I don't own any of the following characters, although I wish I did, because I know exactly what I would do with them. The names and events being used in this story are for entertainment purposes only, to give the true fans of General Hospital a taste of what used to be as well as what could have been. I hope you review because I haven't written in a while and it would mean a lot to me to know what you all think! Thanks!

Port Charles, New York. A world in and of itself. A legendary town. A place
where the original families had the last names of Quartermaine and Spencer and
Scorpio and Baldwin. As time went by, new faces entered the scene and made the
city their own. Jones. Cassadine. Ashton. Barrett. Corinthos. Jacks. The people
in this town became intertwined, by chance and by choice, through good times and
darker times. These people, each and every single one of them... Ned. Nikolas.
Scotty. Robin. Laura. Carly. Lucas. Bobbie. Patrick. Mac. Luke. Georgie. Stone.
Lulu. Jason. Monica. Elizabeth. Johnny...they came to Port Charles and made a
home for themselves.

These people are Port Charles.

This is just
a glimpse at their never-ending story.

1 - Lulu

I was
sixteen years old and in my room studying for a geometry exam with our dog,
Foster, asleep on my lap, the night my father's business partners, Jason and
Sonny came knocking on our door looking shaken; a sight that was strange to see
on men who were otherwise unbreakable. It was a stormy night; of course. Bad
things always happened on stormy nights, especially in Port Charles, the town
where we lived. I had run down the stairs as soon as I heard Jason's SUV pull up
the driveway, but my brother, Lucky, got to the door first.

Lucky had
just turned twenty-one and was training to become a police officer. His choice
in profession was giving our father early cause for a pre-mature heart attack,
but Lucky wouldn't budge on the subject. Neither would my dad, who'd hated
anyone in a position of authority since forever. Lucky wanting to join the wrong
side of the law was like stabbing a knife in Luke Spencer's heart. While I had
always been daddy's mischievous little princess, Lucky had been a carbon copy of
our dad in the making. Before I was born, they were running around as a
father-son con operation. Since our mom became ill, Lucky had been the one who
had always been able to pull my dad back from the edge when he wandered off too
far.

Lucky had opened the door on Sonny and Jason with an angry scowl on
his face, "Do you know what time it is?"

"Lucky, you need to keep your
voice down," Sonny warned, his tone naked and grim.

"Uncle Sonny," I
whispered, taking the last few steps to stand in front of them, my eyes going
from Sonny's haunted chocolate eyes to Jason's ice blue ones, "Jason, what's
wrong?"

Sonny cursed softly under his breath. It was obvious he didn't
want me here; not now. I reached out my hand to touch Jason's shoulder, but
Jason looked away from me, unable to answer. My fingertips felt cold against the
leather of Jason's jacket. I felt a shiver down my spine when Sonny looked over
to me. He looked haunted. Like this was the last place in the world he wanted to
be. His signature dimples which always made me smile were nowhere to be
seen.

"Uncle Sonny," I whispered again, looking behind them to where the
guards, Francis and John were standing. I looked over their shoulders, standing
on my tiptoes, hoping to see someone else. "Daddy's coming right…" I
whispered.

Lucky's calming hands fell on my shoulders, softly coaxing me
back towards the stairs, "He's not your uncle, Lulu. Why don't you go upstairs
and finish studying? We can all talk in the morning."

I shook myself free
from my overprotective brother and stood in front of the man I called my uncle,
even when Lucky told me not to. For Lucky, Sonny Corinthos symbolized everything
that was wrong in Port Charles. Guns, strip clubs, violence, territory wars, and
innocent bystanders. Lucky chose not to remember the most important thing about
Sonny: Even though there was a lot of bad to him, he'd always been good to our
family, to me and Lucky especially. Luke Spencer, our father in name and blood,
had never been much for fatherly behavior, so it was Sonny that Lucky and I had
counted on for pep-talks growing up, and it was Sonny and the boys who cheered
Lucky on at soccer practice and came to my ballet classes back when I was seven
years old and training to be a princess. Sonny was at most instances more our
father than our own father had ever been. Lucky would never admit that, though.
He chose a short-term memory. Admitting that Sonny Corinthos was a friend to the
Spencers would shake Lucky Spencer's entire idea of balance.

"Lulu,
maybe you should go upstairs while we talk," Jason began to suggest, scratching
his ear nervously.

"Wait." I said, my eyes focusing on the stain at the
front of Sonny's shirt, "That's not your blood. Your shirts are flawless. You're
a neat freak. This means...this blood...daddy?"

"Oh God," Lucky
whispered under his breath. I frantically looked between Lucky and Sonny,
waiting for confirmation even though I already knew.

"Not daddy…" I
whispered, "He's supposed to be coming home, working on his card tricks to
prepare for the Haunted Star re-opening. We're going to re-open the casino and
he's going to have something to look forward to every night other than a bottle
or some adventure in some hole in the wall third world country. He's going to be
ours again! He finally found something to hold him here in town, and you're
saying… he's…?"

"Gone, Lulu. He's gone." Jason confirmed, saying what
Sonny couldn't bring himself to say. "He didn't suffer."

"Of course he
did." Lucky muttered cynically. "That's how people like you and my father die
isn't it? You spend your lives leeching off the misery of others and then you
get slaughtered like the animals you chose to be."

Sonny nodded,
"Whatever you say, Luck."

"Yeah, Corinthos. Just like I said," Lucky's
chin was defiant, even though I could see he was fighting an inner battle to
keep it up. He needed to hate Sonny, or else nothing would make sense to him.

"That's enough," I whispered, my hand on my brother's chest, tears
springing from my eyes. My other hand clutched Sonny's suit jacket, the silky
material calming me. I stood torn between them, each man standing before me, an
undeniable link of my own soul; a part of my family.

"No, Lulu. You
love, Uncle Sonny, don't you? You look up to Jason like a brother?" Lucky was
yelling at me, "This is who they are. They're people who bring news of death.
It's who they are. It's what they do best. They come knocking in the dead of
night, in shitty weather, and they tell you our deadbeat dad got himself killed
because he'd rather be off conning strangers than loving his..."

"This
isn't helping Lucky," Jason advised quietly, cutting him off with a warning in
the tilt of his head.

Lucky stared back at him shooting daggers with his
eyes, "YOU don't talk to me!" He warned. Lucky and Jason had issues that delved
much deeper than Lucky's resentment of the mob, but I was too young at the time
to know more about why my real brother hated the guy who I looked up to as a
second brother. Lucky was clenching and unclenching his fists, and I worried
that he would react and punch Jason in the nose, but Lucky was always good at
keeping calm under pressure, so he kept his anger in check, looking to Sonny for
answers, "What happened?"

