FRENZY - TOC

PART IV

Ariadne

Helena was in a pensive mood. She rose fluidly from between the black satin sheets of her palatial bed and stroked Andreas’ bare leg up and down absentmindedly. Andreas sat up and folded Helena’s hand within his own, his lips caressing the tips of her jeweled fingers. "It is time," Helena announced. "Time for the Ice Princess to work her final, deadly magic."

Helena slipped her robe over her immaculately preserved figure and motioned to Andreas. "Come," she said. "It is time to destroy our Lucky Spencer. He has become tiresome, I’m afraid. His usefulness has ended, and so…" Helena paused and deeply sighed. "…must his miserable life." She raised her eyes to the ceiling and frowned. "I suppose I should feel sorry for Luke Spencer. It’s so painful to loose a beloved son." She hesitated, then continued with a shrug of her shoulders. "No," she decided. "I’ll take exquisite pleasure in watching him twist and squirm like an insect in a bottle."

Andreas pulled on his black silk boxers and followed Helena out of the bedroom. Helena wandered to the opposite end of the yacht and entered the beautifully appointed commercial kitchen. Rows of appliances gleamed with brightly polished stainless steel, and copper pots and pans hung from overhead hooks. Helena paused in front of the large, glass double doors of the subzero freezer. She opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a light blue oven mitt.

Bone-chilling air blasted out of the subzero freezer, leaving Helena feeling a bit giddy as she reached with an oven-mitted hand behind a large container of dark chocolate Dove bars. After fishing around for seconds, she felt the familiar iceberg shape and smiled wickedly. She gripped the humongous diamond tightly and shut the freezer door with one of her stiletto-heeled, silver boudoir slippers.

Helena carried the iceberg-shaped diamond to the wooden cutting block island in the center of the kitchen and placed it solidly on the top. "Bring the candles," she instructed Andreas as she removed the oven mitt from her hand. Andreas carried a box of black tapered candles to the island. Helena selected thirteen candles and placed them equidistant from one another until they formed a perfect circle around the still-chilled Ice Princess. "The effects of our last exercise are now diminishing," she mentioned casually. "Now it’s time for Lucky Spencer to feel its renewed heat. Heat like a flame that refuses to die. Ice and heat, polar opposites yet equally deadly. The perfect combination for deeds most foul."

Andreas lit each candle, and the Ice Princess began to glow richly with flickering colors of yellow, orange, red and white seemingly captured within the endless depths of its hard beauty. "A small tidbit of history, Andreas," said Helena as she watched the flames meld within the diamond. "During World War Two, Adolph Hitler attempted to steal the Ice Princess. He had heard of its…reputation, shall we say. But he was not successful, and it remained firmly in the power of the Cassadines. Only a true Cassadine knows how to work its proper magic."

"Ice in the brain, fire in the blood," intoned Helena as her hand made a flame motion near the diamond. "Pain and death, let it come." Her elegant fingers quickly snapped, and her smiling mouth gave her features a reptilian look of timeless glee.

~*~*~*~

Liz stretched, yawned, and ran a hand through her untidy brown hair. She strolled out into the hallway in search of her grandmother. She was wearing a pair of light blue scrubs, borrowed for her attempts at sleeping in the spare hospital room. The bottoms were rolled up several times to make up for her petiteness. She wore a pair of slipper socks that silently padded up to the nurse’s station.

"Grandmother?" she questioned lightly with a confused look on her face. "What are you doing here? I thought you’d be resting."

Audrey laughed lightly, but with a slightly hysterical note of nervousness. Her fingers moved in an almost frenzied motion, tying bow after bow. In fact, there was quite a pile of multi-colored bows littering the counter of the nurse’s station. When the piles would no longer contain the many bows, they haphazardly spilled over onto the floor, and Audrey stood knee-deep in their gay splendor.

Audrey wagged a finger in her granddaughter’s direction. "Young lady, you need your beauty sleep since you will be taking over as the Face of Deception now, hmm? That is as it should be." Audrey nodded and made a satisfied smile.

Liz’s eyes widened and pooled with tears. "Grandmother, how can you say that when Gia just lost her life? She was no friend of mine, but she certainly didn’t deserve that horrible death. I wish she were still alive and the Face of Deception. She made me mad with all of her verbal abuse, but I hurled it back at her myself. I wasn’t much better."

