Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Twenty-One

Luke and Alexis held hands as they stepped lightly in the bright rays of early morning sunshine filtering through the lush gardens behind the mansion. Alexis squeezed Luke’s arm as she snuggled up against him and sighed contentedly.

"Your idea of taking an early morning stroll before the rest of the house awakens is a good one," she said. " I love being alone with you."

Luke wrapped his arm around Alexis and pulled her closer before lightly kissing her cheek. "I’d like for us to spend lots more time together in the future," he said firmly. Luke bent over to capture a fragrant lily, and he placed it in Alexis’ hair. "Sweet for sweet," he teased. "Only your beauty doesn’t fade at the end of the day." Alexis blushed and said nothing, savoring the genuineness of his compliment. The two stepped on a white stone walkway that twisted and curved downward, leading to a private garden that was walled off by lush trees and bushes. Inside of this garden room was a stone bench with a seat planted in fragrant chamomile. The circular area was like flowery mead woven for eternity into a luscious medieval tapestry. One could say that the only item missing was a unicorn, but the gardener had already placed a stone statue replacement for the live, mythical animal. In this magical place, one could almost expect to see a unicorn or a centaur rounding the corner and entering the garden.

Luke and Alexis relaxed on the stone bench and breathed in the heady fragrance of hundreds of old roses blooming and cascading over the seat like an arbor, protecting the occupants and providing a sense of privacy and comfort.

"I’ve had such a wonderful time at your home," commented Luke. "Thank you so much for bringing me further into your life. I love you." Luke’s soft blue eyes met Alexis’ receptive brown eyes with love, passion and gratitude. Alexis placed Luke’s hand in her lap, and she fiddled with his fingers, stroking them and separating them as she thought in silence. After a minute, she replied, "I’m glad that I finally let you into my life. We’ve known each other for five years – all of them good – but I’ve been holding back, and it’s not fair to you - or me for that matter." Alexis looked around the garden. "For most of my childhood, I was an afterthought, someone’s mistake, an unwanted child. This island, for all it’s beauty, held a lot of pain for me. Stefan’s mother, Helena, never missed an opportunity to exclude me or point out that I was not a legitimate child. I never had a birthday party, you know," Alexis whispered. She sighed and looked down at her lap, her beautiful eyes blinking back the tears. Alexis placed a hand over her heart. "I suppose I carried that lifetime, that lost child in here for all of these years. I never meant to hurt you by keeping you at arm’s length."

"I know," said Luke with a soft voice that bespoke understanding and compassion. "I kept you at bay for quite awhile, too. We both tried to keep things real casual for the first three years. After Sly came to live with me, I sharpened up, took a look at my life and decided I wanted to be with one person – you." Luke’s blue eyes took on a twinkle, and crinkled in the corners as he smiled. "I never wanted to press you or force you into publicly acknowledging the relationship, but it didn’t stop me from wanting more. I’m happy that you decided to tell your brother. I think it must be a load off of your shoulders – and Stefan’s, too since he had to keep his knowledge to himself." Luke gently wrapped his hand around Alexis’ fingers. "I’m responsible for the breakup of a marriage, you know," he said quietly. Luke’s eyes grew serious and pensive. "When my son died," he said with a voice tinged in pain and regret, "I shut down. Closed out the world and hardened my heart so that nothing could ever touch me again. I was determined not to feel or love. A man like that can’t help a grieving wife. She felt shut out, alone, unloved. And it was my fault. I regret that." Luke looked at Alexis with tear-filled eyes. "But, babe, you have my heart. Stomped, bruised, and beaten, but it’s yours – all of it." Luke reached for Alexis, and the couple hugged tightly, as if they never wanted to part. Luke rubbed Alexis on the back and then kissed her several times softly on the lips, as if the memory of kisses past were raining on her in a shower of affection.

Luke laughed. "Okay, Alexis, fasten your seatbelt. Here it comes. Baby, would you marry me?"

Alexis gasped and hopped in her seat. "Luke?" she asked breathlessly. "Did you just ask me what I think you did?"

"Yes, Madame Attorney," he smirked. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Luke brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss in her palm, staring deeply into her eyes.

Alexis smiled broadly, her dimples deepening by the second. "Yes!" she said excitedly. "Yes."

