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Luke stepped cautiously
into the still house, praying nobody would
be home. He glanced at his watch
and grimaced. Laura was sure to be home
at this hour. He started across
the living room as quickly and quietly as
he could, but stopped short when
he heard his wife's voice behind him.
"You're home late," she commented.
Luke scowled and sat
on the couch. "You noticed," he said loudly.
"You're drunk," Laura
said accusingly, heading toward the couch.
"My aren't you the
observant one tonight?" Luke boomed, still not
looking at her. He studied the
coffee table in front of him with new
found interest.
"Lulu's asleep," Laura
hissed.
"Good. At least someone
can get a good night's rest around here."
Laura stood behind
the couch and looked at the top of her husband's
head. "Something happened," she
said. Luke said nothing, hoping if he was
silent she would go up to bed.
"You saw Lucky," Laura continued, and
caught Luke's wince. "What happened?"
Lucky didn't smile
as Liz entered Kelly's, or even look up at her. He
stared dully at his plate, his
thoughts a million miles away. Liz walked
up to his table and smiled.
"Hey," she said cheerfully. "This place is
dead."
Lucky gave her a cursory
glance, then returned his gaze to the plate
in front of him. "It's closed."
Liz giggled. "Well,
that would explain it." She waited for a reaction
from Lucky, but got only silence
in return. "Don't you ever eat?" she
teased, indicating his untouched
food.
Lucky blinked, struggling
against tears. He looked Liz fully in the
face for the first time since she
entered the diner, and his resolve
broke. A few stray tears started
a slow descent down his cheeks and Liz
rushed to his side, alarmed.
"Lucky?" she asked.
"What happened?"
Lucky closed his eyes
tightly and forced the words out of his mouth.
"I saw my father tonight."
"What did he want?"
Liz asked, kneeling beside him.
"To say goodbye."
Lucky's lower lip quivered slightly, then he
surprised Liz by throwing his arms
around her and buried his head in her
shoulder. "I'm going to lose everything,"
he said despairingly, his voice
muffled. He rested his cheek against
her shoulder and whispered brokenly.
"I think I already have."
Earlier that night,
Lucky stood at the register in Luke's. The place
was deserted except for him. He
was almost certain his father wouldn't be
in that night. There had been a
shooting there earlier that week, and the
club had been closed by the PCPD.
Lucky shook his head. Shootings at the
club had come to be a regular thing
at the club the last couple of years.
He opened the cash
drawer and laughed out loud when he saw it was
nearly full of money. He thought
his father was smart enough to not leave
cash in such a vulnerable place.
He cleaned out the register, and stuffed
the money into his pockets until
they bulged. He started to close the
drawer, but stopped when he noticed
a quarter had somehow gotten lodged
in the back, preventing the drawer
from sliding shut all the way. He
reached in and pried at the quarter
with his thumb and index finger, but
it wouldn't budge.
Lucky looked around
for something to dislodge it with, and his eyes
fell upon a slender knife on the
counter. He returned his attention to the
lodged quarter, and was so absorbed
in his attempts to loosen it he
didn't notice his father walk in
the front entrance.
Luke weaved his way
through the tables, then slid, without grace, into
a chair near the bar. Only then
did he look up and notice the intruder
behind the bar. "Hey!" he shouted.
"What're you doing? If you think
you're going to rob me, you little-"
He cut off as Lucky looked up at
him. "Oh, it's you." He waved his
hand dismissively.
Lucky stared at his
father with disgust, taking in his condition. "I
see you dipped into the liquor
cabinet again."
Luke shot him an angry
look. "What's it to you?"
"Life's a lot easier
to deal with when you're not there to deal with
it, isn't it?" Lucky snapped, heading
toward the exit. His hand had
barely touched the handle when
he heard a familiar click behind him. He
spun around to face his father.
Luke pointed the gun
at Lucky and walked toward him, his hand
perfectly steady, never taking
his eyes off his son. "I wouldn't," he
warned. He took another menacing
step toward Lucky. Lucky backed up
against the door, shaking his head.
"Dad," he whispered.
"What are you doing?" He could barely make the
sound pass his lips. He slid himself
further up the door, grasping the
handle tightly with his hand.
"I'm not going to
hurt you," Luke said soothingly, but the gun
remained cocked and ready. He walked
even closer to his retreating son.
"I would never hurt you."
"Say that again without
the gun," Lucky said, his voice shaking.
"I love you," Luke
whispered, and pulled the trigger.
Lucky flinched, and
waited for the pain and warmth that would follow.
He relaxed when he heard a dry
click. "Oops, no bullets," Luke hooted,
then broke into laughter. Lucky
shut his eyes, and barley turned the
handle of the door.
"You could've killed
me!" he yelled at his father angrily.
Luke laughed bitterly.
"You know I wouldn't hurt you, Lucky. Come on,
I unloaded the gun in the car before
I came over here."
Lucky shook his head,
still in shock and unable to get past the sheer
terror he had just experienced.
He turned to leave. He was again stopped
by Luke's voice.
"Son, you leave now,
and you don't ever come back." Lucky turned to
glare at him. "You'll never see
your sister again." Lucky stared at him,
shocked, and tried to hold back
the tears. They threatened to spill down
his face, but he resolutely pushed
them back. He pushed away any thoughts
of his sister for the time, and
walked out, turning his back on his
father and the club.
Luke stared back at his wife's face,
and wanted only to hide from her
scornful eyes. "I don't want to
talk about it."
Laura gaped. "You
better want to talk about it!" she exclaimed.
