Three years ago, Elizabeth Webber walked away from Port Charles. It was a mild Spring day, and nobody even knew what was going on. She finished her shift at Kelly's, ducked down an alley on her way home to her studio because she wanted to avoid Emily and Lucky, and after five minutes of sitting on her couch in the dark hoping that nobody showed up looking for her, she made up her mind. As soon as she did, she instantly felt better. She felt relieved, she felt lighter...she felt like herself again.

Or at least the person she'd been when she became friends with Jason Morgan and hid him in her studio one winter and lied to the entire town. She didn't know who the person was that she became when Lucky returned from the dead and everyone told her it was a miracle. Lately, she didn't even like that person. The person who got so bogged down in obligation and the past and fears that she became weak and scared and so very much unlike her former self.

She was never the good girl. She was never the person who did what other people told her. She was the rebel; she was the fifteen-year-old who got on a bus and traveled from Colorado to Port Charles. Yes, she'd had a traumatic experience and she'd learned to be cautious, but she didn't have to completely change who she was. When she was with Jason she laughed, she felt strong and fearless and she didn't cow down and give in to everyone else just because it was expected of her. She told Nikolas to get out of her studio and stop throwing Lucky's death in her face. She stood up to her grandmother and asserted her indepence. She let the town believe she was the latest bed buddy of Jason Morgan and didn't care what everyone else thought of her.

She'd done those things because she had to. Jason was injured and the police couldn't know about it. He was not friendly with Carly or Sonny and there was nobody else he could depend on. Elizabeth overcame her problems by having to think of somebody else. She came to like it. While she would always have a fond place in her heart for Lucky, she liked - Heaven help her - not thinking about him every single second of every single day and being weighed down in crushing grief. All on her own, she put Lucky in her past; holding on to the fond memories and the tender moments, but moving forward and forging her future.

How was it that nobody but Jason realized that she'd grown and changed while Lucky had been gone? Why was it that everyone decided that she was responsible for fixing Lucky and returning him hale and hearty to his family and friends? Why was it that she let them make her feel that way? Why was it that she stopped doing what she wanted and instead became someone who only lived to please their boyfriend for fear of making him upset? And why was it that she'd believed Lucky, someone who had acted erratic and sometimes frightening since his return, over Jason who had never lied to her? Why had she turned down Jason and claimed she wanted to be with Lucky when all she really did want to do was grab Jason's hand and run out of that park? Why had she let fear dictate her life?

In the weeks after Jason left, Emily had been mad at her, Nikolas was a royal pain and Lucky was even more frightening and erratic. She'd begun to withdraw from them, making excuses for not meeting them and ignoring their phone calls and them stopping by the studio. She didn't sleep at her room at Kelly's; she changed her locks at the studio so that nobody could just drop by and let themselves in…and even though she'd lied about losing her keys and kept forgetting to give Lucky a new key, she felt better than she had in a while.

Which was why it had been so liberating to decide that she was done with Port Charles and everyone else. She'd packed a bag, withdrew some cash, took a cab to the bus station and caught the first bus out of town. As the dingy bus terminal faded out of sight she felt renewed. She was scared, but only of the unknown. She wasn't a frightened child hiding in the dark anymore. She was going to live her life her way, and that meant starting over.

Everyone had been stunned, and angry, when Elizabeth finally contacted them. But their reactions let her know that she'd done the right thing. Her grandmother wasn't supportive, she was disappointed, and simply could not understand why Elizabeth was behaving so irresponsibly and turning her back on Lucky. Emily was mad that she'd left Lucky when he needed Elizabeth most. Nikolas couldn't understand what she was thinking and was just certain that she'd arranged to meet Jason Morgan out of town. Lucky was definitely not the sweet boy who slept on her floor after her rape, he berated her for her stupid choices and how could she do this to them by walking away from their dream of modeling? Laura and Luke couldn't understand how she could turn her back on their son and wondered who would help him now.

