Hey! So it's been a really, really long time since I updated this story. I didn't fall out of love with writing it, I just had a messy break up, school kept me busy and whatnot. But my head is back in it's right place. I'm over the boy and I'm ready to write! Thanks to everyone who read and who is still reading. Thanks to everyone who messaged me over the last couple of weeks and thanks to everyone who has replied to this story! I really appreciate it and am glad you enjoy this dark little tale.

It's just going to get darker, as it always does before the dawn….

Average Everyday Sane Psych...: Thanks so much! Hopefully you'll like the next chapter!

RedDragen: Thanks!! I'm sorry you had to wait so long and hope this was worth it (if you're still reading after such a hiatus!)

TopNotch: Thank you so much!! I hope you continue to read and enjoy!!

.: Thanks! I like Glo as well—recommend any good fic for me to read on them? Also, Logan is IN this story and not as the abusive prick they ended up making him out to be. But he's definitely dark!

lily94: Yes, yes she is. Unfortunately she's going to have to stay that way- hers is not the easiest of journeys.

starbright: That's a very high compliment! Thank you so much!! I hope you continue to enjoy it and I am so sorry it took me so long to update!

MercuryMan: Wow! Thanks so much! I really appreciate it!!

NYMeggi: Awwww, thanks Meggi!! I know they aren't your usual good girl/bad boy couple in this and I'm glad you're enjoying it anyway!

Candymen: Thanks so much and Yup!! I am updating it now! And I Got your message too- but just recently as I had lost my email password (did I say lost? I mean forgot 'cuz I'm absent minded!)

And the darkness (finally!) continues….

Chapter Four

The Quartermaine mansion was unusually quiet. Not that he knew how it really was anymore; he hadn't been home since Georgie's funeral.

Georgie's funeral.

Dillon Quartermaine sat nervously on the couch in the den, fingers interlocked, hanging over his knees, back bent over as he stared dumbly at the floor. He had wanted to go directly to Georgie from the airport but Edward had picked him up and insisted he get his things unpacked. He almost seemed happy to have him home, which was odd and disconcerting. The ride to the mansion had been filled with Edward's mindless chatter about what terrible things his mother had been doing and how it was about time Dillon returned to straighten her act out.

He didn't say Georgie's name once.

For the car ride Dillon had almost forgotten she was alive again, he felt his chest tighten again as they drove through familiar surroundings. He didn't feel Georgie in the memories; it was like she was still gone. The initial elation faded and he doubted it was true. He had seen her dead body; he had touched her cool skin. How could she really be alive?

He lifted his head, looked at the well-known bright surroundings. He could see Georgie on the other side of the room, smiling at him, her brown eyes welcoming and warm. She opened her mouth to speak then vanished before his very eyes. He wondered if she still looked like that.

"Dillon."

He looked up to see Monica, her face was tired and worn. She looked so much older, she looked so…broken. He stood and just stared at her for a moment, taking in the absolute sorrow painted on her face. She had lost so much. "It's good to see you." He stepped towards her and waited until she broke down and fell into his arms, crying. He stroked her hair and whispered that it was going to be okay even though he knew that it wasn't. All three of her children were dead.

She sniffled and pulled herself away from him. "I'm…sorry- it's just seeing you again…"

"It's alright," he responded sincerely, "I miss them too."

She wiped away her tears, "but it's a happy time now, Georgie's alive…" She trailed off, her gaze becoming slightly unfocused. "You must be…"

"I don't know what I am." Dillon replied, "I don't even know if I believe it's really her."

Monica walked past him, folding her arms over her chest as she stared out the sliding doors into the bright, snow-covered garden. "You should go see her now. It's going to be a bad storm- the worst in years. You might not get the chance to see her for a few days if you stay any longer."

She was strong, he knew that and for the first time in his life he really saw Monica Quartermaine. He walked behind her, put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm staying in Port Charles." He told her softly, "if you need anything- come to me first. We're family."