"Lulu, honey," Sonny whispered to me, his eyes
pleading with me to obey just this once, "Please go upstairs. I can't. I can't
do this, not with you."

I nodded, knowing it was hard on Sonny to lose my
father just as it was on us. Sonny had been my father's longest friend and Daddy
had been one of the few people outside his close-knit organization that Sonny
had ever let in. They had a history that spanned decades, running back to when
Sonny had first come to Port Charles, as a nobody looking to strengthen his hold
on an enemy's territory. My father had befriended him, as the bartender to
Luke's Club, giving Sonny sage advice on the comings and goings in Port Charles.
Sonny had soon learned after meeting my father and talking to him, that if you
wanted to know the dirty about PC, Luke Spencer was the man to know.

I
flashed a memory of the third grade, having Jenny White's mom drop me off at
Luke's after school. She was terrified to walk me in and see four men, all in
nice suits, sitting at the bar, chatting with my dad as he poured them shots of
liquor. I remembered the feeling of Mrs. White's hand, squeezing my hand,
worried for a moment for her own safety and mine. Then, Sonny looking over to
her, giving her that smile of his, showing those dimples. Then, his hands were
picking me up and twirling me around before handing me across the bar to my
father. It was the safest feeling in the world, being around those men. "Welcome
home from hell, Gumdrop," My father had smiled, referring to my school day,
plopping a kiss on my forehead before fixing me up a Shirley Temple at the bar.

Now, a teenager with many memories of all the men below me, I sat
quietly on the top flight of stairs and listened to them, talking in muffled
whispers, thinking they were protecting me from the horrible reality that my
father was dead. I knew none of these men would find it easy to deal with losing
my father, but knowing I wasn't listening to the details made the loads on their
shoulders a little less heavy to bear, so I gave them that. I sat upstairs and
pretended not to be listening; it was all I could give them at the
time.

Sonny explained how he had gotten a voicemail earlier in the night
from my father, explaining that he'd found some rich old man out in Crimson
Point to con out of his millions. Anthony Zaccarah would be the easiest mark
ever, he'd said, before saying he had to go. Being familiar with the last name,
Sonny had run out of his office behind The Paradise Lounge and had called Jason
immediately. Both men had separately raced to Crimson Point, Francis and John
following close behind them. By the time they'd gotten to the mansion, my father
was already upstairs in Zaccarah's office, bleeding to death from a
self-inflicted shot in the dead, an unlucky victim of a game of Russian
Roulette. Zaccarah had held a gun to his head, forcing him to play. My father's
luck had run out at a time he'd needed it the most. Anthony Zaccarah hadn't been
the kind of man you could con.

I couldn't hear any more details. I
hurried back into my room and threw on a long sweatshirt over my leggings and
slipped my feet into a pair of flat-bottomed boots. Pulling my hair into a messy
ponytail, I pushed up the window to my bedroom and ordered Foster to stay in
place as I shimmied my way onto the trusty tree branch that would help me get
downstairs to the side of the house without being detected. My head was aching
and my eyes were blurry, the tears too much to control. I dropped my feet down
into the rain puddles surrounding the old oak tree and pulled the hood of my
sweatshirt over my head to shield me from the pounding rain. I needed to get as
far away from the house tonight as possible. I ducked away from where Max, the
newest of Sonny's guards, was standing and made my way over to Sonny's town car.
I said a silent prayer as I pulled on the driver's side door and I couldn't help
but utter thanks as it opened for me. I slipped into the driver's seat and
immediately bent down to get to work trying to hotwire the thing. It would be a
piece of cake to get this baby's motor running compared to Jason's SUV which
took forever.

"Don't want to spoil your getaway, but you should know the
guy whose car this is isn't the kind to mess around with." A voice from the
backseat scared the crap out of me. I glanced back through the mirror and saw a
pair of obsidian eyes staring back at me in the dark. The rain was pelting down
on the windshield, sounding like bombs being dropped on us, but if I clicked
open the door and screamed for help, Max would probably still hear me.

"Who …are you?" I whispered, my voice quivering. I thought of my dad.
Never show weakness, Gumdrop; or they'll gut you alive.

"Maybe I should
ask who you are." He said with a boyish grin on his face. "Seeing as how I was
here first?"

I turned around and studied what I could make of his face
in the stormy darkness. He was handsome from what I could tell and looked much
older than me, but by the way he teased me with every word he spoke, I could
tell he wasn't a day older than twenty. "Maybe you should tell me who the hell
you are before I scream loud enough for Max to alert John and Francis. Francis
sounds soft, but he's more like The Punisher in disguise."

"You know who
The Punisher is?" He asked, nodding to himself, "Impressive."

"You're in
Sonny's car, so I'm guessing you're not a threat," I told him, "But you need to
get out because I have someplace I need to be."

"Where were you planning
on going?" He asked.

"Anywhere but here," I muttered.

"Well I
can't get rained on," He drawled slowly, his eyes locking on mine, "I'll
melt."

"Listen, I'd love to let you boost your ego by flirting with me in
the middle of a storm, but I'm not interested, especially not tonight." I
whispered, "So please get the hell out!"

"First of all, it's not the best
night of my life, either, but every second that passes I'm feeling better and
better," He replied, "And second, if I was flirting with you, which I wasn't by
the way... you'd know it."

I felt like my cheeks were burning hot from
embarrassment. Was he trying to tell me I wasn't the type of girl he'd want to
flirt with? I tried to shrug it off, reminding myself I had more pressing issues
to deal with than this idiot and his cocky attitude. My father was dead. Luke
Spencer would never again call me his gumdrop or princess.

"Well, I'm
glad it's a good night for you, but it's a horrible night for me, so if you'd
step the hell outside of the car and let me be on my way, I'd appreciate it!" I
yelled.

"I'm not flirting or anything, so don't get your hopes up," He
warned, "But you're kind of cute when you're all angry."

"Get out!" I
screamed louder and he moved his hand to hold his ears, but I noticed he
couldn't. It was because his hands were behind him, restraining him from moving
them.

He realized I had figured out that he was being held in the car
and smiled innocently, "You want to drive off and rescue me?"

"Who are
you?" I asked, the color draining from my face as I realized he must have had
something to do with my father's death. Why else would Sonny be bringing him out
from that house alive and in handcuffs if he didn't have something to do with my
dad?