Audrey sniffed and pursed her lips with disapproval. "You’re a young lady of refinement unlike that uncouth Miss Campbell. She was perfectly awful. I’m not surprised that she was killed. I wonder how many lives she ruined with that foul mouth of hers and her blackmailing ways."

Liz opened her mouth in shock. "Grandmother," she whispered furiously as her eyes darted around the area to make sure no one overheard their conversation. "How did you know? Why didn’t you tell me you knew about the blackmail."

Audrey shrugged wordlessly and continued her frantic bow tying.

Liz looked down at her feet, and the tears ran down her cheeks. "I’m so worried about Lucky. What if he doesn’t make it? I’m trying to stay optimistic, I really am. But, they put him back on the respirator again, and he hasn’t woken up since I spent a few minutes with him earlier. What am I going to do?" she sobbed.

"Everything will be fine, dear," replied Audrey primly as she yanked a blue bow tightly. "I always hoped you’d marry one of those lovely Quartermaine boys instead of a Spencer." Her mouth turned down and her voice dripped with venom as she uttered that last word. "Now you have another chance."

Liz looked aghast at the woman standing in front of her. Who was she? Surely this wasn’t the grandmother who she’d lived with for years. Where was that kindly woman so quick with a helpful word or a sympathetic shoulder?"

"I don’t believe you!" Liz cried. Her chin quivered with her fierce emotions of hurt and shame. "I’m going back to the room," she announced as she turned abruptly and ran down the hall away from a horrible woman that she felt like she’d never truly known.

~*~*~*~

Elton stepped up to the nurse’s desk and tried to separate an especially high pile of bows so that he could see who was behind it.

"Oh, Mrs. Hardy," he intoned. "That’s you behind all this frivolity. I couldn’t sleep a wink after I discovered that awful crime scene down at Deception. Will I ever be the same?"

"What are you doing here, Elton?" Audrey responded shortly, her fingers never pausing as her cold eyes met Elton’s wide blue ones. "I told you there were no available slots on the Ladies Auxiliary."

Elton sputtered and looked confused. "I’m here to see Miss Spencer – to ask if she needs my assistance and to see how her poor son is doing," he replied in a wounded tone. He reached out a hand and played with the ribbon on one of Audrey’s spools. "But it sure looks like you could use my expert decorating and crafts help," he tittered.

Audrey’s hand came down on Elton’s like a mallet. "Hands off," she said harshly. "Those are MY bows."

"Well, pardon me, your highness," Elton shot back with a frown. He looked up at Audrey and caught the murderous look in her eyes as she tied a large bow and yanked the knot with an especially fierce jerking motion.

Elton felt like he was in some sort of a slow motion time warp. His thoughts led him back to Deception and to the beautiful girl with the big, braided bow around her lovely, dead neck. He gasped and jumped back two feet. He held his shaking arm out and pointed a trembling finger at Audrey. "YOU!" he said forcefully. "It was you. Oh help me, help me." He backed up fearfully with one hand covering his heart protectively as Audrey marched around the counter of the nurse’s station carrying a very large spool of red ribbon and wearing a determined look on her angry face.

~*~*~*~

There were no thoughts or feelings of remorse or grief or conscience when Lucky Spencer began to wake up this time. Lucky Spencer as the world knew and loved him was gone, discarded into the trash, a forgotten entity erased from the universe. Helena was to Dr. Frankenstein as Lucky was to the helpless monster. The slate had been wiped clean, and all that remained was a mass of pliable flesh, exquisitely sensitive and responsive to the icy flame of the iceberg shaped diamond encircled by thirteen black candles.

"Gaaaaaaaahhhh," was the sound his throat made when his bloodshot blue eyes suddenly opened, and he tried to breathe. The respirator continued to hiss and pump life-giving oxygen into his virtual living corpse, but the fevered desire to kill and maim overtook him in a rushing wave of agonized liquid fire. Nothing would get in the way of his sick desires.

His fingers ripped away the tape that secured the tubing to his mouth, and his hands firmly encircled the offending tubes. He didn’t feel it really when he viciously yanked the respirator tubing up and out of his throat. He sat up abruptly, gagging and grimacing as the blood trickled out of his mouth and tumbled over his chin. Lucky reached out his hands and throttled the bedrails beside his bed, desperate to replace the metal in his grip with live flesh. He turned and grinned when he saw the blood hanging from a pole behind him, and he ripped the IV’s out, delighting in the resulting splash of blood that gushed onto his arm. He smeared the blood over his face and hands and giggled in anticipation of his next deed.

