Title: As the Snow Falls
Fandom: General Hospital
Characters: Tracy Quartermaine
Prompt: #30 Fall
Word Count: 2,465 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A traumatic ordeal topples a dynasty, and forms a new and lasting bond between Luke and Tracy.
Author's Notes: AU. This was going to be a much longer story, but I decided to just write the pay-off scene and the hell with all that multi-chapter stuff.

The snow was beginning to fall lightly as she walked toward the boat house. Her mother's roses were long since dormant, skeletal reminders of warmer days that might or might not come back. Tracy hugged her jacket around her, not really feeling the cold, but reacting to it anyway. She no longer believed in the promise of spring. She no longer believed in promises.

She wanted silence, something she hadn't craved since the incident. Since her abduction, she never strayed too far from bright places, never strayed too far from watchful eyes. She wasn't afraid, she told herself. Just cautious. Just prudent.

But tonight, after everything that had happened, after the subtle coup Luke had stage against her father's authority, a coup that surprisingly all the Quartermaines had joined, tonight she needed privacy.

She need space, room to digest what had happened, room to stretch out her mind enough to process the changes that had taken place.

A snowflake fluttered down onto her cheek, just below where her eyelash brushed the pale flesh under her eyes. She moved to wipe it away, then hesitated. She let the warmth of her skin melt it, let it lay wet and dying against her cheek. She didn't want to push against nature anymore. She was content to let what died die. She was content to let things unfold, now, because she knew in her heart she was powerless to change what was.

She heard his footsteps on the ground behind her. It was funny how attuned she had become to sound. During her ordeal, she'd lived for sound, had been the prisoner of sound, had become the sound. With only a sliver of light pushing through the cracks in the boards of her prison, with barely enough air to survive, her stomach painfully empty and her throat dry and cracked with dehydration, sound was all that seemed real. The sound of birds outside the cabin where he'd held her. The sound of crickets at night, when the light no longer came through the cracks, when it got so cold she felt she would never be warm again. The sound of her breath through the tube he'd left her, the sound of the air sucking in and out, never enough.

She felt the panic starting again, the random and brutal terror that gripped her at the most inappropriate times. She hugged herself hard, her head low against her chest, praying she could calm herself before he reached her, before he saw her naked and vulnerable against the snowy night.

Tracy had just enough time to straighten up before he was at her side, before he was walking silently next to her, his steps matching hers, his breath steady and musical against the sound of the falling snow.

Breathing made music. Snow made music. All life was music, she thought. Once upon a time she would have mocked such a thought, but Tracy Quartermaine had a new understanding and appreciation of things.

His music is beautiful, she thought absently as they continued to trudge slowly toward the water. She'd known it instinctively for years, back when she spoke before she thought, back when she drowned out the sound of snow falling, pushing it aside to make room for more "important" things. She'd known his music was in sync with hers long before that night on The Haunted Star. In her bones, in her cells, she knew that they always sang when they were together, even when they hated each other, even when they were just random strangers reaching for the same elusive prize.

"You should be wearing a coat," he said, moving to take off his heavy coat and wrap it around her shoulders.

At another time, she might have refused, or protested, or made a joke of it. Now she just accepted his gesture, breathing in his scent from the heavy wool collar that tickled her jaw. "Thank you," she whispered. She rarely spoke above a whisper anymore. Nobody questioned it. They gave her room. They avoided her. They didn't look her in the eyes anymore, as if they were afraid of her. Afraid of what she'd survived, afraid that they could no longer see the monster in her eyes that they'd convinced themselves would always be there.

People didn't like change, and Tracy was changed. Irrevocably. Undeniably changed. Not even God recognized her anymore. "Thank you," she said again, this time for what he'd done, for what he'd said, even after she'd begged him not to say it. "Thank you for tonight."

"You're not mad at me?" Luke watched for the shake of her head, then pulled his light jacket tighter against him. "I'm sorry, Tracy, but I had to do it. I couldn't let Edward get away with his part in all of this."

