Lucky could hear the pounding at the front door, and looked to Bobbie who advised, "See who it is. We need all the help we can get."

In seconds, Lucky was standing in front of the door. "Who is it?" he yelled out, unwilling to answer the door to just anybody.

"Garcia and Taggert of PCPD-and Lucy Coe."

Lucky quickly opened the door and, with the flashlight, escorted them into the house. "How'd you know to come?"

"Anonymous call," Garcia answered. "What's going on?"

"We aren't sure," Lucky told them. "The lights went out during the storm, and people seem to be disappearing. Alexis Davis was stabbed-she's here and my Aunt Bobbie Spencer is trying to help her. There have been gunshots from upstairs. Some guy, Jerry Jacks, I think, brought Alexis down, then went back up. Nikolas is up there, as is my, that is, Luke Spencer, and, we think, Laura Spencer. Stefan Cassadine is somewhere downstairs, we think."

"Gunshots upstairs?" Garcia took that. "Who has a gun?"

"Luke has one," Bobbie answered. "And evidently, somebody has a knife. I also know that Stefan has guns and guards on the island."

"We didn't meet any guards on the way up," Taggert answered, still queasy from his boat ride. "Just Lucy, and she mentioned seeing a figure with a knife."

"We'll check out the place-you stay down here," Garcia ordered. "Better if everybody stays in one place since we can't see much anyhow." He looked at Bobbie who was tending Alexis with Lucky holding the flashlight. "Uh, we lost our flashlights when we...."

"When we went overboard," Taggert finished. He held out his hand to Lucky who surrendered it at Bobbie's nod.

As Garcia and Taggert headed up the staircase, Bobbie asked Lucky, "Why didn't you tell them about the gun?"

"Tell them? Those guys are about as efficient as The Keystone Cops. You think that I'm going to tell them about what might be our only protection? We may need it."

Lucy agreed. "Better that we have one gun here." She lowered her voice and confided, "There's something really scary going on here."

"No kidding," Alexis managed, her voice weak in the darkness. "Has anybody heard from Nikolas yet?"

"Not yet. Can you tell us what happened to you?" Bobbie asked. "I've done what I can for your wound, but I thought that you'd already left the house."

Alexis shuddered. "Bad idea. I decided to talk with Nikolas-basically tell him what I told Stefan."

"Which was?" Lucky inquired. "What don't I know?"

"What you don't know is that Stefan isn't a Cassadine," Alexis told him, her voice weak and coming in gasps as the pain flared up. "He isn't Mikkos' son, which, in your case, means that you aren't a Cassadine, either."

"From the sound of it, that's no great loss," he countered. "Maybe that means that Helena isn't my grandmother, either?"

"No such luck," Alexis told him.

"Then who is Stefan's father?" Bobbie asked.

Alexis was silent for a moment. "She didn't say."

"Who?" Bobbie and Lucky asked. "Who didn't say?"

"Laura."

Bobbie sighed deeply. "Laura says this, Laura says that. I don't intend to believe a word she says without documented proof. Show me the DNA to prove otherwise, or, as far as I'm concerned, people are who they have always believed that they are."

"You don't believe Laura?" Lucky asked. "You think that she might have lied?"

"She's lied before," Bobbie reminded him, then, her heart breaking for the boy she'd always consider her nephew, added, "I'm sorry, Lucky. I know that the last few weeks have been rough on you, but in my estimate, you've been way too hard on your father-and by that, I mean Luke."

Lucy could almost hear the scowl in the darkness, and added, "I think that Lucky already knows that."

"He told me," Lucky said, not wishing to use either the title 'Dad', or his name. "He told me that he didn't rape...her."

"He didn't," Lucy told him. "Scotty found the proof. Lucky, Luke loves you. Even if you're not his natural son, you're the son of his heart. He's taught you everything that he can, given you the best of himself. I don't think that you have any idea how devastated he was about losing your love, how he felt seeing disgust and rejection in your eyes."

There was a lengthy silence as the words hung in the air unanswered, so Lucy continued. "I know that all of this was really rough on you-sort of the mother of all identity crisis thingys, but it works both ways. Luke has been living with a truly horrible lie for your entire life, and for a while before that. He did the best he could to give your mother his all partly because he loved her, and because, I think, he was trying to make up for what she let him believe he'd done. She could have made things right from the beginning, but she wanted him. Maybe she wasn't certain of herself, maybe she thought she needed something to bind them together-hell, I don't know-but ask yourself, Lucky-how would you see yourself if you believed that you'd raped someone you loved? Then ask yourself how you'd feel if you lived with that for years, then found out the truth about that while you were finding out that your children weren't yours at all?"

"I...uh... don't know," Lucky managed. "I don't know what I'd do, what I'd feel."

"Lucy's right," Bobbie agreed. "God, I can't believe that I actually said that."

"I can't begin to understand all he's feeling," Lucy continued, "but one thing I know beyond any shadow of a doubt. In his eyes, you're his son-and he loves you."

"Yeah," Lucky said softly. "I think I've been a jerk."

Luke flicked the flashlight beam onto the floor, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that there were droplets of blood leading away from where he'd fired at his attacker. Not a lot of blood, he mused, but enough to inconvenience whoever he'd hit. He followed the blood down the hallway, and around the corner, then down until it led to a dead end in front of a grandfather clock. "Smeared blood on the carpet means that this clock swings open," he mused. "Now, where's the lever? Aha."

The clock swung noiselessly aside and Luke entered the passageway, still following the blood. He focused the light on a bloody handprint on the wall, pausing to fit his hand over it. "Small hands for a man..." Still, he followed the drops, down steps and around until he came to another exit from the passage. Again, he searched out the lever, springing it, and opening the portal.

Luke instantly sensed that there was someone in the room, so he threw himself to one side as he entered. There was no gunshot, just the startled gasp from the man who stood in front of Laura's portrait, a man with bloody hands. Stefan Cassadine.

"Well, well, well," Luke greeted. "I should have known. Tell me, Stefan. Do all Cassadines try to shoot their guests when the lights go out, or is that your particular specialty?"