"Yes." She said and put her hand atop of his. "We're family."

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Walking quietly was something learned early in a captive state. Georgie was so used to those quick, silent steps that she still moved that way, half-frightened that around this corner was where her peace was going to end. It was something she wasn't even fully aware of until she scared Spinelli by surprising him. His whole body jerked and he spilled orange soda all over the tan couch of the Scorpio living room. "Jesus Georgie!" He exclaimed but immediately his face softened with that pitying look everyone was giving her. She'd take pity, she knew it was the one thing keeping people from asking too many questions. She didn't want to talk about what happened, to anyone, ever again. She had to tell Dr. Ian Devlin- no other choice and she didn't even tell him all of it. How could she?

"I didn't mean to scare you." She apologized, "I was just about to go meet an old girlfriend from high school, I was so intent on getting ready I didn't notice. I'll try to be less quiet."

He gave her a quizzical expression, "are you okay, Wise One?"

She wished he'd stop asking that. Why couldn't he just be in the blissful denial Maxie and Mac were in? "I guess so. Oh!" She shook her head, "I forgot my…pictures upstairs." She hoped he didn't catch her lies, it was a tangled web she was weaving, "she wanted to see pictures from school. You know, reminisce."

"Right." Spinelli said slowly, "no- wait, the Jackal can plainly see that the weather is not at all suitable for the Wise One to be capering about in. It's definitely D&D weather."

Georgie repressed a sigh, "oh, no worries, Spin. I'll be fine. It's within walking distance." Without giving him a chance to respond Georgie hurried out of the living room and up the steps, stopping right before they ended at the sound of Mac's voice. "No, she still isn't answering her phone. I just hope she's not…yeah…." There was a pause, "Maybe she's too furious at me to even respond…..because I couldn't protect Georgie, that's why!" His voice got noticeably louder, less rational. "I should have investigated it more, I should have been able to see that she wasn't dead. God knows what she went through- I can't even imagine but she went through it because I'm a shitty cop. I should have-"

She couldn't hear anymore, it was too much.

Georgie raced silently up to the attic and shut the door quietly behind her before leaning up against it, shattered. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and then she closed her eyes and repeated the same words over and over.

"You're alright. You're alright. You're alright…"

Her breaths became more even, she straightened her back. Of course she was alright. She could handle anything, anything at all. There was a simple solution to her problem, it was easy and she had already promised it to herself anyway. But now, even if she wanted to talk about it, she wouldn't. Because now no one could know what happened to her while she was Diego's prisoner, they wouldn't be able to handle it. Mac already felt so guilty…

Georgie reached under her bed and pulled out her gun. She sat Indian-style in the middle of her floor staring at the piece intently. It had been a gift given out of love- it was how she escaped. She closed her eyes…

And now it would be how she was safe. No one would ever have to feel guilty for not protecting her ever again. No one would ever be able to hurt her…

"You're alright." She repeated.

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"Uh, Bold and Beautiful?"

Maxie turned around as Spinelli slipped into her bedroom/studio where she was working on her debut fashion line. Not that she actually had a debut coming up- but for when the time came she was going to be prepared. At least, that was what she was always telling Spinelli. "What's up?" She asked casually as she walked past him to the wall she had covered in various bright pink fabrics. She was looking at them absorbedly.

He quietly shut the door, "have you talked to your wise and loyal sister today?"

"Yeah, we caught breakfast at Kelly's while the snow was still light. Why ?" She pulled a piece of fabric up and then bright it to the other side of the wall, comparing it to yet another shade.

Feeling awkward, and due to what room he was in, aroused, Spinelli wet his lips, "was she acting…oddly?"

Maxie whirled, her full attention suddenly on him. "Well she's not exactly Merry Sunshine or anything. But would you be?"

He shook his head, "well, no…"

"I mean, she's still Georgie. Still with the annoying sweetness and light- just, you know, a little shaken, she's just quieter now. Not as self-righteous." Maxie reasoned out, going back to her shades of pink.

