There are few modern-day videogame characters that I love more than Georgie from "The Wolf Among Us". I love him so much, in fact, that I wrote a freaking one-shot for the guy. Can't say I do that often!

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one-shot and please, review afterwards! I love getting those reviews!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Fables or "The Wolf Among Us". Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

"I heard your voice through a photograph

I thought it up, it brought up the past

Once you know you can never go back

I've got to take it on the otherside . . ."

- "Otherside" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Georgie hated the girls, not 'cause he was a cruel, greedy bastard, but 'cause they weren' Her. He hated them all 'cause they weren' his Muffet.

He sat there, in his customary easy chair, and watched blandly, his face expressionless, as the latest girl showed him what she could do on the pole in front of him. The cheap boombox he had bought for a dime at a pawnshop, balanced itself on his knee as some shitty rock tune played through the busted speakers. He wasn't payin' attention, tho' . . . he never paid too much attention anymore, unless someone waltzed in and started to try and meddle in his affairs like Bigby had earlier.

He heard Hans fussin' over the busted DJ booth and a bunch of other busted things that could be attributed to Bigby and his rampant anger issues. Vaguely, Georgie felt a migraine begin a faint poundin' against the walls of his skull, but managed to ignore it.

For now.

"What'cha lookin' at, Georgie-boy?"

"Ya start swingin' on tha pole tha' way, girl, and ya gonna 'ave more than jus' me lookin', Muffy!"

Amused, coal black eyes glittered at him from within a sweet, pretty face, and his heart picked up its beat ever-so-slightly as she crawled sensuously towards him. Her ruby-pained lips curled upwards into an equally as pretty smile when she reached the edge of the stage, and he resisted the urge to go meet her. He resisted the urge to sink his hands deep into those thick black locks and then kiss her as passionately as he could – with as much tongue as she would allow in her mouth. It never looked good when the boss started showin' one of the girls' particular interest above the others. That was when jealously started runnin' rampant and jealously was not somethin' that Georgie tolerated in any shape, form or fashion – not in his club – not in the Puddin' N' Pie.

"No, Georgie-Porgie, puddin' n' pie . . . you just want to see me swingin' around on yours, don'cha?"

He closed his eyes and sucked in a harsh breath as the memory hit him with particular venom – almost as if she was smackin' him with the memory. He rubbed at his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand while the other tightened around the top of the boombox. It wasn't often that he found himself daydreamin' about Muffy (she normally visited him in his dreams at night, when it was just him alone) but when he did . . . it always took him a moment to recover.

"You love me . . . don't you, Georgie?"

"What are ya talkin' 'bout - ya know I do! Muffy, ya ma girl! Ma only girl . . .!"

But ah . . . how could he forget? When she first came to the Puddin' N' Pie, beggin' for work after bein' tossed out on her ass on the streets of Fabletown, Georgie hated her. He couldn't stand the sight of her, in fact. He hated the look she would get in her eyes whenever she gazed at him and Vivian and the other girls at first – how she all gazed at them like they were beneath her.

But on the same token, there was always somethin' about Little Miss Muffet that always managed to draw Georgie to her. Maybe it was the stubborn determination she would get in her eyes whenever he would continuously throw clients her way, tryin' to break whatever spirit she obstinately clung to – the spirit that he never succeeded in breakin'.

"Georgie Porgie, Puddin' N' Pie, kissed the girls and made them cry; when the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away. So tell me, Georgie-boy . . . why did you run away from all those boys when they saw you kissin' their girls? Were you afraid they'd hand you your ass?"

Georgie shrugged, all the way tryin' his damndest to hide the anger that boiled beneath his skin at her recitation of his nursery rhyme. "Ya know, I done forgot, girl, but ya know what? Ya remind me of somethin' . . . I heard it a long time ago – now what was it? Ah – yes! Little Miss Muffet, sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey; along came a spider, who sat down beside her and frightened Miss Muffet away." Georgie arched a challenging brow then as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the bar behind him. "So tell me, Muffy – why did ya run away from tha' spida? Were ya afraid it'd kick ya arse?"

She hated him just as much as he hated her, after that conversation. The both of them hated their nursery rhymes for the same exact reason – the same exact reason that they didn't want to admit to each other: it made them look like the cowards they weren't.

Or maybe he hated her because it was the way she seemed to command that stage – and the pole – whenever she mounted it. Maybe it was the way he never seemed to be able to tear his eyes away from her when she was dancin'. Maybe it was a lot of things. Georgie didn't know anymore. He had long ago abandoned tryin' to figure out all the little intricacies his relationship with Muffy had possessed.

But what amazing intricacies they had been . . .

Muffy, had been the first girl he had taken back to bed with him, since the Homelands. Yeah, he had been sweet on Vivian, but she lacked . . . the spunk that Georgie liked in his girls – the spunk that Muffy had an overabundance of. And really, he didn't know how it had happened, for everythin' that night seemed to pass like a blur. He remembered sittin' back at the bar with Hans and some of the other girls, watchin' her on the stage with that night's crowd of Mundies and Fables – watchin' her work the pole that she seemed to own . . . and then his memory skips to later that night when he's tryin' to keep his balance on the stairs up to his apartment while she tried her damndest to shove her tongue halfway down his throat!

He might have hated her up 'til that moment, and she might have hated him, but Georgie would swear to his dyin' day, that the moment she lay on his bed in front of him and opened those beautiful legs of hers, revealing the wet, mouth-watering flesh hidden between them, he became lost in her - completely and irrevocably lost - a lostness that eventually turned into a love so profound and all-encompassing, it made his head swim.