"I'm Johnny Zaccarah, and don't worry, I won't try to hurt you." He
laughed, nodding to his handcuffed state.

I stared at him in horror,
wishing I had a gun in my hand, or a knife. A baseball bat would do. "You're
related to…" I had to swallow the bile that rose up in my throat before I could
even say the mad man's name, "Anthony Zaccarah?"

His laughing eyes
sobered up and he looked at me curiously, the smile wiped from his mouth, "He
was my father. But he's dead now." Johnny looked like he was happy at the fact
that his father was dead. He must have been more of a lunatic than Anthony to
react that way to his own dad's death. "What's it to you?"

"Everything."
I whispered. "It's everything to me."

Tears sprung from my eyes and I
did a stupid thing without thinking first. I flew my hands toward him as I
leaned over the front seat to the back and I swung for his face. He moved to the
side, grunting in surprise, and I reached for him again, my hands colliding with
his face as my fingernails clutched at his skin. "I hate you!" I screamed, over
and over again, my misery at losing my father breaking my wall of control, "I
hate your fucking guts!"

He was calling out for me to calm down but I
couldn't. I just screamed until my own ears hurt. The next thing I felt was wind
swooshing in as the front door was pulled open and Jason's arms were coaxing me
out of the car, "Lulu, come on, it's okay…" Jason whispered, as I collided into
his chest, the safest I'd ever felt. He was never a man for words, but when he
said the following, I struggled to believe him, "It's going to be
okay."

Jason never lied. He'd been in a car accident a few years back.
His older brother AJ, the drunk, had been driving and the car had ended up
wrapped around a tree. AJ escaped without a scratch and Jason survived the
insurmountable with a scrambled head. Uncle Sonny had given him a job when the
rest of the world had treated him like he was broken. Jason knew one thing above
all else; loyalty. When he cared about you, he would move heaven and earth to
keep his promises. When he told me it would be okay, I trusted that one day, it
might.

"He's a Zaccarah, Jason!" I cried, "Kill him!"

Jason
looked at me in horror. I'd never referred to his role in Sonny's organization
so bluntly before. Never. He didn't bat an eyelash, but then again, this was
Jason; I didn't expect him to. "Sonny will explain everything, Lu." Jason
promised, trying to lead me back to the house.

Through the open car
door, with the little inside light turned on, I glanced to see Johnny Zaccarah
staring out at me in confusion, trying to free himself from the restraints, but
not saying anything. "It's a good night for you, huh?" I yelled out at him,
wiping my eyes furiously to get the rain and tears off. "Well fuck you and I
hope you rot in hell with your father!"

"Who the hell are you to talk to
me like that?" He yelled back, "Do you know who you're talking
to!?"

Jason slammed the door of the car shut with his foot and the rest
of Johnny's tirade was drowned out. Jason gently put his arm around my shoulder
and we began to walk. My feet were shaking and I was losing my balance. I
collapsed against his side, thinking of my father's body, laying on the cold
ground in some house, a creepy lunatic standing above him laughing. I put my
head against Jason's shoulder and whispered, "I can't."

He nodded and
bent down a little, scooping my legs out from underneath me, carrying me in
steady quick strides to the house. Sonny was waiting for me at the door. Lucky
had apparently already left, out on some mission to alert the police and arrest
Anthony Zaccarah. Lucky didn't know what I already knew. Or maybe he did and he
chose to ignore the knowledge. Anthony Zaccarah had messed with an important
man. He was most likely already dead and buried.

"Honey, come here,"
Sonny whispered, enveloping me in his arms. It felt good to exhale the breath I
was holding. I was slippery and wet from the rain and getting his nice suit
soggy, but he didn't care. He just did what he did best, squeezed me harder and
shared my pain. "What happened out there?" Sonny asked Jason.

"Lulu met
Johnny." Jason replied softly.

"I want to be there when it happens," I
whispered, unlocking myself from Uncle Sonny's arms and staring back and forth
between Jason and Sonny. "I want to be there when you kill Johnny
Zaccarah."

My grief was talking and they knew it. Sonny smiled in concern
and whispered, "No one's killing Johnny Zaccarah, Lu. His father did this. He
had nothing to do with it."

"He was just sitting there, happy," I
explained in shock, "Like it was just another night."

"Lulu, do you know
how much trouble I'd be in if people were allowed to be judged for the sins of
their fathers?" Sonny asked. "Johnny's just a kid. He's not who you should be
angry at."

"Anthony is dead, isn't he?" I whispered, my eyes searching
Sonny's validation.

"Lu, you don't know what you're saying," Sonny
explained. They never talked business with me.

That was about to change.
I grabbed Sonny's hand and squeezed it, "He's dead, right Sonny?"

Sonny
looked to Jason, and back at me, taking his time before he nodded.

I
nodded back and fell against his arms. "Thank you, Uncle Sonny."

I was a
little girl thanking the man who had killed the man who had killed my father.

And this night was just the beginning of the story of my
family.

2 - Johnny

The day of my emancipation began just
like any other day before it in miserable Crimson Point. I'd woken up early and
gone for a jog, as far out as my father's "handlers" would let me go on my own.
After that, I'd come back to the house to take a warm shower and to go through
my morning's worth of online college courses. I was nearly twenty years old and
had never seen the inside of a classroom, but I refused to let my father's
imprisonment of me harm my chances at a future. I knew that if I wanted to one
day survive in a world that wasn't run by Anthony Zaccarah, I'd need to grow
strong and I'd need to be smart. I wouldn't be one of those mobster's kids who
grew up only knowing the way of the gun. I read the books the online teachers
recommended on top of my coursework and I was getting good feedback from my
online advisor. If I had been a real boy, in the real world, I would be on my
way to success. But I was only pretending to be a normal guy. In reality, I was
a prisoner yearning to be free. Every morning, I locked myself in my room and
tried to educate myself for a future I hoped to have, but the odds were stacked
against it. Anthony Zaccarah treated me as his last remaining possession in the
world. I would never be free.

It was around two o'clock by the time I'd
gotten myself downstairs to grab a bite to eat. My father was pacing in his
office as I tried to pass by undetected. Nothing got by Anthony Zaccarah. The
world considered the man certifiably insane, but I knew his secret; that he was
sharp as a sword. "Johnny, where have you been?" He asked in that threatening
little drawl of his.

"I was up in my room," I shrugged, "As
always."

"I don't believe you. You didn't take out that deathtrap of a
car, did you?" He asked, his eyebrow raised.

"No." I said angrily, trying
to keep my tone in check so not to excite him, "Don't you remember you made
Fredo take my keys?"

