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Chapter One Hundred Eleven: ... Bad TimingLucky's first clear thought is to move. It's not even in his voice, it's his father's voice, demanding, not to be ignored. He obeys, moving into the apartment and finding the light switch. Gun shot victims, he's seen before. Hell, he'd even experienced them first hand. But something he's gotten used to. Hannah has rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach. She is breathing, but it is labored and shallow. Blood has stained the carpet underneath her, spreading out in all directions, marking the distance she's pulled herself, trying to reach the phone. She's given up, though, and now lies in the fetal position. He swallows hard and moves to her, dropping to his knees next to her. Lucky: Jesus, Hannah! (He pulls her over onto her back. She shudders) Hannah: (choking) Lucky? (Lucky stares down her, distracted by the sheer volume of blood. Her top is soaked with it, and he can tell more is seeping out of her from under her hands. He shakes his head, regaining focus) Lucky: (quickly) Yeah. Yeah, it's me. (She tries to look at him, kneeling behind her. He reaches out and pushes her head back) Don't, ok? Don't move, don't talk… Just stay still. Hannah: You got Emily… (He pulls his cell phone out of his jacket) Lucky: Yeah, I did. Stop it, ok? (He flips open his cell phone, dialing 911. As it rings, far too many times for his taste, he struggles out of his jacket and the flannel shirt he's wearing loose over his T-shirt.) Operator: Good Afterno… Lucky: Hi, yeah. I… I've got an emergency here, a big one. Operator: Speak slowly, sir… Lucky: I AM! Listen. It's a gunshot. Ok? She's bleeding to death right in front of me (He wraps the shirt around his hand as he talks) I'm at… Operator: Location, please. Lucky: WOULD YOU LET ME FINISH? Ah… Ok. I'm at apartment 1805, 1115 Graham Street. Operator: 1115 Graham… Lucky: I need an ambulance, now! Operator: Ambulance, police and fire are on their way. (Lucky opens his mouth to protest that fire is just a little over board, then stops) Lucky: Fine. Whatever. (He hangs up, aware that the operator was still trying to ask him something. He doesn't have time for it now.) Ok, Hannah, I have stop the bleeding. Hannah: (gasping) Good luck. Lucky: I don't need it. (He looks down at her, helplessly. He can't tell where the wound is.) Where were you shot? (She doesn't answer, so her pulls her hands aside and pales slightly at the sight of the wound. Close range, obviously. He grits his teeth) This is going to hurt, but I gotta do it. (He presses shirt over the wound with both hands, applying considerable pressure over the wound. Hannah groans, clearly agonized. Lucky starts to speak quickly) Yeah, I know. It hurts. Hannah: Oh, God… Lucky: It's ok. I gotta do this, I have to stop the bleeding, ok? The ambulance is coming, so I just have to do this until they get here. You're only about a five-minute drive from GH, ok? You'll be fine. Hannah: I have to… Lucky: No. Don't sweat anything, ok? Just… Concentrate on breathing, that's your job. Hannah: Nikolas. You have to tell Nikolas… Lucky: I don't! You're going to be fine! Hannah: I… There's a letter. (Lucky looks at her. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her words coming out in short bursts) In the desk. You have to… Lucky: I'll get it, I'll get it, ok? But you can't worry about that right now. (He looks down at his shirt, which is all ready saturated. He feels clearly, for the first time, actual panic grab him, but he forces it down. No time for any of that. He presses harder, desperately trying to stop the flow. Hannah: Tell me about Emily… Lucky: Uhhh… (He shakes his head. Focus.) Emily. She's safe, ok? That's all I should say. Hannah: No, don't say anymore. Lucky: I won't. Hannah: You have to take care of her. Lucky: I am! I will. Hannah: For Paige. Lucky: Hannah! Look, I'll take care of her for you, for Paige, all of that. Don't worry about it. But it doesn't matter, because you're going to be fine. Hannah: (distantly) And Nikolas. Lucky: (frustrated) STOP IT! Come on! You're not dying here. It might feel like you are, the pain's probably so bad, you want to, but that's not what's happening! I know. Look. (He shifts slightly, moving so that he's facing her a little more.) Can you open your eyes? Hannah? (She takes a shaky breath and forces them open.) Look at me. (She takes a moment, and finally manages to focus on him. She smiles, laughing slightly) Hannah: (surprised) You have nice eyes. (Lucky looks at her in surprise, then smiles back at her, a smile he hasn't given her for a long time) Lucky: Yeah, I hear a lot of that. (Hannah starts to laugh again an the insanity of this topic, but feels the pain in a sudden stab that causes her to gasp. Lucky leans forward) No, hey. Look at me. I have to tell you something, ok? (She looks back at him) Listen to