When people looked at Georgina King, they saw someone who was perfect. Not trained-perfect either – this kind of flawlessness came naturally to George, and had ever since she was little. Growing up, there had never been a class she'd been late to, or a teacher who hadn't raved about her stunning performances and personality. Her parents and relatives were proud to claim her as family. People she didn't even know spent their hard-earned money on chocolate sundaes in cheap plastic containers that they didn't even feel like eating just because she asked them to.

Yes, Georgina had always done everything right.

Including now.

She would not look. She knew Cal wanted her to, and she could sense his yearning and confusion every time she touched him, but she just couldn't look. He didn't understand the universe, and the greater good. The future could not be changed – George had learned that a long time ago. She had looked for someone, and it had only resulted in grief. She would not have a hand in making Cal's life completely miserable.

But it was ruining everything. Everything they could've had seemed blocked by this impossible trial … just like Cal had shut the door in her face what seemed like ages ago.

She'd told him she wouldn't wait forever. I mean, sooner or later he had to come to the decision that they could gamble with fate – together. Every normal couple starts a life together without knowledge of the future, without cheating, and that's what George wanted them to be – a normal couple. Yes, Caliban had bad blood in him, but that didn't matter to her, just like she knew it didn't matter to Niko. If they loved each other, how could they be anything but happy? And about children … Cal was good, even through his Auphe side. How then could his child be any different? She didn't know why he didn't understand, and why he was making her wait.

And she refused to believe that she was the one making him wait. Because she was doing the right thing. Just like always, no different.

Then George saw him at the subway. With his beat-up leather jacket and wary, searching gray eyes. The "bad influence" as her mother called him. The "suspicious character". And oh, how she loved him. She wanted to run to him, let him take her wherever he wanted to go, but instead she ducked her head and disappeared into the crowd, missing her train so that he could go on without her. It was the loneliest feeling in the world.

She watched the subway train go, and felt herself shaking. Anger. Not an emotion she found herself experiencing so strongly. Her fists were clenched, so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. She felt angry words strangling her throat, and finally erupted – "Screw the greater good!" she yelled, causing heads to spin in her direction. Maybe even neighbors, who could gasp and titter among themselves, "Well, my stars, did little Georgina King just say a bad word?" Well, she didn't care. She was thoroughly tired of doing the right thing.

She went straight home, forgetting the subway or why she was even there. She slammed into her empty house, up the stairs, and into her room. Then she sat down on her bed. And she shut her eyes –

They were older, and they were kissing. Not much older, but enough that George could feel those few extra years of love pressing down on them, shrouding them. His kisses were hot and passionate and fervent and then –

There was more. It almost sent her mind reeling back, her body convulsing with the anticipation and the wanting. Cal was hers, completely and utterly, and then –

She was leaving her house, she was –

"Goodbye, George," her mother, sad, but resigned. "I'm so proud of – proud of –"

Pain. This was horrible, the worst kind of pain. The walls were white and closing in and there was just … so much … pain. And there was Cal, sweaty and cursing and desperate, making her laugh even through the agony as he alternated running into the hospital room to hold her hand and running into the hallway to let Niko hold his. She gasped, she pushed –


But they were not her screams – and they were not the baby's. So then, who …?

It was the hospital staff. The nurses were screaming.

"Let me see it – let me see it –" she cried desperately, reaching, reaching. The sheets were tangled around her legs. She wanted to see her baby.

The doctor gave it to her, fast, repulsed, and she held it in her quivering arms and blinked way the blur to see a small, milky-pale face, two small glistening red eyes, and too many teeth.

"Oh no …" Cal was standing with her, looking, his face and voice contorted in the agony of his emotions.

George was shivering, shivering, even though the hospital room was muggy and hot. Newborns weren't supposed to have teeth.


And they usually had blue eyes, didn't they?

This child was unique … this child ….

Georgina broke away screaming. She toppled sideways off the bed and wiped at her arms, hysterically, trying to get it off even though it was gone, never real, never existed.

Not yet.

The screaming eventually turned to weeping, and, after there were no tears left in her, the weeping turned to ice-cold, rock-hard resolve. That nightmare was something she and Cal must never, ever live, and now she was backed into a corner where she had to do the hardest, most damn right thing she'd ever done in her life.

She would end this. Forever.

She must never, ever see Cal Leandros again.