Not one person asked if she was alright. Not one person asked if she had enough money. Not one person really cared about her. It was only what she was supposed to do for Lucky and how stupid and selfish and unfeeling she was for walking away. The only person who did ask if she was safe, if she was healthy and eating enough and if she had enough money was Sonny.

The older man had been stunned when she called him. At first he was standoffish and a bit cold, but when she apologized to him for her behavior and explained to him that she'd messed up - by getting so wrapped up in Lucky and for not believing Jason - he began to thaw towards her a bit. When she told him that she wasn't asking for him to tell her about Jason or where he was, and she wasn't asking him to tell Jason where she was, his respect for her began to return. He finally seemed to understand that she was doing this for herself. To find her strength and her inner compass once more and she wasn't looking for him to send her to Jason, or to tell his friend what she'd done. The only thing she wanted of him was to pack up her belongings and ship them to her, and to not tell anyone in Port Charles where she was at. He also seemed to understand that once she did get her belongings she wouldn't stick around long anyways.

She gave Sonny her address and he told her he would arrange it all. So when Johnny showed up with a car, her clothes and art supplies in the back, her deposit back from her studio and a little extra walking around money from Sonny, she shook her head and tried to argue that it was too much. Johnny wouldn't listen, and neither would Sonny when she called him, so she wrote down how much he'd given her in a ledger and vowed that she would pay him back one day.

Then, Elizabeth traveled. She traveled to places that she'd always wanted to see, and she decided to take a chance on life. She painted her impressions of the things she saw and took them to a local store to see if they would be interested in selling them. Some rejected her out of hand, some bought a few and stuck them in a back corner, but some were enthusiastic and supportive of her work. She made money from her art, and she was thrilled, even if the amount wasn't very much.

Soon, though, her technique became refined, and word of her talent began to spread. She painted the Grand Canyon at dusk when the rocks came alive, she painted the Tetons in the Spring when new life burst open, she captured the sun rising over the water as she sat on the shores of Cape Cod and she infused the fire of autumn in the Appalachians onto her canvas. She had places that she went back to again and again and the locals were always proud to have her visit. She found little retreats to settle down for a couple of months when she was tired of the constant motion, and she felt vibrant as she lived her life on her terms.

As she began to make enough money to support her simple tastes and stay stocked in art supplies, she slowly started paying Sonny back. Sometimes it was just a couple of hundred dollars every few months; a drop in the bucket compared to all that he'd given her, but she was determined to do it. She had left to stand on her own two feet and dictate her own life, and while she was grateful for his help, she would pay him back for his investment in her new career. She helped coax him into the 21st century by telling him that e-mail was often the best way to get in touch with her, especially since she was sometimes out of cell phone range or so absorbed in painting that she turned the device off. Much to Carly's displeasure, Elizabeth and Sonny stayed in touch through the years, but even she found it hard to criticize Elizabeth's painting that she'd sent one year for Christmas of Mount McKinley.

Eventually, she began to rebuild contact with the people she left behind in Port Charles, but things were never the same. Nikolas graciously praised her talent, and said that he'd purchased a piece, even though her landscapes didn't really go with the décor of Wyndemere. She wanted to tell him not to do her any favors but instead bit her tongue. Without her there to enable Lucky and allow everyone else to ignore him, Luke and Laura were forced to deal with the fact that Lucky had been severely damaged by Helena's brainwashing and they spent years trying to get him help. He refused all attempts, and tragically ended up a victim of the ongoing feud between the Cassadines and Spencers. Emily finally gave up on the dream of Nikolas ever leaving Gia and making her his princess, and she accepted that the Four Musketeers were wonderful teenage friends, but too many things had changed through the years. She focused on becoming a doctor and began dating a brilliant surgeon who inspired her as much as her parents did. Grams finally came to accept her choice of career, and even joined Elizabeth for a month one summer, but the little girl who wanted her family's approval had grown into a woman who was secure in who she was and when she decided it was time to go or she was going to miss the change of the seasons that she wanted to capture, Audrey understood that it was time for her to go back to her life as well and wished her granddaughter much success.

