter is so crazy about. That’s reasonable, isn’t it? Maybe he can spend a few hours over here some night studying, or come to dinner. How’s that?"

Maxie nodded reluctantly. "Okay," she said softly. "I’ll ask him when we have our date on Saturday." Maxie brightened up. "Will you help me pick an outfit? I want to look real special. Pretty but not too sexy or anything."

Felicia smiled broadly. "That sounds like a lot of fun."

"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen," remarked Georgie in a whisper as she moved the pencil over a bright blue piece of paper. "She’s really adding them up!"

~*~*~*~

"Freeze."

Frankie’s voice carried a malevolent intent as he cocked the hammer on his revolver and slid his finger onto the trigger. His face fell when he realized who his visitor was. "Oh," he said lightly as he recognized the mob doc. "Don’t creep up on me like dat." Frankie placed the gun beside him on the bed.

"How many pistols do you have in this room?" the doctor asked, a bit shaken and wishing for his own bulletproof vest. Why did I ever think this was going to be an easy retirement gig? he thought morosely. If only I didn’t have all of those gambling debts to pay off. It’s like working for the devil. You sell your soul, and it never ends.

"Twelve," replied Frankie honestly.

"Do you really think you need twelve guns?" asked the man.

"Yes," stated Frankie with dead eyes. "You run outta bullets in one, ya got another, ready and waiting. Nobody’s takin’ me out." Frankie eyed the doctor suspiciously as his fingers crawled ever so slightly closer toward his revolver.

"How old were you when you received your first gun?" the doctor asked conversationally as he stuck a thermometer in Frankie’s mouth.

"Eight," mumbled Frankie.

The doctor blinked in surprise. "Well, I learn something new every day," he laughed uneasily. The doctor read the thermometer. "You still have a mild fever," he noted. "That could be because you’re healing. Are you still in pain?"

Frankie nodded seriously. "It’s always hurt, but it’s worse now. It hurts when I breathe, kinda like when I was shot before in da lung."

"We’ll keep you on the morphine overnight," the doc stated. "But tomorrow we’ll try you on some more pain pills – if you promise not to overdose on them again."

Frankie shrugged. "I’d rather drink," he admitted. "Dose pain pills don’t work, just make me silly or sleepy."

The doc’s eyebrows rose. "You drink alcohol?" he asked.

"Since I was nine," Frankie stated proudly. "Actually, da performers and bartenders in da clubs, dey used to give me cocktails when I was dis high." Frankie motioned with his hand two feet above the bed. "I used to make dem laugh." Frankie chuckled, but stopped and gasped with pain. He looked over at the morphine and fervently wished for more.

The doctor grew stern. "I don’t want you to drink any alcohol while you’re healing from this wound," he ordered. "Especially if you’re on morphine or the pain pills. Do you understand?"

"Know what happened to the last doctor who suggested dat?" Frankie asked nonchalantly.

The doctor shook his head no.

"Frank blew his brains out," Frankie gritted with a steely gaze as he pointed the revolver directly at the doctor’s face.

The mob doc held up his hands. "That’s my advice. Take it or leave it," he said tensely.

"Leave it," Frankie snipped. Frankie held his hand to his forehead. Man, I feel like crap. I’m not usually dat Frank-like.

After the mob doc hastily departed, Frankie grew pensive while he was hooked up to his IV’s, a captive in his bed, with no one else to talk to. I miss Frank. I wonder where he is? Is he mad at me? Frankie’s mind drifted toward more pleasant times, and he relaxed as he sank down into the bed.

*** "Where’s my boy? Where’s Frankie?" Frank walked into the front door of the mansion and was promptly assaulted by thirty-five pounds of flying boy. "Daddy!" Frankie’s face beamed with pleasure at the sight of his father who had been away on a two week long trip. Frankie held onto Frank’s long, powerful leg as his father stepped through the foyer. It was a favorite game for the two – Frankie riding on his father’s leg or on top of his shoulders.

"I missed you, daddy," Frankie said softly when Frank reached one of the living areas and pulled his son on top of his lap. Frank hugged Frankie tightly and ran his long fingers through his son’s silky blond hair. He kissed the top of his son’s hair and said softly, "I missed you, too, slugger. But I brought you a present." Frankie hopped up and down on his father’s lap in anticipation as Frank handed his son a large bag.

"Ooohh," Frankie breathed in awe as he dumped the contents of the bag. "Cowboys and Indians. Thank you, daddy." Frank nodded. "I was out west for my trip, and I thought about you." He knelt on the floor with his son beside him, lining up the figures on the off-white Berber carpeting. "Which side do you want to be?" asked Frank with a smile. "Cowboys!" stated Frankie proudly as he stuck out his chest and pointed a thumb at himself. "I’m going to beat you!" Frank laughed and patted Frankie on top of his head. "Well, we’ll see, little man. Show me what you’re made of." ***

Frankie sighed and tried in vain to find a comfortable position. I miss my dad, he thought wistfully. Frankie comforted himself by planning his upcoming date with Maxie. I gotta do it right this time, not make any mistakes. I need to talk to Sly again. Get some more tips. Dose dating rules are brutal. But dat Maxie, she’s worth it. Frankie mentally reviewed his sweetheart’s features and imagined placing multiple soft kisses on her willing pink lips as he lightly stroked the side of her face. He smiled and began to lightly sing under his breath.

~~ In the wee small hours of the morning

That's the time you miss her most of all.

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