"Yes! Yes, yes, yes...and yes!"

With a triumphant smirk Elizabeth threw her hands up in the air, shoving her rolling chair away from her computer desk. After countless hours, untold sleepless nights, she finally got a breakthrough. That elusive thread, that piece of the puzzle just out of her reach finally fell into place.

Her bacon was saved. The foundation funding her research grant had reached the end of their patience and were demanding answers by the end of the weekend, or buh-bye grant, hello Kelly's Diner where she would have to make a living slinging hash and asking "Do you want fries or coleslaw?"

This called for a celebration. It called for cheering. It called for...bells and whistles?

As if waking from a deep sleep, she suddenly realized the brazen fire alarm ringing. The smell of smoke broke through and she curled her lips as her eyes began to water.

"No, no, no. This can't be happening."

Frantic, she quickly saved her work and shut down her laptop, gathered the papers littering the desk and shoved everything into the carrying case. She hoped she had everything, because somehow she didn't think the Quartermaine family was going to be too sympathetic to a "Golly, gee, my apartment building caught on fire right after I made a breakthrough, give me a couple of weeks to recreate it." Vicious bloodsuckers wouldn't even bat an eyelash before they told her no.

A loud banging at her door startled her, made her stumble as she snatched the case off her desk. "Fire department, everyone must clear the building."

Swearing under her breath she ran for the door and yanked it open. "Just a minute, I've got to grab my-"

"No time to wait, lady. Haven't you heard the alarm going for the past ten minutes? You have to get out now!"

She had no time to protest, no time to grab her coat or her snowshoes to protect her feet; she barely kept hold of her computer as the fireman all but threw her over his shoulder and shoved her out the door. The bitter cold February air hit her hard and stole the breath from her lungs. In seconds she was shivering as she turned and stared wide eyed at the building with smoke billowing out and flames licking the sky from the roofline.

She was directed behind a police line and stood with her neighbors as they murmured among themselves. Those who were smart, those who hadn't had their heads buried in research and had managed to snag a jacket, or at least their car keys and their wallets were talking about heading to a café for some coffee and most of all, heating. She didn't have anything except a computer holding her entire life.

"So what do they think caused it?" 4B asked.

"Faulty wiring would be my bet. Someone probably overloaded the circuits," 2E answered. "Or maybe Bleach Blonde Barbie forgot to turn off her curling iron when she left for her hot date. Wouldn't be the first time she's sparked a blaze."

"Aren't you cold?"

It took her a minute to realize that the last remark was actually directed at her. She didn't really have time to socialize with her neighbors so she hadn't expected someone to actually talk to her. But it was hard to ignore the tall figure that was way too close and actually facing her instead of the fire. Dragging her eyes away from the blaze she blinked, "W-what?"

"I said, aren't you cold?" her upstairs neighbor, Mr. Motorcycle Boots asked her.

"I-I...didn't have time...I forgot to grab..."

"Your jacket?" he chuckled. "I can see that. Head buried in research again?"

She ducked her head and tightened her hold on her carrying case. At least she thought she did, she wasn't sure with her fingers as numb as they were. One of the only times they ever spoke was when she had - in a fit of research frustrated anger - marched up to his apartment and asked if it was necessary to clomp on her ceiling day and night in those black monstrosity he called boots. It was hard enough to concentrate as it was, she didn't need him adding to the problems. He didn't apologize, never got the chance actually before she stormed away, but it had been quieter after that.

"Yeah, something like that," she murmured. "I...I uh never actually thanked you...or maybe even apologized to you for that day. I haven't...I mean..."

"I haven't been stomping around like a dancing hippo with four left feet?" he smirked.

Embarrassment rose up quickly as she winced. "Yeah...sorry."

He waved it away, "That's alright. I used to live above a bar. I wasn't used to having someone below me. So...how's the research coming?"

She paused and looked at him. Six foot two, leather jacket, motorcycle boots, calloused hands from hard, honest work. He was asking about her research? He couldn't have forgotten his keys, he could leave any time he wanted to, why would he want to hang around here asking her questions?

"I...I actually made a breakthrough t-tonight," she managed to get out as her teeth chattered.

"Man, I'm sorry, you must be cold. You look cold," he said, suddenly moving. Before she could protest, he had his jacket off and draped over her shoulders while taking her heavy case from her.

She slid her arms through the sleeves and looked down to see just the tips of her fingers peaking out at her. The jacket nearly came down to her knees and she closed her eyes in silent relief. Flannel pajamas were fine for inside the apartment, but did nothing against the cold wind coming off the harbor. At least she had one consolation, she wasn't in the baby blue ones with yellow ducks and white, fluffy sheep that Emily had given to her as a gag gift. No, she was in plain emerald green. Score one for the absentminded girl, she hadn't embarrassed herself completely.

"Thank you," she said genuinely touched by his gesture.

"Sure," he returned easily. Casting a glance at the building behind him, he shifted the computer to his other hand and hooked his thumb towards the parking lot. "Doesn't look like we're going to be getting back inside anytime soon. Could I give you a ride to your grandmother's?"

"She's in Florida this week," she shook her head, rubbing her leather encased hands together as they began to tingle with warmth returning.

"Then how 'bout we go get some coffee? I know a place that won't even mind ol' Tweety there," he said as he glanced down at her slippered feet. "I think I might even be able to wrangle up some hot chocolate and sprinkles for you."

She started to tell him it sounded great, that she really was not interested at all in standing outside in the snow and the cold. Then she stopped and narrowed her eyes. "How did you know my grandmother lives in town...or about the hot chocolate?"

He actually blushed. And that made her back up a step. "I...uh, Emily is my sister."

Oh she couldn't have heard that right. Emily Morgan was his sister? Then that meant he was... "Jason?"

"Yeah."

"But...but the last time I talked with Emily you were in Maine, living near her while she was going to college."

"She graduated two years ago," he frowned.

"Oh, yeah...right." And moved to California to go to Cal-Tech for grad school. So, no, Jason staying in Maine wouldn't make sense. "So, why didn't you say anything?"

"I actually didn't recognize you at first," he laughed. "You blew in and blew out of the doorway so fast I didn't realize it was you until I spoke to Emily a couple of weeks later. Then you've been so busy with your research and all."

He shrugged and she suddenly felt foolish. Like any guy would be interested enough to stalk her.

"...But when I asked Emily about you, I'd been hoping for a chance to talk to you again."

Her head snapped back to him, as she managed to actually make out the end of what he'd been saying. "You...you were?"

He shrugged, gave her a crooked, sheepish grin. "So...what do you say? Want to go someplace out of the cold? How 'bout pool? Do you like to play pool?"

"It's been a while since I've played," she answered. "Maybe it's time I start again."

"Then you're gonna love Jake's," he said, holding his hand out.

She slipped hers into it and nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, I think I will."

Cartoon animals shouldn't be considered sexy. Okay, there was Jessica Rabbit and in an odd sorta way he could see the drunk ramblings by Johnny about her being hot. But Tweety was in no way, shape or form anything close to sexy. Except when attached to Elizabeth Webber's foot as she sat at a back table in Jake's and nervously tapped her foot. Causing the plush slipper to ever so gently brush against the side of his calf every time her foot bobbed up and down. He was never going to be able to look at the cartoon bird the same way again.

