fic: and we're left.
Title: And We're Left
Author: sugarpromises
Fandom: General Hospital
Characters: Maxie Jones, Dillon Quartermaine
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: Snow
Timeline: Post (March 5, 2008) episode. The end of the Text Message Killer storyline.
Summary: Visions of sewers she thinks she can forget -- it’s the feeling of rope around her neck that burns inside her brain.
Author's Note: Originally started for theechochorus, but completed for today's unclaimed fic of the 12 Days of Christmas insanity I decided to do.
She stumbles away from the warehouse, a prince leading her out and a pauper trailing from behind. When they find themselves at a good distance away from the wreckage, both men whip out their phones. Strands of conversation fill the air as Nikolas speaks to the police, his brother most likely, while Spinelli speaks to Jason.
She moves away from them then, phone in hand, and half collapses to the ground when she finds a clearing in the snow. Her fingers fumble, but she manages to make the connection and barely waits a moment when the other end picks up.
“It was Diego. All along, all this time, it was Diego.”
"Maxie...?"
“He’s dead now, it’s over.”
She shuts off her phone, lays her head down on the snow, and closes her eyes.
*
Maxie isn’t surprised when Dillon flies in from Montreal the next day and shows up at her front door. He’s wearing his face so much like the last time, it’s as though Georgie has died all over again. She doesn’t question his presence; she doesn’t throw her arms around him either, but lets him into the house nonetheless.
The two of them sit in her living room. She doesn’t bother hiding the newspaper articles spread across the coffee table, her sister’s beautiful face next to the one that ended her life. She thinks she sees Dillon flinching at the sight... or his memories, she’s not too sure. It shouldn’t surprise her though, because there once was a triangle and now Dillon’s the only one left standing.
“They’re sure?” he finally speaks, eyes brimming with tears. He removes his scarf and tosses it on the ground. Maxie nods and half collapses into him as the two of them start to sob.
*
Her mind is filled with foggy remnants of sewers and knives, ropes and screams. It’s dark and she tumbles toward nothing and everything, steel and edge, it’s messy and she has to check if she’s still breathing. Visions of sewers she thinks she can forget - it’s the feeling of rope around her neck that burns inside her brain.
She doesn’t remember when his number becomes a part of her speed dial, below her family but above work. It’s the place for a best friend to be, but she tries not to think of this too much. Things have a way of leaving her when she needs them the most.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“I can be there in five.”
*
When Dillon finds her, she’s slumped on the ground, leaning against the wall of lookout point. She makes no move to greet him, so he has no choice but to take a seat on the snow beside her.
“Bad dreams?”
She doesn’t respond.
“They’re just dreams.”
*
Maxie goes back to work. Kate’s tone softens in the morning, while Lulu side steps too much. She forgets to eat and takes on an extra work load, spending way too many hours in a hotel that has been blown up too many times for her liking. She wants things to go back to normal, but normal is Georgie studying at home, getting ready to go to Paris. Normal is living and breathing and neither she nor her dead sister seems to be doing that right now.
It’s late at night, the lights are dim, and the elevator door opens. She smells grilled cheese sandwiches from Kelly’s and a familiar voice echoes in her mind.
“Maxie, you haven’t eaten dinner yet, so come on, stop working, and let’s eat!”
It’s an echo from the past because when she turns around, it’s Dillon with a brown paper bag and coffee in his hand. He wheels Lulu’s chair over and places the food on her desk, as though it’s normal for the two of them to be eating dinner without a third party.
But normal is living and breathing; she doesn’t think either of them remembers how.
*
They lay together, side by side, a foot from her headstone in the cemetery. It’s like that night on Dillon’s houseboat all those years ago; him, Georgie, and herself together in one bed. Only in this sick and twisted version, the third body has been buried for eleven weeks.
“I hated you for leaving her.”
“I’m pretty sure I hated myself more,” Dillon answers. “I had all these plans for us. I thought it would be okay in the end.”
“She needed you, but you left.”
“Maxie...”
“She needed me, and I always bailed too. Now I need her and there’s no way I can get her back. They wouldn’t even let me see her. I couldn’t even see my sister one last time.”
Dillon doesn’t respond. She lets him not need to. There are many backs and forth, fingers and blame, but when all is said and done, Georgie is still the one dead sixty feet below the frozen ground, while she’s up here trying to remember how to live.
*
It’s Thursday night and this time, it’s her phone that rings. She picks up and waits through the silence. A million times over, she never expects she’d be having this conversation.
“I don’t have to. Go, I mean. There’s not... It’s just that... I can stay. If you want.” His words are ragged but his meaning is clear. He doesn’t want her to call him in the middle of the night, only to have him across the border and so far from reach.
“It’ll be okay,” she finally tells him. “I know you’re not leaving me.” She pauses and he’s quiet, so she takes the opportunity to voice the exact hope she knows he’s been keeping in his heart all this time.
“Georgie knew it too.”
