The Battle Of Who Could Care Less – 38

"I'm worried about my daughter," Bobbie Spencer admitted quietly, sneaking a sidelong glance at her ex-husband as the two of them worked side by side at the nurse's station. "And her children."

Noah heaved a heavy sigh, straightening a thick stack of reports against the countertop. "I'm worried about your brother."

"That, too," she murmured as he picked up another file and began to thumb quickly through it. "Things are getting dangerous."

He nodded briskly, unsure of how to comfort her. "Luke's a smart man. He'll stay hidden."

That earned him a short laugh. "Oh, Noah, you don't know my brother."

The doctor quirked a brow at her, smirking. "No? Seems pretty common sense to me – if you're wanted, lay low."

"Common sense – that's where you've lost us Spencers," she smiled confidingly. "Luke's never been one to sit out anything that concerned his family. He's not going to stay hidden for long. And that's what worries me."

"Still, he's smart," Noah insisted, watching as his own son took a minute out of his harried and frantic schedule to exchange innuendo with a pretty brunette nurse as he took a few charts from her. "Most of the people I've talked to have a lot of faith in him."

"You don't know this town, either, then," came the cynical reply. "Those same people will be the first to turn on him and try to serve him up to Helena with an apple in his mouth."

"Appetizing."

She shook her head, propping her chin up in her hands. "It just feels like…like we're not doing enough. Luke's life is in direct danger, Sonny and Jason are trying to oust Alcazar – but you didn't hear that from me, even though it's pretty obvious – and we're just going through the motions at the hospital."

"I'd hardly call this going through the motions."

"What would you call it?"

"Busting our asses to find an antidote."

She smiled at his good intentions and pure heart, but the Spencer in her was also bringing out her cynicism. "Oh, there is no antidote for us to find – except the one that Helena Cassidine is probably holding in her hand right now."

Noah blinked at her, laying his papers down flat for a brief moment. "…Do you really believe that?"

Bobbie nodded sadly. "She doesn't care one bit for the people of this town. All she wants is Luke – and maybe Lucky, if she's feeling greedy, although that's a stretch because she's already taken him once and she doesn't repeat her tricks. It doesn't matter how many people have to die until then – until she gets what she wants. This is how she works."

"Then we'll just have to work harder," he replied stubbornly, sounding every bit like the optimistic, idealistic young doctor she knew before he left town. His dark brown eyes were still trained on hers as Noah accepted yet another folder of charts from an orderly. "Let's see…"

"Whose are those?" Bobbie asked, peering over his shoulder as he tried to hide the results. "Oh…"

The tall doctor sighed heavily, knowing that she had already seen the latest on her daughter and grandson. Left with no other alternative, he wordlessly slid the charts across the counter to her.

"Michael," she murmured, her eyes hungrily moving over the page. "Oh…oh, his seizures are five hours apart – and look at all the medication he's on."

Noah watched her emerald eyes fill with tears and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder as she read on. "He's not experiencing even brief moments of lucidity anymore," Bobbie choked out. "If he's not unconscious, he's delirious."

She quickly pushed the page away, unable to read anymore, but unfortunately for her the next chart was Carly's.

"Your daughter's doing well," Noah encouraged, trying to be supportive. "Much better than we expected."

"But she's so weak," Bobbie sighed, pursing her lips together in an attempt to keep her tears in check. "And the baby…oh, Noah, I'm so afraid for the baby. Carly can't lose another child – she just can't!"

Not knowing what to do, Noah Drake did the first thing that finally sprang to mind. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around his ex-wife and pulled her close, letting her bury her face in his chest as Bobbie Spencer finally gave in to a moment of weakness.

His hand moved slowly up and down her back as Noah gazed grimly down the hallway that led to her daughter and son's room. "It will be all right, Bobbie," he murmured. "You said it yourself – we're all working together to beat this. We've got Luke, those shifty mobsters, and an excellent staff of doctors, nurses and orderlies at this hospital. We're not going to let this take us down."

She nodded against him, trying to pull herself together. She'd been doing so well for so long, too; she had been professional and upbeat and invincible as she strode the halls, tending to her patients. But it had caught up to her at the worst possible moment, and it was almost too much.

