Chapter 5

Johnny was not good at apologizing.

Well, technically, he never actually apologized for anything.

There was one time whenre he scuffed up his sister's favorite pair of heels with a matchbox car, but that was only because she held him down, shoved dirt in his mouth, and threatened his life. That was life or death, which certainly wasn't the circumstance with Nadine Crowell. Yet for some reason he couldn't stop thinking about how pissed off she was all because he climbed onto the ledge of a ten story building.

Women.

This was why if it wasn't a bedroom tryst, he wasn't interested in them. They were emotional over the dumbest shit, and they had the nerve to call him stupid when they were the one acting like a basket case.

He couldn't count the number of times he'd stood on that fucking ledge. His father always dragged him to board meetings, or as Anthony called it, his future, and Johnny spent most of his time chasing scrubs and contemplating suicide, which wasn't necessarily so bad depending on how you looked at it.

Regardless, he stood on thate ledge at least once every couple weeks, and the rooftop was never occupied. He would have thought more people in the hospital would use it for solace, desperate to get away from the hell hole, or even to rendezvous and do dirty things amongst the city lights.

It wasn't the place for emotional, annoying nurses who thought they knew everything about the damned world, and it certainly wasn't the place for those nurses to call him dumb.

It was his place, and now she'd fucking ruined it. Every time he was up there, he'd think about her frown, and her stupid tears, and the way she'd screamed at him, and he wouldn't feel right about standing on the ledge anymore.

All of this was so damned disturbing that he'd wound up here -it let him to standing on her Hello Kitty doormat at two o'clock in the morning, knocking gently, only because if he knocked hard, she'd answer all pissed off.

"What?" Nadine spit, tearing the door open as she tugged her ratty, flannel robe closed. Kermit the Frog peeked out the top, and he wasn't surprised when he glanced at her pants and found matching bottoms as well as Hello Kitty slippers.

How in the hell was he supposed to talk to her when she was wearing Muppet pajamas and Hello Kitty was leering up at himer?

"You always answer the door like that?" he asked, frowning at the slippers before lifting his eyes to her face.

Shouldn't people who generally wearore Hello Kitty apparel generally be…happy?

"It's the middle of the night," she replied dumbly, her fingers wrapped tightly around the door handle.

She was entirely too tense for someone who spent the day playing with babies, poor sick people, and watching cartoons and I Love Lucy reruns.

"So," he grunted, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "You were up."

"How would you know-"

"I heard you cackling through your walls and saying vitameatavegamin," he interrupted smugly.

"Oh, you mean you heard the show because I had to turn it up as loud as my damn television would go because of your're stupid-"

"Bach is not stupid," he cut in, rolling his eyes yet again.

"Oh, and Lucille Ball is?" she challenged, letting go of the door as she clenched her fist.

He'd have to remember to get this girl a stress ball.

"Classical music is cla-"

"Classy," she hissed, arching her eyebrows. "Wow, aren't you creative?"

Taking a deep breath, he bit his cheeks, and reminded himself that this was not why he was here. He was here to…fuck, he didn't even know. He just couldn't get that damn image of her crying on the rooftop of the fucking hospital out of his mind, and it was starting to drive him crazy.

"You've pissed me off. In the middle of the night. On my only night off, so thank you," she spat sarcastically, starting to close the door, only to bebut stopped when hishis arm shot out and pushed it open. "What? Did you actually have a purpose besides coming over here and saying that my TV was too loud?"

"I never said that," he corrected sternly, adding yet another reason why women were so damn annoying. They could twist anything around to make themselves look like the victim, and he wasn't going to be a culprit of their cruel endeavors. "I said I heard you cackling, so I knew you were awake."

"Which implies-"

"Nothing," he interrupted flatly. "I didn't say I didn't like your cackling, only that it allowed me to believe you were awake…"

"So you came here because…" She waved her hand in front of her, growing impatient, while he tried to come up with, but he really didn't have a reason.

He wasn't the type of man to knock on a woman's door in the middle of the night. Usually they knocked on his, and sometimes they were paid for it – only the classy ones, of course, but she didn't definitely didn't need to know that.

"Milk," he grunted, thinking of the first possible thing that came to mind.

He lived in an apartment building on the wealthy side of town, and it was full of people who were probably his friends and could borrow such things at all hours of the night.

"Milk?" she asked, fussing with her robe as if her Kermit the Frog tank top was exposing too much. "For what?"

"Cereal," he replied dumbly, because what else would a grown man need milk for in the middle of the night.

"You didn't even bring a cup," she huffed, backing into her apartment and leaving the door open, which he took as a silent invitation to come inside.