Luke grabbed Alexis’ hands and lifted her from the bench, twirling her around and around until she grew dizzy and he had to dip her low so that he could revive her with a kiss.

~*~*~*~

"Hey, Johnny."

Johnny looked up from the BMW that he was inspecting. "Frankie?" he asked in a surprised tone of voice. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to stay in bed for another day."

Frankie shrugged. "Got business," he said shortly. "How’s my car? Did he fix it?"

"Looks like it was never hit," said Johnny as he continued to look closely at Frankie, noting his pale complexion and irritable disposition. "Frank will never find out," he mentioned casually.

Frankie squared his shoulders. "Good. I’m gonna ask him for a favor this afternoon, and I don’t want nothing to mess it up. He’d go ballistic if he knew what happened to it. He gets real pissed off it you don’t take care of your property."

"Yeah, I noticed," replied Johnny with the faintest trace of sarcasm.

Frankie frowned and leaned against the car. "I’m gonna ask him if I can take you to Port Charles with me tomorrow. I want him to reinstate you as my bodyguard." Frankie looked at his fingernails. "Got any advice on how to do dat?"

Johnny dusted the dirt off of his hands and crossed his arms. "You could play the loyalty angle," he suggested. "The organization is in turmoil. It’s hard to know who is a friend or enemy. I’ve saved your life four or five times. That ought to indicate loyalty. That’s what I’d try."

"Thanks," said Frankie lightly. He glanced down at the floor and scuffed at an imaginary piece of dirt. He met Johnny’s eyes. "And thanks for yesterday, too. You didn’t have to stay with me, but you did and so thanks. Okay?" Embarrassment washed over Frankie’s features, but he stuck out his hand and shook Johnny’s hand with a firm handshake. "Bye," he said.

"We’ll see you around," replied Johnny with a worried look on his face as he watched Frankie walk away with a stiff, jerky stride.

~*~*~*~

"Where are Luke and Alexis?" Sly asked curiously. "They’re usually here at the table by the time we come down."

Nikolas shrugged. "Maybe they decided to sleep in. We are on vacation. Adults like to sleep on their vacations." He glanced over at Sly’s overflowing plate. "Are we having an eating contest? He who packs away the most wins –or loses?" Nikolas laughed and threw a banana onto Sly’s plate. "There. That ought to give you a few hundred calories more than me."

Sly’s face screwed up into a mischeivous grin. He reached for a bunch of grapes and draped them over Nikolas’ shoulder. "Those look nice on you," he commented. "You can feed them to Athena later."

Nikolas scoffed. "I’ll get you back, Sylvester – when you least expect it." He snatched a cold boiled egg from the buffet and promptly stuck it down Sly’s shirt. "Like now!"

~*~*~*~

Frankie entered his suite and slammed the door shut. He leaned back against the door as his eyes widened. He held a careful hand over his side while he walked slowly to the bathroom. This wasn’t funny anymore. He popped open the bottle of pain pills that the mob doc had dropped off that morning. It was too early to take another one, but he couldn’t wait. He shook out two pills into his palm and stuffed them in his mouth, not bothering to pour a glass of water. He leaned against the counter and grimaced. He needed to pull his act together before he met with Frank. He knew that he didn’t dare drink or take any more pills. He needed to be on his top form to be able to match wits with his father. Sometimes Frank gave in if you displayed an elegant argument.

Frankie remembered the one time that he’d talked his father into buying him that motorized car when he was only six. Oh, he had coveted that car when he’d seen it in the catalogue. Frankie had loved cars and couldn’t wait until he was old enough to drive one for real. This one, at least, would be a cool substitute with its midnight blue paint color and racy red stripes down both sides. He had marched into his father’s office and informed him that he had forty reasons why Frank should buy him the car. He began reciting the reasons that he’d memorized in his head, and when he’d reached reason number twenty-five, Frank had burst out laughing. "Okay, little man," he’d said. "You win your case. Come here, you little brat." Frank had hugged and kissed him and then sent him away with a playful swat on his behind.