Still, Bobbie nodded and discreetly wiped her tears away as she pulled back and offered Noah a small smile.

"You're right," she got out in a low, husky voice. "You're right, Noah. We're all in this together. And if we go down…well, at least we know that we did what we could."

"That's not going to happen," he answered quickly, insistently. "Damn it, Barbara, I did not come back to this town to watch a virus annihilate the population. We're going to fight this and we're going to win. As long as Luke Spencer's on our side-"

"Luke Spencer," came a derisive snort from behind, and Noah turned to see a stout red-haired man glaring at him. "We're in this mess because of him – because of him and Helena Cassidine's blood feud. My little Susie is fighting for her life because of them two!"

"Yeah," a dark haired man in a wrinkled suit agreed vehemently. "Why can't they kill each other and leave the rest of us alone? We didn't do anything to deserve this!"

"You know what the problem is?" Bobbie frowned when a tall blonde woman with a large nose and beady brown eyes stood up to address the simmering crowd. "It's our fault-"

"Boo!" the gathering crowd jeered.

"-It's our fault because we let Luke Spencer get away with everything he does," she continued, her eyes flashing as Noah and Bobbie stood by. "He's always endangering his life and all of ours with his stunts, but does anyone ever say anything? No! He's given a free pass to do whatever he wants – and put all of us in danger!"

"All Helena wants is Luke Spencer," the first man agreed. "If she gets him, then she doesn't need my Susie anymore. I say we turn that son of a bitch in!"

"Turn in Luke Spencer!" another older man agreed. "What has that rat bastard ever done for us?"

Noah glanced worriedly in Bobbie's direction. He knew his ex-wife well enough to know that in about three seconds, she'd explode and hand the entire mob their bottoms on a platter for even thinking to sacrifice her brother when he was the only one that stood a chance at saving them. And sure enough, the redhead opened her mouth to give the increasingly large crowd a piece of her mind when she was interrupted by a surprising passerby.

"Luke Spencer saved all of you from Helena several times in the past!"

The crowd, which now included Sonny and Jason who lingered toward the back, turned in surprise to see Tracy Quartermaine standing next to a glowering Alan. The doctor was dressed in scrubs with his stethoscope around his neck and his sister sported her typical designer pantsuit outfit, but both wore the look of defensive righteousness quite well.

"Your memories must have been the first thing to go with the onslaught of this bug," Tracy growled, her hazy eyes flashing as she surveyed the group who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "He's stood up against her time and time again. What about when she tried to freeze the world? And don't you remember what happened a few years ago?"

"Lady, you weren't even here-"

"No, but I was," Alan interrupted indignantly as Noah and Bobbie exchanged glances. "And I remember the havoc that Helena Cassidine tried to wreak on this town."

"She only wanted to get the Spencers, even back then!" cried the man with the red hair and the ill daughter. "I remember it because-"

"I doubt anyone remembers better than myself," came a strained, low voice from down the hall. Bobbie turned to see her other ex-husband standing on the opposite side of the nurse's station, and Tony's blue eyes met hers briefly before turning back to the crowd.

"Helena was after the Spencers, it's true," he acknowledged, refusing to let the crowd's hostility rein him in. "She wanted Lucky to kill his father, but that was secondary to her main goal. She wanted her son, Stavros, resurrected – and that was where I came in."

Noah remained close to Bobbie's side as she discreetly wiped her eyes, remembering the havoc that the Cassidine Queen had wreaked upon her own family.

"I was taken hostage and delivered to the basement in General Hospital," Tony continued, slowly and deliberately easing closer. Still, the crowd didn't budge. "There, I worked diligently night and day to revive a man that had been cryogenically frozen for the past twenty years, not knowing if I was doing it right, but knowing that I had to do it regardless. And why? Because my own son's life hung in the balance – just like it does now."

"Tony succeeded, as I'm sure most of you remember," Alan picked up, sparing his friend and colleague from retelling one of the most horrific moments of his life. "Stavros was alive and together, he and Helena tried to destroy the Spencers."