"Damn . . ."

He muttered the word with a voice thick with exhaustion and it took him a moment to realize that he hadn't slept a wink since Bigby first came by with questions about Lily – questions that unavoidably led to half his shit bein' smashed to bits! He didn't know why, but somethin' had been keepin' him from sleepin'. He didn't know if it was the memory of Muffy that kept him from sleep, or fear that he would eventually have to be answerin' to forces that both terrified and intrigued him, thanks to Bigby.

Forces that took away his Muffy.

"Georgie . . . Georgie, are you alright?"

A gentle hand fell onto his shoulder, and he immediately knew the hand in question belonged to Vivian. Only Vivian had the clearance to touch him since Muffy. He heaved a sigh and turned black-bagged eyes onto her.

"What? What is it?"

A flash of concern entered her big blue eyes then "Georgie, honey, I think you need to head on up and get some sleep. You don't look too good."

He sat there for a minute longer, not thinking, not doing much of anything except breathe, and eventually, he gave a nod of agreement as he got to his feet. He cut off the boombox and his eyes crossed briefly with Nerissa's as she continued to stand there nervously onstage. After a moment, he nodded towards the dressing room. "Take tha night off. In fact, Viv . . . close down tha place for tha night, will ya? We could all use a night off., I think . . ." He mumbled and the look of abject shock that echoed on the two women's faces would have almost been comical if Georgie was the laughing type. And really, he almost had to convince himself that the words had indeed come from his mouth. He never closed down the club unless it was absolutely needed. However, that night, he felt like he desperately needed it. Muffy was starting to haunt him that night with particular vim and vigor, and the only way he could handle her when she was sitting that fresh on his mind, was in his dreams.

"Do you need help?" Vivian asked and he shot her an angry gaze.

"Wha' do I look like to ya, Vivian? I ain' a fuckin' invalid - I'm pretty sure I can make it up ta ma own bed!" He snapped and immediately, Vivian stepped back, her eyes widening in shock. Normally, Georgie didn't speak to her that way, so when he did, it never failed to shock her.

Georgie realized what tone of voice he had taken with her, and his gaze softened as he shook his head. "I'm sorry Viv, I jus' . . ." He trailed off and heaved a sigh as he rubbed his face with his hands. "Muffy's been prayin' on me bad these past few days . . ." He offered up in way of explanation and Vivian's look of shock dissolved into one of sympathy.

"I understand. Go on up and get some sleep. You and me both know that it'll do you some good - it always does with Muffy."

"Georgie-Porgie, puddin' n' pie – kissed the girls and made them cry . . ."

"Why do ya always insist on callin' me tha'?"

"Why? Do you prefer 'Georgie-boy'?"

"I prefer Georgie! Ya know this, girl!"

Muffy laughed as she moved to straddle his lap, where she then proceeded to cup his face in her hands. Her eyes were soft and loving as she gazed down at him and his eyes reflected the same as he returned her gaze and as he wrapped his arms around her. He had been so long without her . . . it hurt whenever he thought of the fact that he would never have her again . . . that the only times he could hold her and kiss her and make love to her, was in his dreams and even then, they were more frustrating than they were releasers.

"I love you, Georgie-boy!" She told him before her thumb lovingly ran over the small tattoo of a tear-drop he had on his right cheek – the tear-drop that he had gotten inked in her honor.

"I love ya too, Muffy . . . more than I will ever love another woman!" Muffy smiled sadly at that.

"I wish I hadn't hardened your heart so. Despite what Bigby and the others think of you, I know how much love you can have in your heart for someone, Georgie. It saddens me that another woman will never feel the amazing scope and breadth of that love like I did." Georgie shook his head and his grip on her tightened.

"It was always ya, Muffy. And it will always be ya Muffy! 'Til tha day I die and they throw ma body in tha Wishin' Well and I'm reunited wit ya on tha other side, I will never love another woman!"

Muffy shook her head sadly again. His stubbornness had always the one thing that constantly kept him from happiness and it was the one thing that Muffy hoped she had curbed for him, for however a short time she had been with him.

But she didn't like thinking of what had caused their separation – what had caused her to die and then be thrown down the Wishing Well like she was nothing more but a sack of old potatoes. She didn't like thinking of such dark thoughts because, like Georgie, she savored the times she was allowed to be with and around him.

Every single one of the girls had told her when she was alive, that she brought out the best in Georgie. Every single one of them had told her that she was what made him happy (or as happy as Georgie-Porgie could be, anyways). She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, but no matter how badly she wanted to think those thoughts, she couldn't for long. No matter how the both of them tried – no matter if the sex between them came before or after - they couldn't keep the sadness and the guilt away for long.

Especially Georgie.

Perpetual guilt – now that was his curse.

Blue eyes gazed at him, echoing with the fury of God, and for the first time in a long, long time . . . Georgie felt guilty.

The only time he saw the color red anymore, was when he remembered how macabre and strangely beautiful the scarlet red blood looked against the white walls of the club and set in stark contrast with Muffy's long ebony curls.

The only time he saw red in anger, is when he remembered that the cause of her death, always towered above her in his memories, mad gleam to her eyes and a smirk plastered across her face. Ax in hand, Bloody Mary had been sent to kill the most amazing, beautiful thing in Georgie's life – "To Get a Point Across". as she told him in lieu of explanation of why she committed the horrendous crime she did.

And the only thing she could say when faced with the look of shock, horror and agony on his face and in his eyes, was:

"Cry baby, cry."