"Fredo, that goof." Anthony suddenly laughed, "He
didn't tell me!"

"Well now you know," I muttered.

"You spend too
much time on that computer of yours," Anthony whined, "You're not watching porn
are you?" He shook his head, talking to himself, "Last thing I need is the Feds
at my door trying to take me in for downloading copyrighted pictures of
boobies."

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes he said this ridiculous stuff just
to get under my skin. He thought I was soft and he hated me for it. He was
constantly searching for ways to get a rise out of me; hoping I'd finally have
enough, find my balls, and lash out at him, turning into a monster in his own
image. "Don't worry. No porn on my machine." I said, heading for the door, "You
should check Trevor's room if porn has got you worried."

"Trevor,"
Anthony nodded and slapped my back a little too hard to be friendly, "That's my
John, soft as a puddle of mud, but smart. Very smart you are, maybe too smart
for your own good."

"I'll be in my room if you need me." I mentioned,
heading out.

"Be downstairs in two hours, I need your attendance at the
show." Anthony told me cheerfully. I had never before called him my dad.

I was about to ignore him altogether but he sounded sinister. The hairs
on the back of my neck prickled up, "What show?" I asked, dreading the
response.

"Some fool is coming over here thinking he's going to pull a
fast one on me," Anthony smiled, walking to his desk drawer and pulling out his
prized antique gun. "He's in for a surprise."

"Why do you need me?" I
asked, feeling guilt and worry in my stomach for the poor guy who was going to
walk into this house tonight not knowing it would be his last night on earth.
There had been too many of them lately, unknowing innocents who hadn't left this
place alive. My father's desire for madness was an appetite that was getting
harder and harder to satisfy.

"I think it's time for your first kill,
John." Anthony suggested.

"Go to hell," I muttered, walking out of his
office and slamming the door, hoping to shut out his angry screams that
followed.

Hours passed and I heard them talking downstairs. My father was
laughing, probably telling his eccentric jokes that he repeated for every new
visitor. While I usually put on my headphones and cranked the volume loud on
nights like this; I couldn't this time. I found myself slowly walking down to
the hallway outside my father's office as I heard him explaining to his guest
his theory on Russian Roulette. He pulled out his gun, I saw from the slit in
the double-doors, but this guest didn't immediately gasp like some others before
him had done. He merely nodded, smiling.

"So, you're a man of chance,
Mr. Zaccarah." The man with the white hair told my father, "So am
I."

"Then you wouldn't mind playing?" Anthony suggested, handing him the
gun, "Humoring the guy who's going to invest two hundred thousand dollars in
your little boat?"

"The Haunted Star is definitely not little." The guest
corrected, "Forget what you heard about the Titanic. My baby is the real ship of
dreams."

"You go first." Anthony prodded, waiting for the guest to pull
the trigger.
It was already set up for the guest to lose. I knew that. The
guards knew that. No one stopped my father, though. We were all stuck in his
trap.
The guest handed the gun back, "Why don't you begin, you are the host,
after all?"

"No," Anthony warned, pulling out a second gun from behind
his back, aiming at the man's head, "I insist."

The man nodded, "Oh, not
a betting man, after all?" He nodded to himself and grabbed a glass of whiskey
beside him on the table, taking a nice long gulp. He held the gun up to his
head, straight in the middle of his eyes he held it. "I wouldn't want to miss
and become a vegetable for the rest of my life," He smiled nervously.

I
admired him. As sick as the situation was, he was going his own way. For that,
he was worthy of admiration. The guest took a deep breath, but didn't close his
eyes. He quickly pulled the trigger and it clicked, but nothing resulted. The
guest took a deep breath and then a sly grin spread across his face, "Your turn,
old man."

My father put his own gun down on the table behind him, the one
closest to me, and quickly grabbed the first gun and aimed it at his own head,
pulling the trigger quickly, knowing it wasn't loaded. A click, but nothing more
came.
He handed the gun back to the guest, "Shoot."

"No." The guest
shook his head. "We each went once. That's one round. You only asked for one
round."

"I said shoot." Anthony insisted. I knew the next click would
have a bang connected to it, and it seemed the guest was weary of the same
reality. He was done with my father's little game. It wasn't fun anymore. For
me, it hadn't been fun from the beginning.

The guest grabbed the gun and
shook his head disappointedly at my father, "I promised my kid a card game
tonight."

"Tough luck," Anthony muttered, "Now shoot
yourself!"

The guest laughed cynically. "You're one sick old man, you
know that?" He picked up his own death sentence and aimed it for his head.
Taking a long breath, he exhaled with a click…and then, nothing.

It
didn't fire. My legs were about to collapse underneath me. I watched in horror
as Anthony grabbed the gun and examined it, "You think you're lucky?"

He
warned, "No one cheats me at Russian Roulette."

He aimed the gun at the
guest. I couldn't take it anymore. Before I knew what I was doing, my legs were
carrying me into the room, my hands were reaching out to grab my father's other
gun, and I was aiming, at the back of my father's head. "He played your game,
and he got lucky." I yelled, angry at the madness of it all, "Let him
go!"

"John, son, go back up to your room," Anthony warned.

"I
thought I had an invitation to the show," I released the safety and my father
tensed. The guest was staring at me curiously, wondering if I had the balls to
shoot my own father. I had imagined this moment a million times in my head. In
my head, I always had courage when killing this man who'd brought so much pain
to others. "Let him go." I warned again.

"You're not going to shoot me,"
Anthony laughed, "He's soft." He told the guest.

"Do not shoot him!" I
warned, "I'll kill you!"

Anthony stared into the guests eyes coldly.
Whatever the guest saw in Anthony's eyes, must have been chilling, because right
before my father pulled the trigger, blowing the man's brains out, the man said
to me, "You did good, kid."

As he smiled at me, blood spattered around
his face. His smile stayed in front of my eyes as I looked to my father, his gun
now pointed at me. Before I could second guess myself, I thought of my mother
and hoped she would forgive me from up in heaven. I pulled the trigger and shot
several times, until the laugh coming from my father's mouth faded into a grown,
and then silence.

I stood there for twenty minutes, frozen in place,
just having killed my own father.

I was standing there, still holding
the gun in my hand when one of my father's enemies, Sonny Corinthos, walked in
with his enforcer, Jason Morgan. They had their guns drawn and yelled for me to
put mine down. I gripped the gun in my hand and then just dropped back sitting
on the couch, watching my father's lifeless body.