The violent thrust of his feet and legs separated the metal railing from his bed, and he huffed and panted as he twisted at the tubing and successfully picked up his first murder weapon.

The police guard stationed outside of Lucky’s door was alerted by the extremely loud metallic banging noise from within the hospital room. Drawing his gun, he quickly entered the door, but his reactions were a fraction too slow, and Lucky managed to hop out from behind the door and bash his skull in with a metal pipe. The officer’s skull made a sick, soggy, cracking sound as his body rushed to meet the floor. Lucky stood over him and repeatedly raised and lowered the pipe with a frenetic hacking motion until the man’s body ceased to thrash and convulse.

Lucky fell back onto the bed and laughed for several long minutes. He sighed in relief. The pain in his head was lessening with the kill. He was flooded with gratitude. Unfortunately, his bliss was short-lived as he was assaulted with another wave of madness. Grunting, he held his hands to his head and cried out loudly. His entire body began shaking with the desire to kill, to remove the poisonous urges surging through his body.

A nurse pushed open the door to Lucky’s room, alerted to the malfunctioning monitors and electrodes that were no longer attached to his body. Lucky smiled broadly, but his eyes remained cold and ruthless. Before she could scream at the bloody sight in front of her, Lucky tackled the frightened nurse, and his full weight landed on top of her with a crushing intent. Lucky laughed merrily as he bounced up and down on top of the nurse with his muscular hands choking the life out of her. Long after she lost consciousness, he continued to pull out her hair, and bash the back of her skull into the hard, linoleum floor. He couldn’t get enough of that killing sensation, and his fingers itched for more. Disgusted by the lack of life left to extinguish in her body, he picked her up and tossed her lifeless form on top of the hospital bed. Her neck lay at an odd angle, and her arms and legs splayed out in an unnatural pattern.

Lucky’s lungs heaved with the exertion of his murderous activities, but still, he jumped up and down repeatedly and stepped around and around in almost in a deathly dance that mimicked the sinuous pattern of the flames reflected in the Ice Princess. The glint of the officer’s black service revolver attracted him, and he bent down to pull it out of the holster. He cackled and flexed his hand around the handle until the pain grew worse, and he screamed long and hard as his knees hit the floor. The explosion in his head was like the breaking of a long, sharp icicle from the edge of a roof, and it plunged repeatedly into his brain. He whimpered lightly and for a brief second, the hold of the diamond broke. He glanced fearfully around him at the carnage lying on his floor and in his bed.

Tell me I didn’t do this, his mind screamed. What’s going on? Why am I holding this gun? His blue eyes widened as his bloody hands gripped the sides of his face in horror. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die I’m gonna die his mind chanted in a prophetic mantra. Suddenly, his head whipped back, and his throat shouted out in exquisite agony as he was again assaulted with a desire to commit the unspeakable.

Gun in hand, Lucky raced out of his room and skidded to a stop in the hallway. He slipped several times from all of the shed blood saturating his feet, but he finally began running down the hallway, leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints. He was desperate to find a fresh victim.

Angeloltye

Laura stepped between Taggert and Luke. Her eyes begged Luke to go gentle. Nikolas couldn’t help but see his mother’s pleading gaze. He backed off, quelling the anger that came from Taggert’s accusations. To Taggert’s surprise, Luke stopped as well.

"Well, Luke? What’s it going to be?" Taggert demanded. "Am I going to take you and your step-son in for assault or what?"

"I’m not leaving my son’s side, Marcus," Luke sighed. The group’s back was turned from Lucky’s room, or they would have seen him skittering down the hall with his bloody footprints leaving a trail behind him. Laura had turned to Nikolas and pulled him away from Luke and Taggert, hoping to calm her son down. They stood several feet down the hall, intent on their own conversation.

"He’s a cold blooded killer, Luke. He has to be stopped. I’m going to have to handcuff him to the bed."

"Oh, H*ll, Marcus. Where do you think he’s going to go? He’s on a respirator. It’s not like he can just get up and walk away to hurt someone else."

"But you do agree with me, that he’s capable of murder."

"I’m not agreeing with anything," Luke snapped. "But I will do anything I have to, to keep Lucky from hurting anyone, especially himself." Taggert nodded, his own anger giving way to grief for his baby sister.