Spinelli shrugged his shoulders, still standing at the edge of her room. "Um- can I do anything to help the creative process of the Brazen Blonde One?"

Turning, Maxie gave him a pensive look. Her eyes moved down his body and up in a very probing, slightly disconcerting, manner that caused blood to creep up to his cheeks. "How would you feel about…being a model?"

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The snow was layering itself on the ground where giant blankets of it had already accumulated. She stared out at it, lifelessly from the steps of the club that she knew Johnny owned. It was closed, just like everything else. But Georgie had wanted to see it- just the outside, out of curiosity at least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Curiosity always had been her biggest downfall.

Avoidance was becoming her second.

She knew Dillon was home. Knew he was probably going to visit. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to look into his eyes and know that his cousin was dead…because she believed in someone she shouldn't have.

And now she was doing it again. Spending her time with criminals.

Johnny Zacharra hadn't changed. If she threatened him, she'd be dead. She knew how he worked just like she knew how they all worked. Corinthos, Morgan- sure they were dead but when they were alive they thought they were better then the Alcazar's, thought they had some honor. Georgie knew better. They were all the same, slightly off in the head and eventually, with time, the lines that were already blurred for them would become more blurred. Diego was just ahead of the curve.

But it was also the only thing Georgie really knew anymore. So she stared out at the endless white and wondered what normalcy really was. Was it Maxie and her conniving? Mac and his over-zealous crime fighting? Was it Felicia who would never be happy in one place or her father who needed adventure to feel alive?

Was it her?

Yeah, right.

"Penny for your thoughts- a thousand dollars to know why you're stalking me."

His voice was amused, not accusing. She didn't look at him, kept her gaze fixed on the endless white. It made the world look so innocent, so clean. She wished it could do the same to her. "I can leave."

"I didn't ask you to. I just wanted to know why you're here, that's all."

"I saw you looking at me." She answered mechanically, "my first night back. You were in the bar; I was getting plastered so I could go home to my family without losing my mind. You were staring at me without any worry that I would catch you." Finally she looked at him, "I was there with a friend, we had helped each other when we were in Mexico together. You haven't mentioned it to me or asked who he was."

"I don't care who he was, or is, to you."

She nodded, swallowing hard. "I don't want to be alone tonight but I can't be with my family."

"So you came to me?"

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She wasn't answering the question, she became very quiet, her eyes settling back out on the landscape, focusing on the snow that was now billowing in the wind. He wanted to know why she came to him, he wanted to know why she was more comfortable with him then this family she had. But he wouldn't push it. Lulu had always done that with him, pushed him to tell his feelings. Sometimes he wanted her to, just so he had a reason to say what he was feeling. But most of the time, he didn't.

"Why were you staring at me?"

Why not? "Because you're beautiful."

"No, that's my sister." She stood up and twirled her finger on the snow covered banister, knocking of a clump of it onto the pile of snow on the ground. It made a soft crunching sound as it went. "Blonde, fashionable, attractive, heartbreaking, strong. I always envied her in a way- no one knew that of course. I mean- she was always jealous of me too because I was dependable, I was smart, I was loyal. But she wouldn't admit that either."

"You two don't get along?"

She turned to look at him, "I'd die for her."

"I understand that." He responded softly, thinking of Claudia. "I have a sister, I'd do anything for her. She's pretty fashionable, beautiful and heartbreaking too. My father wasn't very nice to her- ever."

"Does she hate him?"

"She says she does." He answered, crossing the steps to stand in front of her. He touched the bottom of her chin, holding her face upwards. "But you're wrong. You are beautiful. You're kind of what I think Helen of Troy must have looked like." The kind of beautiful that could drive a man mad because it wasn't just on the outside, it started in her eyes and just shone all over like some kind of tragic fading light, he kept that part to himself. It seemed like the best plan.

