Dream a Little Dream

Chapter 6

Lucky Spencer woke up from a nap around 3 p.m. He'd been to Vagabond in the morning and checked on things, leaving a to-do list with Coleman.

Hutch had e-mailed him with an update on doings at Luke's. He'd booked a hot blues guitarist out of Cleveland named Charlie Christopherson for a show next month. Lucky listened to some of his music online, and liked Hutch's choice. He decided to nap a bit before his rescue squad shift.

Lucky lived in a cottage-style house on the outskirts of town, heading towards Beecher's Corners. Like Laura, he wanted a little patch of something that was home, and an apartment or condo in town didn't do it for him. Also, it was a ten-minute drive to the station of the Iroquois County rescue squad where he volunteered.

The cottage had long been neglected, so Lucky got it for a song. He rolled up his sleeves and updated everything – the plumbing, the electrical, the heating and cooling, the roof, the gutters – hung drywall, spackled, painted, and finished floors until he made it into a cozy home. It had three bedrooms – one was his, one was a guest room, and one was an office. He had an exercise room in the basement, which he'd had waterproofed and finished.

A huge high-definition television and entertainment center were in the living room. It was a gathering place for him, Nik, Luke, Sly, Coleman, Hutch, Ric Lansing, Zander and Cameron Lewis, Mac Scorpio, A.J. Quartermaine, and detectives Marcus Taggert and Linc Murphy on Super Bowl Sundays. Sometimes, he had a few of the guys from the rescue squad over for poker. The kitchen was a chef's dream, and Lucky loved to putter in there, making dinner for friends. Sometimes he had a mixed crowd – his family, the gang from Vagabond and Luke's, the rescue squad folks and other friends – over for parties and cookouts.

Sometimes, Elizabeth Webber came over alone to hang out and watch movies. Lucky loved being with Elizabeth. She understood him the way few did. As he told Luke, he could sometimes feel his old love for her so close, but when he looked right at it, it was gone. He didn't know if it was the effects of Helena's brainwashing, or just the natural result of time and change in both of them.

Lucky showered and changed into jeans and a rescue squad t-shirt, and put on his sturdy boots. He drove his SUV to the squad station.

“You're early,” remarked Sam McCall as he walked in.

Sam McCall was a full-time paramedic on the rescue squad. She'd started working there about the same time Lucky finished his training and began volunteering. She had a hard time of it in the beginning, as other people on the squad couldn't get past her petite build, whispery voice and bedroom eyes.

But Sam had experience in climbing and diving, had nerves of steel and was great with patients. She soon proved her mettle to the squad, but had a hard time fitting in because of the earlier hazing. Lucky was one of the few people she talked with, but even then spoke little of her personal life. He knew she had a younger brother, Danny, who was developmentally disabled and lived in a group home in Port Charles. He had met Danny one day while he was grocery shopping, and Danny and Sam were in the store, too. Lucky's friendly, matter-of-fact manner with Danny earned Sam's respect.

She told him of their con artist father, who'd left the family when Sam and Danny were children. He showed up at their home in Florida from time to time, either with lavish gifts for the kids and a wad of cash for their mother, or hat in hand, looking for a place to stay after blowing a job. Their mother died when Sam was 17. Their father came for the funeral, and contributed a little money towards it, but left immediately afterward because of a possible con job in New Orleans. Sam never heard from him again.

Sam and Danny stayed with a family friend for a year while she finished high school. She went to work at a seaside resort, starting as a maid. She learned scuba diving in her spare time, and became an instructor a few years later. She then learned rock climbing at the resort's climbing wall. An opportunity to work with the village's rescue squad came up, and she took it as a second job, working four night shifts a week and becoming a paramedic in the process.

Danny was in a group home, but it wasn't a good one. Sam saw he was regressing emotionally and socially. She did some research, and found out about a group home in Port Charles, run by the Mary Mae Ward Foundation. Sight unseen, she took Danny out of the group home and came to Port Charles. There was an opening soon after they arrived. Sam got the rescue squad job and took a room over Kelly's for herself while she saved to buy a house.

