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Happy Birthday

Chapter 25

"I think he's coming around," Joe heard a vaguely familiar voice announce.

"Joe? Can you hear me?" Despite the cobwebs in his brain and the dull throbbing in his head, Joe recognized his father's voice.

"Yeah," he croaked. "I can hear you." A moment later, he cautiously opened his eyes. "Frank?" he asked, looking at his father fearfully.

"Already on his way to the hospital," Fenton replied calmly, although Joe could see the worry etched on his father's face.

"Help me…up." Joe struggled to push himself up, as memories of the moments immediately following Iola's death assaulted him. He knew without asking that his father had used the same technique to render him unconscious Frank had on that horrible day so long ago.

Sam and Fenton assisted him to a seated position on the floor. Seeing Joe was still a little woozy, Fenton held his arm against Joe's back for support.

"Take it easy, Joe. Just sit here for a few minutes."

Joe nodded his agreement, deciding it was best not to stand up until the room stopped spinning.

"What did she do to him?" Joe asked his father. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled watching his brother's body convulsing uncontrollably.

"When Sam and his officers arrived, she had him hooked up to two IV lines," Fenton began in a hushed voice.

"IV's?" Joe asked, confused. "Why? What was in them?"

"Theophylline," Sam replied. "It's used to treat severe cases of asthma. But when it's administered via IV in large doses it causes convulsions. Seizures."

"But why?" Joe asked again, not understanding why Gloria would simply want Frank to have seizures.

"If the seizures are numerous and severe enough, they result in permanent, irreversible brain damage," Sam finished quietly.

All the color drained from Joe's face and he felt light headed. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he blurted out, lunging for a trash can.

oooOOOooo

Fenton had his eyes on the police cruiser in front of him, with its lights flashing and siren blaring, grateful for the escort to the hospital. Every few minutes, he would glance at Joe who was sitting in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically silent. Fenton understood that Joe was shell-shocked by what had happened, but the longer Joe remained quiet the more concerned he became.

Fenton knew it was obvious to anyone who met his sons, that their relationship was much different than normal siblings. But it wasn't until this year, when Joe's seemingly endless streak of bad luck had begun, that he realized just how heavily Joe depended on his older brother to get him through the bad times. Prior to this year, other than Iola Morton's death, Joe didn't really have any bad times. Looking at Joe once more, he began to wonder if maybe he hadn't done enough to prepare his youngest son for the horrible realities life could sometimes impart.

Fenton stole another glance at him, increasingly worried that his son who was always ruled by his heart now seemed so…dead…inside. Joe had always been the light of their lives. His permanent smile and infectious laughter was impossible to ignore. However Fenton knew if Frank did not recover from this, that light would be extinguished for good.

…

As they drove in silence, the perfectly spaced streetlights illuminated Joe's pale face, his eyes vacantly staring out the window, matching what he felt inside – numb.

'Convulsions. Seizures. Irreversible brain damage.'

Joe couldn't even process the words, let alone think of them in connection with his brother. Frank was strong. And smart; incredibly smart. He could find a way out of any situation, no matter how bleak. Those words couldn't possibly apply to him. Joe knew he was dreaming and any minute he'd wake up in a cold sweat, wondering what in the world had caused him to have such unbelievable nightmares about the brother he revered.

"Joe?" Fenton's voice interrupted his thoughts, rudely reminding Joe this was no dream.

"Yes?" Joe replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"I know it looked bad. But Sam and the EMT's got there pretty quickly. You may be worrying for nothing." Fenton tried to reassure Joe, give him something to hold on to.

"Right," Joe said in the same emotionless voice. Leaning his head against the glass, he stared out the window, his thoughts as dark as the night.

Within minutes they had arrived at the hospital, meeting Sam in the waiting room. After filling out the required forms, Fenton took a seat next to Joe. Sam had mentioned Gloria Sansom made a complete confession and he was now ready to hear the details.

Sitting across from his old friend, Sam briefly glanced at Joe, praying they had gotten to Frank in time. The look on Joe's face told him if that wasn't the case, it could very well be the last straw for Joe. While they rarely worked together anymore, he and Fenton spoke often, as good friends do, so he was aware of everything Joe had endured the past six months. He was also well aware of the fact that Frank was the reason Joe had made it this far with his sanity in tact.