The only person she didn't know anything about, and was sometimes afraid to ask, was Jason. She told herself that she hadn't left Lucky or Port Charles for him; she had done it for herself. So if they had no contact it was because she had broken their friendship and she should be the one to reach out to him. But she never did because she didn't want him to feel like she was searching for him just because she was no longer with Lucky or because she was lonely or dozens of other reasons that she always thought of that kept her from trying to make contact. Mostly, she was afraid that he wouldn't want anything to do with her after the way she'd treated him that spring, and so she was determined to honor their friendship by holding to the principles he'd taught her. She would live her life for her, standing strong on her own and not compromising who she was anymore.

As the years past and Sonny didn't mention his best friend, Elizabeth accepted that Jason would forever be part of her past. A part that she would look back on and remember the lessons he'd taught her and the time they'd had together. Looking back and regretting would cause nothing but heartache, and she wasn't going to live like that.

So it came as a great shock to her when she returned from a kayaking trip and logged on to her e-mail to see a letter from Sonny simply entitled 'Jason'. Her finger hesitated above the mouse for a moment before she took a deep breath and clicked to open it. Sonny told her that his friend had returned to Port Charles once again to help him with a problem with the business, but then had left. The older man thought that this time his enforcer was planning to stick around for longer; Jason had made some statements that led Sonny to believe he was tired of traveling and looking to return.

Instead, Sonny went on to say, he saw Elizabeth's painting above the fireplace and once the two men discussed everything that Sonny had never told him, Jason packed his bag and was gone again. Her friend apologized to her for never mentioning her to Jason; he'd taken her at her word that she wasn't doing this for him, and when Jason would ask about her Sonny would hedge around the questions and never give him clear answers. Apparently Emily had still blamed her for Jason leaving, because she had never mentioned anything about Elizabeth leaving, either. But Jason had demanded to know everything that Sonny knew about where Elizabeth might be, and the mob boss had a strong feeling that Jason would be looking for her. He wanted her to know, in case Jason showed up one day.

She sat back from her computer stunned at the e-mail, and her stomach twisted when she saw that the e-mail was dated over a week ago. She wasn't that hard to find, she'd never taken pains to hide herself. If Jason really wanted to see her, he could find her easily enough. He might already know where she was.

The only thing she didn't know was what she would say to him when the inevitable day came and he showed up.

When Jason left Port Charles after Elizabeth turned him down in the park, he was angry. He'd known that Elizabeth was confused and scared, but he could not, and would not, deny that she'd hurt him. Her near kisses, the looks she gave him, the way she always came to him and claimed he understood her better than anyone else, he felt like she'd taken his friendship and stomped on it. She was also a big cock tease and he was determined to forget her. If she was going to be a little girl who clung to a little boy like Lucky Spencer, then he was done pining for her. He wanted a woman.

He traveled, he hooked up with women whenever he wanted to, and there was even a time when he thought about getting out of the business completely and settling down with a woman who he thought he'd fallen in love. It was only in the cold, harsh reality of an early morning return to bed from the bathroom that he realized he'd been trying to punish Elizabeth for not choosing him. He'd chosen someone who bore a bit of a resemblance to her, and was intending to make a life with her; because Elizabeth had turned him down.

Instead of returning to bed, he'd packed his belongings and left. He had no idea if the other woman was hurt - although it seemed likely - he just knew that he wasn't being fair to her and he wasn't being true to himself and he had to leave. While he may have realized what he was doing, he still didn't want to actually vocalize it. He didn't want to admit that he was no longer truly angry with Elizabeth for not choosing him, but he couldn't forget her completely. Despite his efforts to drown her out of his life, he couldn't let her go completely.

He took to traveling again, but it seemed like her ghost was always haunting him. He saw a painting in a gift shop on Cape Cod that reminded him of her. The use of color, the swirl of the strokes...he couldn't see the picture clearly, but it evoked something in him and he'd fled the shop like he'd been bit. She was there when he was in Yosemite and other areas of the country and there had been a time when he almost bought a painting, without seeing who had created it, but then stopped because he couldn't believe what he'd been about to do. There was no way he was going to purchase something just to foolishly try to pretend that it was a creation of hers. He had a painting of hers, sitting in some forgotten closet in Port Charles because he'd left it with her.