Those were the bare facts of Sam's life. Beyond that, she clammed up. She mentioned no friends, dates or old boyfriends. Truth be told, there were little of any of those things in Sam's life. She'd been wrapped up in caring for her mother and Danny through most of high school, and missed out on a lot. While at the resort, she had to often dodge the advances of married male guests who were staying at the resort for business. Her work left her little time for fun, and all her money went towards keeping a roof over her head, paying for training, and paying Danny's bills. In Port Charles, she socialized little with her co-workers at the rescue squad, showing up for the annual picnic, and occasional poker games at Lucky's house. Sometimes she put the skills her father taught her to use and cleaned out the guys, especially if they'd been rough on her that week. She spent her days off with Danny, or would take off for a weekend solo hike and overnight camp in the Adirondacks.

Lucky smiled at Sam, sitting at a desk surrounded by piles of forms.

“Yeah, nothing was going on at home so I figured I'd get here early and see if anything needed to be done,” he said.

“If you could help Powell with stocking the medical supplies into the vans, that'd be great,” Sam replied. “And keep him there for a while, will you? I have paperwork to do, and he won't stop talking about the big lacrosse game the other day. You'd think his cousins invented the sport the way he goes on about them.”

Lucky laughed, and headed to the supply room.

* * *

A knock sounded on Kevin Collins' office door.

“Come in,” he said.

In walked Cameron Lewis, the chief of psychiatry at General Hospital.

“Got a few minutes, Kevin?” Cameron asked. “I need to talk over one of your cases.”

“Sure, have a seat,” Kevin said.

Cameron looked like the intelligent, capable department head that he was, with his air of authority and immaculate appearance at the hospital. But he was also compassionate, and not afraid to bend the rules for the sake of helping a patient.

“It's about Jason Quartermaine,” Cameron said. “Dr. Jones said he'll be ready to go home in a week. He's made remarkable progress in physical therapy. I wanted to get a feel from you on Jason's emotional state before he's released. Alan and Monica are so over the moon about his recovery that they're not seeing clearly, which is perfectly normal. But he's facing a lot of adjustments, and with the Quartermaines' ... eccentricities ... and the issue of his brother, I'm wondering how ready he is to face it.”

Kevin smothered a smile at Cameron's assessment of the Quartermaines. Then his face turned sober.

“You're right about the adjustments,” Kevin said. “I don't know if he'll ever be fully ready for what he's about to face. He's having a hard time facing his grief for all those lost years, and what it's cost him. He's trying to put on a 'let's move forward' face with everyone, including me. But he has no idea what he's going to do with his life once he goes home. Any talk of work, or building a life for himself, he brushes off in his eagerness to get out of here. He's also using the same defense when it comes to AJ. I think he's hiding a lot of anger at his brother, and that could blow up on everyone. But keeping him here wouldn't do him any good, I think. He has to face things at home, but I want to continue therapy after he's discharged. Unfortunately, he's not committing right now.”

Cameron nodded thoughtfully.

“What about Alan and Monica?” he said. “We can get them in here for a few sessions before they bring Jason home. It might do some good. I'll get on them about it now. Thanks, Kevin.”

“I hope it's enough,” Kevin said. “Because it's not just Jason I'm worried about. It's everyone there – especially AJ. I just hope he's got his sponsor on speed dial.”

Cameron got up to leave.

“By the way, are you and Lucy free this weekend?” he asked. “Alexis was hoping to have the two of you over for dinner. Since she took that class at the Cordon Bleu on our trip to Paris last fall, she's been cooking up a storm.”

Kevin grinned.

“We'd love it,” he said. “Lucy's best thing to make for dinner is reservations, so I'd love a home-cooked meal.”

* * *

The afternoon sunshine slanted through the plantation shutters. Tracy Quartermaine untangled herself from Coleman. Both were still panting.

They were lying on the king-sized bed in Coleman's bedroom. When he sold his businesses in the face of the waterfront development project, he invested in real estate. He owned a two-family house in the new development, and bought a bungalow-style house for himself. The rental property turned a nice profit, and, combined with Coleman's income from investments with the remaining money from his old businesses and what he made at Vagabond, he knew financial security for the first time in his life.

They had first became acquainted at Luke's. The attraction was instantaneous, but didn't go beyond banter for a long time. One night, Tracy's car wouldn't start, so Coleman offered to wait with her inside for a tow truck. They didn't call the tow truck company until the next morning.

Coleman and Tracy thought they were a case of opposites attract, but they were more alike than they realized. Both felt they had been marked as outsiders – Tracy in her family, and Coleman in society because of his seedy past. Both could be shrewd and single-minded to the point of selfishness in pursuit of something they wanted. Both had a wild streak in them that made for combustible lovemaking. Both were smarter than others – and themselves – gave them credit for being.