"If they had succeeded, what makes you think that any of you would be alive and well today?" Tracy sneered, unable to help herself. "Helena doesn't care about any one of you – and she's certainly not above killing you and your little Susie if it suits her purposes. Luke Spencer might be a shrewd, calculating, degenerate rat bastard, but like it or not, he's this town's last chance when it comes to taking down Helena Cassidine."

"Some good Spencer's doing us right now," the businessman retorted. "The entire town is infected and where is he? Probably drinking in that bar of his! If we leave right now, I'm sure we can round him up before he has any idea-"

"I don't think that's going to work," came a smooth, calm voice from the back. Bobbie frowned, her eyes coming to rest on Sonny Corinthos who stood casually next to a stoic Jason with his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled dress pants.

The crowd was confused momentarily before a young woman finally voiced their question to the intimidating mob boss. "Why not?"

"Because from what I've been hearing, Luke's long gone," Sonny replied, scratching the back of his head as Jason looked discreetly in his father's direction. Alan's lips twitched and he nodded, understanding what the two men were doing.

"Luke's gone?" Bobbie asked aloud, playing along. "Sonny, that can't be right. He wouldn't leave us!"

"I'm sorry, Bobbie, but that's what we've been hearing."

"Think about it," Jason finally spoke up when the crowd began to get restless. At the sound of his grim, tight voice most of the vigilantes nearby grew quiet. "Why would Luke stay in town when he knew that it would only be a matter of time before the people tried to turn him in to die? His best option was to run."

The more vocal men looked at each other, perplexed. They knew from Jason Morgan's reputation that the man never lied, and that was why his input was especially disconcerting. They failed to realize, however, that the enforcer had phrased the statement as a supposition and speculation, not cold and hard fact.

"Well, that's it," Tracy finally spoke up, throwing her hands weakly in the air as she turned on her heel to return to her son's room. "We're all sunk."

"Did Luke really go?" Tony heard a young woman in the crowd ask. "But – But, he wouldn't do that to this town! He knows that he's our last prayer and that we'd stand by him."

Sonny rubbed the corners of his mouth with his index and thumb, hiding a smirk at the crowd's capriciousness. "That's Luke Spencer – a snake in the grass. He doesn't have any loyalties to anybody."

Bobbie sneaked a glance at Noah, her emerald eyes glittering when he smirked confidingly back. With their hopes dashed, the crowd began to disperse and return to their respective rooms – those that were lucky enough to have rooms, that is. Still, several men and a few women remained clustered together as Sonny and Jason casually made their way over to the nurse's station.

"I don't believe it," one of them snorted, lowering his voice enough that he thought Sonny couldn't hear. "That Corinthos is useless right now – his entire business was taken over by that fucker, Alcazar. Why should we believe what his reports say?"

"I still think that if we leave now we might be able to find him," the red haired man insisted. "We'll organize a task force and comb the town – Spencer won't be able to hide long."

"And we don't even need Luke right away," one woman pointed out. "If we can find his son, that'll lure him out of hiding anyway."

Sonny shook his head and turned away from the mob, knowing that they didn't stand a chance in Hell of finding Luke and Lucky. Bobbie smiled softly at him, discreetly shuffling Michael and Carly's charts in with those of the other patients. "Thank you, Sonny. Jason, you, too."

The men nodded as Tony and Alan approached. "We're all doing our best to see this through," Sonny said in a low voice, eyeing those that still milled around. "We just need a little more time-"

"Doctor Quartermaine," came a hurried voice from down the hall, and Alan turned to see a brunette nurse with a few charts in her hand jogging down toward him.

"Yes, Nurse?"

"Joyce, what is it?" Noah asked, holding out another folder of charts that he needed the young woman to take. "What have you got there?"

"These are for you, Doctor," she said, handing the chief of staff a few reports. "Also…Dr. Drake, Georgie Jones can't take the strain of the seizures anymore. We got her stabilized until the next one hits in about an hour and a half, but maybe a better option-"

"-she needs to be placed on life support," Noah finished with a heavy sigh, already ducking out of the station. "Yes, I've done this three times today already. All right, Joyce, come with me."