Or Elizabeth, for that matter.

She looked different - softer, smaller - in her flannel pajamas, his coat still swallowing her whole, sitting in a dingy bar. Her hair was loose around her face, the clip holding it back having disappeared into the pocket of the jacket an hour ago. He was used to it being gathered back severely, studiously, to match the dull, drab suits she wore whenever she ventured out of her apartment.

Teal green pajamas were the most colorful thing he'd seen her in since he realized his downstairs neighbor was none other than his sister's best friend who had come out to visit her and stay up late at night giggling. She looked more suitable for a teenage slumber party, rather than worming her way into his thoughts in a way that was going to haunt him for many nights to come. This was not at all what he expected when he agreed to his assignment.

Move to Port Charles and guard one Elizabeth W. Last name wasn't given, he didn't want it. He was supposed to be quiet, unobtrusive, she was never to know he was there. He moved into the apartment complex, purposefully picked the unit directly above hers, planted his surveillance equipment and settled in for the duration of his assignment. Ned Ashton never said why she needed to be guarded, just that she was working on some very important research and he didn't completely trust the other members of the Quartermaine Trust Board of Directors.

He didn't know what she was researching. His idea of research was in a lab full of chemicals and supplies. She surfed the internet, spent long hours at the library and carried around books he was sure were going to knock her down under the weight. When the fire broke out, he'd stood anxiously outside watching to make sure she got out alright. He knew she was home, had heard her come in, and start the nightly routine of working until she fell asleep at her computer table. It had been a long ten minutes until he saw her being led outside by a rather irate looking firefighter.

He'd bided his time until it looked casual enough for him to approach her, secure her computer case, and make sure he could get her someplace warm, but also out of the open. The fire could have been an accident; or it could have been exactly the kind of tactics Ned warned him about. He wasn't taking chances. She was his assignment...and she was his sister's friend.

Heck, he'd thought of her like a little sister when she and Emily met in high school after she got bounced to another foster family in the middle of the school year. In classic Emily tradition, she immediately found the kindred lost soul, commiserating over the loss of parents, and soon the young girl was spending the majority of her time at their small condo. He'd been 19 at the time, three years older than the girls, but Emily's guardian after their parents' death and he felt the need to look out for both of them, especially when he heard about the neglect Elizabeth had suffered through her years in the child court system.

Now, he was looking out for her once again. And feeling like a first class heel for sitting in Jake's listening to Elizabeth go on and on about how it was just such an amazing coincidence that she and Jason met up again after all these years and how she was so glad she had someone to talk to right now. Oh yeah, coincidence indeed. But he let her believe it, because it kept her close to him, and until he could check in with Ned and get a copy of the fire chief's report about the blaze, he wasn't taking any chances.

"Last call!" the blonde bar owner called and Elizabeth looked over in surprise, then back to him.

"What time is it?"

"One."

"In the morning?" she asked in surprise. "Oh my...why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Say what?"

"About how late it was?" she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm sure you weren't expecting to spend three hours here with me listen to me babble like a fool. Do you suppose we'll be able to get back into the apartment tonight?"

"Doubtful," he answered. "I gave my number to the policeman at the scene, he said that even if the building wasn't a complete loss, they'd probably keep it cordoned off for the night while they investigated it."

She chewed her lip, deep in thought, then released it - red and swollen - on a sigh. "I guess I better go to my Gram's then. I might have a few things there, or maybe something of hers would fit me. I have this huge presentation tomorrow and if I can't get back into my apartment I can't very well go before the board in this, now can I?"

"They might not appreciate Tweety as much as I do," he laughed. "You want a ride?"

"I don't have any money to call a cab," she admitted ruefully. "If you wouldn't mind?"

"Nah," he said, as he stood and threw down several bills for their drinks. "Let's go."

Ten minutes later, they were in front of Audrey Hardy's house and there were times Jason wanted to shake the old biddy for not coming forward and getting Elizabeth out of foster care. She said she was old, that she'd raised her children and she certainly couldn't take on the responsibility of a teenager with her job as head nurse. He figured they were nothing but a bunch of excuses, but Elizabeth had just been so thrilled to have a live family member that she moved to Port Charles instead of going to college with Emily like the girls had planned.

"I hope she still keeps her spare key in the same place," Elizabeth said as they walked up the steps. He hoped so too, because he wasn't looking forward to explaining how he happened to have lock picks on him and knew how to use them.

"Ah-hah," she triumphed. "Success."

She unlocked the door and invited him in, turning on a small lamp in the living room. "Thank you again, Jason. I really appreciate everything you did to help me tonight."

"Not a problem," he told her as he set her computer case down. "Well, I guess I'll go see if I can find a room someplace."

"Oh, I didn't even think of that. You're probably exhausted, and all the moderately priced hotels are probably full, especially with that veterinarian convention that's in town this week."

He just nodded, not wanting to say that he'd be outside the house, probably not even sleeping, to make sure nothing happened to her. So he blinked in surprise when she said, "You can stay here if you want."

When he looked at her, all he saw was complete and utter trust. Closing his eyes he cursed himself. He was beyond a first class heel and straight on his way to Grade A Bastard.

This was never going to work. Standing in the foyer outside the ELQ boardroom, it was the only thought that went through her mind. She was sunk. She was going to lose her funding, years of research were up in flames, much like her apartment building.

She never should have insisted that Jason take her by there earlier this morning. As she went through her grandmother's clothes, searching for something suitable to wear, all she found were matronly old suits, ultra-conservative blouses, and an old leisure suit that must have been her grandfather's buried in the back of the closet. Frantic she'd run down the stairs insisting to Jason that everything made her look too old and they had to go to the apartment to see if she could salvage anything.

The building was completely gone, save for a few twisted girders stabbing into the early morning sky. Anything in her apartment would be buried under the two floors above it, soggy and singed. And what did her neighbor say to her? I like your new outfit. Where did you find a store open at this hour?

Then in a fit of unexplained nerves and vanity to turned to Jason and huffed that the woman was blind, couldn't she tell she was wearing her grandmother's clothes? Jason tugged on his ear and shifted ever so slightly and said that it really wasn't that different from what she'd been wearing before, so it was an honest mistake on Sam's part. Horrified she stared at him, then turned and headed dejectedly to the bike.

When had she started dressing like her grandmother?

Back when she was in high school and hanging out with Emily, Jason used to scold them for foolishly following the latest fashion trends and wanting clothes that would only be out of style three months later. Both girls never had the money to fit in with the "in crowd" but she used to at least have color in her wardrobe. She knew from science that color was an indicator of light being refracted and black was the absence of light, and since her wardrobe these days mostly consisted of black, gray and brown, she wasn't liking what she'd become.

And why couldn't she stop obsessing over it?

She should be going over her presentation to the Trust in her mind. She shouldn't be wondering where the color disappeared to.

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head as if to force all thoughts of her clothing out of her mind and opened her eyes. She was going to be sick. Because what she saw was all polished wood and marble, expensive brass fixtures and floor to ceiling glass windows. She was in Audrey's clothes and her rinsed out underwear, standing inside the most expensively furnished building in all of Port Charles. She was going to go down in flames, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Miss Webber?" a young assistant with sleek hair and clean lines, opened the door to the boardroom and looked at her with just the faintest hint of disapproval.