"I forgot," he said, grinning to himself as he looked around at her apartment, not surprised that the living room was filled with oversized furniture, comfy chairs and couches, fuzzy blankets, and a soft throw rug. The room was surprisingly warm, comforting even, and it was a stark change from his poorly decorated and scarcely furnishedfilled apartment.

He narrowed his eyes at her DVD collection, but realized it was too dark to see if she actually owned something good aside from I Love Lucy and, no doubt, she had the best of the Muppets as well.

"Wait a second," she called out from the kitchen, asand he looked over to see her head peering out from the doorway. "You're lactose intolerant."

"Huh?" he asked, furrowing his brow, and then laughinged as he remembered. "About that…"

"If I didn't have to like you for work, I'd hate you so much," she huffed, disappearing into the kitchen.

He cringed when he heard some cabinets opening and closing, and couldn't decide whether he should ask her if she had some cereal too. He figured he was skating on thin ice enough ice as it was.

"It was a joke," he apologized, moseying over to the doorway, not sure if he should prepare to duck and cover.

She was definitely the kind of woman to throw things at his head.

"I'm trying hard to be nice to you," she muttered, filling a slender container with milk and snapping on a lid. "You're making it impossible."

"You're boring me," he shrugged, taking the milk and glancing around the kitchen.

Yes! Cheerios on top of the refrigerator. She was a nurse, so she probably had bananas too – good for the muscles and all that. He ignored her as she started to rant about how Nikolas was doing something good and Johnny had the power to make it happen, until, yes – bananas on the counter.

"I think we should talk more about this," he interrupted, silently praying that she would get into another 'do a good deed for the world' speech.

"I've been trying to talk to you," she said, fussing with her robe again.

Really, what was she trying to hide that Kermit couldn't?

"Okay, let's talk," he replied, setting his milk down on the counter and tossing his head towards the fridge as he pointed at the bananas. "Over breakfast."

"You're kidding me," she muttered, her jaw tightening.

Shrugging, he walked past her and snatched a banana from the counter. "I'm out of cereal too," he sighed, leaning against the counter as he slowly peeled the banana. "And I also shoved all my spoons down the garbage disposal."

She held her hand over her eyes, roughly smoothing her thumb across her temple, and he was pretty sure he had pushed her too far. "Fine," she said slowly, jerking out a chair. "Sit down."

**********

Aunt Rayleen always said that you could tell a lot about someone from the way they treated their food. The type of man who devoured his food, spitting crumbs from his mouth and making a mess all over the table, was not the type of man a woman brought home. He should care for his food as delicately as heit would his most prized possession, and, usually, when she got to that point of her rant, Nadine tuned out. She loved her aAunt, but sometimes she thought the woman was a little too wise -, until now.

Sitting across from Johnny at her tiny two-seat breakfast table, she couldn't help but watch in wonder. There was always something so fascinating about an attractive man's mouth, and despite his horrid personality, Johnny Zacchara was no different. He ate quietly, never scraping hiser spoon against the bowl or slurping the milk, and he chewed even quieter -, so quiet, in fact, thatand she was beginning to wonder if he wasn't just swallowing the Cheerios whole.

"My mother always made me eat bananas in my Cheerios," he said, grinning crookedly as he set his spoon down in the bowl, and wiped his fingers on the paper towel she'd thrown at him before setting his food in front of him.

Seriously, he even wiped his fingers perfectly.

"Fruit's one of the easiest ways to get a kid to eat healthily," she replied, scowling when he rolled his eyes at her. "What?"

"You," he grunted disgustedly, and had she not wanted him to elaborate, she would have told him to get the hell out of her apartment. "Is it always about work with you?"

"I was just commenting on-"

"You sounded like a nurse," he interrupted, stretching across the table and plucking a piece of banana from her untouched bowl.

Something about sitting down and eating in front of him had become a complete turn off – probably because he kept smirking at her as if he'd gotten her to do something she didn't want to do.

And maybe he had, but it was for work.

So ha.

Ha in his stupid face.

"I am a nurse," she replied, frowning when he snatched another piece of banana from her bowl.

"Yeah, but you're not always a nurse," he stressed, carefully sliding the slice of fruit between his lips so slowly that she almost lost all train of thought. "There are other aspects to your life."

"Like the clinic," she said, hoping they could talk about something other than themselves. Or her. Because, really, all this – the Cheerios with perfectly sliced bananas served in a fancy bowl with her organic milk – was about the clinic.

"Still a nurse," he sighed, rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his freshly squeezed orange juice.

Oh, yes, once she had made the cereal, he had the nerve to ask if she had any OJ, and when she said she liked hers freshly squeezed, he said he didn't mind waiting.

God, Nikolas better give her a raise.