"I’d give anything to have that chance with Gia, to keep her from getting hurt, I mean. I saw her, in the morgue. She was so beautiful, so quiet. I’ve never seen her that quiet…" The tension in the air was dissipating in the men’s mutual grief for their present circumstance. Luke was certain Taggert wouldn’t try to insult Lucky anymore. He was about to put his hand on the man’s shoulder when a terrified cry made them both turn towards the nurse’s station. They raced around the corner, with Nikolas and Laura following them, to find an unimaginable scene unfolding before them.

"Oh my God," Laura breathed in shocked disbelief. Luke held his hand out signaling Nikolas and Laura to stay back. Taggert walked forward ahead of Luke. He hissed to Luke. "Get security, now!" Luke turned to Nikolas and whispered the same words. Nikolas fled while his mother backed against the wall in helpless horror.

"For the love of God!" Elton screamed in a high pitched voice. "Stop her! She’s going to kill me. I know she’s going to kill me! Oh Mary, Mother of God, Have mercy on my soul. I don’t want to die." Taggert’s eyes flashed back and forth from the hysterical Elton who lay back to the floor with a laughing Audrey straddling the man, her hands pulling several pieces of red ribbon around his neck. She was unaware of the group, her mind intent on Elton.

"It won’t hurt a bit," she told him gleefully. "I can’t let you tell anyone I killed the girl," Elton’s eyes were wide, terrified as the red ribbon slowly circled around his neck and tightened. He was frozen with his fear, his heart beating in complete certainty that he would be a dead body sprawled on the hospital floor.

"She had it coming you know. She threatened my Elizabeth. The little savage had the audacity to hurt my granddaughter. She deserved what she got, and Lucky too. He saw me. He had to go. He made such a pleasant victim with the pillow over his face." Laura gasped, while Luke exchanged looks with Taggert. Taggert counted as Audrey went on. "Now…now it’s your turn. No one will foil Elizabeth’s chance to be the face of Deception."

"No!" Elton screamed. "I am not going to die." His arms came out of their immobilized status, and grabbed Audrey’s arms. She took the ribbon and pulled causing Elton to make an eerie choking sound that spurred Luke and Taggert to action. As one force, they vaulted towards Audrey and pulled her off Elton. He scrambled away, the red ribbons still tied merrily around his neck.

"What? What’s going on?" Audrey demanded haughtily. "Luke? Lieutenant? Oh, I know what this looks like. I can assure, you I have a very good explanation." Her angelic face was instantly controlled, perfectly emotionless. "He’s the killer you know. He killed Gia."

"Yes, Mrs. Hardy," Taggert agreed as security came running down the hall. "I wonder if you wouldn’t be so kind as to talk to my officers about what you know. We can get you some rest, too. You look exhausted." Taggert’s calm demeanor impressed Luke as the man handed his sister’s murderer over to the two security guards.

"Take her to the psychiatric wing," he told the men. "Don’t leave her alone for any reason, and don’t be alone with her. Do you understand me? Tell the nurses to get Dr. Kevin Collins or Dr. Gail Baldwin."

"Yes sir!’ came the prompt reply.

"I really do have a good explanation," Audrey tried again, suddenly frightened. "I wouldn’t hurt anyone. Certainly you know that," she explained to the security guards who led her away.

"We know, Mrs. Hardy," they assured her. "We’re just going to help you get some rest."

"But I have to finish my work!" Audrey objected plaintively. Her voice was heard objecting all the way down the hall while Elton slowly collapsed down the wall. Luke, Laura, Nikolas and Taggert stared at each other in complete amazement.

"If I hadn’t seen it," Luke started.

"Or heard it," Marcus Taggert added. "But if Audrey killed Gia, then what about Lucky?" Suddenly horrified at the simultaneous thought that Audrey might have gotten to Lucky after all, the four of them raced down the hall to Lucky’s room. They stopped, seeing the bloody footprints on the floor outside the room. The footprints couldn’t be Audrey’s. She had been fully dressed. Luke turned to Laura and Nikolas.

"Stay here," he warned.

"No!" Laura cried, brushing past her ex-husband. Luke hurried after her. Her scream sent chills down his spine even before he saw what Laura saw. Luke Spencer knew, knew, in that instant that Lucky was indeed a murderer. Luke’s spirit broke at the sight of the guard’s brains splattered on the floor at his feet. Taggert rushed to the hospital bed. He didn’t need to check the nurse for a pulse. Her body was already stiffening with rigor mortis, her head hanging over the side, her hands palm upward, curled forever as if ready to fight, but never given the chance. Blood was everywhere, on the floor, the walls, the medical equipment, even the bed, everywhere. Laura turned and raced into the bathroom retching violently. Nikolas stared at the sight, his own bile rising in searing revulsion. His passionate cry of accusation hung in the air like a chorus that reminded them a killer was still on the loose, and that killer was just as dangerous if not more than Audrey Hardy.