They were surveying
the scene in shock. Corinthos stood with his gun on me as Morgan fell to his
knees on the floor beside the guest, cradling his head in his arms as he
whispered, "Dammit , Luke."

Sonny Corinthos had his eyes trained on me
and he lowered his gun, even though I was still holding mine. He was looking at
me curiously for reasons I couldn't bring myself to imagine. They were here to
save this man and kill my father. Would they want to get rid of me, too? I
couldn't imagine death; I had just begun to toy with the idea of finally living
after so long.

"Sonny," Jason Morgan said, his gun pointed at my head,
"Don't lower your weapon."

"Don't shoot him, Jason!" Sonny
warned.

"Who are you?" Morgan asked me, his voice stone cold. He kept
glancing at his boss, wondering why he was staring at me like that.

"Johnny," I whispered, knowing they'd finally figure out sooner or
later. I stuttered as I said my last name, "Z..zaccarah." I looked at my father
lying on the floor, hunched over, all the madness gone from him. He looked now
like any old broken, bleeding, dead man. Even though I was in the company of
strangers who probably wished to do me harm, the words just flew from my mouth,
"I'd imagined doing it a million times, but I never brought myself to do it
before. I worried I would feel regretful afterward."

"What do you feel
now?" Sonny Corinthos asked me. He was eyeing me curiously.

It was the
first time I'd seen him up close. He didn't look too dangerous, even though I
knew he was the head of an empire that rivaled my father's. He still wasn't
taking his eyes off of me in a way that made me a little
uncomfortable.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked slowly. I had just
been given my free ticket to life. I wasn't ready to lose it
yet.

"Depends on how this situation makes you feel." Sonny
shrugged.

"Free." I whispered, dropping the gun onto the floor and
covering my eyes with my hands as I sunk into the couch, "I feel free from
him."

I sat there on the couch as Jason and Sonny and their men went to
work wiping any traces of my presence on the gun or their own presence in the
room altogether. I wondered why they were helping me. I hoped I wasn't being
lured into a trap. I didn't have my father's deceitful ways or his animal
instinct. When someone told me they weren't going to harm me, I believed
them.

"What's going on, Sonny?" Jason asked his boss. I could hear them
from across the room.

"He reminds me of him," Sonny
whispered.

"Who?" Jason asked.

"Stone." Sonny whispered.

No more questions were asked. Morgan nodded and looked at me, not seeing
the resemblance to whoever this Stone was, but accepting Sonny's decision not to
have me killed nonetheless. When the clean-up crew's job was complete, Sonny
walked over to me and said, "Johnny, I know you're not thinking straight right
now. But, I'm not your enemy. I don't know what you've had to deal with here,
but I'm telling you there's a world out there where you can move on and forget
the sins of your father. If you want to stay here and claim your family title,
I'll respect that. I won't harm you. But if you want to be free of it; you can
come with us, and I'll help you…"

"Why would you want to help me?" I
asked, my face in a scowl as I stared up at him, trying to figure him
out.

He was silent for a long while as he exhaled a deep breath. "Because
you remind me of a kid I used to know that I couldn't save."

Stone, I
thought to myself. I looked around my father's office. No family photos lining
the fireplace. No warmth. No colors. Only red, the color of blood, the only
color in the entire room. I looked up at him and said in my strongest voice, "I
won't be a mobster."

"No problem." He nodded, "I'll find you something to
do. You a good bartender?"

As we walked out of Crimson Point, I felt a
load was being lifted from my shoulders. "What are you going to do with the
house?" I asked as Sonny showed me to the back seat of his car.

"I
haven't thought about it yet." Sonny shrugged.

"Burn it," I told him, and
he nodded, liking the suggestion.

As we rode in silence, I looked in the
rearview to see flames gaining life behind us. Soon, the prison I had known of
as home would be ashes burnt to the ground. Sonny explained on the drive that he
needed to make a stop, and that it couldn't wait. He didn't want me getting
jittery and running off to the police, so he asked if I would mind if he
handcuffed me to prevent my escaping. I should have been worried, maybe, but the
way he asked if I would mind eased my worries. I nodded as Sonny's guard, Max,
cuffed me. They put me back in the seat and told me to stay put.

It was
raining hard and pellets of water were slamming all against the windshield. As
the minutes passed, I realized more and more what freedom from my father would
mean. No more handlers following me like shadows. No more crazy violence and
games of Russian Roulette. I made a list in my mind of things I could have now
that I'd always wanted: Privacy, Education, a Job, a Girlfriend. The last
thought was the most appealing. After all, I was twenty and had never been able
to go on more than one date for fear that my father would find out and my
girlfriend would end up dead. My only kiss had been two years ago, with one of
my father's lawyer's legal assistants who'd come by the house to drop off some
papers. She'd come across me working out and had shamelessly flirted until we
ended up making out on one of the weight-lifting benches, her in my lap until
we'd heard my father coming. I'd warned her she'd be dead if she ever tried to
contact me.

That was my first and last sexual experience in life. I
expected that to change, though. Real soon.

I was lost in these thoughts
when the driver's side door suddenly was pulled open and a girl half my size
with long blonde hair jumped into the front seat, bending over and muttering to
herself about hotwiring the car. I checked her out as well as I could in the
dark. She looked hot to me.

"Don't want to spoil your getaway, but you
should know the guy whose car this is isn't the kind to mess around with." It
sounded cool in my head but I felt like a doofus as the words came out of my
mouth. I welcomed the distraction this girl provided; taking my mind off from
the horror of what I had done tonight.

She whispered slowly, turning
around, "Who..are you?"

I didn't want her afraid of me. A lifetime of
watching people fear my father
and his name, I didn't want to have that kind
of effect on people, "Shouldn't I be asking you who you are, seeing as how I was
here first?"

She didn't smile. She was supposed to smile at that. The
flirting was awkward. Maybe she was having a bad night, and it looked like she
was, from her mascara-stained eyes. Or, maybe I needed to learn how to talk to
girls. Whatever it was didn't matter because as soon as I said my full name, she
was on top of me, and not in a good way.

I felt her fingernails scratch
against the side of my face and it burned. I wasn't used to this feeling of
being hated. I was usually the one hating others; especially my father and his
men. No one who had ever been close enough to talk to me had been reckless
enough to confront the son of a madman. "Get off of me!" I groaned and my
eardrums were shattered by her voice, screaming over and over, "I hate
you!"

Morgan came and pulled open the door and pulled her off of me.
Whatever he was saying to her, she seemed to calm down. I watched him pick her
up in his arms like she was a fragile doll, even though her smart mouth told me
otherwise. Somehow, the way she rested her forehead against the enforcer's chest
like it was the most natural place in the world for her head to be; it bothered
me.