Frankie blinked his eyes and returned to the present. When had it started going wrong? Was it three years ago? After Frank had declared him a man, old enough to choose a prostitute to suit his grown-up needs? Or was it when he’d received his GED at age thirteen and began to study the business with purpose and intent? At some point in time, it had seemed like suddenly there was nothing that Frankie could do to satisfy his father. He was too short, too pretty, a smart aleck with a big mouth, a drunk, a screw-up, whatever. The list of offenses seemed to grow daily, and Frankie couldn’t change fast enough to keep up.

Frankie slid slowly down the counter in the bathroom until he came to a sitting position on the cold, hard marble floor. He drew his knees up to his chest and started biting hard on a hangnail that annoyed him. He’d started to hate the way that he looked a couple of years ago. He was just a short runt, not tall and powerful like his dad. And, he was a girlie boy with his mother’s pretty face. But he was also a freak, with a scarred, mangled body and injuries that prevented him from being an athlete. Frankie’s mind wandered to the time when he’d passed out on the track during his PCHS gym class and then to Maxie’s refusal to have sex with him. He buried his face on his knees, and his shoulders lightly shook with the tears that he shed.

~*~*~*~

"So when should we tell the boys?" Luke asked. He laughed. "HOW should we tell them?"

"I think we should discuss this with them separately," suggested Alexis. "If they have any questions, then they won’t feel embarrassed asking them. I can tell Nikolas, and you tell Sly. Then, maybe we can meet up at dinner for a family discussion." Alexis laughed delightedly. "Oh, doesn’t that sound odd?" she asked breathlessly. Luke nodded. "It sure does, but in an awfully wonderful way," he said happily.

Luke stopped walking suddenly and dropped Alexis’ hand. "What?" asked Alexis with a concerned frown.

"I don’t have a ring for you, darlin,’" stated Luke. "I’ve messed up my timing. You need a ring. A huge, godawful diamond chunk for your personal viewing pleasure."

Alexis wrapped her arms around Luke’s waist and pressed her face into his back. "I’m set as far as viewing pleasure," she chuckled as she ran her knuckles down his back. "But we can go jewelry shopping when we return. Oh, yes, indeed, we’ll do that right away."

"Oh, dear," Luke said fearfully. "I do believe I’ve created a monster."

~*~*~*~

He’d wrapped himself tightly in Robin’s red robe. She’d locked her closet and dresser and told him not to touch her things. But she had offered her robe if he needed one. His head was encased in a towel, and he’d placed the green, restorative mud mask over his face to hide his strong, masculine features. He crossed his fingers and hoped desperately that he wouldn’t encounter a girl. Supposedly, everyone was home or on vacation during the break, but sometimes girls returned early to the dorm to study or something.

Jason cautiously opened the door and peered up and down the long, darkened hallway. The coast was clear. He slipped out of the door and crept along the hallway, as his eyes nervously darted around. His bare feet felt the harsh, commercial grade carpeting as he picked up speed. He thrust his arms out to open up the bathroom door. He nearly ran to a stall, in a hurry to relieve himself. As soon as he finished, he heard the door open again, and his eyes widened with panic. He immediately sat down on the toilet and drew his feet up to hide his presence. He heard the light footsteps walk past his stall and pause near him. The stall door beside him opened and then shut. Jason’s heart thumped with total terror. He was trapped. If he left the stall, then she would know that someone was there. If he stayed, he was stuck next to a female doing who knows what in the stall next to him. As he pondered his dilemma, he heard the bathroom door open again. "Hey, Yvonne!" the voice called out. "Is that you, Cindy?" the female in the stall next to him answered. Jason heard another stall door open and close. Oh hell, now it’s a party, he thought. As the two girls peed and chattered happily, Jason felt his leg slip from the toilet seat, and his foot slapped with a loud noise onto the tile floor.

"What was that?" the girl beside him whispered.

"Hey, who’s there?" the other girl’s voice loudly called out.

Jason fumbled with the lock on the stall door, trying to make his escape. The entire row of stalls shook back and forth with his efforts, and he flung the door open so hard that it banged mercilessly against the metal stall. His large, bare feet slapped against the tile as he tried to run from the bathroom.

The one girl stood in the aisle and said, "Are you with the German swim team? Don’t be shy. What’s your name?"

Jason cleared his throat and applied his best falsetto. "Heidi," he squeaked out. "Hi. Bye." He said as he waved his hand in the air and reached for the door.