Where their difference lay was in how they viewed their relationship. Tracy craved social and familial approval despite her brashness, and a former strip joint owner didn't fit in her world. Coleman claimed not to care a whit about society, but carried a chip on his shoulder about the perceived disapproval.

Tracy and Coleman had never been out on an actual date. They just met for trysts at Coleman's house. If Tracy was at Vagabond, they kept things friendly, although Luke saw through their sham. He said nothing – didn't even look like he knew. At first, Coleman was fine with the arrangement because they were just in things for fun and he didn't want the complications of being with a Quartermaine. Lately, however, it began to chafe. He thought it was a matter of pride. He wouldn't admit it was something more.

“So what's on your agenda for the rest of the day?” he asked as they let the air conditioning cool them off.

Tracy shrugged. Coleman's inquiries about her life made her edgy.

“Nothing,” she said. “Probably just dinner with the family, and more of the Saga of St. Jason.”

“You don't like Alan's kids much, do you?”

“AJ's all right, for an ex-drunk,” she snapped. “And Alan's little bastard was a sanctimonious little priss before he pitched head-first into a rock. Hopefully it knocked some of that self-righteousness out of him. Since he's been in a coma, Emily's played herself as the family saint. She actually thinks she can lecture me like she was Mother or something.”

Coleman laughed. He'd seen Emily at Vagabond with Zander Lewis often, and her stand-off-don't-touch-me attitude was annoying.

“It's a wonder she doesn't bump into walls with her nose so high in the air,” he remarked.

Tracy felt bristly. She always did when she felt like she was opening up too much. Like Coleman, she wouldn't admit it could be something more. She got up quickly and began dressing.

“Where you going?” Coleman demanded. “You've got hours until dinner.”

“I have to go,” Tracy said hurriedly.

Coleman flared up.

“Sorry,” he growled. “Forgot I'm just your chewtoy. I'll try to remember my place next time.”

His angry words struck home for Tracy, who reacted by lashing back.

“Do that,” she said curtly, and left.

* * *

In a townhouse just a few blocks from Coleman's house, two other lovers were starting what Tracy and Coleman had just fininshed.

Gia Campbell had left the office early, intending to do some research from her computer at home. She'd bought a two-bedroom end-unit townhouse in the new waterfront neighborhood.

So much for intentions. She'd no more than set down her briefcase when the doorbell rang twice. She ran to the door.

“Hi there,” said Detective Linc Murphy as he quickly scooted inside. “I was going to leave you these, but giving them in person is better.”

He held out a dozen fragrant pink roses.

“Mmmm!” Gia exclaimed as she inhaled their scent. She looked over the roses at Linc. “I think person-to-person is much better.”

She pulled him in for a long, slow, soft kiss. Linc's hands roamed up and down her back as she kicked off her pumps. His lips slowly moved down her neck with kisses that had Gia breathing raggedly.

“Let me put these in something and I'll meet you upstairs,” she whispered.

Gia plopped the roses in a vase, and scooted upstairs. Linc had already undressed, and it was obvious he wanted Gia to do the same. She looked at him hungrily. Off came her blazer, skirt and blouse. She stood there in a lilac lace bra, with matching panties.

“Come and get it,” she purred. He came and got. His deft fingers undid her bra as they kissed. He only broke the kiss to pull the bra off, then he moved his kisses downward. Gia moaned softly. Linc knelt before her.

“Oh, God, Linc!” she gasped, stroking his head. He stood up and carried her to the bed, softly laying her on it. When he lay down, she rolled over and began kissing down his chiseled torso. Linc let out a long moan as she reached her target. She drove him to the brink, pulled back and did it again. He flung out his arm and opened the nightstand drawer, blindly pulling out a condom and ripping open the package.

“I need you now,” he whispered. Gia swiftly rolled it on.

The shadows had lengthened in the room. They lay together, Gia's head resting on his firm chest. Slowly, their hearts started beating normally.

“Gia,” Linc whispered. “I love you.”

Tears sprang to Gia's eyes. Joy and fear were behind them.

Gia and Linc had met soon after she'd returned to Port Charles to start her law career. Linc was a beat cop at the time, studying to make detective. He made it last year. She saw him often, as she went to police headquarters often for work, or to see her brother, detective Marcus Taggert. Marcus had been a strong supporter of Linc as he worked to make detective, and the two were close friends. Gia and Linc had also struck up a friendship. Earlier this year, at a police department fundraising social, it turned to more when Linc drove her home and kissed her goodnight. A month later, she was making him pancakes for breakfast.