"It's a good night for you, huh?" She yelled out at me, wiping her
eyes furiously to get the rain and tears off. "Well I hope you rot in hell with
your father!"

"Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?" I yelled
back, "Do you know who you're talking to!?" Jason slammed the door of the car
shut with his foot, so she didn't hear me call her a crazy twirp. Before she
died, my mom had taught me to always respect women; that's why twirp was the
worst word that came to mind to call this girl who had just attacked
me.

I watched as she whispered something to Jason. A flash of lightning
caused me to see her face right for the first time. She was gorgeous, and as
Jason carried her, I realized how frail she looked. Something bad had happened
to her and as the pieces fell together, I realized that I was right in the
middle of it. My reason for happiness was the cause of her pain. My father had
killed someone important to this girl. And I was condemned to be hated for it.
For my father, and for the name he gave me; Zaccarah.

My name was my
curse even with Anthony Zaccarah dead and gone.

3 -
Lulu

When my cousin Lucas's dad, Tony Jones, died a couple of years
ago of a heart attack, I remember it felt like the world had ended. One day Tony
was alive, and all was right. The next day, he was gone and Lucas dropped out of
school, bills began stacking up outside Aunt Bobbie's door, and she began
working like a slave to pay off all the necessities, as best they could do
without a doctor's salary to help them. Lucas suffered an identity crisis and
Bobbie began drinking. It all fell apart and no matter how much time passed, it
could never be put back together again. Not the way it used to be.

That's
how losing a father was supposed to effect a family. In our house, Luke
Spencer's daily presence wasn't a tangible loss. He hadn't always steadily
watched over us; instead leaving us alone to fend for ourselves months on end
while he was off on one adventure or another. Still, knowing we could come home
one day and find him holding his bottle of Jameson as he sat on the couch; it
had been something adventurous to look forward to.

With dad gone, Lucky
spent more and more time at the Police Station, taking extra shifts, just to
stay away from the house we'd grown up in. That left me.

Winter turned
into Spring and soon, an entire season passed in Port Charles. I found myself
spending more and more time alone. Sonny and Jason were busy with their new
family member; Johnny Zaccarah, the next best thing since Cool Whip, and I was
the odd one out. As much as they tried to include me in their activities of
daily living, I found it hard to share the same space as the kid whose father
had killed mine. We crossed each other's paths from time to time, but I never
let myself talk to him like another human being. He was just some guy I'd nod to
like I would any other bum on the street. He was just some guy; or so I told
myself.

The other half of my household found it easier to pretend that my
father had never existed. Lucky ascended in ranks at the police force and was
determined to dedicate himself to bringing down the criminals of Port Charles.
The same criminals who had always wanted what was best for me; and for
him.

I tried to bury my head in school, but I'd never been much for books
and my grades slipped, as was natural given the circumstances. After a while, I
stopped going altogether, realizing that the truancy notices all came to the
door; the same door my brother was pained to walk through lately. No one knew,
except for some of my friends, that I was giving up on the future altogether.
What was the point? What was the point of everything if your mother was in an
asylum for the brain-challenged, your father was under the earth, and your
brother refused to look you in the eye? There was no point.

It was May in
Port Charles and in one month, my friends would be attending graduation,
receiving their diplomas, and smiling in greeting to the future. Maxie Jones
would go off to make her way in the fashion world. Damien Spinelli would go be
some brilliant computer dude. I would...

Sitting on a chair at an outside
table at Kelly's, playing with a plate of fries, I envied the people my age
around me. I envied them to the point of hatred; hating their smiles, their
laughs, the carefree way they joked around with each other and discussed their
weekend plans. I tried not to pay attention to them or not to pay attention to
the nagging feeling of dread in my heart, telling me what I was missing most
about life.

"Mind if I have a seat, sweetheart?" A stranger asked,
interrupting my thoughts, "It's a little crowded out here."

I looked to
the table next to me, which was empty and back at the short, balding man in the
cheap suit. What worried me most wasn't his beady eyes that reaked of something
sinister, but the guy standing behind him who looked like he was carrying a gun
at his side.

"Listen, I'm nobody; and even if I was somebody, it wouldn't
be anybody you'd want to mess with," I warned through gritted teeth, trying not
to call any attention to myself. My old friends from school already thought I
was turning into a recluse; they didn't need to know I had a target on my back
as well. The news would reach Lucky in a heartbeat.

"You have a big mouth
for a little girl," He smiled, and he looked like the sleazebags who used to get
drunk and hit on my mom when I was a kid and we were picking up my dad from
outside Sonny's lounge when he'd had one too many to drive home, "You know what
they do to occupy a big mouth, don't you honey?"

"You need to leave me
the hell alone before I scream," I warned him.
His hand reached out and
grabbed mine, squeezing hard, "You need to respect the man who decides if you
live or die."

"The only person here deciding who lives or dies is the one
with his gun pointed at your chest, Sorel," Johnny came out of nowhere and held
out his free hand to me, pulling me up and shielding me behind him. I found my
fingers absentmindedly gripping the back of his shirt, peeking over his shoulder
as I watched the stranger's eyes widen in surprise. Across the shocked crowd, I
could see Maxie's eyes raking over Johnny in a curious way.

"You're
making a mistake, kid," The stranger warned, "Saying my name like
that."

"You just made a mistake breaking the peace." Johnny said
confidently, "And you're going to pay the consequences."

"Johnny," I
whispered, begging him silently in my head not to provoke the man with the
sinister eyes.

"Your girlfriend is scared, Romeo," The man taunted, "So
either shoot me or run away with your tail between your legs. Either way; you'll
see me again."

"I look forward to it," Johnny told him
confidently.

"See you soon, little girl with the big mouth," The man
said, smiling at me in a way that made me feel uneasy. I averted my eyes from
his gaze. "Romeo, I'll bet you love that mouth on your..."

Johnny
stepped to the right, shielding him from seeing me, "You don't talk to her,
don't cross her path again," Johnny warned coldly, "Or the next bullet in my gun
will go through your eyes."

"We'll see who gets the first shot, kid," He
reached down and dug his fatty hand into my plate of fries, "Thanks for lunch,
Ms. Spencer."

Johnny turned to me once they were gone and found my knees
wobbling as his hands reached out to steady me, "It's okay," He promised
soothingly, "You're okay. It was a mistake. He probably thought you were someone
else."