The girl looked after him as he fled from the bathroom. "Those foreign swimmers seem to take more steroids every day," she commented wryly. "You should have seen the hairy legs on that broad."

Jason panted as he locked the door behind him. He marched over to the mirror hanging over the double dresser and ripped off the towel from his head .As he grimaced into the mirror, the green clay on his face crackled and crazed. "I don’t have to take this," he muttered as he stared at his reflection, looking stern and flexing his muscles.

~*~*~*~

Frankie tried to decide how many guns he should carry for his meeting with Frank. He still wasn’t sure who was trying to kill him. For all he knew it was Reggie the doorman or maybe even Frank’s bodyguard. He figured he’d have to be on alert for the rest of the time that he was in Frank’s house. Frankie patted his waist – one in the front and back. He pulled his sweater back down over the loaded pistols. He decided to play it safe and tucked two small pistols into his socks – one each. Frankie whistled a tune under his breath as he stood in front of the mirror, carefully combing his immaculate hair into perfect position and spraying it into submission with hairspray. He inspected his face – no bruises, so no need for foundation. Frankie held his arms out from his sides and said, "Okay. Break a leg."

Frankie started opening the door, but paused. Something told him to look behind him, and he was grateful to see the bulletproof vest lying across the back of the couch. He closed the door and strolled over to the couch, flinging his sweater over his head and replacing it with the lightweight vest. He fastened the straps tightly even though it hurt his wounds. Last time, he’d left it loose and disaster had happened. He groaned and carefully pulled the sweater back on.

~*~*~*~

Sly stood nervously in front of his Uncle Luke. This divide and conquer mechanism employed by adults often meant that something bad was going down. Nikolas was with Alexis now, and Sly frantically tired to wrack his brain thinking of what he did wrong and how his uncle was going to punish him.

"I didn’t do anything," he blurted out. Sly looked at Luke sheepishly.

"Sit down, son," instructed Luke, pointing at a nearby chair. "This isn’t about you – not directly."

Sly’s body visibly relaxed, and he sank gratefully into the chair.

"Now Alexis and I have some news that we wanted to share with you boys, but we wanted to tell you privately. Sly, Alexis and I have decided to marry."

Sly’s eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to process the news. "What?" he asked with surprise. "Married? You’re getting married."

Luke’s face showed his concern. "How do you feel about that, Sly? Do you have any questions? Is there something that worries you?"

Sly started laughing, and Luke looked both confused and concerned at the same time. "Sly?" he asked.

"That’s great!" said Sly loudly. "Uncle Luke, I’m so happy for you. It’s wonderful." Sly leaped from his seat and gave Luke a big hug.

Luke’s face relaxed with relief. "Oh, buddy, I’m so glad to hear that. I didn’t know how you’d react, and then when you started laughing, well, I don’t know." Luke’s eyes softened. "This doesn’t break up our partnership, you know. You can’t get rid of me that easily." Luke messed up Sly’s hair and laughed. "So you’re not surprised? I am. I haven’t recovered yet and we haven’t even bought the diamond."

Sly shook his head. "Nah, I’m not surprised. You two are like two peas in a pod. You’re made for each other."

"Well, why didn’t you tell me this earlier, Sylvester? We could have saved time." Luke smiled broadly and lightly punched Sly’s shoulder.

~*~*~*~

Their timing must have been perfect because the doors to Sly and Nik’s rooms opened simultaneously. Nik stepped out into the hall and grinned at Sly. "So does this make us step-cousins now?" he asked merrily. "Does this mean I have unlimited teasing privileges?" Nik lightly poked Sly in the back.

"No," replied Sly quickly. "Not unless I get to tease you back."

Luke met Alexis’ eyes and they both nodded with satisfaction. This was going to work.

~*~*~*~

"I’m trapped in this room with green gunk on my face," whined Jason into the phone.

"Why is that my problem?" replied Robin. "I hope you’re not wracking up a long distance charge on my account in order to call me up and harass me. I haven’t been back home long, and I don’t want to arouse suspicion." Robin craned her neck around the living room, but was satisfied that no one was listening to her conversation.

"Those two girls who caught me in the bathroom think I’m Heidi with the German swim team," explained Jason.

Robin laughed like crazy. "Is that the best you could come up with?"

