She was gone. His eyes were still shut, but he could feel her absence. She was gone. The only question was...Would she be back?

He didn't know. Nikolas pulled himself out bed and walked over to the wall, switching on the light. The room was still a shambles, which had to be a good sign. She hadn't taken anything with her. He smiled a little, thinking, hoping that she was in the kitchen making coffee. He pulled on his pants and wandered through the apartment. As his initial instincts had told him, Gia was gone.

He slumped down on the white leather sofa. There was a slow ache developing in his head. What was he supposed to do? Wait? Go find her?  Forget her altogether?

There was a part of him that wanted to do all three. His logical side wanted to patiently wait and be certain that she hadn't just run out for sugar. The part of him that was all man, the part with the inflated Cassadine ego, wanted to run after her, drag her back, force her to stay. And then, there was that final part, the frightened boy with the big voice. The one that kept yelling, Run for your life. She'll hurt you

He couldn't decide, so he asked himself what Stefan would do.

Stefan always seemed to know exactly what to do. Whether his uncle's decisions were right or wrong, he never seemed to be at a loss about what action to take. Nikolas envied him that. In this situation, his uncle, the great strategist, would probably wait.

Nikolas got up to pace. He couldn't wait.  Kicking a pillow out of the way, he went into the kitchen to make coffee. He pulled the can out to quickly and it slipped through his hands, falling noisily to the floor. The lid flipped off and little coffee crystals scattered across the floor. He leaned against the counter, staring intensely at the little brown pile on the tile. He breathed deeply, in and out.

He had no idea how long he had been standing in that exact spot when he heard Gia's key in the lock.

She had come home.

Gia found him standing in the kitchen. He was shirtless, barefoot, and so very inviting in the dim moonlight that seeped in from the open blinds. She wanted to go to him, but she held back. She stood in the doorway, admiring the view.

He broke the silence. "I didn't think you were coming back."

She bit her lip to keep it from quivering. She stuck her hands in her pocket to keep them from shaking. "Why not? I live here," she said in a tightly controlled voice.

"Maybe because of the bags you were packing when I first came. You said you were leaving..."

Gia smiled wanly, shaking her head no. "Not anymore....I was scared."

"Of me?"

"Probably," Gia muttered, her eyes drifting to the spilt coffee. "What's wrong, Nikky, didn't any of those fine tutors ever teach you the fine art of sweeping?"

Nikolas grinned and shrugged his shoulders. He watched her closely. She seemed distant. He hadn't expected there to be so much space between them after they had shared so much. Was she still scared? His smile faded a little as he said, "When are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Gia turned and walked from the room. She stood in front of the window, pulling back the drapes. She stared out into the night, willing time to rewind.  If she only had the chance to do things over, to fix her mistakes...

But there was no use lamenting over the past, no use wasting precious time. She swallowed deeply as she felt Nikolas come up behind her. He pulled her back against him, his lips immediately lowering to her neck. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate, but her racing thoughts prevented it. It was as if they were out to destroy her, these menacing thoughts. They were coiling around her like a snake, ready to squeeze the joy from her life if she would let them.

Of all the things she wanted, what she wanted most was to be to clean. To wipe the taint off.  To be more than just an embarrassment. She was already marked as a selfish, gold-digging, blackmailer. Before everything was over, what else would the sanctimonious people of  Port Charles call her? A word popped into her mind and she shuttered, pulling out of Nikolas' arms.

"Gia! What's-"

"It's cold in here...why is it so cold in here?...I can't get warm, I can't," Gia rambled, pulling her arms into her sleeves. She was shivering, her knees feeling weak.

Nikolas pulled her into his warm embrace, rubbing her arms and holding her near. She pressed her face against his bare chest. He could feel her slight trembles. His voice was full of concern as he said, "You have got to confide in me, Gia. There is something wrong and I will drag it out of you if I have to." He pulled her away from him so that he could see her face. "Please! You can tell me anything and I promise I will understand. Nothing will change the way I feel about you." He saw the uncertainty in her eyes. "Nothing, Gia, will ever change. IT couldn't."

She was lost in his eyes. His sincerity was chipping through the wall she was trying to build. Maybe she could tell him...maybe she would.

Gia took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. She never got the chance. A fierce pounding cut through the air. They both looked at the door.

Nikolas unlocked the dead bolt and swung the door open.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing here?" She didn't answer the question, instead, she collapsed into Nikolas' arms.

"Oh, Nikolas," Elizabeth sobbed, "It's Emily..."

"What about Emily?" he asked, fear latching onto him.

"She's dead...Oh My God, she's dead!"

Gia sat down on the sofa, knowing that Elizabeth's cries would haunt her for the rest of her life.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

"It's pretty bad, Mac. It's not something you want to see."

"You're probably right, Taggert, but it's my job." Mac crouched down. He carefully pulled the sheet back away from the victim. His breath caught in his throat and he turned his head away. "Is that who I think it is?"

Taggert nodded his head. "There was a purse with ID It's Emily Quartermaine."

Mac recovered Emily and stood up. "Do we have any idea who did this," the commissioner asked, his eyes scanning the crowd of  cops, looking for the forensic guys.

"Not a clue, but whoever did this, I want this guy. Who...why would someone murder Emily? Damn, Mac, she was just a kid..."

An hour later,  Mac sat two blocks from the Quartermaine mansion in his police cruiser. He didn't want to have to tell them, people he thought of as friends, that their little girl was dead. He was shaken from his misery by the ring of the phone. "Scorpio."

"Hey, Mac. Forensics is done."

"Well? What did they get?"

"Not much...they did pull a hair off  of the body, though."

"A hair...Emily's?"

"No, it was long and black. We're going to run some tests."

"Taggert, it was a long range shot. The shooter wasn't any closer than a hundred yards off. What do you think this hair means? It's probably from one of her friends."

"It's all we've got!...Have you been to the Quartermaine's"

"I'm on my way."

"Good luck."

"I think Emily is the one who could have used the luck," Mac said, switching off his phone and starting his car. Then he made the short drive to Emily's house. ~*~  ~*~  ~*~

End of chapter Four, Please e-mail any feedback by clicking on the mailbox below :)

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