They told no one, at Gia's insistence. She was scared that her overprotective brother would react angrily to his protege romancing his kid sister. With Linc just making detective, Gia didn't want to make trouble for him. She hid her happiness from her closest friends – Robin, Karen and Elizabeth. Even her normally intuitive mother, Florence Campbell, knew nothing.

Linc had lately been pressing to bring their relationship into the open. Now, she knew why. And she knew she loved Linc. He was so kind, strong, brave and passionate.

“I love you, too,” she said shyly, then giggled with giddy happiness.

“Oh, Lord,” she moaned. “What's Marcus going to say?”

Linc rolled over and looked down at her.

“I don't care,” he stated. “I'll fight the devil himself to be with you.”

“You may wish it was the devil by the time Marcus gets going,” Gia said with a sigh.

* * *

Stefan Cassadine read over some fundraising projections from Courtney Matthews. He looked up approvingly.

“Good work, Miss Matthews,” he said. “You've managed to scare up commitments from sources I would have never dreamed would open their checkbooks, especially to this degree. And your proposal for shaking loose some more state and federal funding is admirable. I don't know how well it will work. With budget deficits and war, the poor and homeless aren't near the top of the government's priority list. But your proposal makes it possible to get something more from them. Excellent.”

Inside, Courtney was beaming under Stefan's praise. Outside, she kept herself as cool as her white linen sheath dress.

“Thank you, Mr. Cassadine,” she said. “I hope it works out. It would be a big boost to the program if we can get the state seal of approval with funds. It would make the program look even more legitimate to prospective donors.”

Stefan nodded.

“And what about our mysterious not-yet-benefactor?” he inquired. “Any news from him?”

Courtney smiled.

“I heard from his representative yesterday,” she said. “He has a question that I told him I would verify with you to make sure I had completely up-to-date information. He's wondering about staffing commitments and if the hospital will hire more people, and how that will affect the hospital's operating budget.”

Stefan furrowed his brow.

“This person is no fool,” he said. “They have a knowledge of business and sound like they're used to knowing all the angles.”

Courtney nodded, saving her big information for later.

“About the staffing,” Stefan continued. “We're going to be putting each class of interns on three-month rotations in the mobile health clinic. Dr. Scanlon will be the chief doctor of the program, and we have commitments from several general practitioners both in the hospital and private practice to work part-time on it, along with several nurses, who will be supervised by Amy Vining. That should satisfy our mystery man.”

Courtney sprung her surprise.

“He's not a mystery anymore,” she said.

“What?!”

“I think I've found out who he is,” she said creamily.

Stefan stared at her. “How on earth...?!”

“With some old-fashioned, discreet detective work,” she said. “Bernard Covington retired from law about 15 years ago. His clients had included some prominent families in town, including the Hardys. Someone connected to them, it would make sense they'd be interested in a hospital project. But this person hadn't been in Port Charles in a long time, otherwise he could have used someone else besides Mr. Covington as his representative. He went with someone he knew from back then.

“So I did some digging through newspaper archives, seeing who was connected closely with the Hardys during that time,” she went on. “I also have Lexis-Nexis access at my foundation. One person they were very close to at the time was Anne Logan, Audrey Hardy's niece. She was a nurse here at the hospital, and was involved with Steve Hardy's son, Dr. Jeff Webber – Elizabeth's father – for a while. She adopted a boy named Jeremy Hewitt while she was living here, after his grandmother died in the Lassa Fever epidemic. He took her name. I assume you've heard of J.H. Logan.”

Courtney stopped, glorying in the effect her revelation had on him. Stefan Cassadine, normally so cool, had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

“Anyone in the business world has heard of J.H. Logan!” he exclaimed.

J.H. Logan was a computer genius on par with Bill Gates in terms of brilliance and quirkiness. He'd created a powerful computer program for offices and an Internet search engine, then turned around and sold them to Microsoft for billions. The deal gave him a consulting position – complete with stock options – with Microsoft, which allowed him to work on his own time.

He was reclusive as he was brilliant. Little was known about him. He was reported to live on an island near Seattle, in a moutain lodge in the Cascades, in Vancouver, in San Francisco. He never made the society pages. There was nothing on Lexis-Nexis about his childhood. Courtney had put two and two together after reading an article which mentioned J.H. Logan as a rumored benefactor of an African health clinic run by Dr. Tom Hardy, son of Steve and Audrey Hardy.