Bobbie sighed, blinking back tears as she watched the young nurse scurry off after Noah. "Oh, Georgie," she murmured, thinking of the agony her best friend must be going through at the moment. "She won't be the first, and she won't be the last, either."

Elizabeth was fast asleep but up like a light when Robert cautiously moved past her on his way back from the sink. She shot up to a sitting position as the detective reached for one of her rags and began to dry his hands and face.

"What happened? What is it?"

"The signal came through, doll," came the predictable answer as Robert packed his belongings back into the small black satchel and strapped it to his waist. "Time to move."

Without a word of protest or a muffled groan, the brunette rolled to her haunches and stood easily. She made quick work of folding up her bedding and tossed it behind the couch like her houseguest had done. Robert pulled on his black sweater as she washed her face and quickly dried it with a paint-spotted towel, then reached for her boots. By the time she finished lacing them up, he already had her behemoth door unlocked and the two slipped out into the hallway.

The sun was setting as they pushed out into the dark alley, and Robert grabbed Elizabeth's hand and ran toward the last disappearing rays. The cure for the deadly scourge that crippled Port Charles lay to their west, in a large sprawling Gothic mansion crouching far away off the coast, in the harbor.

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The jig was up: Lila had been found out.

Alan and Monica had not been pleased to learn that the Quartermaine matriarch had been desperately hiding her grave illness for the past few days and had another bed delivered to Edward's room immediately. It was an awkward ordeal since a gurney or a cot now took up almost every spare inch of the hospital as patients came in by the truckload, coughing and wheezing and convulsing.

But the old woman had refused their efforts. She wouldn't take the extra bed and instead had it sent back out for one of the many other patients now lying on the floor on sleeping bags. Lila maintained that she wouldn't move from her chair nor her husband's bedside, and no amount of pleading or cajoling on Alan and Monica's parts could force her to reconsider. Tracy, now so flushed and dehydrated that she couldn't even get up from her bed next to Dillon's, had the right idea when she told her brother that their mother's job now was to keep their father alive, and that in turn would keep her alive.

So Alan and Monica had no choice but to leave the old woman there, sitting with Edward's listless hand clasped between her own. And that was where Jason found her several hours later during one of his many trips to check up on her.

Lila actually noticed him and looked up when he entered the room, and the enforcer hesitantly crept to her side and crouched by her feet. "Jason, darling," she sighed, using her free hand to caress his cheek in a loving gesture that he'd never outgrow. "You're looking well. I'm glad."

He nodded, her palm still on his cheek. The virus was getting to him, naturally, but he was still in the early phases. Alan said that he had his exercise habits, diet, and genetics to thank for that. Still, he could feel his fever beginning to rise as he spent his days prowling the hospital corridors but never leaving Michael and Carly too far behind.

"How are you, Grandmother?"

"As well as can be expected," came the soft reply as the old woman turned to her husband once more. "What of Carly? And my great-grandson? How are they?"

"Carly's awake, but she can't get out of bed," he answered quietly. "And Michael…Michael's not doing too well."

Her eyes, bright from the fever, were clouded and troubled. "I'm afraid no one's doing too well, my dear. I…I've never seen anything like this in my life."

"I don't know if Alan told you this," Jason started, suddenly unsure of himself. "But…the virus that infected the town was dumped into the water supply."

"That explains how it affected so many people, and so quickly," she murmured in reply.

"It was Helena Cassidine's work. She did it so that the town would turn Luke Spencer in."

"Helena," Lila sighed, remembering the other matriarch's antics well. "Well, dear, I do say that if she thinks that it shall be that easy, she has another thing coming."

He was expecting an outburst – anger, grief, anything – and her reply surprised him. "What do you mean, Grandmother?"

"I am fortunate enough to know our friend Luke quite well," Lila replied, gazing at her husband's face as if she wanted him to suddenly jump up and start railing against his long-time foe. Jason listened quietly, already knowing that this would become the All-Hail-The-Mighty-Luke-Spencer speech that so many others had been clinging to.

"And I know that Luke Spencer would sell the whole lot of us down the river before we even knew it."

Jason blinked, his eyes darting up to meet his grandmother's suddenly twinkling ones. "What?"