"Daddy never intended for what happened to happen," she said softly, knowing it was the truth, knowing the truth was about as important to her now as the snowflakes melting on her hair and cheeks. Both were utterly, cosmically important…and not important at all. Ephemeral, transient truth, which melted away with the first warm breath that blew across its surface.

"It was Edward who set up ELQ to lose that subsidiary. Edward who forged those emails making it look like you orchestrated the deal. Edward who got you ousted, and let you take the blame."

"We've been playing hardball for years, Luke. It's what we do." She shrugged slightly, raising the collar closer to her skin, breathing his scent in deeply. "He was just being Daddy."

"Well, Daddy is the one who got Wayne McAfee laid-off, and Daddy is the one who set you up to take the public blame for it." Luke had his arm around her now, pulling her against him, resting her head against his chest as they stood and watched the water together. "It should have been Edward buried in that pit for two weeks, not you." The rage was still there, coloring his music, punctuating his sounds with hard, dark crescendos and decrescendos. "That son-of-a-bitch wanted revenge against the person who lost him his job. It should have been Edward who suffered, not you." It was pain in his voice now, the pain of a man who had already lost one woman he'd loved and who had feared the worst for another woman he'd grown to love.

Tracy felt oddly calm through his diatribe. It was just another kind of sound now, his words more snowflakes melting against her senses. Wayne McAfee was a lunatic. Wayne McAfee haunted her nightmares. Wayne McAfee stole her freedom from her, stole her security and her illusions of safety, even her ability to sleep through the night without a light on.

"Daddy wouldn't have survived," she whispered. "Daddy wouldn't have lasted."

"I know," was all Luke said.

"I won't press charges."

Luke nodded, brushing the flakes of snow from her hair with the pad of his thumb. She wore it down now, soft against her shoulder. She hadn't colored it since the incident, and already strands of grey were beginning to mingle with the warm coffee colored waves. "You won't have to. Between Alan and Ned, and young Spielberg, I don't think Edward is going to get away with much from now on."

"Didn't hurt that not only did Daddy's little stunt get me kidnapped," Tracy said blandly, watching the light dancing on the water. "But it lost the family millions in future revenue when he let AltaG get sucked away from us."

"All to make you look incompetent," Luke said, shaking his head and kicking a pebble into the water.

"Doesn't matter," she murmured. "How are they?"

"Discussing the future of ELQ. Demanding Edward step down as CEO, and quite long overdue, I might add…"

She nodded, wondering when talk of the family business had become so exhausting. Just the thought of ELQ tired her now, and she found she no longer had the appetite for the antagonism she used to have. It used to be like caviar to her, like ice cream and sweet fresh watermelon on her tongue. Now the fighting tasted stale in her mouth, bitter and salty and better left to others who still enjoyed it.

"Ned suggested putting you back in."

"No," she said, shaking her head fiercely. "My name is shot. The shareholders won't stand for it--"

"Edward made that move, not you. He did everything he could to make it look like you were double-dealing, working with the competition, and--"

"And nobody is going to know that outside the family," she said vehemently. "If what he did becomes public knowledge--" She shook her head again. "I won't press charges, and I won't let him be ruined."

Luke sighed and pulled her tighter against him. "I won't fault you for your loyalty, Spanky, no matter how misguided it is." He kissed the top of her head. "And no matter how much that bastard father of yours doesn't deserve it."

"He'd never survive jail, and he'd never survive the scandal." She leaned into him, enjoying his warmth, comforted by the strength of his arms around her, the familiar safety of his scent. "It's bad enough the family knows. He looked so small tonight."

"He's a small man," Luke said darkly. "With a small soul and a small, small heart."

"You can't unmelt the snow, Luke," she knew she sounded foolish, didn't really care. "And you can't change what he did. But thank you. For what you did, for everything you've done throughout this ordeal." She looked up at him, noticing for the first time the flecks of snow on his brows. She smiled in spite of herself. "Nobody ever fought for me like that. Nobody ever came to my defense like that. Thank you."