"Helen of Troy," she whispered, her face drained of color as she moved from his grasp. "The kind of beauty you want to posses." There was fear in her voice and when their gazes met she looked away so quickly he was left wondering if they had even joined at all. "Do you like to possess things, John?"

He eyed her warily, knowing this was a test. But a test for what? "You can't possess a person. But if you're asking if I'm territorial- don't you think that's kind of a given?" His attempt to lighten the mood didn't work.

Her lashes fluttered over her eyes and she held her head up to the wind. "They fought wars for Helen of Troy, John- not in her honor, not even because they loved her. But because they wanted to own her. They wanted her to be theirs. In the end she just became an excuse…if you believe the story…"

"I don't want to own you." He finally replied seriously, "I don't want to use you as an excuse. And whoever hurt you, whoever made you think that being called beautiful was something to fear, should hope they never meet me." Taking a step closer he clasped her shoulder in his hand, the material of her coat bunching in his palm. When she turned her lips were close enough to touch his and she was staring up at him with deep, shattering brown eyes that weighed on him more then anything else ever had. He hadn't been this close to a woman without the stink of alcohol on their breath in a very, very long time. But Anna didn't smell like liquor, she smelled like snow and jasmine. He brushed her hair from her face, "tell me who it was. Tell me who you are. Anna, tell me everything."

"I can't." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I just, I need this to be as it is, okay? I need this."

"Okay." He swallowed, "lets go inside."

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Dillon walked up to the door, the last time he had seen this door he had felt the whole world collapsing beneath him. Everything had been wrong then. Georgie was gone and the world was an empty, cold place.

It still felt that way, he needed to see her, he needed the warmth again, there was no believing it until she was there in front of him. Until he could touch her, until he could…

"Dillon?"

He turned to see Mac crunching through the snow with a large paper bag in his hands. "I was just bringing some extra food in from the garage- I didn't expect you today, the weather is horrible."

"I…" He took a deep breath, "I couldn't wait to see her."

He nodded solemnly, "well lets get inside before we get buried out here."

He looked exactly the same, only covered in snow and wearing jeans and a sweater instead of his usual suit. As they entered the Scorpio home they were greeted with a rush of warm, cinnamon scented air. It smelled like home, it looked like home. A real home though, not the motels and boarding schools he knew as a kid, or the vast and empty Quartermaine mansion. This is the kind of environment that made a girl like Georgie Jones. A good girl. A kind girl. But it was also the kind of environment that had sheltered her and led her to believe there was good in everyone.

She had paid for that idealistic view.

And so had he.

"No! No! No pictures Brazen Blonde One, PLEASE!" It was the terrible shrieking of Damien Spinelli as he barreled down the steps in what Dillon could only describe as a slutty pink prom dress. What the…

"Come on, Spin- JUST ONE!" Maxie was cackling with glee as she hopped down after him, camera in hand, blond hair a wreck and make up smeared on her face. It wasn't how Dillon had expected to find either of them. But there was happiness there, he noted. Mac was laughing at them, Maxie was laughing so hard it looked like she was gasping for breath and Spinelli was grinning like a fool. "Think fast Q-man." Maxie quipped, tossing the camera this way seconds before she leaped forward on Spinelli.

Used to having a camera in his hand, Dillon began snapping pictures instinctively as the two wrestled on the floor. He got Mac in the pictures too. "Oh, so not cool." Spinelli muttered, then his face brightened and he took off. When he returned he had lipstick in his hand and shot after Dillon, beckoning Maxie to follow.

By the end they were all in the kitchen- covered in cherry red lipstick and after Mac decided it was food fight time, mashed potatoes, green beans and chocolate cake.

Exhausted Spinelli, still in a dress, was lying on the floor, chest heaving. Dillon was propped up against the wall. Mac was draped over the kitchen chair and Maxie was at his feet trying to scrape mashed potatoes out of her hair.