"Lucky! Lucky! What have you done!" came the cry wrenched from the heart of Nikolas Cassadine who had never believed in the dark side of life…until now.

~*~*~*~

Ariadne

In the wee hours of the morning, the halls of General Hospital were deserted, and Lucky grew frustrated at the lack of available bodies to mutilate. The wave of anger, aggression and violence threatened to overwhelm and destroy him. He stopped in the middle of the hallway and doubled over from the intense searing pain that seemed to travel through his bloodstream. He rose to his feet again with a strangled cry as footsteps pounded behind him. He saw his father and Lt. Taggert flying toward him. Instinctively, he raised the gun in his right hand and tensed his index finger on the trigger.

Five flashes of light as bright as the flames dancing over the Ice Princess flared in the darkened hallway. Lucky heard loud crashes that sounded like thunderbolts as his body twisted left and right to fully absorb the furious impact of the bullets fired from Lt. Taggert’s gun. He smiled angelically and looked to the ceiling as the bullets ripped away his life and tossed him to the floor like a ragdoll.

His eyes were still open, yet newly peaceful. His lungs fought for several more seconds of life-giving oxygen as Luke raced to the side of his dying son.

~*~*~*~

Angeloltye

The demons were gone, the images of fire extinguished by the fight for survival. Lucky had a split second to realize what had happened. Strangely, there was no pain. He never saw his father kneel beside him, never felt the strong hand in his, squeezing in a fruitless attempt to save him. Instead, Lucky’s blue eyes were fixated on the ceiling as he heard the angels singing in glorious celebration. He gave into the angels, his death rattle a signal that the war within was over at last. Luke saw again the knife Lucky had welded just hours before. It was as if that knife was shredding his heart to pieces as he knelt over his son. The shots still rang in Luke’s head. He’d never forget the look of surprise that came over Lucky as his body was riddled with bullets from Taggert’s gun, not that Taggert had a choice. It had been Lucky or Taggert. There was no doubt, Luke admitted to himself. Tears welled in his eyes.

"Cowboy?" he asked, wondering why he even bothered. As if in a trance, he touched Lucky’s face, that child face he had loved, the young man he had never really known. Luke sighed in resignation, his fingers gently closing those empty eyes. In a reflexive motion, the father gathered the son in his arms, holding him to his chest, as he keened back and forth in grief.

"Luke?" Laura’s voice cried as her worst nightmare was realized. Nikolas, the tears in his own eyes pulled his mother towards him. Angrily, Laura pulled away.

"Let me go!" she screamed in pure anguish. "My God, what happened? What happened to my baby?" Luke’s own sentimental blue eyes locked with Laura’s. She put her hands over her mouth, letting them come forward to clasp in a prayerful manner. Shaking her head, she bent down on one knee. Her face contorted in indescribable emotions that flashed through her mind. For a moment she even considered taking Taggert’s gun and shooting herself to get rid of the maternal grief that she was certain would kill her this time.

"Lucky?" she whispered. "Lucky, talk to Mommy. Please. Oh God, Please, Lucky," Nikolas tried to pull his mother up in her grief. Her hand reached out tremulously to touch that hair, that soft baby hair she had cherished. Her eyes went from Luke’s stricken face to the back of Lucky’s head, then down his bare back. She touched his skin. He had been a little boy just a short while ago, kicking his blankets off just as he had now.

"He’s cold, Luke," she told Lucky’s father. "He’s not covered. Someone get us a blanket!" She grabbed the edges of his hospital gown to shield Lucky’s dignity. The two sides overlapped each other. There…! Laura thought with distant satisfaction. She stood up. Her hand was wet, dripping some fluid. She looked down on it to see a red sticky substance, dripping from her palm where she had rested it for a second on the bloody gown. Her scream made Nikolas jump.

"Lucky! Lucky!" Laura screamed. "The blood. He’ s dead, Luke, isn’t he? My baby’s dead." At that moment, Scott Baldwin came running down the hall with Felicia behind him. Laura collapsed in to Scott’s arms, her heart wrenching cries ripping him apart.