me. I know exactly how scary this is, believe me. I… I've done it, I was shot. Right in the stomach, just like you. And look… (He gives her an uneasy, but nonetheless charming smile) I'm still here driving you crazy, right? And you're Em's blood, so don't think I'm letting you go, no way. Hannah: (closing her eyes) You were shot? Lucky: Yeah, yeah, and I was a hell of a lot smaller than you… I wasn't even a teenager yet. So if I could do it, you can. (Hannah shakes her head. Lucky looks back at his hands. The blood isn't slowing. He looks heavenward, though he has no idea why, and realizes he's listening for a siren. Nothing. He looks down again. The shirt isn't soaking up anything anymore, and the blood is still coming so fast, there's nothing he can do. He keeps the pressure, feeling a surge of frustration, anger, building up inside of him. He has to do this! There has to be a way. No way in hell is he reporting back to Nikolas and Emily that he let her die.) Hannah: (quietly) It was Helena. Lucky: (realizing he'd just assumed that) Helena. Helena… Did she give you a reason? (As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Lucky chastises himself. Since when has Helena needed a reason? That was sort of what made the lady such a crackpot in the first place). Hannah: Stupidity. Naivete. (Her voice is thick, and it causes the hairs on the back of Lucky's neck to stand up. He realizes she's not writhing in pain the way she was when he got there) Lucky: Hannah? Hannah: You… were… right… (Lucky stares at her, with dawning horror) Lucky: Hey! No way. Hannah! Stay with me, ok? This is not a swan song, ok? Hannah: (shuddering) I'm so cold. Lucky: (desperately) Shock! You're in shock. You… You just need… (He stops. Shock. What the hell do you do for shock? Blankets, and… He doesn't have TIME! It doesn't matter if she bleeds to death first. He looks down again) Well, I can't give you my shirt. (He stops and looks up at her. Her eyes are closed) Hannah! (She opens them again. Looking at him unsteadily) Look, we'll try something else, ok? (She stares off past him, not answering) All right. (He moves around her, and lifts her, pulling her up against his chest so that he can wrap his arms around her and still apply pressure to the wound. She lies slack against him, emitting a small cry as his hands return to her wound. He looks down at her, about to say something soothing, but stops, his blood suddenly feeling like ice. From his perspective, looking down at her head resting against him, with that same brown hair… His hands slip momentarily as the full meaning of this hits him like a ton of bricks. Just what this would mean to him if it was Emily… Just what it will mean to Nikolas. He breaks himself out of the moment and presses hard against the wound again. He starts to talk to her, quietly) You know, I came here because Emily wants to see you again. She… She really wanted to say some things to you. You've… It's good, you know… That you came here. It's been good for her to be able to look back at all that stuff. Hannah: (heavily) I'm not much help. Lucky: You're all she's got now. From that time. And Nikolas… Well, you know him. He could use a good non-Cassadine influence. So you gotta promise me, if I get you to the hospital and everything, when you come out of this, you're going to use your influence for good, ok? Hannah: (smiling slightly) What kind of good? Lucky: Get him to loosen up a bit, you know? Smile occasionally or something. He can be really serious. Hannah: Just with you… Lucky: Yeah, I guess I bring out the worst in him. Hannah: (voice becoming very light and airy) You confuse him. Lucky: (after a moment) I guess I can see that. Hannah: He really cares about what happens to you. (Lucky feels an entirely different coldness grip him. Why do people keep insisting on saying that to him?) Lucky: (quietly) In spite of himself, huh? Hannah: (drifting off) No. In spite of everyone else… (Lucky stares straight ahead, realizing that tears have come inexplicably to his eyes. What does that mean? Nikolas didn't want to have anything to do with him… Or hadn't. Now, suddenly… He shakes his head. Not the time or place.) Lucky: Well, hey. I get that. Rebellion can be good for the soul. (Hannah doesn't respond) Hannah? (He looks down at her, and realizes she's lost consciousness.) Hannah! (He jostles her slightly, but she doesn't stir. He swears under his breath and removes one hand from the wound. He looks at it, covered with her blood, and closes his eyes. He moves it to her neck and checks for a pulse. He locates one, weak, but there. He sighs with relief, then is immediately gripped by the fear that the ambulance isn't going to get there in time. He can't do this for much longer! The bleeding has continued unabated, even with his best efforts, and the fact is, the window is closing) Ok, Hannah. Just hang on. Just… Stick with me here. It's not going to be