I solemnly looked into his eyes, and even though he was trying his
best to sugar coat it, I couldn't let him take me for a fool, "It wasn't a
mistake." I whispered, stating the obvious, "He knew my name."

"We need
to go to Sonny," Johnny suddenly remembered, rational thought coming back to
him.

"Like hell you do," Lucky and his partner arrived on scene, their
badges glinting against the sun. "You alright, Lulu?"

I took a breath to
steady my nerves and replied, "I'm fine, what's going on?"

I knew where
this was leading. Growing up around Sonny and Jason, I'd seen it a hundred times
before. Johnny was standing in front of me, and I stepped behind him, pretending
I was just shrugging off my jacket. Partially hidden from view, I softly reached
for Johnny's gun, tucked in his back at the waist and I pulled it out quickly,
wrapping it against my coat as I turned to face my brother. Even though I could
feel him tense up in surprise, Johnny didn't say a word.

"We got a call
some guy pulled out his weapon on Lulu Spencer and some guy in a suit," Lucky
explained, his hands on Johnny's shoulders as he forcibly turned him around and
pushed him against the wall, "You wouldn't be carrying a gun, would you, Mr.
Zaccarah?"

Lucky searched Johnny and came up empty.

He was
visibly angry, "Lulu you stay the hell away from this guy and the hell away from
Sonny, you hear me?"

"Are you going to be sticking around at home more to
make sure that happens?" I snorted in disgust. My brother was such a hypocrite.
I didn't matter enough to him for him to stay to support me in our loss, but he
didn't want me around Sonny either. "Well, Sonny's the only father figure I have
left and the only person whose ever been a real brother to me is Jason Morgan,
not you!"

"Jason?" Lucky laughed to himself, nodding, "Jason's your
brother?"

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Jason is a con artist. A brain dead,
lying sack of stab you in the back.." Lucky quieted down as Sonny approached,
"Here he is now, the Godfather of Port Charles. Don't worry, Lulu's alive...this
time."

"Lucky," I warned, wishing he wouldn't make a scene.

"Mr.
Corinthos, I have a few questions for you regarding your warehouse that was set
on fire last night at Pier 43." Lucky explained, "You wouldn't mind coming with
me, would you?"

"Not as long as my lawyer meets us there, Cowboy." Sonny
whispered.

It was a low blow to use that nickname, and I felt my brother
wince. I knew in my gut that Sonny wasn't the kind of guy who wanted to hurt my
brother by calling him the nickname my dad always did. It was just that Lucky
had been so bad to him lately, a thorn in their sides. He had even gone so far
as to ban Sonny from his own best friend's funeral. Sonny wasn't egging him on
because he hated cops; no. Sonny was just angry that the kid he raised as a
nephew was turning on him. It hurt to lose my dad and Lucky along with
him.

"You want to take in the kid, too?" Detective Cruz asked.

"No, Mr. Corinthos will do for now," Lucky replied.

Before they
took him, Sonny leaned over to Johnny and whispered for him to take me straight
back to Sonny's penthouse and wait for him. As soon as they were gone and it was
just me and Johnny, I turned to leave and his hand looped around my arm, pulling
me back, "Where do you think you're going? Sonny told me to take you to his
place."

"Since when do you think I started taking orders?" I asked,
shrugging like I didn't care. I just wanted to get home, into my room, under the
covers, put on a soft record and listen to music that made me forget about life.
Forget about the man who threatened my life or that my dad was dead and that my
brother had just arrested a man who loved us like his own kids.

My arm
felt warm in his and I had to remember to breathe steadily because for some
reason, breathing was hard to do when Johnny was close. "Since when did you
start carrying a gun?" I whispered, "I thought you were determined to be
different."

"I'm already different, Lulu." Johnny whispered, "Can't you
tell this is just what I need right now, until I can move on to something
better?"

He wanted to move on to something better, which meant that
Johnny would be leaving soon. I had heard some guards talking about how the
Zaccarah kid refused to get involved in the darker aspect of Sonny's business.
It had been an interesting revelation. I had admired Johnny for that. Now, he
was carrying a gun and threatening men who seemed pretty serious. I was worried
that he would get sucked into the life he desperately wanted to avoid and it
would be because of me.

"Hiya, I'm Maxie Jones," She was in front of us,
wasting my breathing space, her eyes shooting daggers at Johnny as she held out
her manicured little hand to him. "That cop said your name's Johnny,
right?"

"Right," Johnny nodded, looking to me for some back-up. I didn't
provide him any. Of course Maxie would want to hit on the first guy she saw me
talking to. It was what she did best; steal what was mine. From malibu barbie in
the fifth grade to Logan Hayes in eighth grade to the dress my brother Nikolas
bought for me for Sophomore Homecoming.

"You're new in town, aren't
you?" Maxie smiled, playing with her hair, "You know, I'm really good at showing
people around.."

I laughed at the suggestive tone of her voice. To me, it
sounded desperate. Who would want to be with someone who'd been around the block
so many times she was an expert at it? I didn't even glance at Johnny. He was
probably drooling and falling for her flirting. Every guy eventually
did.

"Listen, I'm here with Lulu so I'd appreciate it if you could tone
it down a little," Johnny said, dismissing her easily, as he turned to me with
his hand on my shoulder, "You ready to get out of here?"

I was surprised
by him. I ignored the way Maxie looked like her head was about to explode and I
nodded, "Yeah, I'm ready." I smiled. Johnny knew I rarely smiled at him so it
was obvious I was only being nice because I was getting a kick of sticking it to
Maxie.

He said softly, "My car's in the alley. We can head back to my
place if that's good with you?"

I nodded and he placed his hand on the
small of my back, guiding me to the alley behind Kelly's where he'd parked his
yellow Mustang. He opened the passenger door for me and ran around to the
driver's side. I leaned over and unlocked his door for him. As he turned on the
ignition and revved his car's engine, I noticed Johnny's eyes change. It was as
if he had come alive. He backed out of the alley and I couldn't help but wave at
Maxie as she stood on the street corner with a scowl on her overly-made-up face,
waiting for the bus.

"Thanks for doing that.." I whispered, "I know I
seemed pathetic, but.."

"She gets under your skin." Johnny shrugged, "A
lot of people get under my skin. It was kind of fun watching her strain against
the Botox to smile at me."

I laughed at his diss against Maxie. "Well,
thanks again. Maxie rarely doesn't get what she wants."

"Well, this time
she doesn't get what she wants." Johnny said confidently, as if he was making me
a promise.