Fenton had repeatedly expressed his relief that Frank would be by Joe's side when it came time for Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick to be brought to trial, knowing Joe might not have the mental or emotional strength to make it through even one trial without his brother's unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, Sam began to tell them of Gloria Sansom's quest for "justice".

"As I mentioned earlier, Gloria Sansom made a complete confession. She felt the police and the criminal justice system let her down. And we did. The fact that her son's assailant got off without so much as a slap on the wrist pushed her over the edge. She just hid it very well.

"Apparently in her grief, she felt that if her son no longer had the 'gift' he was born with – in his case an IQ that was practically off the charts – that any others born on the same day who happened to be gifted in any way, should also lose their gifts. Somehow, in her mind, that would equate to justice for her son.

"Being a nurse at Lenox Hill Hospital, she had easy access to the records. It was a simple matter of doing a little research on everyone who had been born on the same day as her son. She singled out the five others she considered to be gifted and set out to take away whatever special talent they had."

Fenton and Joe remained silent, listening and absorbing every detail as Sam put together a bizarre tale of the depths – and distortions – of a mother's love for her child.

"In the first case, Kent Graham, it was simply a matter of shattering the bones in his hands to the point it would be impossible to repair the damage. The next three required surgical procedures, which she was quite capable of having spent most of her career as an O.R. nurse." Sam stopped, shaking his head almost in disbelief. "You know she made a point of making sure I understood that she didn't cause them any other harm, doing only what was needed to 'relieve them of their gifts.' Like she should get some kind of award for being so compassionate."

"What about the emotional and mental harm? How do they adjust? How do they accept what's happened to them? They're only twenty-four years old, for God's sake! They've got their whole lives ahead of them!" Fenton said bitterly, knowing if Gloria succeeded in her plans for Frank, Joe would be the one who would have to accept and adjust – something Fenton was certain would be impossible. Recalling how distraught Frank had been in Chicago when they'd first found Joe near death, he wondered again if life wouldn't be a little easier for his sons if they weren't quite so close.

Glancing at Joe, he quickly realized how wrong he was. If Frank and Joe weren't so close he knew Joe might still be trapped in a world of darkness, with the Campbell Psychiatric Center as his permanent home.

"So she probably won't even go to prison for this," Joe said, finally speaking. "If she really thought what she was doing was justified, she's crazy." He looked at Sam, his eyes begging for Sam to tell him he was wrong.

Sam reached out and patted Joe on the knee, smiling sadly. "Maybe not, Joe. She was cognizant and aware enough to try and frame her husband, so on some level she knew what she was doing was wrong. She made sure that all the attacks took place on nights her husband wasn't working. He stuck to the same routine every day, which she knew by heart.

"Every night, after visiting their son, he'd go home and have dinner. Afterwards he'd have a few beers while watching TV, until he fell asleep on the couch. She confessed that she put a sedative in his beer to make sure he wouldn't wake up. That way he had no alibi. She used his car, even though she had access to her son's car, to further implicate him should we be able to come up with any evidence pointing to her. He was so bitter after the trial and made no attempt to hide it, that she knew it would be a natural assumption for us to think he was behind the attacks."

"And we all fell for it," Fenton said disgustedly, then turned to his youngest son, pride shining in his eyes. "Except for Joe, thank God."

Sam nodded his agreement before continuing. "Gloria said the first night she tried to abduct Frank, she never expected to fail. He was the last one and since she had gotten away with the other attacks, she had let her guard down somewhat. When Joe came back and eventually went after her, she panicked. She wasn't familiar with Bayport and couldn't find her way back to the Interstate. She ended up downtown with Joe right on her tail. That led to Joe getting the partial plate which in turn took us right to her husband's doorstep." Sam looked at Joe feeling almost as proud as Fenton. "If not for you, Joe, she would have gotten away with all of it. This would have been one of those cases that was never solved."

"Thanks," Joe mumbled. Being the one who broke the case wide open would mean absolutely nothing to Joe, if it turned out his brother spent the rest of his life imprisoned in the mind of a child. Leaning back, Joe rested his head against the wall closing his eyes.

"I feel at least partially responsible for all this, Fenton. It was my department that screwed up. I know it was an honest mistake, but…I'm so sorry." Sam looked at Fenton, the reality of it all suddenly hitting him full force.

"Don't, Sam. Gloria decided to do this all on her own," Fenton reassured him, before turning to Joe and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to step outside and call your mother." When Joe responded with just a slight nod, Fenton looked at Sam with worry.