He wondered if Lucky had allowed her to keep it, if she'd thrown it out on her own, or given it to Sonny. Although his friend probably would have told him if Elizabeth had delivered something for him. But since Sonny never mentioned Elizabeth, Jason knew that she'd never talked to the Cuban about him. And Jason could never bring himself to ask first; to put himself out there once again only to gain irrefutable proof that she'd married Lucky and cemented her permanent lock.

Which was why it had absolutely floored him when he showed up in Port Charles and discovered that she was no longer there. Lucky was dead, Nikolas had married Gia and returned to Greece, and Emily was mad at Elizabeth for running Jason out of town and then turning her back on Lucky when he'd needed her, when they'd all needed her. Elizabeth had left Port Charles not long after he had, but she hadn't chased him down; she'd set out to discover herself and who she really wanted to be. She was a painter, and those could have been her paintings that he'd seen that had haunted him. The style was very much like the painting that she'd sent to Sonny and he'd insisted be hung in the penthouse, even though it partially drove Carly crazy to have it there. But his blonde friend couldn't entirely deny that Elizabeth had talent.

He'd demanded everything from Sonny, and was shocked when his friend finally told him. Elizabeth sounded happy, she was gaining success in her career, and she was slowly paying Sonny back for money he'd given her to help her out after she left town. Her independence was in full force, and Jason was glad for her. Yet, he couldn't deny that he was a bit hurt that she'd never attempted to contact him, or nobody had told him what was happening with her. If he'd known...

"If you'd known...what would you have done?" Sonny asked him pointedly. "You'd have contacted her? Tracked her down? Done what? Tried to ask her out?"

His friend had shaken his head as they sat in the darkened living room, talking quietly while Carly and Michael were asleep upstairs. "Jason, look man, I understand why you left town. There was business that needed to be done, but Elizabeth also hurt you."

When Jason looked away, Sonny continued. "She did. She knows it, she admits it, and..." he chuckled, "in true Elizabeth fashion she apologized to me for being the reason you left town. She realizes that she was wrong for believing Lucky and for the way she treated you."

"Then why didn't she say something to me?" he asked. "Ask you to pass along a message?"

"She didn't want to be perceived as chasing after you. She didn't leave town just to try to get you back as her friend...or more. She left town for herself, for her own happiness." The other man was silent for a moment and then said cautiously, "She doesn't think you want anything to do with her. And when you were telling me about the women you hooked up with, about the one you were living with and were thinking of asking to marry you, I thought she was right. You'd moved on. She asked me not to say anything to you...and I didn't for her, but I also did it for you. Did you really need me to mess up your life by telling you Elizabeth Webber had left Lucky Spencer and Port Charles?"

Jason looked at the painting hanging above the fireplace and couldn't really formulate an answer. Then Sonny added, "Besides, you never asked about her. You asked about other people, but never her or anybody connected to her. I didn't tell you about Lucky's death because it had no basis on what you were doing for me or in your life. If you'd known, you'd have wondered about Elizabeth, and then I would have to tell you that she wasn't in town and have to go into that entire explanation.

"I wanted you to be happy," his friend told him thoughtfully. "And you seemed like you were...or at least you were as long as nobody mentioned Elizabeth. Does it really matter that she left? You left her behind first."

He may have left Port Charles behind, but he'd never fully left Elizabeth behind. No, he hadn't thought of her every day, and for a while when he was with his ex-lover, Elizabeth hadn't really even crossed his mind; until that fateful morning when he woke up to the reality of the situation. Did it really matter that she'd left and hadn't contacted him? He hadn't made any effort to contact her. There were postcards he bought that he never sent, art books he looked at that he never purchased even though he was sure she would love them, and questions about her life that he never asked those who could answer them.