long now. (He hears a noise at the door and looks up, fully expecting to see the EMT's. He's not prepared, in any way shape or form, for who is actually standing there.) Nikolas. (Nikolas is standing in the doorway, gripping it with one hand, his eyes fixed on Hannah. Lucky struggles to slide her dead weight off of him) Nikolas, don't panic, she's not dead. (Nikolas nods slowly, and Lucky realizes his brother is a really long way off from panic) Nik: (Holding up a hand) Don't move her. Lucky: Ok. Yeah, I… I was trying to stop the bleeding. Nik: (distantly) How long has she… Lucky: I just got here five minutes ago. She just passed out, like, right before you got here. Nik: I see. Lucky: I called an ambulance, don't worry. And she was talking. She had… (He stops. Ok. EMT's are on their way. And the police and fire for all the good that does. But this is going to be a crime scene. He nods towards the desk) She said there were some kind of letters in there. You better get them before the police arrive. (Nikolas nods numbly, and slides the door of the desk open. He spots the letters, the one on top having Emily's name on it, and he realizes, way back in his mind, what they must mean. He slips them into the pocket of his jacket) Nik: Got them. Lucky: Close the drawer. (Nikolas obeys. Lucky presses even harder against Hannah's stomach, though he can now feel the blood running through his fingers, making it perfectly clear that he's doing no good whatsoever. He stares at Nikolas who is, without a doubt, scaring the hell out of him) Nik. (Nikolas looks over at him. Lucky realizes he has nothing to say to him) Uh… Just checking. (Nikolas nods. His gaze returns to Hannah. Too familiar. Just like Katherine. Slack, on the ground… Even propped up against Lucky, she still looks the same. The light in the room is too dim… Hannah's lights were always kind of dim. Katherine, he'd found her in the dark. Cold dark. It was almost a year ago now. Almost. And he'd panicked. He remembered that. The flash, the heat of it. Rushing to her, holding her cold, cold body in his arms. Lifeless. He can't bring himself to move closer. To touch her. To feel that same coldness. There's no way. Instead he stands across the room, feeling nothing, his mind attending to minute details, unable to think of what to ask, what to say. He looks away from her, his eyes scanning the room. Lucky watches him still, wishing to God he'd DO something. Nikolas' eyes fall on the gun Ari dropped.) Nik: Uh… Lucky? Lucky: What? Nik: Where's your gun? Lucky: My… What? Nik: Where is it? Lucky: You KNOW where my gun is. Nik: Are you sure? Lucky: I… (Lucky stops, suddenly flashing on putting the bag away. How the weight had been light, familiar… And it shouldn't have been. It should have been heavier. His throat closes up) Oh, man… Nik: (pointing out the gun on the floor) I think it's here. Lucky: (straining to see) Uh… Nikolas… Nik: Is that it? Lucky: No. It… I don't have a silencer… It's a common gun, Nik, I mean… I don't. I didn't do this! Nik: I know. (Lucky stares at him) Lucky: I swear to God, man. Nik: (meeting his eyes) I know. (He looks back at the gun) We should get rid of that. Lucky: (quickly) No! Don't touch it! It's… If it is mine, it's untraceable. I got it from Jason, it's not registered on anything. (He stops a moment) It… It probably has my prints on it. Nik: Mine too. (Lucky looks at him sharply) Lucky: Nikolas… Nik: (dropping to the floor beside the gun) It doesn't matter. (He puts his hand under his sweater, and picks the gun up gingerly. Lucky tenses) Lucky: (hissing) Nikolas! (He starts to move towards Nikolas, but he turns on him sharply) Nik: Don't! (Lucky stops dead at the sudden burst of emotion in Nikolas' voice) Stay with her. (Lucky nods, slowly sliding back to his previous position) Lucky: (warning) Be careful, the safety wouldn't be on. (Nikolas quickly slides the material over the gun, Lucky holding his breath) Don't touch the trigger, ok? Don't go near it. (Nikolas nods and drops it. He stares at it until Lucky interrupts him) GET THE HELL AWAY FROM IT! (Nikolas stands up quickly and backs up. Lucky shakes his head) Ok… You just officially interfered with a police investigation, got it? Nik: (flatly) Don't tell me you care. Lucky: Ummm no. I mean, these guys haven't successfully apprehended a purse- snatcher in all the time I've been here, I don't think you messed them up much. Nik: Do they have your prints on file? Lucky: No way. I haven't been arrested yet, and you better believe when I do, it's going to be for something I actually did! (Nikolas nods, not taking the opening. Lucky hears a noise in the hall, the elevator door opening) Ok, they're here. (Nikolas goes to the door. Sure enough, the EMT's are coming down the hallway quickly, with a folded gurney. He steps out of the way, as they move past him. Lucky extricates himself from Hannah's body, and stands up, on weak legs.) EMT: (to Nikolas) You call? Nik: No. (He stares at Hannah, now lying flat on the floor) My brother did.