"Laura, shhh. It’s all right," Scott crooned. He led her away from the gothic horror scene, and helped her to sit down on the chairs near the nurse’s station. She cried hysterically just as she had after the fire. There was no hope now. Lucky lay lifeless on the floor. His father was trying to protect him, but Luke couldn’t. No one could. Lucky was gone.

"Luke?" Felicia’s soft utterance moved Luke to look from where he was brushing Lucky’s hair. Taggert stood behind her. The gun had disappeared somewhere. Luke’s lost expression made Felicia reach out to him.

"You have to let him go, Luke," She told him. "They’ll take care of him now. But you have to let him go." Luke shook his head.

"Not again," Luke still denied. "I can’t lose him again." Luke smiled down at Lucky as his arms grasped his son closer to him. The body was wet with blood, soaking through Luke’s clothes, but he couldn’t give him up. He couldn’t give up his Cowboy.

"He’s already gone, Luke. He was gone long ago," Felicia told him. "Please, Luke. He wouldn’t want you to do this. You need to get cleaned up. You need to see Lulu." Luke looked over to Taggert who felt as terrible as he did the night of the fire. So many people loved the damned kid, even if he were insane.

"We’ll take it from here, Luke" Taggert promised. Luke nodded. He hugged Lucky to his chest one more time.

"I’m sorry, Cowboy. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her. I should have stopped her you know. I’m so sorry. I love you, Cowboy." He put Lucky down on the floor. The unrecognizable gown, saturated with his son’s blood, would haunt Luke forever, he knew. A nurse standing near by brought the blanket Laura had requested. Luke put it over his son, covering him to his chin, then, ever so slowly pulling it over his face. Taggert took the blanket from Luke.

"I’ll do it," Taggert intoned. Felicia put her arms around Luke, then led him away down the hall while Taggert draped the blanket over Lucky’s body. Scott helped Laura up and walked her down the hall as well. There was no reason to stay. They didn’t see Elizabeth come towards the nurse’s station, or her halted steps as she saw Taggert putting the blanket over the body. The glimpse of the back of his head told Elizabeth who it was. She walked slowly, her feet lead, her heart pulsating in pure terror. Taggert saw her. He stopped her from running to Lucky and throwing the blanket off him. Her silent scream was stuck in her dry throat as he hugged her. Pushing Taggert away instinctively, Elizabeth tried to find words. When none came, she refused to think what had happened, how Lucky had gotten into the hallway, how he had ended up, covered on the floor with a puddle of blood pooling where Luke had sat with his son. She went to the other side of the body. Her body rapidly retreating into shock, she pulled down the blanket. Lucky’s soft hair fluttered in the breeze. His blood-streaked face filled her mind. Without thought, her hand touched his cheek, then pulled away as if it were on fire.

"He’s so cold," she finally whispered. "So cold." She took the blanket, wrapping it securely around him. She looked up at Taggert, not knowing he had killed Lucky in a volley of shots. Her eyes wandered to the gun Lucky had dropped. Before Taggert realized it, she had bent over three or four feet away and picked up the gun. Her green eyes locked on Taggert for an instant. He could see what she meant to do. He could see her stark grief, her shattered soul in turmoil as she pointed the gun toward herself and pulled the trigger back. In a mad lunge, Taggert grabbed for the gun just as the boom of the report filled the hospital halls one more time…

~*~*~*~

Ariadne

Taggert raced for the girl as she collapsed onto the floor next to Lucky. He gathered her lifeless body into his strong arms and checked her over for bullet wounds. He frowned in puzzlement. There weren’t any. He looked up and saw the bullet hole lodged in the wall beside him. The girl had missed. Thank god, she missed. Elizabeth was alive. But would she be able to bear the burden of her loss? Taggert’s face betrayed his sadness as he gently laid her down next to the love of her life.

~*~*~*~

Next day…

Luke locked himself in his office at the club, refusing to see anyone. Felicia, Laura, Nikolas, even Taggert had shown up at the door, but he wasn’t having any company in his grief. He had shouted at the other end of the door and screamed at them to go away. Eventually, they did. The only companionship Luke wanted was the curve of his whiskey bottle. He drank another shot and held his hand over his pained eyes. Why did he keep seeing Cowboy’s face? Everywhere he looked, he saw Lucky. Lucky playing with Foster, Lucky getting his ear pierced on a camping trip, Lucky telling his old dad that he loved him and giving him a big hug.