Luke groaned. He wasn't
going to get out of this. He decided to try
another method. "Look, babe, I'm
tired, it's been a long night. I'll tell
you the whole sad story in the
morning. There's nothing we can do about
it right now anyway."
Laura glared at him,
shaking her head. "Don't," she said. "Just forget
it. It isn't going to work this
time, Luke. I want to know what happened
tonight. From the look on your
face, I'd say it was pretty important."
"Not now, Laura-"
"You CAN'T do this,
Luke!" Laura shouted, forgetting all about Lulu
upstairs.
"Do what?" Luke asked,
startled.
Laura stood facing
him now, her hands on her hips. "You can't just
leave me in the dark, Luke. He's
MY SON and I have every right to know
what's going on with him!"
Luke sat with his
mouth agape, shocked. He hadn't seen his wife this
angry in, well, days. "I'm not
planning on leaving you in the dark,
Laura," he said calmly. "I just
don't think talking about it now will do
anyone any good." He shook his
head and laughed bitterly. "You'll never
get to sleep."
Laura stared at him,
then closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
She opened her eyes again and looked
him in the face. "You're right.
We'll talk about in the morning.
But I want you tell me everything," she
added as she started toward the
stairs. "No leaving anything out."
Luke managed a small
smile. "I promise, I'll tell you everything first
thing in the morning. Now get up
to bed. You look beat."
Laura nodded. "So
do you."
Luke watched her walk
halfway up the stairs, then called out to her.
"Laura!" She paused and turned
toward him. "You know I always make good
on my promises."
"I know, Luke. Now
come up to bed."
Liz held Lucky in her
arms and waited for the tears to start flowing,
but they didn't. Lucky pulled away
from her and straightened in his seat.
"I'm sorry," he muttered guiltily,
looking away.
"Sorry for what?"
Liz asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Lucky grabbed her
hand and threw it off, somewhat violently. "You have
enough to deal with, I shouldn't
dump my problems on you," he said,
standing up. He pushed his chair
in and started toward the exit. "It's
late," he said briskly. "We should
both probably be getting home."
"Go home?" Liz asked
incredulously, staring at Lucky as if he was
crazy. "You haven't even told me
what happened yet. How am I supposed to
help you if--"
"I don't need your
help!" Lucky snapped, instantly regretting the
words. He took a deep breath and
tried to keep his voice level, but
failed miserably. "Stop trying
to help me, when you know you can't!" He
looked at her angrily, hating himself
for treating her so rudely, but
also hating her for pretending
to understand. Suddenly she seemed like
the least understanding person
in the world.
"But Lucky, you just-"
"Who cares what I
just did!" Lucky yelled, frustrated. "You can't help
me and you know it. You said so
yourself, Liz, you'll never compare to
your sister. She can always do
what you can't. She could probably comfort
me now. Just face it Liz, you'll
never be anything but what you are
now--a poor RAPED girl. Well I'm
sick of feeling sorry for you!"
Liz stepped back,
tears stinging her eyes. She regarded Lucky with
something close to hatred. He simply
stared back at her, anger written
across his face. She felt the tears
start to slide down her cheeks and
she headed for the door. She opened
the door and took one step before
turning back to Lucky. "I hate
you," she whispered, and left.
Lucky watched her
go, his heart pounding. His anger had passed now,
and he stared at the space where
Liz had just stood. He felt empty,
hollow. He sank into the nearest
chair and buried his head in his hands.
It felt as if his whole world was
about to collapse.
Lucky lay on the cold floor of the
boxcar, and looked absently at his
surroundings. His thoughts drifted
back to the arguments with Liz and his
father, and he was surprised to
find himself regretting his outburst at
Kelly's more than anything. The
look on Liz's face refused to leave his
thoughts, and every time he closed
his eyes her voice echoed in his mind,
telling him she hated him. He sat
up and rolled out of his makeshift bed.
He grabbed his jacket
and pulled it on, then jumped down from the
boxcar. He made his way silently
to the Hardy house, then stared up at
it. There were no lights on that
he could see, but that didn't mean much.
Liz sometimes laid in bed for hours
before falling asleep. He climbed up
quickly to the roof and walked,
cautiously, to Liz's window. He was a
little surprised, and irritated,
to find the window all the way up. He
tapped lightly on the pane, expecting
to hear a startled response form
Liz. The room remained silent,
however, and nobody came to the window.
Lucky gritted his
teeth as anger suddenly boiled inside him again. He
felt the sudden urge to jump down
off the roof and blow town, never look
back again. Here he was, tapping
on Liz's window, when it was already
past midnight, and she would only
come up with another scheme to reunite
him with his parents--
He pinched himself
lightly and tried to get a grip on his straying
thoughts. He reached up again for
the window, but this time knocked,
maybe a little TOO loudly, on the
window pane. The curtains and window
flew open almost in one motion,
and Lucky found himself looking straight
into the face of a startled Audrey
Hardy.
Detective Taggert leaned
back in his chair and yawned. He looked up at
Garcia, who was pacing the room
angrily. "Don't you love the late shift?"
he remarked amiably.
Garcia glanced at
him, clearly annoyed. "You may be enjoying this,
Marcus, but I know I'm not. I don't
know what Mac was thinking, making us
work these hours--"
He was cut off by
Mac Scorpio, who strode into the room distractedly.
He looked at the two detectives
as if he was surprised to see them. "Oh
good, you're here," he said, and
he frowned.
"Where else would we
be?" Garcia asked irritably, but Mac ignored him.
"We've got a little
problem," Mac continued and looked at Taggert.
"You're going to love this."
"What?"
Mac took a deep breath,
then let it out, heavily. "Jason Morgan's been
murdered."