General Hospital, Public washroom. Lucky watches the blood swirl down the drain, and he runs his hands under the ice cold water. He'd been so caught up in absorbing Nikolas' total non-reaction to this whole thing that he'd forgotten that he was soaked in Hannah's blood. Until Nikolas, in a strange move, had taken off the sweater he was wearing over a collared shirt, handed it to Lucky and instructed him to clean up. Any other time, Lucky would probably have clocked him for that kind of patronizing behavior. What was he, six? But the fact was, he wasn't thinking that clearly right now, and Nikolas possessed some strange focus that was unnerving him. In fact, in a twisted way, he could lie the blame of his clouded mind entirely at Nikolas' feet. If he wasn't spending so damn much time trying to figure out what was going on with the guy, then he'd probably be remembering to do stupid things like call Jason, which it had taken him 25 minutes to remember to do, and, of course, wash the blood off of him. His hands free of the dried blood, Lucky cups them under the faucet, and splashes the water on his face, then repeating the gesture, running his hands around the back of his neck. He turns off the faucet, and leans over the sink, elbows locked, letting his head droop. He had to get it together. Not that he was even close to loosing it… It was just that Nikolas was spookily competent right now, and Lucky didn't trust it. He couldn't even imagine… It was unthinkable. Even having done it a few days ago, Hannah was so much closer to death than Emily had been. There had been so much blood, he couldn't ignore that. On the other hand, she was in surgery at this very moment, so there was still hope. And he had to maintain that hope. It was all he could really offer Nikolas right now. He straightens up and shakes his head, catching his reflection in the mirror. He laughs slightly at the sight of himself. God. He looks about how he feels. Sick, tired and completely burnt out on all this stuff. He smirks at the reflection, defiantly, and pulls his T-shirt over his head. He uses the back of the shirt, the part untouched, to dry his face, then looks at it. Not a memento he wants to save. He tosses it into the garbage can, and picks up Nikolas' sweater. It was considerable too big for him. He was taller than Nikolas now, but nowhere near as broad. He slips it over his head, and glances back in the mirror. Whoa. This was NOT him. But then, this wasn't about a fashion statement as much as it was about not having to sit there with Nikolas in the damn waiting room waiting for some kind of news about Hannah with her blood all over him. Lucky walks across the room, feeling a little more normal, and pushes the door open, heading back out into the hallway. He heads down the corridor, and stops, not liking what he sees. Any shakiness, or uncertainty about what he should be doing here vanishes as he strides across the room to the place he left Nikolas. Lucky: What's going on here? (Taggert turns and faces Lucky, a contemptible smile on his face. Lucky tense. God, he hates this guy, just from this moment right here. This is nice. Harassing a guy after his girlfriend is shot) Taggert: Just asking the boy a few questions. Hear you two had another little adventure tonight. (Lucky narrows his eyes at Taggert) Lucky: Yeah, and he was late to the party. If you want to ask someone about it, ask me. Taggert: Oh, I intend to. As soon as I finish up with Mr. Cassadine. (Lucky looks past Taggert to Nikolas, who is sitting hunched over, his elbows on his knees. He looks up and meets Lucky's gaze, and for the first time since the shooting Lucky recognizes what he sees there. This is hell for him. He turns to Tagger, a smirk planted firmly on his face) Lucky: Well, good luck with that. You know, he grew up on an island in the middle of the Aegean, right? I mean, he's not exactly streetwise. Taggert: (amused) Nah… I can see that. Not like you, Spencer. Lucky: I'm just saying, you can waste your time going at him about what he did or didn't see… explaining to him what part of the gun the bullets come OUT of, or you can ask me and save yourself some time. Taggert: Yeah… I know all about you… Lucky, right? Lucky: Most of the time. (Taggert laughs) Taggert: (slowly) Riiiiight. I bet. Listen, LUCKY. Don't play a player. I'll get to you. (Lucky shrugs) Lucky: Hey, knock yourself out. Maybe he can give you some etiquette pointers or something. That's about the only thing he knows anything about. (Taggert looks back to Nikolas) Taggert: Looks like baby brother's not quite as protective of you as you are him, huh? (Lucky bristles visibly. Oh, this isn't a hard act to pull off, not if the guy keeps talking like that.) Lucky: (harshly) Look. We have a couple of unfortunate shared acquaintances, but