The tears fell freely from Luke’s eyes as he reached again for the bottle of whiskey. But this time, Luke doubted that anything or anyone could comfort him. It was like a piece of his heart had been cut out and offered to the birds. His soul was empty and hollow with no hope of ever seeing his son alive again.

Luke reflected over the past year and was stabbed by a moment of truth and honesty. How long had it been since he’d really had Cowboy in his life? When Lucky had returned from his imprisonment, he’d seemed so different, almost like another person. Father and son had tried to work out their differences and reconnect, but it never happened. The emotion, the heart, the bond, it just wasn’t there anymore. What had Helena and Faison done to him, what had they done to turn his own son into a virtual stranger?

When Luke set the whiskey bottle back down on his desk, it clinked against something beside it. The Ice Princess. Luke shook his head angrily. That useless object was supposed to be the key to getting my son back, he thought bitterly. Now it’s a piece of junk cluttering my office. How much time did he waste hunting it down, time that could have been spent with Lucky? Luke would give anything to have five minutes alone with his son, to tell him how much he loved him and how proud he was of his namesake. He wanted to draw him into a big hug and stroke his soft, silky hair as he whispered that he’d look forward to seeing him in the next life. That he’d always be his dad no matter where they were in time or space.

Luke was startled out of his reverie by the loud ringing of the phone. Damn, he thought. I forgot to take that off of the hook. He picked up the receiver, fully prepared to slam it back down, but he paused with his hand midair as the unmistakable, tinkling laughter floated through the phone lines and into his office. Luke put the phone to his ear and listened.

"Oh, Luke," the voice said. "Turnabout fair play, wouldn’t you say? How does it feel to lose a son, the pride and joy of your life?"

"Damn you to hell, Helena!" Luke gritted out dangerously. "If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll see that you pay for what you’ve done!" He picked up the Ice Princess and gripped it so hard that his hand shook.

"Tsk, tsk," scolded Helena. "Such a lack of manners you have. And you’d never make a good antiques dealer since you don’t seem to be able to distinguish the real item from the fake. Goodbye, Luke. It’s been fun. Until next time." Helena hung up the phone, and Luke sat stunned as his mind raced. He pushed away the phone, and looked at the Ice Princess still gripped in his hand. His hand opened almost as a reflex, and the diamond raced for the floor, shattering as it hit the hard, wooden surface.

Luke’s mouth hung open as he realized that he’d been duped. He didn’t have the Ice Princess. This was a glass copy, and probably not a good one at that. How could he have been so stupid? Luke bent over to retrieve the base that the fake Ice Princess had been mounted on. He carefully brushed off the glass and turned it over. The words Made in China were brazenly stamped as a joke on the bottom of the pedestal. Not only had he been duped, but he was also the victim of a very bad sense of humor.

Luke turned the pedestal in his hand, looking at it intently. He discovered that there was an indentation where the fake diamond had nestled. It was circular in shape and seemed like it was a lid of some sort. Luke reached for his Swiss army knife and used the blade to pry open the lid. He received the shock of his life when he saw what was underneath the piece of wood. It was a photograph, a photograph of Lucky. He looked older than the last time he’d seen him before the fire and a bit different than the boy that he’d held so closely in his arms as he was dying last night. Luke pried the photo out of the pedestal and turned it over. There was an elegant scrawl of handwriting on the back. It read, Lucky Spencer, February 20, 2001. Helena’s recent words rang through Luke’s head, seizing his heart and refusing to let go.

"You’d never make a good antiques dealer since you don’t seem to be able to distinguish the real item from the fake."

Luke looked back down at the photograph as the tears streamed from his eyes. He held the photo to his heart and looked wildly around the room. Was it possible?

~*~*~*~

The young man rose from his cot and stretched. He paced around his cell, running his hands through his light brown hair and wondering if he could possibly learn how to speak Chinese without an instructor or a dictionary. So far, he’d only learned the words for food, thank you, and hello. All of his guards were Chinese, and he hadn’t been able to communicate with anyone in months. Even Faison didn’t stop by anymore to taunt or harass him. What was up?

Lucky Spencer stood up on his tiptoes to look out of the tiny window in his cell. The sun weakly shone on his face, and he sadly closed his blue eyes as he wept. Mom, Dad, Elizabeth. Will I ever see you again?

THE END (Sorta? Maybe?)