"Y-yes?"

"The board will see you now."

She couldn't move. Her feet had grown roots and she couldn't move if her life depended on it. And it did.

Then, she was overwhelmed by warmth as Jason stepped up beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back. "You'll be fine. You've worked hard on this, Elizabeth. Go dazzle them."

A smile more confident than she felt curved her lips and she nodded to him, to herself and followed after the assistant and into the lion's den.

Three hours later she sat, presentation concluded, presentation packets - that Jason had helped her put together than ran out to Kinko's and copied, collated and bound while she showered and dressed - distributed to every board member, she waited for their decision. The questions had been tough, yet she felt she handled them all gracefully and truthfully. Some had been skeptical, but she was pretty sure she'd swayed two of them into believing her. Or maybe it was just that Carly and Lorenzo Alcazar were simply spiteful and were now her most vocal supporters because Mrs. Alcazar's ex-husband, Sonny Corinthos, was being a hard-nose and wondering why they should give her more money.

Resisting the urge to chew on her lip - never let 'em see you sweat - she folded her hands in her lap and resigned herself to being spoken about like she wasn't even in the room. The Doctors Quartermaine were flipping through her proposal sheet, occasionally leaning over and murmuring something to the other. Tracy Quartermaine was reclining back in her chair, eyes closed, smug smile firmly in place. If it was up to her, Elizabeth knew she'd never get a single dime. Beside Tracy, her son was making a note in the margin of the packet and she was pretty sure he winked at her when Tracy turned her head to speak to Edward Quartermaine sitting at the head of the table, but that couldn't be so she just dismissed it as a sleep-deprived hallucination.

The Quartermaine patriarch cleared his throat ever so regally and any conversation around the table ceased. "Well, Miss Webber, your research seems quite impressive. This new information does seem quite intriguing, but I'm a little worried about proposed cost for the future. That's a fifty percent increase over what we gave you previously."

"Yes, I understand that, Mister Quartermaine," she nodded. "But as I explained, I would like to visit the field to test my new hypothesis, and that is where the extra funds would go."

"Yes, yes," he waved a hand at her. "Well, let's put it to a vote, shall we? Tracy?"

"No." The word came out harsh, and with a small amount of glee and Elizabeth forced herself not to flinch under the weight of the older woman's stare.

The vote continued, going through the Quartermaine family and then to the influential members of the community who over the years had gained pieces of ELQ stock and therefore demanded a seat at the table. With three members left to cast their vote her hopes were in her shoes. Or maybe that was just the tissue paper she'd stuffed in the toes so that her feet wouldn't flop out of her grandmother's size larger dress pumps. She was going to lose her funding. She was going to lose her chance at a doctorate degree. She'd already lost her apartment and her belongings, apparently the cosmos decided to just spit upon her this weekend.

"Carly?" Edward asked.

"Yes," she said, a vicious smirk on her face as she glared at her ex-husband.

"Lorenzo?"

"Yes," he echoed his wife.

The vote was tied. She looked at the table in front of her, unable to look at Mr. Quartmaine as he held her future in his pudgy little hands.

"Well, young lady, it would appear the room is split. The topic is an interesting one, you certainly are a hard worker. I don't feel that our money has been ill-spent, so I'm going to approve another six months funding," he said.

Her head snapped up, Tracy Quartermaine and Jasper Jax immediately showed their displeasure, but all she saw was Edward Quartermaine smiling at her. He'd approved her funding. Stunned, she could only sit there in disbelief, but then her brain kicked in and she scrambled to her feet as he approached her.

"Congratulations, my dear. I can't wait to see what new gems you bring back from the field."

"Congratulations," Ned Ashton smiled at her, appearing at his grandfather's side. "Why don't you come with me, I'll show you out."

"Thank you," she beamed, shaking Edward's hand joyously. "Thank you so much."

Ned touched her elbow and she nodded her head, following after him as the boardroom erupted in bickering and shouts across the gleaming mahogany table. When she walked through the doors and felt the cool air of the foyer wash over her flushed face, she saw Jason push off a marble column and take a step forward, his question evident in the way his hands were slightly raised from his side.

"They approved my grant," she said, rushing forward and throwing her arms around him in a crushing hug that seemed to catch him off guard. "They approved my funding for another six months."

"Six months?" he questioned, looking over her shoulder at the man behind her.

"Yes," she beamed. "Oh, this is Ned Ashton, one of the board members."

"Six months?" he repeated.

"Why don't we go down to my office, Jason," he said softly, as other members began to file out of the boardroom.

Jason put a hand on the small of her back, propelling her along and as she fought to keep from tripping in her borrowed shoes her brain suddenly locked on a piece of information neither man seemed to have noticed. She'd never introduced Jason to Ned.

He did not want to go to New Mexico. He especially didn't want to be in New Mexico during the summer. But thanks to Ned Ashton, who he used to pal around with at summer camp before his dad got sick and the money was needed for medical expenses, Jason was going to. They wouldn't even be close enough to Arizona for him to pop over one day and catch a spring training game. What good was heading halfway across the country if he couldn't at least catch a pre-season game between the Yankees and the D-Backs?

Of course Elizabeth didn't know he was going to be accompanying her on this trip. They hadn't gotten around to that tidbit of information yet. Ned was too busy discussing the account he was going to set up for Elizabeth, and asking her how he could help her get her driver's license and other documents replaced due to the fire. Jason wondered if the uncharacteristic rambling was because the other man realized he'd said his name out there in the hallway.

His gaze slid over to Elizabeth where she sat, listening intently to Ned, and studiously ignoring him. She still had that perma-grin on her face, but there was something in her eyes that made the hair on the back of Jason's neck stand up. She knew. He was certain of it. What he didn't know was how she was going to respond, what she was going to say, if she'd make a scene or quietly tell him to drop dead and say she never wanted to see him again.

"So, do you have any questions, Elizabeth?" Ned asked, and Jason fought hard to keep from wincing. If that was ever a loaded question.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth smoothed her hands over her grandmother's charcoal gray skirt and tugged absently on the hem. "You have connections in the city, right?" she asked almost hesitantly. "I-I don't mean to put you on the spot...but you have a...a friend or two, right?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly, leaning forward ever so slightly in his chair. "Why?"

"Well, I-I just want to get started on this right away," she flashed a quick, stiff smile. "I'd like to get my replacement documents as soon as possible."

"Of course," Ned smiled, his shoulders relaxing minutely.

And that's when Elizabeth went in for the kill. "And maybe a copy of the fire chief's report. Although, you probably already have a copy, right?"

Jason watched his employer blink, and shoot him a quick look, before turning back to Elizabeth. "Why would you say that?"

"Because the entire building burned down," she said, explaining it to him with exasperation. "The amount of heat needed to accomplish that task, so quickly, so efficiently, doesn't just happen randomly. It could have been faulty wiring," she said on a shrug, "but they upgraded the wiring four months ago, installed fail safe measures. They were thinking of offering DSL in every unit, then changed their minds."

She turned and spared a glance over her shoulder at Jason and those eyes that had been warm and thrilled in the corridor, were frosty and reserved. "That was before you moved in, Jason, so you probably weren't able to share that information. And since that's one building the Quartermaine family doesn't own, I can see where you wouldn't know, Ned."