Or at least grovel at her feet and tell her how incredibly awesome she iwas.

Except that he was still in love with a dead woman and would do no such thing.

Men were idiots.

"I thought you wanted to talk about the clinic," she huffed, poking her spoon around her soggy cereal, trying to patient.

"Not really," he shrugged, neatly wiping his mouth as he set his empty glass down on the placemat. "I just wanted cereal."

"Well, you've eaten, so…" She waved her hand towards the door, growing exhausteding of his teenage boy ways.

She was starting to think that the only way to get him to focus would be if she promised to strip her clothes off afterwards, but then he'd be thinking about sex, and, well, they wouldn't get very far.

"I don't have to go," he said, tapping his fingers against his placemat, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"You want to stay and hang out?" she asked, shaking her head when he nodded because she wasn't really offering -; only he didn't seem to care.

She started to tell him to leave, but stopped, wondering how desperate and lonely he was if he had showned up on her doorstep at two in the morning. Or maybe he'd just been was just hungry, but then why wouldn't he have food? Or order takeout from that all night Chinese place? Unless he hated Chinese, but…there just had to be something open that he liked.

Unless…

He was just lonely, and for some reason, that made her very, very sad.

She'd always been the type of person to thrive on human interaction – probably because her Aunt Rayleen had always said you learned more about yourself from the people around you than you did by being alone. So far, her aunt had been correct, and Nadine was more fulfilled from her career as a nurse than she had been with anything else. She learned to be selfless, understanding, and overly caring, and while sometimes those were her worst qualities, they were often her saving grace. People depended on her, needed her in their lives, and she loved being someone they could count on.

From what little of Johnny she had seen and gotten to know, he seemed to be the type of man who was used to living alone. Sure, he had women over from time to time, but mostly he sat in his apartment blaring classical music that made Nadine want to scratch her eyes out. She vaguely remembered the press about his father's death; how Anthony had been crazy and left the business to his only son, and she was starting to wonder if Port Charles was his way of escaping.

"So…" She dropped her spoon and it clanged loudly against the bowl, causing Johnny to jerk in surprise. "I'll leave if you want-"

"No," she cut in, shaking her head. "You can stay. I'm just a little curious as to why you came by in the first place."

"Ah," he sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "Well, I don't like being called dumb."

"People who climb onto the ledge of tall buildings are dumb and crazy," she replied, looking away from him. Granted, that hadn't been her finest moment, and calling people names wasn't very nice, but she wasn't going to apologize.

"I am not dumb or crazy," he said seriously, narrowing his eyes at her. Clearly, she'd offended him, probably with the crazy talk. It was always upsetting when someone talked about her sister or the mental patients at the hospital when really they had no idea at all, and she would have apologized had he not continued to be such a condescending jerk. "You've never climbed up there."

"And I never will," she muttered, her stomach churning at the thought.

Why would she?

To prove a point to some ridiculous asshole who wouldn't get out of her face?.

So not happening.

"Why?" he asked smugly, leaning forward to challenge her. "Because you're scared? Or too busy being involved in everyone else's lives?"

"I'm not scared," she answered quietly, not sure how she felt about the second question, but knowingew if she mentioned that being a nurse was her job, he'd roll his eyes and she'd have to stab him in the eye with her spoon. "Being up there – what's it like?"

"It's hard to explain." His eyes softened as he leaned back again. "I guess it's like being on top of the world."

"And you aren't already?" His brow furrowed and she shrugged, doing her best not to trip over her words. "You have what most people want – a great company that will make for a lasting career, more than enough money. You're good looking, so finding someone should be easy." She hesitated when he smirked proudly and she almost wished she hadn't said it. "I'm sure you have good friends, probably some family somewhere and-"

"Not really," he interrupted, clearing his throat as he got up from the table. "People always want what everyone else has, but most of the time, it's not even worth wanting."

He slipped his jacket off the back of the chair and shrugged it over his shoulders, looking down when Ricky Ricardo slinked into the room and roamed beneath his feet. "May I…?" He trailed off as he picked up his bowl of leftover cereal milk, and Nadine couldn't remember the last time as she saw anything as sweet as a grown man kneeling down and feeding her cat. "Yeah, I bet living with her is a pain."

"Hey," she scowled, pushing her chair back and getting up from the table. "Ricky loves me, don't you, baby?" She started to walk over, but the cat curled against the side of Johnny's leg, choosing to side with the only other male species in the room. "I could have left you at the pound."

Johnny chuckled as he tipped his head towards her, a wide, toothy grin – that was far sexier than it should have been – on his face. "Nah, you couldn't have," he muttered, patting the cat on the head before straightening up and starting towards the doorway. "Something tells me…you've got a thing for strays."