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Lucky flings open the door and charges
in. It's late, and the club is
dark and empty. He hastily flips
on the lights as he passes the switch.
Making his way over to the bar,
he reaches under the counter and pulls
out a shot glass followed by a
nondescript bottle. Lucky fills the glass
and downs it in record time. He
cringes at the burn and the sudden
realization that he is a lot more
like his father then he thought.
Luke's favorite post-argument activity
has always included getting
drunk. Lucky goes to pour himself
another shot and notices his hand is
shaking. Is this another step to
becoming his father? He can't be like
him, he can't. It's all so confusing
and frightening and he finds
himself growing even more angry
with himself at his inability to handle
it.
He looks at the bottle still shaking
in his hand and whips it across the
room. The glass shatters sending
small droplets of liquor and shrapnel
flying. He watches stunned, slightly
aware of his now heavy breathing.
It's relieving and upsetting all
at the same time. Drinking.....
violent behavior..... it's his
father's way, but now he finds
himself reverting to it. If a beautiful
woman were to walk in right now,
would he hurt her too? Would he
have a choice? Or would his primal
instinct be to just maul her?
He reaches under the bar again,
grabbing another bottle. He can feel the
fear building in him, but his fingers
refuse to obey is protests to
stop. They wrap around the small
metal cap, squeezing with
white-knuckled force. The cap finally
dislodges itself, and he
unconsciously flings it across
the room. He raises the bottle to his
lips and takes a mouthful.....
then another...... and another. He
ignores the voice in his head telling
him to stop, and tips his head
back again. There's music playing,
but the jukebox isn't on. He
feels his heart racing as he studies
the bottle in his hand. His throat
has become numb to the burn.......
Numb. Is that how his father felt
when he raped his mother? There
was music playing, and his heart was
racing, and he felt numb?
The alcohol catches up to him and
the room starts to spin........ or is
he dancing? Is she in his arms?
Is he trying to kiss her with drunken
lips? He raises his hand again,
wrapping his lips around the mouth of
the bottle.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
The voice echoes in his head. It's
begging, pleading........ =
familiar.......
Stop......
It's his mom.
Stop......
It's Elizabeth.
Please stop......
He spins around, hurtling the bottle
at a row of bottles behind him. He
stills at the sonorous crash it
creates and then he sees it. It's his
nightmare in living color......
the reflection of his father in the
mirror. Drunk, violent..... the
fear has taken a terrifying twist into
reality. All the things he has
unwillingly done, have led him to become
the epitome of his father. The
door to the club opens, and Lucky panics.
What if it' a woman? Will he hurt
her?
Stop.
Stop.
His fist flies at the mirror and
hits it with maximum force. The glass
shatters and he pulls his bloodied
hand away shakily. He's vaguely
aware of a low masculine voice
behind him.
"Jesus!....... Yeah, this is Colton
on patrol at Luke's..... I'm =
gonna need some assistance....
we got an intruder, and he's a lively =
one....."
Lucky continues to stare at the
small rivers of blood across the back of
his hand. He watches it in awe.
There's no pain, just a feeling of
complete detachment. It's like
he's watching someone else's
hand....... someone else's blood.
The thought makes him giddy, and he
doesn't know why...... everything
is too fuzzy to make sense right
now. Blood...... is that the source
of all evil? If he were to have
someone else's blood in his veins,
would things be better? Would he
think differently? Feel differently?
If Elizabeth's child had his
blood in it, would she be just
as repulsed? Lucky laughs..... such
intense questions, but they don't
seem to be registering....... He
enjoys the feeling...... no worries,
no logic...... just a light-headed
stupor. It's like he's in his own
little world. Lucky feels a hand
grip his shoulder, disturbing his
oblivion. He shrugs it off violently.
"Get away from me!"
He staggers forward a bit to escape
the officer. The ground seems to
roll under him, and he focuses
across the room to steady himself.
Something in the back of his mind
tells him this is trouble, but logical
thinking is an impossible task
right now. He feels officer Colton walk
up behind him, and he turns to
look at him. The effect is dizzying and
he sways. The cop reaches out,
catching him as he falls to the floor.
"I SAID GET OFF ME!"
Lucky fights against him frantically.
He swings wildly, and after
several near-misses, lands a punch
soundly in his jaw. The man cries out
in pain, and releases his grip
on Lucky. Lucky takes the opportunity to
crawl away. Close to the ground,
he feels more steady, and he convinces
himself to stand. The spinning
instantly worsens and he falls back to
the floor. Colton reaches him,
and grabs his arms.
"Look, I was gonna try to do this
the nice way, but it seems you
didn't even want to give it a chance.......
Now son, what's your
name?"