Ned fidgeted, and Jason sighed, tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Oh yeah, they were sooo screwed.

"Elizabeth-" the Quartermaine grandson began, but Elizabeth just kept right on talking.

"So that means that it was either tampered with, or someone used an incendiary device. Either way, it's arson, which means someone deliberately wanted my apartment building destroyed. Which probably means someone wanted either me or my research burned to a crisp. And that's why," she took a breath and squared her shoulders, "you called Jason. Right?"

The two men looked at each other and Jason nodded and looked away. He was sure that when the older man had a spare moment he was going to ream him out. Ned had wanted to approach Elizabeth with his suspicions that someone on the board was trying to make a power move and didn't like the money the company spent for research. He said that Elizabeth was smart, she was also practical and would handle the news without histrionics. Jason had refused, saying the less she knew, the better. Any slight change in her behavior, even subconsciously, could tip off whoever was targeting her - the biggest recipient of money - and everything would be blown before they got the first shred of evidence.

He'd underestimated the situation, and also how Elizabeth would react. Apparently she wasn't the same 16 year old girl, small and frightened after being bounced from foster home to foster home. He'd been there the day she found out she had a grandmother in Port Charles and how she'd first been so crushed to realize that the older woman had known she was alive and done nothing to contact her or spare her the misery and physical trauma that she'd gone through. He was sure he could handle it, watch her, suss out who on the board had their knickers in a knot, and all would be well.

He didn't think he'd gotten complacent, but apparently he had. He'd treated this assignment like other rich company intrigue and power plays before it, and been burned.

"We didn't think you were in any physical danger, Elizabeth," Ned began.

She arched a brow, slid a sidelong glance at Jason and re-crossed her legs while slinging one arm over the back of her chair. "Then why hire him?"

"Because I knew that there were board members who didn't like Edward's move toward philanthropy as he got older. They feel too much money is being wasted on feel good causes like The Trust, and not enough is going to lining their pockets. I was afraid your work would be sabotaged, that stuff would go missing, someone would try and mess with your car or your apartment. I never envisioned they'd do something so...large scale."

"So he was a babysitter. You bug my place?" she asked him directly.

A direct question deserved a direct answer. "Yes. For sound and video in certain select rooms. I put a tracking device in your car."

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And now that someone has either directly or indirectly made an attempt on my life, you're going to be my bodyguard. Something like that?"

"Yeah," Ned answered.

She contemplated the news for a minute, rolled it around, before she decided she didn't like the taste of it. "Absolutely not. I don't need a bodyguard, I don't need someone hanging on my elbow and slowing me down, and I certainly don't need a liar in my life."

There were days he hated his life. After Elizabeth calmly collected her belongings and walked out of the office leaving behind a wall of ice in her wake, Ned had followed true to form and reamed Jason out. Then he left ELQ headquarters and discovered a flat on his bike. A nice, six inch long slash in the back tire, along with a note. Drop dead, Jason. Don't even think of following me to New Mexico.

Yet, here he was, outside Audrey Hardy's house. Waiting. Elizabeth wasn't inside. He'd already let himself in the back door, done a quick survey of the house only to find it empty sans Elizabeth's pajamas and Tweety slippers. She had to be coming back. She didn't have her replacement identification yet, and the three hundred dollars Ned had given her to tide her over until the funds were deposited certainly weren't going get her all the way to New Mexico with everything she needed.

Of course, he thought, she could have stayed at a hotel for the night to try and avoid him, but she would have come to collect her belongings. No, he shook his head. She was coming back here. She'd probably just gone shopping.

Half an hour later a yellow taxi pulled up and the driver stepped out while the trunk swung open. He could see a collection of bags inside and started down the steps to help lug them up to the house. But he stopped when Elizabeth stepped out of the cab. Gone was the conservative gray suit, sensible shoes, and librarian hair. In its place was leather, lace and curls.

Her hair was loose, cut shorter and hanging down in soft curls that just kissed her shoulders. She was wearing make-up. Nothing too garish, but just enough to give polish and shine to her already flawless skin. A deep purple sweater, snug with a v-neck that showed off just the hint of cleavage peaked out from underneath a leather jacket. A flash of skin where the sweater ended before the leather hip-hugger pants began, caught his attention before his gaze flowed down to see very tall, very pointy boots completing the metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly.

She stopped on the walk, folded her arms carrying bags over her chest and cocked her hip to one side. "You don't read very well, do you?"

Intercepting the cabby, he took the bags from the man, dismissed him with a tip of his head and turned back to her. "Let's talk about this inside."

"I don't think so, bub. There's no way I'm letting you inside the house. Whatever it is you have to say to me, you can say it out here, and then you can hop back on your Harley and head off to the next town."

"I can't do that," he shook his head.

"Sure you can. I could draw you a map, although you may have trouble with that since you're apparently illiterate, so I could give you a demonstration."

Good-bye meek mouse, hello wildcat. Oh man, what else had Elizabeth bought at the mall this afternoon, besides a new look and apparently a new attitude? Or maybe it wasn't so much a new attitude, as the old spitfire girl with sharp tongue re-emerging.

"What's the matter, Morgan, cat got your tongue? Did you think I was just going to roll over and acquiesce to whatever you and Ned had cooked up?" She shook her head and the curls flowed like silk in the wind. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I decided a few things this afternoon. First, I am sick of gray and brown. Second, this is my life and I think it needs a new set of rules. So if you think for one minute that I'm going to allow you to tag along like an unwanted leech, you've got another thing coming."

Then she pivoted neatly on her heel and headed up to the house. Fishing out her keys, she opened the door and deposited her bags inside. Turning, she grabbed the bags out of his hands, walked inside and promptly shut and locked the door in his face. Raising his hand to rub his forehead, he stared down at the weathered wood planks. She was going to fight him on this. No doubt about that. But he was going to New Mexico.

Glancing back to the street when he heard a car start and back down a driveway he sighed and looked back at the door. He just wondered how she was going to handle the matter of the death threat against her that arrived in Ned's office after she left.

"Did you touch my tool box?"

Elizabeth didn't look up from her notes, in fact she turned the page casually, as Jason stood in the doorway of their room. She knew if she looked up, his arms would be folded across his chest, he would be covered with the fine red dust that seemed to seep in everywhere and into everything, and the scowl he'd had on his face since they left Port Charles three months ago would be deeper etched. Man he was grating on her nerves.

A hand flashed in the corner of her eye a moment before he snatched the papers away, forcing her to look up. "I said did you touch my tool box?"

"Give me back the papers."

"Answer the question."

Arms crossed over her chest she leaned back in her chair and glared at him. "No, I did not touch your precious little tool box. I know better than touch anything that belongs to the great, almighty Jason Morgan. After the last time I borrowed your screw driver and put it back one quarter of an inch out of place I know better than to even consider touching that thing. You'd think it was made of solid gold the way you obsess over it."

"Pardon me for wanting to make sure that while we are in the middle of nowhere with that bucket of rust you call a car, that I don't want to lose any tools. I've had to fix that thing more times than I can count and in order to do that I have to know where everything is."

"Where everything is should be somewhere but here," she snipped as she stood and absently tugged her tan tank top back into place. Was this her actual tan tank top or the white one that turned tan due to all the dust and dirt she'd encountered?