"It’s not my fault," Jason protested. "They made assumptions. Now look. I need to use your phone to make lots of calls so I can figure out who’s setting me up. I’ll pay you back – every cent – promise."

Robin sighed. "Okay," she agreed reluctantly. "But stay out of my cosmetics."

Jason shook his head as he hung up the phone. His eyes turned steely and determined. He was going to find out who was doing this to him – and make that person pay.

~*~*~*~

Frankie walked down the hallway to his father’s office. It was an elegant hallway with a long, Oriental carpet lining the hardwood floors and painted paneling on the walls in the Federal tradition. Occasionally, there were English hunting or landscape paintings hung on the walls or a decorative antique table hugging the corridor.

Frankie carried his laptop under his arm so that he could show Frank his progress with the mission. It had been a lucky coup that Jason Morgan’s setup was now complete. The man was missing. He’d have one success to report to his father – something that he’d accomplished on his own and while in Frank’s house. He kept his head straightforward as he walked, but his eyes darted around, trying to detect any unusual movement or the flash of a gun.

Frankie paused outside of his father’s study, knocked on the door and then entered when he heard his father’s voice.

Frankie entered the room that hadn’t changed in the entire fifteen years of his life. Frank was a traditional man, and his study was very masculine with an understated elegance – much like the man himself. It wasn’t the largest room in the house, but it suited Frank with its windows offering the perfect views of the estate and other custom features. His imposing desk, a carved, heavy walnut furnishing, dominated the room, and everything was spotless with not a paper out of place. Frank did most of his thinking in this room, and suitably, there was an antique bar in the corner, stocked with the finest liquors. Frank had allowed Frankie to serve himself drinks from that bar after he’d made his son the number two man, but Frankie usually refused when he was doing business, preferring to keep his wits about him instead.

"Frank," said Frankie as he laid his laptop on one chair and seated himself in the other.

"How are you doing?" Frank asked seriously.

"Fine. I’m on top of things," Frankie lied.

Frank reviewed Frankie’s features, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the boy’s stiff walk when he’d approached the desk. He let it go. "Let’s talk about the mission," he declared, leaning back in his executive chair and allowing Frankie the room to present.

Frankie opened the laptop. "We pulled off the maneuver concerning Jason Morgan," he reported. "The goods were planted on him, Corinthos was after his hide, and now he’s gone missing." Frankie’s fingers clicked over the keyboard, and when he reached the appropriate screen, he handed the computer over to his father so that he could review the situation. Frank remained silent as he perused the screen. "Good," he said shortly as he handed the computer back to his son. "Good work."

Frankie glowed inside at his father’s praise, but his stony expression remained the same. It was always better to reveal less when he was around Frank. Frankie cleared his throat. "I have a request related to the mission," he said emotionlessly. "I need a man to take with me to Port Charles. Given his loyalty and abilities, I’d prefer to take Johnny. Do I have your permission to do so?"

Frank remained silent as he regarded his son. "He’s been demoted," Frank said flatly.

Frankie adjusted in his seat and crossed a leg. "I realize that," he stated. "Logically, in a tense times, it is good to choose companions that are proven. Johnny’s loyalty is unquestionable, and he did save my life on seven separate occasions. The latest incident will only make him more determined to do his job with excellence."

Frank listened to his son’s elegant words. He did learn something from me, he thought. He’s trying the eloquence tactic with me. Frank sighed. Why not give the kid what he wants? Johnny has been punished enough, and I demoted him mostly out of temper anyway. Frank templed his fingers and looked seriously at Frankie, who was holding his breath, waiting for his father’s answer. "Very well," agreed Frank. "Your reasoning is sound. You may take Johnny to Port Charles."

Frankie’s body visibly relaxed, and he smiled. "Yes," he said. "I’ll do that. Thank you for your consideration."

Frank relaxed as well, and he said, "We haven’t had much time to spend together while you’ve been here. Do you want to do something fun? Why don’t we go to the racetrack and blow some money?"

Frankie brightened. "That sounds like a great…."