Lila laughed to herself, threading her fingers gently through his thick, wheat-colored hair. "Oh, I'm afraid you weren't expecting that, were you, darling?" She chuckled again, shaking her head. "Even if the entire town had gone out with pitchforks the moment that horrid woman appeared on television to announce her intentions, they never would have come close to catching Luke."

Jason smirked at her, enjoying her insight. "Because he's too fast for them?"

"Because he's quite ruthless, darling," came the answer. Again, it wasn't what he had expected, especially from his sweet, warm grandmother who always got along so well with all the misfits that Port Charles had to offer. "His freedom and his family are two things that Luke fights tooth and nail for. It won't be easy to deliver him to Helena."

"So he'll stay safe?" He was leading her on, but Lila didn't mind playing along.

"No," she answered firmly. "Luke's never done a good job at staying safe, I dare say. To my way of thinking, I don't think the man enjoys it at all. He will meet up with Helena during this whole frightful business, darling – but it shall be on his own terms. The mob gathering outside, no doubt, to turn him in won't accomplish much, but I do believe that at some point we will see Luke walk willingly onto Helena's yacht of his own accord."

He nodded to himself, shifting his weight when his ankles began to hurt. Thinking better of it, Jason braced his hands on the floor and sat down cross-legged next to her wheelchair. "We've been trying to spread a rumor that he's left town for good. Most people believe it."

"Most people aren't very bright, then," Lila replied, squeezing Edward's hand. "Luke Spencer would never abandon Port Charles, Jason – never."

The enforcer's brows furrowed at the declaration. "Why not? He doesn't like this town or anyone in it."

"Well, that's the truth," she agreed readily enough, still watching Edward for any signs of movement. "But he loves this town for what he found here…and for what his son found here."

Again, Jason had no idea what she was talking about. "What did they find?"

"Love," came the simple answer. "Happiness. Port Charles will always be the place where Luke met Laura, and the place where his son met Elizabeth. And for that, Luke will always be grateful. Those two women changed those two vagabonds forever, and don't you think for a minute that Luke isn't grateful. He has history with so many people here, Jason, including you and Sonny, of course. And even if he doesn't like any of those people anymore, that doesn't mean that he's ready to abandon them when it suits his purposes. Luke's not going to let Helena destroy the only place in the world where he allowed himself to set up roots."

Jason bowed his head, considering what his grandmother had just said. He had known Luke for many years; he had been very good friends with the two Spencer men for many years. And though he knew that they could be shifty at times, he had seen their best side as well. He was too young to say this for Luke, but he had seen the changes in Lucky with his own eyes.

He had gone from a scrappy teenage boy bent on proving himself to anyone and everyone at a moment's notice to an independent, self-sufficient young man that remained focused on his goals despite the obstacles thrown his way. Back in the day, he had marveled at Lucky's pride and resilience; even when the circumstances weren't in his favor, the kid always did his best to make it through. And he knew deep down inside that Elizabeth had been responsible for at least part of that change in him. What his grandmother had said just now made a lot of sense, but he had never once thought about it in that way before.

"I don't know if Luke will be able to see us through this or not," she continued softly. "But I know that I will not blame him if he cannot. It's a lot to ask of one man, especially at a time when we shouldn't be asking anything of anyone but instead thinking of all that we were lucky enough to have."

He didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. "Grandmother-"

"No, darling, just listen to me for a moment," Lila directed gently. "At a time when so many are so afraid…I can't help but feel remarkably calm. I realize it doesn't make much sense, dear, just the rambling thoughts of an old woman. But I'm not afraid to die, Jason."

He really didn't like direction this conversation had taken. "Grandmother-"

"I've spent days wondering why that is," she added in a voice so soft he had to strain to hear her. "And I've come to the conclusion that I feel no fear because I've lived such a full life. I have roots in this town, Jason, just like our friend Luke does. I have a family, however dysfunctional they might be, but they're mine and I do love them so. I have a life that I've lived to the fullest, and very few regrets. I'm not afraid, darling."

He swallowed past a lump in his throat, not wanting to give in to the soothing effect of her calm words but unable to form a word himself.