"Are we on this again?" he said, his teeth clenching with evident frustration.

"I don't believe we ever left it. I don't want you here, I don't need you here and I would be extremely happy if you would just go away."

He took a step back, the muscle in his jaw ticking furiously and she could see the fury in his eyes. Abruptly he turned and swung his fist, his hand punching a hole in the cheap plaster of the wall. A layer of white dust floated to the ground and she stood there, stunned and too frightened to move. Mr. Calm-and-always-in-control had just punched a hole of their hotel suite. There went the security deposit.

"You have got to be the most infuriating, obstinate, head-strong, pig-headed, don't-have-the-sense-God-gave-a-goose person I have ever met," he ground out, his back still towards her. "Don't you understand that someone had made threats on your life? Even if I wanted to leave, which believe me I do, I can't."

"Sure you can. You put one foot in front of the other and you walk."

His shoulders shook and she could practically hear the muscles in them knotting up. Then, he flung his arms out in a huff, grabbed his motorcycle keys and walked out the door, the cock-eyed screen slapping shut behind him. His bike roared to life and a moment later gravel hit the stucco wall as he raced out of the parking lot. She stood there, waiting for him to come back, stomp inside and sulk in his room, but the night remained quiet.

Jason Morgan didn't appear to be coming back. Good. Now maybe she could get some work done. She slipped the screen door's metal latch into the grommet attached to the wall and headed back to the table, as the air conditioner chugged pitifully to life. There was no relief from the heat, despite the sun setting an hour ago.

Three hours later Elizabeth was drawn from her notations and readings by the slightest change of sound and she raised her head, one eye still on data she'd collected earlier in the week. "Jason, did you hear that?"

When he didn't answer she remembered that he'd left earlier in the evening. And hadn't come back. Looking up from her notes she walked to the door and peered out in the near vacant lot. His motorcycle wasn't out there. In fact the only car out there was her bucket of rust car with the hood still up and parts and wires strewn on a tarp on the ground. Jason hadn't finished fixing her car, she realized with a frown.

She spun around when she heard gravel crunching outside the window in her bedroom. Stepping hastily away from the flimsy screen, she grabbed the wooden door and closed and locked it. The sound echoed through the rooms again and she held her breath waiting to see if it was moving. Maybe it was just a rabbit playing in the shrub under the window. But if that was a jack-rabbit then it had to be the biggest one ever.

"Don't be ridiculous," she chided herself. "You're just being paranoid."

Too many late night horror movies and Stephen King books. That was all. There was nobody lurking in the shadows ready to spring through the window and grab her. But just to be on the safe side, she wasn't going to go into her room until Jason got back. Because he would be coming back. He was too anal-retentive to just walk away from a job.

He had always been lecturing her and Emily on taking responsibility. If they gave their word that they would meet classmates for a project, help a friend, baby-sit instead of going out on a date, then they needed to keep those promises. He'd given his word to Ned and just because it often seemed like he'd rather eat glass than spend one more hour with her while she collected data and recorded her findings, he wouldn't leave until the job was done.

It was kind-of noble in this day and age. If it wasn't also so annoying. Where had the guy gone who used to take her out on his motorcycle and go so fast that she felt she was actually flying? Somewhere between then and now he'd disappeared into a stick in the mud. She remembered laughing with him, especially the day he started a food fight with her and his sister. She couldn't remember the last time she actually heard him laugh.

And why exactly did it matter? He lied to her, came into her life under false pretenses instead of the yeah, it's amazing we ran into each other after all these years line he gave her at Jake's the night their apartment building burned down. She thought she might have a friend, all she was was an assignment. Life sure could suck.

And now because she'd been resentful and sullen, he'd gotten upset - enough so to put his fist into the wall - and walked away. She knew she needed him there. She sometimes got so involved in her work that she could forget her surroundings. Not a particularly bright thing to do considering the three letters of warning Ned had received since they left. Then there was the phone call at their last motel in the middle of the night that prompted Jason to pack them up and bring them to this out of the way motor coach. And that didn't even count the fifteen e-mails she'd got that she hadn't mentioned to Jason.

Someone, for whatever reason, sure had a burr under their blanket about her work. And they seemed determined to scare her off. Maybe they didn't want her dead, maybe they did, but all she knew was right now she was alone, without a working car. All because she couldn't give just the slightest bit and cooperate with Jason. He'd apologized, tried to make it up to her - she couldn't even count the number of hot chocolates and brownies he'd bought remembering how she and Emily used to pig out on them - and all she did was tell him to get lost.

If it turned out that it was only a rabbit under her window and not someone trying to hurt her, she vowed that when Jason got back she would be a lot more cordial to him. She wouldn't fight him when he told her to do something; she would stop ignoring him until he got right in her face and looked like he wanted to shake her until her fillings rattled. Heck, she would even stop giving him grief for drinking coffee in the middle of the day. Because, really, three months was a long time to hold onto a silly little grudge. He was only doing what he thought best to protect her.

"Except now he's not here," she whispered, her back pressed firmly against the wall and her fingers tightly clenching the hem of her shorts. "Because I refused to admit I took his pliers."

Her heart jumped and took up lodging in her throat when she heard something - or someone - in the parking lot. The gravel popped and shifted under the weight, and a moment later she heard footsteps on the cracked concrete just outside the door. The screen door rattled yet didn't open. With a more insistent tug, the person tried again, but met resistance because of the latch she'd slipped into place.

"Oh for the love of..." His palm struck the metal frame and Jason's voice bellowed through the room. "Elizabeth, open the freaking door."

The sound outside her window scampered away and she twisted the metal lock and flung the door open, her fingers fumbling with the metal hook. Pushing against it while he pulled she latched onto his neck and he took a step back to keep them from falling over.

"Whoa, whoa, Elizabeth, what's going on?"

"You're back!" she cried, her body trembling which had nothing to do with the cool that had settled over the desert.

He placed his hands on her arms and pulled back to peer down at her. "What's wrong?"

"I think there was someone outside my window. That wasn't you was it?"

"No," he said, pushing her inside and kicking the door closed while his hand snaked out and slapped off the outside light. "You think there was someone outside your window?"

"It could have been a rabbit," she laughed with forced levity.

The next thing she knew the world was tilting and the cheap shag carpet rushed up to meet her as Jason pushed her down, the sound of a car engine roaring into the parking lot and gunfire filling the air. He covered her with his body as the window she'd just been standing by broke, glass spraying through the air. She heard bullets thunk into the stucco, ping off the metal of the car, and whistle through the air above them.

Then it was silent and all she could hear was the roaring of blood in her head and Jason's breathing in her ear.

"I don't think," his breath burst out and made her shiver, "it was a rabbit."

Jason Morgan hated smoky bars. Very odd since he used to live over one. But he hated the smell of stale smoke, cheap booze and even cheaper perfume. And he especially hated this one since Elizabeth was sitting at the bar while some out of town salesman with a tan line on his left ring finger was clearly trying to get lucky with her.

Pausing in the entryway to the hotel bar, he clenched the keycard in his hand and felt his jaw tense. Elizabeth was doing a good job of fending off the pudgy man's advances while not drawing too much attention to herself. She was left alone for ten minutes and she attracted trouble. It must be a hormone she was giving off.