He knew what this was, this was the joy of having Georgie alive. This was what had been missing for years. Because she was alive- no one could be this happy otherwise.

Dillon smiled.

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Johnny's club was enormous. The ceilings were incredibly high, like in a palace and the dance floor, surrounded by tables for people to eat at, was wide and open. It was decorated in dark colors with bright intrusions, giving it an abstract, dreamy feeling to it. As she walked towards the bar, situated on the very left end of the room across from the entrance, Johnny watched her walk. It made her slightly self-conscious. "Did you get a hold of your family?"

"I left them a message." She answered softly, taking the seat next to him.

He stood, circling the bar and then ducking under the open part and standing behind it. He whipped out a bottle of southern comfort, two glasses with ice and then smiled. "So what's your family like?"

"My dad's a cop." She smiled as his eyes widened, "my mom used to be a PI but now she's off on some adventure with the husband she had before my dad." She could no longer bring herself to call anyone but Mac dad, it didn't seem loyal, she downed the first glass of Southern Comfort and then tapped the rim of her glass thoughtfully. "I grew up kind of crazy- lots of weird stuff happens in Port Charles. But on the whole I got lucky. No abuse stories or anything like that."

He nodded, refilling the glass.

"My sister almost died a few times- she's not the picture of health. That was trying." Georgie went on, watching his face as she revealed little bits of the mystery without giving them the context. She didn't want him to know- hell; she didn't want to know this stuff. "I fell in love young- the real kind of love, not the stuff kids usually end up feeling."

"True love, eh?" He smirked, "no such thing."

"You've never been in love?"

"Sure- I love every girl that graces my bed, Anna. At least for a little while." He chuckled throatily and took down his own glass then refilling it.

She arched a brow, knowing better. "No long-term relationships?"

"Lulu Spencer. There's one." He answered, "I killed her friend- end of relationship. Go figure." His laugh this time was self-deprecating and bitter. "But what did she expect? What did Claudia expect? We weren't playing some board game. We weren't kidding around. It wasn't a fairy-tale. It was the mob and Corinthos was a problem." He sighed, gulped down some more drink then shook his head, "but she was so young and idealistic. Sure, she had her shit that she went through. Her dad used a hands off method of child rearing and her mother ended up in a catatonic state but she still held some kind of idealistic fantasy of what life could be."

"You loved that about her." Georgie finished for him softly. "That no matter what she still had that…light inside her."

"I liked it at first- but it wasn't the kind of light that draws in darkness." He replied, "it was…just a selfish dream-world. She made it up in her head because it was easier then looking at the reality." He closed his eyes, expression one of actual physical pain. "Her being in my world was dangerous. She wasn't seeing the good in me or being mature about a bad situation, Anna, she was seeing what she wanted to see."

"That's dangerous." Georgie agreed, voice catching, "seeing the good when there isn't any can cause for serious repercussions later. Especially if you don't follow through…and then there you are, completely deluded as you stare into the eyes of the devil himself…smiling as he eats you alive…." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"The guy you loved when you were a kid?"

"A different guy. That's a long story. I don't want to get into it, really. Lets just say- I learned my lesson. I know reality now and there's no pulling the wool over my eyes."

"I see a light inside of you, Anna." Johnny contradicted, "you're not as cold as you want to sound, I think you see good still."

"When there's good to be seen." She replied curtly, "but I see you for who you are, John. I don't think you've changed. I think you're as dangerous as you ever were- maybe more so now that you're out of the mob. Their rules aren't your own anymore." She looked down at the bar, "I'm not saying you're the devil, I'm just saying- you do what you have to do to survive and I'm okay with that. I'm living that dream too."

He just stared at her for a moment, like she was a puzzle and a few pieces were missing. She didn't have the heart to tell him he was staring at the few missing pieces and that the rest of the puzzle was in suburbia. "You mean nightmare."