"I pray that those who have so much to keep living for find deliverance from this illness," Lila sighed, her thin voice cracking slightly. "And I thank the good Lord that your Elizabeth isn't present for this horrible ordeal. Perhaps it was for the best, dear, that she left. I do hope, for your sake, that you are able to see her again one day. But until then, darling, I have only one thing to ask you."

Jason swallowed hard, choking slightly on his own words. "Anything, Grandmother."

She turned to him directly then, gazing deeply into the crystal blue eyes that he had inherited from her. "Until then, darling, don't be afraid. Please don't be afraid for me."

He looked up at her helplessly, not sure he knew what she was asking. "I-"

"You fear for yourself," she whispered back, gently running a hand over his head before grasping his chin gently. "You fear for your friends, for that darling little boy…for me. I must ask you, Jason, not to be afraid for me. It's the last thing I would ever want."

He shook his head forcefully, not knowing what he was disagreeing with so vehemently. "I-I can't-"

"I can't stay with you forever, darling," she replied, forcing him to meet her placid gaze. The fever had flushed her cheeks a deep rosy color, and her normally sharp eyes were soft and liquid as she looked directly into him. "And I need for you not to be afraid for me. You are needed elsewhere, darling – there is so much left for you to do. So fight this, Jason. Fight this with everything you are, my dear boy. And always remember that your grandmother loved you. There is no need to be afraid anymore."

It was the one thing he had been trying so hard not to think about, not to talk about, not to confront. And that was why it was so hard to hear it coming straight from her. It was a cruel twist: his grandmother, feverish and dehydrated and weaker than he'd ever seen her, telling him not to be afraid.

Her palm rested at his jaw and Jason pressed his cheek into it, not bothering to brush away the few glassy tears that slipped past his lashes and shattered against his rough cheek. But Lila felt them and wiped them away herself, murmuring the same soft, nonsensical words she had used on him when he was a little boy. And even though Jason didn't quite remember, he knew.

Unable to take it anymore, he jerked away from her touch and stood abruptly, studiously avoiding her gaze. His grandmother understood and, generous soul that she was, chose not to make it any more difficult to him. Instead, she brought her free hand back to rest in her lap and turned back to her husband who lay strapped to the respirator in the hospital bed.

Jason stumbled slightly as he made his way to the door, then gulped in a breath of fresh air once he stepped into the bright hallway. The harsh lighting made him wince and he lowered his gaze, heading directly toward the hub of the hospital.

Patrick was discussing the latest on Brenda's condition with Alan and Ned as he walked by, and Jason didn't stop even though his father called out to him. He didn't bother waiting for the elevator, either, and simply kicked open the door to the stairwell. The four-story descent was a workout in his feverish condition, but Jason pushed himself and hit the lobby panting hard.

The cool November night air met him instantly as he pushed through the revolving doors and stepped out onto the unwelcoming concrete. The inky night sky stretched out before him, tinged with the last magenta rays of a weak sun that knew it had lost the battle with the moon. Jason breathed in deeply, feeling the cold air race through his heated body.

The town lay deathly still around him and for once he was in solitude. In the hospital, there were always people within a two-foot radius, especially since Alan had run out of free rooms. At the penthouse, the four walls were entirely oppressive, especially with the four enemy guards lurking just outside.

Now, as he stood under the clear night sky, he was alone. For once, he wasn't flanked by Alcazar's men; they had their own problems to see to since their boss had gone missing. Heaving a heavy sigh, Jason took off down the sidewalk. He didn't want to call a car, and he didn't want to talk to anyone right now. This was good; this was what he needed.

The passing scenery was a blur as the enforcer kept walking, not entirely sure where he was going. But as he passed the courthouse and then Eli's, he knew. Kelly's stood down the corner as he turned a sharp right and kept on walking through a dark alley that he'd strode through on many occasions before.

No matter what was going on in his life, he always managed to end up on the docks. There was something about the water lapping against the old planks that soothed him no matter what, and he had so many pleasant and unpleasant memories alike built on the docks that they all blended together in a vague tapestry that had gradually come to represent part of his identity. No matter what, he always found his answers on the docks.

Only this time, he knew that there wouldn't be anything waiting for him there, or anywhere else.