Of course, the lecherous salesman was probably just responding the same way he had since he'd seen Elizabeth emerge from the cab that day in front of Audrey's house. She wasn't dressing to entice, not like the girls down on Courtland Street did, but that only added to the attraction. Jeans and shorts that molded to her like a second skin, shirts that showed flashes of her smooth stomach or hinted at her cleavage, tendrils of hair that escaped her ponytails and teased at her neck. She certainly wasn't the shy, awkward, not yet fully developed teenager she'd been when she and Emily had tearfully parted ways after high school.

She'd grown into a full fledged woman, and he was fighting his purely male response. It was his job to protect her, not drool over her. So he tried to imagine it was Emily he was spending three months sharing suites or connecting hotel rooms with. That he was only bothered by her obstinate attitude and unwillingness to cooperate because it made his job harder, not because he wished she didn't look at him with pure loathing in her eyes. Tried to pretend that he was annoyed by the way she mumbled under her breath while researching and chewed the top of every pen - even his - when in reality he found it an oddly enduring trait and if he picked up a pen in a gas station he found himself scowling at the pristine top because he expected it to be otherwise.

That all changed ten days ago when someone shot at their motel room and Elizabeth admitted she'd heard someone outside the room before he arrived. She also admitted, while hastily packing her belongings that she'd received some threatening e-mails she hadn't shared with him or Ned. He was mad about that, but was more interested in getting her to safety. Leaving behind the unfinished car, they headed off on his motorcycle and she never complained when they spent the night in the desert because he wasn't going to check into a hotel until they had different identities.

The scheduled check-in with Ned had been abandoned while he tracked down a friend of a friend who had just been paroled in Nevada. The man met them in a department store in Farmington and delivered three new identities and a large amount of cash that he'd withdrawn from Jason's account in the Caymans. Then he and Elizabeth disappeared, going anywhere as long as it got them out of the Four Corners region.

When he finally contacted Ned, the older man had been so relieved he wasn't even mad they'd dropped off the map for seven days. When The Trust had been told about the shot up motel room and how their bodies hadn't been recovered he had feared the worst for them. Forced to admit the truth to his grandfather, Edward told him that they would discover the traitor on the board, and if Elizabeth was alive her research grant would be extended. Jason was sure she would appreciate the news, if she lived long enough to reap the rewards.

For right now, it was time to stop sleeping in flea infested dives, and actually enjoy sheets he knew had been laundered in bleach. And it was time to rescue her from Mr. Grabby Hands.

Slowly he skirted the room, scanning the crowd for anyone watching Elizabeth and her unwanted admirer. It could be a smoke screen, but it didn't feel that way. No, this was merely lonely guy on the road looking for a little fun and games when the wife would never find out.

He walked up behind Elizabeth, saw the way her left hand was clenched tightly around her glass of Sprite while her right constantly fended off the man's hand that kept landing on her knee before creeping higher. Mr. Persistent was giving her some song and dance about how his luck had run out and wouldn't she come down to the Reservation with him and be his good luck charm. Just when she was about to shower the man with her drink, Jason slid up behind her and placed his hand possessively on her shoulder.

"Guess who?" he whispered huskily in her ear, while shooting lethal daggers at the middle-aged man before him.

"Ja-Jake," she said, her relief clearly evident under her false excitement. "You're back."

"Of course, I'm back, baby. Did you think your husband was going to abandon you on our wedding night? I told you, I just needed to convince the manager to give us the Honeymoon Suite."

"H-Honeymoon?" she questioned as she spun on the barstool. "You...you got the Honeymoon Suite?"

"Of course I did," he smiled at her, relieved when she finally picked up on the charade. "I promised you we'd have it, and here it is."

She looked at the keycard he waved back and forth and squealed before throwing her arms around his neck. "You're the best!"

He settled his arm around her waist, telling himself it's what any couple would do on their honeymoon. Of course the added bonus was watching the guy who had been trying to pick her up deflate like a balloon while they walked away. She fit perfectly against his side, and she played the part of a blushing, yet eager, bride to a tee. The manager watched them walk to the elevator and smiled at them, then blushed when Elizabeth slipped her hand into Jason's back pocket and actually pinched him through the fabric.

Just their luck the other couple on the elevator was heading to a suite on the top floor, so the façade had to continue while on board. He slid his hand into her hair and nuzzled her temple, while she clenched his shirt tightly and gazed with wide, blue eyes that actually stunned him.

"It's so sweet to see such love in this day and age," the woman said as they stepped off the elevator. "We hope you two are as happy in your marriage as we are."

"Thank you," Elizabeth murmured, blushing under the false compliment.

"Need a hand with the door, son?" the man asked, as they walked down the hall. "You're not going to break tradition are you?"

Jason stared at him a second, before realizing the couple was actually going to watch him carry Elizabeth over the threshold. "No, I've got it."

Then praying that he didn't drop her and embarrass them all, he swept his bride into his arms, fumbled just slightly with the keycard, and then flashed a smile at the couple before stepping into the room and letting the door swing shut and lock behind them. The Honeymoon Suite was something straight out of a movie. The room was adorned in rich reds and golds, dominated by a king size four poster canopy bed in the middle of their view.

"Put me down," Elizabeth said, pushing at his chest with her small hands.

"Uh, right," he said, shaking his head. Setting her on the floor he was unprepared for the shove.

"The Honeymoon Suite?" she asked him, her eyebrows halfway up her forehead. "Have you lost your mind?"

When exactly had her life gotten so out of control? It was a familiar musing to Elizabeth. Began right around the time her apartment burned to the ground, she found out Jason had lied to her, and Ned insisted that he accompany her on this trip to New Mexico. And it only intensified when someone shot at them in their hotel and they went on the run, ending up in the Honeymoon Suite. After Jason set her down inside, he explained that it was the perfect cover. Nobody would blink an eye if the honeymooners never set foot outside of their hotel room. Meanwhile it gave him the perfect opportunity to talk to Ned for more than thirty seconds on his cell phone without constantly looking over his shoulder.

After three long days, and even longer nights, in oppressive silence, she was going stir crazy. She'd organized, sorted and typed up all of her findings and her eyes were beginning to cross if she tried to read anymore of her research. She'd played solitaire, both the computer and the real life version, until she began to see red and black in her sleep and couldn't look at another deck of cards if her life depended on it.

Jason had gone back to his silent as a wall routine, except for when he was on the phone with Ned and various other people, trying to figure out who was after her. He didn't talk to her, except to ask her what she wanted from room service, and the one time she tried to strike up a conversation, he made it quite clear he didn't want to talk to her.

She shouldn't have been bothered by it, but she was. While they'd been on the run she apologized to him for the way she'd been acting since Port Charles. They had begun talking about things that didn't have to do with her research or his trying to keep them alive, she had begun to get to know him - the man he was now, not just Em's older brother. She thought he'd enjoyed their time together as well, so it actually stung that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid her.

With nothing else to do she'd spent a lot of her time observing him. If she thought she had a silly school girl crush on him back when she was a teenager, it was nothing to the feelings she had now. Here she was in the Honeymoon Suite, king sized bed, satin sheets, scented bath salts and body oils stocking the bathroom, matching his and her robes, and Jason slept on the floor with his back to her. He'd be up, showered and dressed before she awoke, and no matter how late she tried to stay up, he always outlasted her and she would fall asleep before him. When he was awake, he was tense, stiff, and distant.