Fin.
Author: sugarpromises
Fandom: General Hospital
Characters: Maxie Jones, Dillon Quartermaine
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: Snow
Timeline: Post (March 5, 2008) episode. The end of the Text Message Killer storyline.
Summary: Visions of sewers she thinks she can forget -- it’s the feeling of rope around her neck that burns inside her brain.
Author's Note: Originally started for theechochorus, but completed for today's unclaimed fic of the 12 Days of Christmas insanity I decided to do.
She stumbles away from the warehouse, a prince leading her out and a pauper trailing from behind. When they find themselves at a good distance away from the wreckage, both men whip out their phones. Strands of conversation fill the air as Nikolas speaks to the police, his brother most likely, while Spinelli speaks to Jason.
She moves away from them then, phone in hand, and half collapses to the ground when she finds a clearing in the snow. Her fingers fumble, but she manages to make the connection and barely waits a moment when the other end picks up.
“It was Diego. All along, all this time, it was Diego.”
"Maxie...?"
“He’s dead now, it’s over.”
She shuts off her phone, lays her head down on the snow, and closes her eyes.
*
Maxie isn’t surprised when Dillon flies in from Montreal the next day and shows up at her front door. He’s wearing his face so much like the last time, it’s as though Georgie has died all over again. She doesn’t question his presence; she doesn’t throw her arms around him either, but lets him into the house nonetheless.
The two of them sit in her living room. She doesn’t bother hiding the newspaper articles spread across the coffee table, her sister’s beautiful face next to the one that ended her life. She thinks she sees Dillon flinching at the sight... or his memories, she’s not too sure. It shouldn’t surprise her though, because there once was a triangle and now Dillon’s the only one left standing.
“They’re sure?” he finally speaks, eyes brimming with tears. He removes his scarf and tosses it on the ground. Maxie nods and half collapses into him as the two of them start to sob.
*
Her mind is filled with foggy remnants of sewers and knives, ropes and screams. It’s dark and she tumbles toward nothing and everything, steel and edge, it’s messy and she has to check if she’s still breathing. Visions of sewers she thinks she can forget - it’s the feeling of rope around her neck that burns inside her brain.
She doesn’t remember when his number becomes a part of her speed dial, below her family but above work. It’s the place for a best friend to be, but she tries not to think of this too much. Things have a way of leaving her when she needs them the most.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“I can be there in five.”
*
When Dillon finds her, she’s slumped on the ground, leaning against the wall of lookout point. She makes no move to greet him, so he has no choice but to take a seat on the snow beside her.
“Bad dreams?”
She doesn’t respond.
“They’re just dreams.”
*
Maxie goes back to work. Kate’s tone softens in the morning, while Lulu side steps too much. She forgets to eat and takes on an extra work load, spending way too many hours in a hotel that has been blown up too many times for her liking. She wants things to go back to normal, but normal is Georgie studying at home, getting ready to go to Paris. Normal is living and breathing and neither she nor her dead sister seems to be doing that right now.
It’s late at night, the lights are dim, and the elevator door opens. She smells grilled cheese sandwiches from Kelly’s and a familiar voice echoes in her mind.
“Maxie, you haven’t eaten dinner yet, so come on, stop working, and let’s eat!”
It’s an echo from the past because when she turns around, it’s Dillon with a brown paper bag and coffee in his hand. He wheels Lulu’s chair over and places the food on her desk, as though it’s normal for the two of them to be eating dinner without a third party.
But normal is living and breathing; she doesn’t think either of them remembers how.
*
They lay together, side by side, a foot from her headstone in the cemetery. It’s like that night on Dillon’s houseboat all those years ago; him, Georgie, and herself together in one bed. Only in this sick and twisted version, the third body has been buried for eleven weeks.
“I hated you for leaving her.”
“I’m pretty sure I hated myself more,” Dillon answers. “I had all these plans for us. I thought it would be okay in the end.”
“She needed you, but you left.”
“Maxie...”
“She needed me, and I always bailed too. Now I need her and there’s no way I can get her back. They wouldn’t even let me see her. I couldn’t even see my sister one last time.”
Dillon doesn’t respond. She lets him not need to. There are many backs and forth, fingers and blame, but when all is said and done, Georgie is still the one dead sixty feet below the frozen ground, while she’s up here trying to remember how to live.
*
It’s Thursday night and this time, it’s her phone that rings. She picks up and waits through the silence. A million times over, she never expects she’d be having this conversation.
“I don’t have to. Go, I mean. There’s not... It’s just that... I can stay. If you want.” His words are ragged but his meaning is clear. He doesn’t want her to call him in the middle of the night, only to have him across the border and so far from reach.
“It’ll be okay,” she finally tells him. “I know you’re not leaving me.” She pauses and he’s quiet, so she takes the opportunity to voice the exact hope she knows he’s been keeping in his heart all this time.
“Georgie knew it too.”
Fin.