In the middle of Frankie’s sentence, the doors to Frank’s study splintered with a vicious force as two men kicked their way into his office. The dark haired man pulled a gun as his bodyguard entered shooting. "Caruso!" shouted Frank as his body twisted sharply with the impact of several bullets. Frank was a strong man, and he walked around his desk to face his adversary. "I trusted you, and this is how you repay me?" he gritted out with flashing eyes. Frankie had already hit the floor and crawled beside Frank’s desk. The men seemingly had forgotten about him with all of their attention placed on their true target.

"You let the organization go," Caruso stated arrogantly. "Someone has to take over, make it right." He gestured with his gun at Frank. "You’re turning this place into the Mickey Mouse Club with your teenaged son. I should have been number two. You know that. I worked my ass off for you. But now I’ve decided to be number one. Kill him, Jackie. And kill the brat, too."

Jackie shot Frank several more times, and the large man staggered beside his desk and then fell sharply to the floor. Frankie tightly gripped two pistols in his hands and decided to make his move. To confuse his assassins, he leaped from beside the desk and somersaulted toward them, firing both pistols at close range as his feet touched the floor. Caruso never had a chance as Frankie’s bullet met his temple and downed the man instantly. Jackie fired off several shots at Frankie, but succumbed to the barrage of gunfire from Frankie’s two pistols. Frankie felt himself lift off of the floor with the deadly impact of Jackie’s bullets meeting his vest. His back slammed onto the floor, but he sprang up instantly, still firing at Caruso’s crooked bodyguard with fingers that never stopped squeezing the triggers. The man sank to the floor, full of a dozen leaking bullet holes. Frankie walked shakily over to the man and fired at his head point blank. Satisfied that the assassins were dead, Frankie rushed over to his father’s prone body.

Frank was too strong, too determined and too mean to die instantly. He was covered with blood and lay still on the floor, but his eyes were open and blinking. "Frank?" asked Frankie with a shaky voice. Frank’s eyes moved slowly to meet his son’s. "Frankie," he gasped. "Frankie."

"Dad?" asked Frankie as his eyes filled with tears and his lips started quivering. "Dad? Are you okay?"

"Wasn’t…wearing…a vest," Frank growled. "I’m…dying."

"Dad? No!" shouted Frankie, who kneeled beside the dying man.

"Escape," ordered Frank.

"No, dad, I’m staying with you. I’ll get a doctor," insisted Frankie, who stroked and petted his father’s face.

"Frankie," gasped Frank with a much weaker voice. "Listen…to me."

Frankie tried to blink back his tears, but they rolled down his face in streams of despair.

"Go," he ordered. "Go to...Luke…Spencer." he rasped. "He’s your…father. Not…me." Frank’s eyes set in his face with the mask of death, and his chest stopped moving up and down. Frankie couldn’t process all that was happening, and he wailed, "Daddy, daddy! Come on, get up. You can get up!" Frankie firmly grasped the lapels of Frank’s suit and tried to lift his father and shake him to make him obey. "We gotta take ‘em out! You and me. Let’s get ‘em," he pleaded. "Make ‘em pay!" he ended with a wail.

Frank remained motionless, and Frankie startled to attention when he heard the sound of machine gun fire in a remote area of the house. The sounds of gunfire increased and seemed to be moving in his direction. He rose from the floor and pressed a button under the lip of Frank’s desk. A sheet of protective metal slammed down over the splintered, wooden doors, offering some protection against any intruders. Glass shattered behind him as the window behind Frank’s desk exploded with fire, sending Frankie flying over his father’s body. Flames licked around several places in the office and began a vicious vortex of deadly heat as it picked up the trail of liquid left by broken liquor bottles in the corner liquor cabinet. Frankie moved to action and removed his father’s wallet, stuffing it into his own pants pocket. Frank had always instructed his son to do that in case of emergency so that the kid would have sufficient funds to survive on his own for awhile. Frankie raced over to the bookcase beside his father’s desk, gasping and choking for oxygen as the fire intensified and billowed thick, black smoke throughout the room.

Frankie removed a strategic book, and the bookcase moved to the side, offering up the secret passage that led to safety out of Frank’s office. Father and son had reviewed the sequence many times over the years in preparation for the events of this day. Frankie entered the passageway, and closed the bookcase behind him. It clicked as it locked back into place. No one would discover the passageway until the house completely blew. The automatic lights turned on, and Frankie ran down the corridor with the help of the adrenaline that surged through his battered body and mind.

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