Reading the look in his friend's eyes, Sam nodded, indicating he would sit with Joe until Fenton returned. About ten minutes later, Fenton came back into the waiting room, suddenly looking much older than his years. Sam noted a slight redness in his eyes, indicating Fenton hadn't been able to contain his emotions as well as he wanted to. Just as he took his seat next to Joe, a middle-aged man, with graying hair, wearing a white lab coat appeared in the waiting room.

"Mr. Hardy?"

"Yes," Fenton replied, starting to rise. He saw Joe's head immediately snap forward.

"Please, don't get up." The pulled up a chair and extended his hand. "Dr. Jonathan Bowles. Head of Emergency Services."

"How is he?" Joe asked, his eyes hopeful. "Is he awake yet?"

Fenton shook the doctor's hand introducing himself. "This is my younger son, Joe," he said, resting his arm on Joe's back.

"Hello, Joe." The doctor offered his hand. "I'm afraid your brother hasn't regained consciousness just yet. He's still having intermittent seizures although the frequency and severity has decreased significantly."

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop them?" Fenton asked, slightly alarmed. He'd hoped that once Frank arrived at the hospital, the seizures would end.

"Yes, and we are doing that, but seizures associated with serum theophylline overdoses are often resistant to therapy. Because of the high morbidity and mortality associated with theophylline-induced seizures, they do have to be brought under control quickly. Treatment needs to be rapid and aggressive. But there are also significant risks associated with the treatment that you should be aware of.

"The doses of Phenobarbital required to stop the seizures are close to the doses that can cause severe respiratory depression or respiratory arrest. With that in mind, we have Frank on a heart monitor and a respiratory technician will remain with him at all times to provide assisted ventilation if need be. "

With his arm still resting on Joe's back, Fenton could feel that Joe had begun to tremble.

'Please, God, let him be all right.' Fenton prayed for his first-born. ' If we lose Frank, Joe will never recover. I can't lose both my sons. Please…'

"Unfortunately, serum theophylline concentrations can continue to increase even after treatment is started, which is why Frank is continuing to have seizures. In addition to the respiratory technician, we have a nurse monitoring Frank's condition. As soon as a seizure begins, she administers an anti-convulsant via syringe to stop it as quickly as possible."

'It's a dream,' Joe told himself, trying to stave off what he was certain would be an emotional meltdown. 'A nightmare. I'll wake up soon. Vanessa will be right beside me, telling me to go back to sleep. Everyone is fine…'

"The concentration of serum theophylline in Frank's system was measured immediately upon arrival. We will continue to monitor it every two to four hours, to guide our treatment decisions and to assess the effectiveness of therapy. Since we're not sure how long the concentration of theophylline may continue to increase, we'll be checking the levels regularly until it's clear that the concentration is no longer rising and has returned to non-toxic levels."

Taking another look at Joe, Fenton noticed he had paled considerably.

"Multiple doses of orally activated charcoal will also help clear the theophylline out of Frank's system. However it must be retained in, and pass through, the gastrointestinal tract to be effective, so we are administering it continuously through a nasogastric tube." The doctor sat back, looking from Fenton to Joe. "Now, what questions do you have for me?"

"Do you know if the treatment was started quickly enough to avoid any…damage?" Fenton asked, cautiously.

"Since it was rapidly determined that theophylline had been used on Frank, the EMT's were able to start anticonvulsant therapy immediately. Hopefully, that means there won't be any permanent brain damage."

Fenton slid his arm around Joe's shoulders and squeezed, as he felt his son flinch at the words "permanent brain damage".

"When will you know for sure?" Fenton asked.

"Assuming there's no permanent damage, he should be waking up sometime in the morning. He'll be extremely tired, probably feel exhausted, as if he's just run a marathon. But a few days of bed rest and he'll be good as new."

"And what if he doesn't wake up by morning?" Joe asked softly, fearing the answer.

Dr. Bowles hesitated a moment, seeing the apprehension reflected in Joe's eyes. "If he hasn't regained consciousness by noon we'll start running some neurological tests to determine the severity of brain damage."

"Thank you, Dr. Bowles," Fenton said, correctly assuming Joe had heard all he could take in one sitting.

"If you think of anything else, just ask the receptionist to find me." The doctor stood and returned to the emergency room. Sensing they needed some time to absorb everything Dr. Bowles had said, Sam discreetly excused himself.

As soon as they were alone, Joe buried his face in his father's shoulder and cried.