aside from that, he's nothing to me. (Taggert looks back at Lucky, frowning this time) Taggert: No, huh… Well, maybe you want to talk to me about some of those shared acquaintances. Lucky: My mother. My sister. Taggert: Hannah Hargreaves. Lucky: Yeah, her too. Taggert: What about Jason Morgan? (Lucky forces himself to maintain his glower. Man, this guy was predictable) Lucky: (scoffing) Morgan? He wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole. Taggert: Oh yeah? And what about you, Spencer? You and Morgan tight? Lucky: Hey, he's practically my brother in law. Taggert: Yeah? That it? Lucky: Well, he's my boss. (He leans closer to him) I work at the club he owns half of, you know. Taggert: Not any more. Word is, your father's taken full ownership. (Lucky covers impressively, though his heart rate increases, with adrenaline rush more than anything else) Lucky: Well… You see how out of the loop I am, then. Taggert: Yeah. I just bet. Lucky: You pay a hell of a lot of attention to my father's business. Taggert: I pay a lot of attention to all of Mr. Morgan's activities. Lucky: Must be time consuming. When do you find time to pull the wings off flies? (Taggert laughs again) Taggert: I got your number, Spencer. Lucky: Yeah? Maybe you could help me out then. I've been feeling a little lost lately. Taggert: Ok. Yeah, ok. You're the son of an ex-mob boy. Lucky: So I hear. Taggert: Right. Big tough man. You grew up in his shadow. Probably idolized him, that whole outlaw lifestyle, huh? Lucky: My Dad? He's an honest businessman. Taggert: With a partner who is a known racketeer. Lucky: (Mock innocence) Jason? He runs a successful import/export business. Taggert: You think you're smarter than almost anyone you meet, and you like to prove it. But you're cocky. You can't keep it to yourself. I've seen a hundred guys smarter than you, and I've taken down every one of them. (Lucky smiles slightly, reflecting that this must have been before he was transferred to PC) Don't think you'll be any different. Errand boys like you are a dime a dozen. Lucky: Oh, Taggert. Jason and I are just friends. I swear to you. Taggert: Uh huh. (Taggert studies Lucky and Lucky takes this as his cue to change tactics. He's pushed this act as far as he can, and get any use out of it. He takes a step back, smiling ruefully, and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand) Lucky: Look, man… I admit. I'm having a bit of fun with you… But look. Seriously. You want to talk about what went down tonight? I'll talk. No problem. But right now, I gotta stick around here and see what's up with my girlfriend's aunt… that's who she is, by the way… You know, the victim? Innocent girl who was shot? Taggert: Hannah Hargreaves. Lucky: No. Corrine Gibbons. (Taggert raises his eyebrows) See? I do have stuff to say. But look, I got to stick it out here, make sure she's ok. But I'll come by and see you guys first thing in the morning. Believe me. I want this guy caught as badly as you do. (Taggert frowns, trying to figure out where this guy is coming from. He's coming off as a basic punk. Something he's seen a lot of time. And if he actually get him down to the station, has a chance to squeeze him, he might get him to give up more than he intends to. He smiles slowly) Taggert: You be at the station at 9:00 AM sharp… or we'll come and get you. Lucky: (shrugging) Hey, I want to cooperate. Taggert: I just bet you do. (He turns to Nikolas) I think I have what I need from you, Mr. Cassadine. (He hands him a card) Give me a call if you think of anything else. Nik: (taking the card) Thanks. Taggert: (Looking at Lucky) Nine o'clock. Lucky: Gotcha. (Taggert gives him a sever look, then swaggers off to the exit. Lucky watches him leave, then flops down one chair over from Nikolas. Nikolas doesn't acknowledge him) He give you a hard time? Nik: You didn't give him much of a chance. Lucky: Uh, yeah… Nikolas… That stuff I said about you, that was just to play him up… I mean, I got over that stuff years ago. Nik: I assumed that. You were being obnoxious, even for you. (Lucky smiles slightly) Lucky: It has its uses. Nik: yeah… Thanks. (Lucky looks over at him, Nikolas still staring at the ground) Lucky: Uh… No problem. I found out what I wanted to know anyway. Nik: What's that? Lucky: The Q's haven't called the cops on me… Yet. Nik: (sitting back) I hadn't thought of that. Lucky: Well… Get ready. If they find out I'm here, we can expect a visit. (Nikolas nods, barely acknowledging the remark. Lucky sits back and closes his eyes. Things are beginning to reveal themselves to him, he can feel his grip on the situation returning, which is a good thing, because as numb as Nikolas seems, Lucky has a feeling his grip is slipping. He looks over at him) Did you hear anything? Nik: No. Nothing. (He looks up, and stares off across the room) I guess we just wait.
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