Lucky feels the cold, metal cuffs
being slapped around his wrists, and
squirms helplessly. He stills,
realizing the fight is futile, and smiles
bitterly against the floorboards.
"Kiss my ass."
"Well, I'm sure there'll be plenty
of fellas willing to do that
after we throw you in lock up....."
The door opens and a second figure
appears in the doorway. He watches
for a minute, then swaggers in.
"Well, well, well........ Mr. Spencer.... we meet yet again."
Lucky sighs. He would know that
voice anywhere. He turns his head and
smiles drunkenly.
"Ah hell Taggart...... you know
I can't stand to be away from you for
that long......"
Taggart smiles cockily at him.
"Yes, my charm seems to have that
effect on people...... Three times in
a month Lucky..... this has to
be a record......... Where's the lovely
Miss Webber this time? She always
seems to have a part in these little
illegal endeavors......"
"YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"
Taggart raises his eyebrows bemused. He's struck a nerve.
"Relationship problems Spencer?"
Colton watches the exchange annoyed.
He never has been an admirer of
Taggart's tactics....... or Taggart
for that matter. He grabs Lucky by
the arms, and hoists him to his
feet. He sways dramatically, and Colton
leans against him to keep him steady.
"Hey Taggart, I'm gonna bring him
down to the station, but we haffta
stop at GH first.... looks like
he broke his hand........ need stitches
at least."
Taggart eyes the elder officer irked.
Figures he'd have to ruin his =
fun........
"Get a booboo?"
Taggart watches as Lucky tries to
attack him, but stumbles. He's
slightly aware that he's enjoying
this way to much, but he's not
above being a glutton for punishment
when it comes to the progeny of
Luke Spencer. In his drunken state,
Lucky is too alluring a target.
Taggart opens his mouth to make
another snide remark, is cut off by
officer Colton.
"'m going to haul him out to the car."
Lucky jerks his arm away violently.
"i'm not going anywhere with you!"
"*You* don't have a choice-- now let's go."
Colton holds on to Lucky's arm and
uses his other hand to grip the
base of his neck. Lucky struggles
as they head to the door, but the
fighting only makes the world spin
faster.
Taggart watches as the door closes
behind them and glances around the
room. He studies the broken mirror,
and the shattered glass on the
floor, a small chuckle escaping
his lips.
"This is gonna be fun."
Lucky squeezes his eyes tightly
shut as the florescent light above him
flickers. His head is pounding,
and he's guessing whatever the nurse
gave him when he came in is starting
to take effect. His eyes open, and
his gaze refocuses on the officer
standing across the room. He feels
disoriented, and it takes him a
moment to realize he's handcuffed to
the bed. He stares at his shackled
wrist a minute, and chooses to ignore
it. He's so tired, the desire to
just lay down on the bed he's
sitting on is almost overpowering....
And the mere idea of harboring a
rational thought is impossible.
He shakes off the nausea rolling
in his stomach, and instead watches the
officer defensively. He's a younger
guy-- probably late twenties.....
he reminds him a lot of Jason.....
the stone demeanor, the unreadable
expression....... Lucky feels his
gaze waiver and he turns away quickly.
No matter how weak he feels, he's
not about to let anyone see it.
The door to the room opens and he
squints against the bright light in
the hallway. The door closes and
he blinks furiously, trying to focus.
"You know we purposely put you in
the room with the burnt out
light........ thought you and your
hangover might appreciate it."
Lucky closes his eyes, groaning mentally.
"Aunt Bobbie......"
She turns to the guard and nods.
When he makes no attempt to move she
cocks her head questioningly. He
turns to her, his countenance blank.
"I'm sorry mam...... I have specific
instructions to watch the
perpetrator."
Bobbie continues to stare at the man, her glare turning icy.
"Well the *perpetrator* is also
my patient...... listen, you will be
able to guard him just as well
outside the door as in."
Lucky watches blearily as the two
stare each other down. He had to give
his aunt credit, she definitely
knows how to stand her ground..... guess
it must be that inherited Spencer
trait.
The guard starts out the door without
so much as a flinch in his facial
features. Bobbie steps aside, letting
him pass. She turns and watches
the door close behind him.
"Friendly guy."
She sighs and walks over to take
a seat next to Lucky's bed. He turns
his head away from her. He doesn't
want to deal with this right now.
His jaw clenches repeatedly, and
he fights nausea rising in him.
"What's going on Lucky?"
He hears the concern in her voice
and cringes. Did he put that there? He
doesn't deserve her concern....
contempt maybe, but not concern. He
forces the self-hatred down, and
instead focuses once again on his hand.
"Why am I handcuffed to the bed?"
Bobbie sighs again. He's not going
to open up easily..... she'll
just have to play this his way.
"Well when you came in you were
giving the hospital staff *and* the
local law enforcement quite a hard
time......."