"Don't stay away on account of me," I whispered, not wanting
him to think he had to stay away from Maxie because my feelings would be hurt.
"I wouldn't care either way."

He glanced at me, and he wasn't smiling.
Then, he turned his attention to the radio, changing the dial until he found
something instrumental. He was silent the rest of the way to Harborview Towers
and I wondered if it was because he didn't like me saying that I didn't care if
he got with Maxie. Why would that make him upset, I wondered. Unless... did he
like me? Not a chance. I had hated him since I first learned his name and I
hadn't given him the time of day since. He probably thought I was an ice queen.

It was dark by the time we reached Sonny's and after the guard, Francis,
let us in, I went around the living room clicking on lamps. None of them
provided too much light. I had always nagged Sonny about getting brighter lights
and he'd always replied, "Honey, then how am I going to seduce all my
women?"

Johnny dropped his car keys on the table by the door and he
watched me, unsure of what to do. "Why do you walk on eggshells around me?" I
asked bluntly.

"Isn't it obvious?" He shrugged. We shared an
uncomfortable laugh.

"I'm not going to freak out on you like I did the
first time we met," I said, remembering there was something wrapped in the coat
I was holding. I pulled out the gun and held it up to him, "I forgot to give you
this.."

He strode over to me and grabbed the gun, hiding it away in the
desk drawer. I sat down on the ottoman, like Carly always did. It drove Sonny
nuts. An ottoman was like a table, he'd told me a million times before, not a
couch. Johnny excused himself to the kitchen and disappeared for a while, coming
back out with two mugs. "Hot Chocolate, ok?" He asked.

I nodded and
reached for a mug and he sat down on the couch, facing me. I saw he'd thrown a
couple of marshmallows into my mug and I tried to hide my smile as I flicked
them around with my fingertip to immerse them in the hot cocoa. "You don't
strike me as the type of guy to like marshmallows," I told him.

"You're
the one surprised by me?" He asked, "Are you kidding? I still don't get how you
knew to take my gun."

I shrugged, "I didn't think twice," I whispered
like it was no big deal.

"Most girls I know wouldn't be so smart." He
explained, giving me a roundabout compliment.

"Well I'm not most girls,"
I told him.

"Believe me, I've noticed," He muttered, before taking a sip
of his drink.

My eyes darted up and I watched him curiously. He looked
like he was about to blush. My last relationship had been the freshmen year of
high school so I wasn't in tune with men and their mixed signals. If he wanted
me to know he liked me, why wouldn't he right out say it? He was probably just
being nice because he didn't want Sonny to think I hated him.

"What do
you do here all day?" I asked curiously. I hadn't been around much and never
asked Jason or Sonny about Johnny even when running into them.

"I do
odd-jobs for Sonny if he asks me to. Jason sometimes takes me down to his garage
and we work on engines together." Johnny shrugged, "I drive around a lot by
myself."

"It must be hard adjusting.." I whispered, not wanting to
mention his past or his family.

"Where I am now is a million times better
than where I used to be." He explained, "And my room even has a view of the
harbor," Johnny smiled. His smile was sobering and he nodded to himself as he
confided in me, "Whoever Stone was; and I still haven't gotten comfortable
enough to ask. I'm pretty lucky to remind Sonny of him; because he's been really
good to me."

"Stone Cates was the brother Sonny never had," I explained.
"I was just a baby when Stone died, but he and Lucky, they were really close.
Lucky still talks about him sometimes, when he's remembering a good memory from
the past. Stone was always in the good memories for all them, Lucky and Sonny
and my dad."

"Why did he die?" Johnny asked.

"Stone, contracted
HIV from a girlfriend who was a drug addict, before Sonny turned his life
around," I explained, from what I remembered hearing around. "Stone's death
changed Sonny. He went all dark for a while, and then, little by little, Carly,
my cousin, she pulled him out of it. And ever since he met you, it's like he has
a second chance to save Stone, or...at least that's how I see it."

"I
know you didn't have to tell me any of this," Johnny said softly, leaning over
and placing his hand gingerly over mine, which was on my knee, "But I really
appreciate it."

He was leaned in and it was all innocence and gratitude,
but I felt my face flush all the same. I wasn't used to a guy, especially a guy
as cute as Johnny Zaccarah, having his face inches away from mine. I just nodded
gently and hoped he would sit back again and let me breathe. Then again, it felt
so good with his warm hand on mine and his fresh-scented cologne invading my
nose for me to want him to retreat.

He did sit back though; when the door
was pushed open.

Sonny strode in, shrugging off his suit jacket and
undoing his tie from around his neck. He tossed it onto his desk like he hated
ties. It was the old Sonny coming back to play; whereas the new Sonny wouldn't
be caught dead outside a suit. I had been young, but if I strained my memory far
enough, I could remember a picnic in the park with my parents, Lucky, Sonny and
his one-time girlfriend, Brenda, and Stone and Robin. Everyone had been waiting
for Sonny who brought fancy Italian sandwiches as opposed to the hot dogs and
buns we'd all agreed on. Everyone was surprised that he was wearing jeans with a
polo shirt as opposed to his fancy tailor-made suits. When my dad had poked fun
at him, he'd admitted that Stone was having this effect on his fashion sense.
Stone always knew how to make Sonny lighten up. Having a younger brother would
do that to you.

"You alright, Lulu?" Sonny asked. I was the first thing
on his mind even though he'd just been put through another grueling,
time-wasting interrogation courtesy of my brother. "Come here, honey."

I
walked over to him and he enveloped me in a hug. "I've missed you," I admitted
to him, feeling guilty for staying away.

"I know," He nodded, releasing
me only to shake Johnny's hand. "Thank you for watching out for her."

"Of
course." Johnny nodded. I liked the way he said it, and I even felt guilty for
hating him. He hadn't killed my father after all; his father had.

"Now
that you see I'm alright," I told Sonny, "I need to get out of here. No one's
fed Foster today."

"Lulu, the man who approached you today, his name is
Joseph Sorel," Sonny explained, stressing every word, "He doesn't kid
around."

"Okay, so I won't tell him any knock-knock jokes this time," I
promised, grabbing my coat.

"Lulu..." Sonny groaned, knowing I was like
Carly and that he couldn't boss me around like he could others.

"I'll be
fine, Sonny," I promised, turning the door knob.

"Oh, I know you'll be
fine.." He called out, and I smiled. He'd given in. Or not. He continued in a
sing-song voice, "You'll be fine because Johnny's your new shadow until I figure
out what Sorel's planning."

I turned around with a look of shock in my
eyes, not sure how I felt or what this meant for the future.