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

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"No," he was resolved, "I don't believe it, not entirely. I mean- yeah, you think I'm dangerous. You know who I am and what I'm capable of. But if you didn't see any good in me, even if it's made up in your head, then you wouldn't be here."

He poured her another drink and she looked up at him. "Maybe I like the darkness. Maybe it's comfortable- familiar."

"And what have you done that's so dark?"

She downed the drink and looked at him, kept her gaze level with his as she stood up, shrugging off her jacket and revealing a form fitting black sweater. He liked how she dressed, it wasn't the usual trash he saw at bars but it wasn't the picture of conservatism. "Dancing with the devil is pretty dark. Will you dance with me?"

"So I'm the devil now?" He raised a brow.

She held her hand out, "maybe I am."

"Hm, maybe you are." He agreed but he took her hand and followed her out to the dance floor, "do you often dance with your friends?"

"I make a habit of it." She was flirting and doing it very, very well. Her eyes were sparkling at him, showing more life than he had ever seen before. Her hand was warm, it felt good in his. He guided her towards him and she stretched her arms up, clasping her hands behind his neck. He swallowed before placing his own hands on her waist, bending his knuckles as he paused directly before finally reaching the destination. "Are you always this awkward with girls? I thought you were smooth."

"I just don't want you to shoot me with the gun in your jacket- I'm trying not to offend."

Her eyebrows flew up, "how did you- nevermind, don't answer."

"Are you protecting yourself from me, Anna?"

Her smile had completely faded, "there are other dangerous people in the world besides you."

"I'll protect you from them."

She took a step back, "I should go home."

"Anna-"

"No, no, look, I'm sorry." She was shaking her head and stepping backwards, looking anywhere but at him. "I didn't mean to- I mean, I'm sorry that I- I should just go." She ran a nervous hand through her hair before fumbling forward, stumbling towards the bar to where coat was. She made it there and grabbed onto it, clutching it before she headed towards the door.

"Anna, don't go." She wasn't listening, he wondered if she even heard that he spoke at all. Desperately he rushed after her, grabbing her shoulder. She whirled around, panicked, looking like a trapped animal. Her chest rose and fell quickly, she was reaching in her coat, blindly, terrified. He doubted she was even with him anymore. "Please, Anna, calm down." He stepped away and raised his hands in the air, "Anna I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. Okay? I'm not."

And just like that she dropped to her knees. She was sobbing, her head in her hands, hair falling in her face. He kneeled down next to her, trying to pull her into his arms. She went, fell into him and buried her face in his chest, murmuring how sorry she was between tears. He stroked her hair, told her it was going to be okay. He felt like they were there, frozen like that for an eternity. He wouldn't have minded if it they could stay like that for another eternity. For once he didn't feel so alone.

She pushed him away, wiping her tears away and then stood up, straightening her back. Her breathing was still ragged and he looked up at her from his place on the ground as she managed to calm herself and replace her cool exterior. "I…didn't mean to lose it like that."

"We all need to let it out sometimes, Anna."

She took a deep breath, "yeah…yeah, I guess."

"I wasn't trying to scare you."

She shook her head, "yes, yes I know. I do know that. None of that was your fault, I promise. I've had a bad couple of years- it caught up with me for a second or two, I guess." Shrugging it off she started back towards the bar, returning to her drink.

He got to his feet and followed, "are you going to run from it forever?"

She glanced askance at him, "I'm going to try."

"Mind if I run with you?"

Her smile, ever so slightly, returned, "what are friends for?"

Right then he could see it all in his head, what she must have been like before he knew her. She had probably been a nice, good person who did the right thing and who didn't know the darkness of anything. She had probably been naïve and sweet- like he had thought Lulu was when they first met but proved not to be. She had probably been spunky and passionate. She had probably been whole once.

But someone had taken all of that away. Someone had done this to her like his father had done this to him. One day she was going to tell him who. When she did, when he had that name he was going to track that person to the ends of the earth.

And he was going to kill them.