Lucky nods impatiently. His head
is swimming and the less his mind has
to process, the better. In fact,
the mere feeling of Bobbie's worried
stare boring into the side of his
face is enough to make him want to
jump out the window. He takes a
deep breath. He can't show any
weakness. He turns back to her,
his countenance emotionless.
"Why am I *here*?"
Bobbie lifts her eyebrows incredulously.
"I guess the sedative really must be kicking in."
Lucky continues to stare at her
uncomprehendingly. She watches him a
moment, then reaches across, gingerly
picking up his right hand. He
looks down at his hand, a small
spark of surprise registering somewhere
in the far depths of his mind.
When did he do that? He watches as
Bobbie's fingers probe his knuckles,
and flinches when she hits a
sensitive area.
"Sorry....... Looks like you broke
your hand...... cracked some
knuckles, fractured your index
finger..... of course you'll need an
x-ray to confirm it...... got some
glass shards lodged in there pretty
deep."
She pauses, slipping out of her
professional mode. Her gaze travels up,
and she watches her nephew sadly.
"You must have punched that mirror
pretty hard....... You want to tell
me what's wrong?"
Lucky feels his stomach lurch. He
hit a mirror? What happened? He
squeezes his eyes tightly shut,
trying to focus. He punched a mirror
out.... at ...... at the club.
It's obvious he had been drinking, but
why?
Lucky sways as a wave of dizziness
hits him. He's so tired, but
sleeping isn't an option. He forces
himself to refocus, and is
instantly hit with an image of
Elizabeth, standing, crying in the
doctor's office. The fight comes
flashing back to him, and he feels
nauseous.
"Oh...... God....."
Bobbie watches him with growing
concern. She places a hand on his
shoulder, and gently tries to push
him back on the bed.
"Maybe you should lay down....... I bet you're probably exhausted."
He lays back, his head rolling against
the pillow. The room is spinning
around him, and he closes his eyes,
willing it to stop. The blackness
engulfs him, and he feels himself
falling. He can't fall asleep......
He fights it frantically, but he
finds himself losing the battle.
"No!"
He bolts up. His eyes search the
room frantically, but he feels rather
than sees, someone else in the
room with him. Remembering Bobbie tending
to his hand, he turns to her. His
eyes widen in shock, as he comes face
to face with the anxious stares
of his parents. He can feel his heart
pounding in his chest, and he fights
the urge to turn tail and run like
hell. He shakes off the confusion
and risks a glance down at his hand.
It's neatly bound in a white, sterile
bandage...... He fell
asleep...... and judging by the
looks of it, for a long time.
Laura watches, pasting a feeble
smile on her face. She glances at Luke,
deciding to venture out first.
"Lucky....... You had us worried......."
"When am I getting out of here?"
The smile fades from Laura's face, and the levity leaves her voice.
"I think we need to talk about what happened......"
Lucky takes a deep breath, clearing
out the blurry feeling. He needs to
get out of here--away from them
and go to Elizabeth.
"Well I'm not telling you anything,
so it'll be a pretty one-sided
conversation..."
Luke inhales sharply, trying to keep his anger in check.
"Show your mother some respect."
Lucky's head falls forward in frustration.
This has gotten
monotonous..... The same argument.......
It seems like everywhere he
goes it's always there. He sighs,
fighting the need to fight back. His
words come out slow, measured.....
"How long till I get outta here?"
Luke watches and decides to follow suit. He speaks low and restrained.
"Well...... I've dropped the trespassing
and vandalism charges, but
there's also the issues of under-age
drinking, resisting arrest, and
assault of an officer..... they
especially aren't friendly about that
one."
Lucky feels the dull ache increasing
in his head, and goes to raise a
hand to his temple. The handcuff
clinks against the bedrail, signaling
the stop of his hand. He exhales
harshly.
Luke watches silently, and after a few minutes decides to continue.
"We'll post bail for you, but they
have to take you down to the
station and process you first."
"How generous....."
Lucky spits the words out, the sarcasm
dripping from his tongue. Luke
becomes immediately enraged.
"IT IS PRETTY DAMN GENEROUS! I could
just let you sit in jail! How would
you like that huh?!"
Lucky feels his breath come rapidly.
His head is pounding and it seems
like every word out of his father's
mouth builds more pressure. He
needs out...... now. He looks at
his handcuffed wrist once more, and
makes a decision.
"GUARD!"
The guard walks in, followed by
officer Colton. Lucky takes note of the
small bandage on Colton's jaw and
feels a small, but undeniable wave
of satisfaction that he put it
there. He can feel his mother's intent
stare on the side of his face,
and he steels himself against the
unnerving feeling.
"Lucky..... what--"
He focuses on the officer, determined.
"I'm ready to go now."