Except when the bellboy brought their food tray up. Then he would come up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist, and nuzzle her neck like a newlywed husband who wished it was his wife on the menu instead of the T-bone steak. She would sigh and her knees would go weak, and as soon as the door was closed he would release her and be on the other side of the room so quick she would have to brace her hands against the wall to keep upright. She didn't understand the distance between them, and she was tired of slamming into a brick wall every time she tried to talk to him. So, after the second day, she just gave up and tried not to let herself be affected when she would open the door for room service.

She was mad, she was hurt and she was more than a little frustrated, and most of all surprised when she'd woken up this morning before Jason. Taking a few minutes to watch him while she slept, she wished that he would be that relaxed and peaceful looking around her, and then because she was actually getting jealous of the freaking pillow, she headed into the bathroom for a cold shower. Somehow, despite everything she'd done to prevent it, Jason had wormed his way back into her life, and she was way beyond the crush she'd once had on him. She realized with crushing pain, that she was falling in love with him.

"No sense wishing for what can't be," she whispered to herself as she finished tucking her azure colored shirt into her taupe shorts. "You're just an assignment and when this is all over, he'll be out of your life so fast your head will spin."

When she opened the door she blinked and stepped back to realize Jason was awake and standing right in front of the door. "You're up early," he said. His voice once again in that neutral, emotionless tone.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

She didn't say it's because she'd been watching him and wishing he was up there on the bed with her. "Shower's all yours."

"Thanks," was all he said as he brushed past her and closed - and locked - the door behind him.

"Forget this," she shook her head as she stalked over to the dresser and snagged her sandals. Buckling the straps, she waited until she heard the water running and then grabbed the key card, her wallet - which contained her fake ID and most importantly cash - and headed for the door. One foot actually touched the carpet in the hall, but then she turned and came back. Scribbling a brief note to Jason, she turned and all but ran for her freedom.

Window shopping was boring. Well, actually more annoying than boring. Because every shop she walked past she would see something that made her think of Jason. The whole purpose of this walk was to forget him, not be reminded of him around every corner. First was the Leatherman tools on display in the sporting goods store and she wondered if she should pick one up for him because he'd left his toolbox behind. After all, you never knew when a handy all in one pliers, screwdriver - Phillips and standard - corkscrew, tweezers, saw and knife could be useful.

Then there was the men's clothing store and all she could think of as she saw the latest polo shirts and wrinkle and stain resistant pants was they so weren't Jason and he could probably use another few t-shirts and maybe a new pair of Levi's since she noticed one of his pair had a hole in the knee. And so it went, and so she walked, ignoring each impulse to walk in and purchase something for him.

She wasn't his friend, she wasn't his girlfriend, and she certainly wasn't his wife, despite what the hotel and the nice couple down the hall thought. In the end she settled for a good-old fashioned attempt to drown her sorrows in sugar before she broke down in the middle of the sidewalk and cried. And since she knew she was going to have to face him again, she bought a whole dozen Krispy Kremes and a coffee black for him, and a hot chocolate for her. She'd attempt to buy his forgiveness like he'd tried with the brownies.

The air condition lobby felt good when she walked in and she was so caught up in basking in it that she didn't hear the manager calling her name until he came hurrying over to her. "Mrs. Winslow."

She turned, stared for a minute, then said, "Yes?"

"Your husband has been looking for you."

"He has?" she questioned. "Thank you for letting me know."

"I'll call and let him know you're on your way up," he smiled. "It's so nice to see young people who can't stand to be apart."

"Well," she laughed, and hoped she didn't sound like she was strangling on her nerves. "I just wanted to do a little shopping for him. Couldn't seem to make up my mind, so I bought him doughnuts instead."

He laughed and headed off for the front desk while she boarded the elevator. She was tempted to get off on another floor and take the stairs back down, but she knew she couldn't hide from him forever. When the elevators opened on the top floor she stepped off with a lot more confidence than she felt. Jason was waiting in the open doorway to their room and she met his steely gaze as she walked down the hall.

Silent until she was inside and the door - complete with the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the handle - was closed he stalked forward and glared down at her. "What were you thinking?"

"I told you in my note. I needed to get some fresh air. I figured after four days here if I went out it wouldn't look so off. Even newlyweds can't screw like bunnies every single second."

His eyes flared to an oddly dark shade before he shook his head and spun away from him. "I can't keep you safe if I don't know where you're at."

"Oh please," she said, forgetting her vow to not snap at him. "You're just mad because I'm not under your thumb. I'm sorry that I can't be perfectly content to just sit in here all day long while you ignore me. I needed to actually talk to people, be able to say five words before someone stormed into the bathroom and pretended to make a phone call."

"It was dangerous and someone could have found you."

"If you even thought that whoever was after us was even remotely close we never would have stayed here this long. Get over yourself," she said as she threw the Krispy Kreme box at him. She'd hang onto the coffee until she was good and angry and her aim was better. He gaped at the box for a moment then back at her. "You have got to be the most infuriating man I have ever met."

"I...I just don't want to see you get hurt," he said, his voice softening. "I'm sorry that I've been busy. I'll stop and pick up some games when we leave here so that you've got something to do."

"Games," she echoed. "You gonna buy me Telephone? I'm not sixteen, Jason, so would you stop acting like it. I've got plenty of games and other things to keep me occupied, I'd rather just talk to you."

"Well, I'm a little busy," he said. "Is that coffee for me?"

"Busy with what? I know you have people looking into things. You can't possibly need to call them several times a day. All you're doing is distracting them and looking...looking for excuses not to deal with me. Never mind, I get it."

She handed him the coffee cup and headed for the bathroom. Jason couldn't stand to be around her, just like every other man in her life, just like her grandmother. Boy, she'd walked right into that one. She was a job, Emily's friend; stupid her for thinking he might have been interested in her. No, he just wanted to get this done so he could get away.

"Elizabeth, wait," he said. His feet barely whispering over the plush carpeting as he came after her. "It's not what you think."

His hand snagged her arm before she could escape into the safety of the bathroom. She turned and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "You don't have to do this. Please just let me go."

"Don't have to do what? Tell you that I am avoiding you, but not for the reasons you think?"

"Why else would you be avoiding me?"

"Because if I didn't find something else to do I'd be... What I mean is..." he paused and muttered a string of curses under his breath, even while his cheeks tinged slightly pink.

"Jason?" she asked, peering up at him questioningly.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to sleep with that huge bed in the room and you looking so beautiful and innocent in your cotton t-shirts and shorts?" She shook her head mutely and he sighed while shoving his fingers through his hair. "I keep myself busy to remind myself that this is actually a job and nothing more despite the fact that I really wish I was Jake Winslow and you were my bride."

Well knock me down with a feather. She stared at him, stunned that he did see her as something besides Em's scrawny little friend and that he'd been trying to be professional. Forget professional. Forget the fact that someone was trying to kill her. Jason Morgan just admitted he wanted her. No way she was letting that information go to waste. As her U.S. Government teacher was fond of saying Carpe Diem.

"Jason?" she said, taking a step closer to him and smiling as his breath caught as she brought her hand up to his chest. "Why don't you come find out how comfortable the bed really is?"