Now that he knew the truth of the situation, he couldn't stop thinking about her, wanting to see her, talk to her and find out how she was doing. But why? Why was it so important for him to talk to her? If he'd returned to Port Charles and found her happily married to Lucky would he have felt compelled to talk to her? He'd claimed she was his friend, that they were more than friends and she'd saved his life and she'd helped him - sometimes at great risk to herself, but never expecting or asking anything of him - and yet he'd just walked away and never looked back. He'd proven his friendship by turning his back on her completely.

Why was it that now that he knew she'd never stayed with Lucky, that she hadn't even stayed in Port Charles, was he so eager to talk to her? Shouldn't he have proven himself to be a friend even if she had been with Lucky? Couldn't he have asked about her and found out how she was? Did it make him a hypocrite that he now wanted to track down her address and talk to her and the only reason he was even thinking about it was because she'd left Lucky after turning him down? She hadn't asked Sonny about him, the older man had told him that, so maybe she hadn't cared about him? Did she want him to just show up on her doorstep unannounced?

For as much as he warred with himself about approaching Elizabeth, he couldn't make himself walk away. He'd found her house easily. He'd asked Stan to run a search and the other man had presented him with a file that Jason read on the plane. A little place out on the west coast, trips abroad and across the United States, deals with well-known galleries and local craft stores. She was established and gaining success. He'd always known she'd talent, but she'd lacked confidence. It appeared she'd found it now. He was happy for her, even if he sometimes wondered why she hadn't found that while he was still in town.

But he'd banished those thoughts aside. If he did finally bring himself to ring her doorbell and say hello after all these years, he didn't want to appear angry or bitter. It would be awkward enough as it was.

However, Jason was not going to hide from this any longer. She had finally lived life for herself, and if he was honest, he hoped he'd inspired her. But living life for himself meant finally speaking to Elizabeth and dealing with this issue that now seemed to hang over him. Elizabeth was home now, back from her kayaking trip, and Jason was not going to sit in a car across the street from her house all day.

As he stood on the front porch, waiting for her to answer the doorbell, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He heard movement on the other side of the door, but there was a pause before the locks finally clicked and Elizabeth opened the door. She looked wary, but not entirely surprised to see him. Perhaps Sonny had spoken with her.

"Jason," she greeted him, a wisp of a smile lighting on her face. "I guess Sonny was right."

She undid the latch on the screen and then pushed it open, while stepping back from the doorway. "Come in."

He stepped inside, taking in the warmth of the house. It was uniquely her. Bright color splashes, half-finished projects, painting and art supplies seemingly covering every available surface. She closed the door behind him, and then stepped into the room, passing him to put the couch between them. Once she was facing him, she looked at him questioningly, but Jason was too busy looking around the room.

"So," she finally began. "Why-why did you come?"

"You weren't in Port Charles," he answered. "I wanted to see how you were."

"I haven't been in Port Charles for three years," she replied. "I'm good, but you could have just asked Sonny. Since you never bothered to ask how I was when you thought I was living in Port Charles, I wonder why you care now that I'm not there."

Jason frowned slightly. This certainly wasn't the warm welcome he'd imagined from her, or that he'd received from her that day on the docks when she flew into his arms. Considering she'd left him, why would she think he'd ask about her?

"Well," she shook her head. "I'm glad you're here, because it gives me a chance to apologize to you, and not just Sonny. I'm sorry for the way I behaved in Port Charles. I was confused and frightened to let go of something I thought I was supposed to hold onto simply because everyone was telling me to. I didn't treat you fairly or respect the friendship we'd developed when we all thought Lucky was dead. And it especially wasn't fair of me to not believe you or to call you a liar when you said Lucky attacked you. I knew Lucky wasn't the same, but I chose to hide from that fact and blame you so that I didn't have to really face that there was something wrong with Lucky. And that wasn't right. So...I apologize."

"It's okay," he shook his head. "I know it was hard for you. I'm just glad that you're safe, and that you were okay. And I-I'm glad that you're happy. You-you are happy, right?"