Stefan leaned back in his chair, blown away by Courtney's information.

“Are you sure about this, Miss Matthews?”

“About as sure as I can be without a written confession,” she said. “Mr. Logan is a master at control, that much is obvious. He'd done his homework not just about the hospital, but about me. Mr. Covington let something slip that makes me sure that he knows about my background.”

“Have you said anything to Mr. Covington?” Stefan asked.

Courtney shook her head.

“I didn't think it was a good idea,” she said. “I'm playing it very straight and narrow with him, giving him whatever information he seeks, but nothing more. I grew up with a con artist mother around the casinos, Mr. Cassadine. I learned from my mother how to find out about people without them realizing it, and not to reveal your hand until you're ready.”

Stefan nodded, looking at Courtney with a mixture of respect and sadness. He knew of her background, too, but it hit home today that her childhood was warped, as his own had been.

“Your instincts are right,” he said. “Let's keep this close to the vest. We don't want to scare Mr. Logan away.”

* * *

It was Carly's turn to be awake late into the night.

Alan and Monica had announced over dinner that Jason would be coming home in a week. Emily was overjoyed, as was Ned. Brooke Lynn and Dillon were excited about getting to know him. Michael and Morgan were excited because everyone else was excited.

AJ looked happy, until a cruel barb from Tracy about the accident made his face turn gray. Monica savagely rebuked Tracy, who shrugged and left the table. The rest of the meal was politely strained. AJ was quiet the rest of the night, and went to bed early.

Carly looked in on the boys, and went to the bedroom, where she listened to AJ's slight snoring that let her know he was really asleep. She quietly sat at the window seat.

She was scared and angry over AJ's fragility. He'd been so much better after that first visit with Jason. He'd gone a few more times, and each time had been good. Neither had forced the issue of the accident, but instead AJ helped Jason catch up on the family and Port Charles doings.

And all it took to send him crashing was a few lacerating words from Tracy. Growing up in this house, you'd think his skin would have thickened a bit by now, she thought.

AJ tossed and turned in his sleep, moaning. Then he bolted upright and ran for the bathroom. Carly heard him retching.

She walked over to the closed bathroom door and sat beside it. Soon, she heard the water running.

“You all right?” she called softly.

“Yeah,” he said.

“You don't have to do this, you know,” she said. “We don't have to be here when Jason comes home. We could take the boys and go to the Vineyard house and come back in a few weeks when everything's settled down...it'd be a good time--”

AJ flung the door open, banging it against the doorstop on the floor molding.

“What, do you think I'm that much of a coward?!” he raged. “My own wife thinks I'm going to run away from my brother when he's finally coming home? Could you imagine what that would do to my parents? Do you really think that little of me?!”

Carly looked levelly at him, at the toilet, and back at him wiping his face with a cold washcloth.

“No, but you do,” she shot back, then turned and sat on the window seat, looking away from him out the window. AJ brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth. Neither looked at the other, neither spoke.

AJ turned off the bathroom light and padded over to the window seat. He sat there for a minute, looking at Carly, her chin tilted upward, resolutely not noticing his presence. He rested his hand on her knee.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm trying to be strong for you and everyone else. I guess I'm just weak after all.”

Carly finally turned to him.

“You are if you think you are,” she retorted. “God, AJ! Your knee-jerk self-pity does you in more than anything Tracy could say!”

AJ was hurt by Carly's obvious frustration, even though he knew what she was saying was right.

“I know,” he said.”Don't you wish I could tear that out of me, Carly? It's so much a part of me, I don't know how to get rid of it!”

Carly did something she only did in front of AJ. She wept.

“I know it's hard for you,” she choked. “But it's hard for me, too. You don't let yourself see the good in you, and it drives me crazy! It pulls me down with you, and I feel like I have to be strong for the both of us. It gets hard, you know?”

AJ patted her leg.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I've had to be strong for both of us, too. Remember when Corinthos shot you? You were scared to leave the house for months. You were on the verge of hysterics if Michael was five minutes late coming home from school. But I never stopped believing in you. Please don't stop believing in me, Carly. I'd die.”

Carly held out her arms. AJ went into them, and felt her head nestle on his shoulder.

“Believe in yourself, AJ,” she whispered. “Just, please, do that for me.”

He rocked her gently. “I can do anything, as long as you're here,” he said.