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, rose up on her toes and searched for his lips with hers. He seemed frozen for a minute, until his arms locked around her waist and his lips met hers with a blazing intensity.

Elizabeth Webber had the most beautiful hands. Slender, graceful, fingers that possessed magic as they skimmed over his skin. Jason Morgan was in love with her hands. He was in love with every part of her, but it was it was her hands that made him realize he loved her, and he couldn't seem to stop touching them. He loved how they were the opposite of his. Ivory to his tanned, smooth to his calluses, dainty to his oafishly large. They fit perfectly in his, and he could spend countless time mesmerized by them.

Right now he held hers, clutched protectively in his as they stood in front of a judge and he could feel the slight tremor in her fingers.

Just two days ago he had been so close to having those fingers explore every inch of his body while he did the same to her. Their kiss had spiraled wildly out of control, nearly blind with lust and what he didn't realize at the time was love, they stumbled to the king size bed in the suite. Piece by piece their clothing fell away and they took their time with each new inch of skin exposed. And then Jason realized he didn't have a condom. He couldn't remember when he'd used the condom he always carried in his wallet, but he cursed himself violently for forgetting to replace it.

Carefully pulling his jeans back on and not even taking the time to turn his shirt right side out, Jason swore to Elizabeth that he'd be back in two minutes after a quick dash down to the hotel pharmacy. Who would raise an eyebrow, he said. They hadn't emerged out of their room in four days until that morning, and as she so aptly put it, they were supposedly screwing like bunnies on their honeymoon, they just ran out. Happened to anyone, he didn't mind the looks he was sure to get in his disheveled state. She promised she wouldn't move an inch and as he took one last look at her with the maroon satin sheet delicately draped across her, he broke into a dead run to the elevator.

So imagine his dismay when he arrived back at their suite and found her out of bed, dressed and talking on the phone while pulling clothes out of the drawer and throwing them in her bag. The door slipped out of his hand and the thud of it closing echoed loudly in the room. She spun around and his scowl instantly changed to trepidation when he saw her face. "Hold on, Ned," she said shakily, "he's right here."

Ned, as usual, was the bearer of bad news. He'd found out who was behind the threats on Elizabeth's life. His mother Tracy was determined to get control of ELQ from her father, Edward, and didn't care who she had to hurt or destroy in order to get her control. She knew that if something happened to the young researcher who was draining funds that could be lining her pockets that Edward would crumble. Despite his tough as nails exterior, the man had become a bit of a softy in regards to Elizabeth, looked at her as the granddaughter he'd never had and her death would have devastated him. He wouldn't be able to put up a fight when Tracy swooped in to seize control of the company.

But it was the second party involved that caused Jason to see red. Elizabeth's own grandmother had recently taken out a sizeable life insurance policy on her, naming herself as the soul beneficiary. Ned had regretfully reported that he had stumbled upon the two women talking, declaring that Tracy had to find Elizabeth and take care of her. As Audrey had so crassly said put it she deserved a little compensation for Elizabeth showing up on her doorstep and ruining her idyllic life. Why couldn't the brat have just stayed away?

Jason had been determined not to tell Elizabeth that information, but as they stopped at a all night truck stop and sat in a corner booth eating waffles, he hadn't been able to lie to her. Her deep blue eyes welled up with tears as the complete loathing her grandmother held for her finally penetrated the illusion she'd painted. She'd fled to the bathroom and he'd followed after, ignoring the protests of the other women when he wouldn't let Elizabeth hide from him.

When her tears were stemmed and she felt composed, she allowed him to guide her back to the booth and managed to take a couple bites of their now cold food before she just shook her head and buried it in her arms. He slid in beside her, drew her to his side, and as he held her hand in his, sweeping his thumb over her knuckles in an attempt to calm and reassure her, that's when he realized he was a goner. Her pain sliced him deeper than anything he had ever felt, and all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his life making up for the loveless childhood she'd had and disappointing youth.

When they reached the New Mexico border on their way back to New York, he pulled to the side of the road and stopped, unable to go on. He couldn't take her back there, where she would have to see her grandmother and realize that the woman who should have loved her, had been part of a plot to kill her. He hated seeing the withdrawn little mouse she'd become again and all he wanted to do was make her smile, make her laugh, let her know that she was the most loved and cherished possession in the world.

As a semi whipped by them, Elizabeth pushed her hair back and peered up at him from the back of the bike. "Jason, what are we doing?"

"I won't take you back there, Elizabeth," he said and she frowned. "I won't take you back and make you face her. Not unless you're really sure you want to."

"I...I never want to see her again," she whispered, tears once again cresting over her lashes. Automatically he cradled her face in his hands and brushed the tears away, before pulling her into the protection and love of his arms.

"Then let's not go back. Not now. Ned said we don't need to come back. Not right away. He said that the grant will be still be there whenever you're ready to get back to work. Edward offered the use of the ELQ jet to take you anywhere you want to go, he'll pay for you to stay anyplace you want. Just say the word, Elizabeth. You can go anywhere."

"What about you?" she asked quietly. "Now that this is over, where will you go?"

He looked down at the gravel for a minute, before looking back at her. "I'm going where you go," he said honestly. "Not because I have to keep you safe, but because I've fallen in love with you and there's no way I could walk away from you."

He'd finally said the right thing first time out of the gate. There was no fight, no stony silence, no hurt or mistrust. She just threw her arms around him and clung to him tightly while saying 'yes' over and over. Sliding her small hand down his arm and twining her fingers in his she looked up at him with such love and trust as she said, "I don't care where I go, as long as you're there with me."

"Then come with me," he said, looking west at the horizon. "I know where I want to take you."

She nodded and never said a word as he climbed back on the bike and headed back the way they came. They passed through New Mexico and Arizona and at one in the morning found themselves rumbling down The Strip in Las Vegas on his Harley. They pulled into the Luxor and once again checked into an opulent suite. While Elizabeth took a long relaxing bath, Jason disappeared returning a short time later with a beautiful ice blue gown and a velvet box.

"What's this?" she asked, emerging from the bathroom in a plush terrycloth robe.

"Your wedding dress," he said, his voice nervous and doubtful, "that is...if you agree. Will...will you marry me?"

After recovering from her initial shock she agreed, but asked for only one thing. She wanted to be married by a judge, and not in some cheesy wedding chapel where Elvis swung his hips in a white sequined jumpsuit. Though he knew it would test all of his self-restraint because he promised himself he would not take her to bed until they were properly married, he agreed because he didn't have the will to tell her no.

So now they stood before a Justice of the Peace, vows repeated, rings exchanged, anxiously awaiting the pronouncement of man and wife. When the words were said, he turned to her, raised his thumb to wipe away an errant tear and leaned down to capture her beautifully painted lips in a kiss that held all of the promises he had for her. He pulled back and her smiled was immediate and lit up her entire face.

Later that night as they lay in their bed, her leg lazily brushing against his, he took her hand in his and placed gentle kisses on the tips of her fingers. "I love you, Elizabeth."

"I love you too," she whispered, the sheet rustling as she stretched against him and peppered kisses across his jaw. "Thank you for never giving up on me or walking away when I tried to run you off."

"I will never give up on you," he vowed as he rolled, bracing himself over her on his elbows. "You're stuck with me forever, sweetheart."

The End