"I didn't want him to get away with it," was all he said, but his eyes were sparkling in the moonlight. "Wayne McAfee was a psycho. But your father…."

"Daddy is what Daddy is, Luke. We're not going to change that."

"Well, I'm just…" He hesitated, turning to face her full on, pulling her into his arms completely. "I'm just glad we didn't lose you."

"Dillon told me you were a complete pain during the manhunt. Mac was just about ready to ban you from the whole thing." She put her arms around his neck, torn between the desire to rest her cheek against his chest and the pleasure of just gazing up at him.

"We were in the middle of a divorce, Spanky," he said, hiding behind humor, behind nonchalance. Tracy wanted to stop him, wanted him to be real, but knew she couldn't change Luke anymore than she could change her father. "When you went missing, I was prime suspect numero uno. It was in my best interest to bring you back alive and preferably in a condition to exonerate me."

"I see." She blinked slowly as the snow began to fall again, a little harder. It was getting colder, and she was grateful for his extra body heat against her.

"Well, that's what I told myself. Right up until the day they found your car. And the shoe." He squeezed tighter. "Then it was too real, Spanky. I couldn't tell myself it was a stunt after that. Then I got scared."

It wasn't a choice anymore. She rested her cheek against his chest because she had to, because she needed the pulse of his heartbeat against her, because she couldn't bear the separation anymore. "I know…." She understood fear intimately now, understood what it could do to the mind and spirit, if given free reign. "I'm sorry."

"What on Earth do you have to be sorry for, darlin'?"

She laughed softly, still near his heart, still holding on for warmth, for the safety she craved. "I don't know. It seemed like something to say."

"When we found you…" His words were tentative. They hadn't discussed her ordeal, except in the broadest terms. Not while she was in the hospital, nor since she'd been home. It was too raw, too fresh in their minds. Words seemed vulgar, too harsh and ugly to be used on something so tender and exposed. Luke pressed on, choosing his words carefully. "I saw you, before the cops pushed us out, before they brought the paramedics in. I saw you, Tracy, and my god…my god, Tracy." He was crying now, and she let him hold her, surprised at how gracefully she greeted his tears. "I've seen a lot. I've done a lot." He was kissing her forehead, his tears dripping hot onto her skin as he did. "But nothing has ever scared me more than what I saw that night."

"Shhhh…" She looked up at him. His tears were melting like snowflakes, she thought absently as she kissed them away, as she kissed his mouth, as she breathed in his music. "Shhhh."

"I don't want the divorce," he whispered into her, his lips forming the words against her mouth, his breath intermingling with her own, condensed and cloudy in the frigid December air. "I don't want the divorce, Spanky."

"I'm afraid of the dark now," she said plainly. "I want my husband with me when I sleep."

"Any monster is gonna have to get through me," he said, his eyes closing, his heart melting like the snowflakes. "Nobody's gonna hurt you ever again."

She smiled against his lips. "You can't make that promise," she said, loving him for his foolishness, for his Quixotic naiveté. "Just sleep in my bed, and keep me company when it gets too scary."

He kissed her again, a lingering, beautiful thing. She'd kept herself sane with dreams of kisses like this, kept her hopes alive imagining his taste, imagining his scent, knowing in her heart he'd rescue her.

He'd saved the world. Saving one woman shouldn't be too hard.

"It's getting cold," he whispered. "I think it's safe to brave the lion's den again."

"I'm not afraid of lions," she said, allowing him to link his arm in hers, allowing him to lead her back to where her family waited, stunned and shocked and struggling to digest a new image of Tracy, a new version of reality that didn't quite jibe with what they'd always understood. "Just the dark."

"Well, let's go face those lions, Spanky. And then we'll brave the dark together."

And that night, later on, after they'd found themselves and their love, after they'd faced the lions and braved the monsters, Tracy lay in her husband's arms, listening to the music of his snores, watching the snow falling through the bedroom window.

And for the first time in months, for the first time in her life, maybe, Tracy Quartermaine wasn't afraid of the dark.

The End

Written for the LJ 100 Situations ficathon.

7