A genuine smile bloomed on her face and he felt it lighten him as it always did when she smiled. "Yes," she answered. "I am. I was scared at first, scared of who I was without Port Charles and everyone there to define me...but I remembered how you always seemed to believe in me and it gave me faith. I felt that even if I hadn't honored our friendship while you were in town, I could honor you and what you'd meant to me by living my life for myself and doing what I wanted instead of what everyone else expected me to."

Her hands swept out to her sides as she said, "I began to paint again. For myself; what I liked. And some of it wasn't very good, but I didn't let it discourage me. I learned, I practiced, and I began to sell some of my pieces. The first time someone paid me for one of my paintings...it was like having you beside me in my studio telling me I could do anything. I felt like I'd finally found myself."

Jason could tell she was happy, that she'd found her confidence he'd always known existed but had by dampened by the expectations of everyone else. He felt buoyed up by her enthusiasm and this almost could have been one of their conversations that they had when he was recuperating. But it wasn't, and much had passed between them. He wondered what would happen between them now, and most of all what he wanted to happen.

He was driving her crazy, keeping her up at night as she paced the floors frustrated over the fact that he came into her life and blew her serene, little world apart. She just didn't understand what he wanted from her.

Years ago they were friends, and she knew she'd hurt him when she ping-ponged between him and Lucky and then walked away from Jason in the park. She'd treated him unfairly, and it took her leaving Port Charles and taking a long, hard look at herself - and several months - to get straightened out and able to realize where she'd gone wrong. From then on, she focused on herself, on doing what she wanted and not letting fear hold her back anymore. She didn't let herself get guilted into returning home and fixing her so-called-friends' lives; she made her own way through the world. It was the last bit of tribute she could give to the man who helped her see that she was something besides Lucky Spencer's girlfriend.

But when he showed up at her house, she hadn't expected this from him. Jason seemed happy to see her, she thought, he accepted her apology that she owed him, but things weren't the same as they were before. She'd known they couldn't be; she'd grown since she'd left Port Charles, she'd gained confidence, and most importantly, the relationship between them had altered. There had been attraction between them, and she'd walked away from it, always pulling back and never fully crossing the line she already felt bad about getting too close to. With years had come maturity and she'd realized that Lucky had been safe for her. Still coming to terms with her rape, Lucky had been a safety zone; something Jason certainly was not. At least sexually for her.

It wasn't that she thought he'd hurt her, or force her to do things she didn't want to do. It was just that there was no denying he was a man with a magnetic force around him. Women were drawn to him; his exploits at Jake's were known - Carly certainly hadn't minded telling Elizabeth that Jason was great in the sack - and the thought of stepping into a relationship with him was terrifying. She would really have to step up and be a woman, not a girl still coming to terms with her sexuality. She hadn't been ready for it then.

In the years after Elizabeth left Port Charles, she dated different men. Not very many and she'd slept with even fewer than she'd dated. While she was stretching and growing and learning to trust and enjoy her body, she still was cautious. That wasn't going to go away entirely; not after all she'd been through. But she was no longer known as Elizabeth Webber, Rape Survivor, or Elizabeth Webber, Girlfriend of Lucky Spencer. She was just Elizabeth, and sometimes she was Liz, and she flirted with guys when she wanted to, sometimes she crashed and burned and sometimes she succeeded. She became confident in who she was, without any preconceived notions applied to her by others.

With Jason, she sometimes still felt like the seventeen-year-old girl who met him in a bar and didn't want her gram to know. She was the eighteen-year-old who stood up to the town on one hand and yet was absolutely mortified that Nikolas attacked Jason in front of the hospital staff and announced, in his false belief, that Elizabeth and Jason were sleeping together. Yes, she had lied about it and claimed she was, simply to get Nikolas out of the room so Jason's bandage could be changed and nobody would find out he had been shot, but for it to be announced in the hospital with so many people listening had been humiliating once the moment had passed and she reflected on it. And she was once again the young woman, fragile and confused as she'd started her first sexual relationship while attracted to someone she told herself she shouldn't be.

Maybe it was because Jason didn't see her as the woman she had become. Or maybe she was questioning all she'd gained in her time on her own. And maybe that was because she just couldn't figure out why he'd come all this way and tracked her down only to act like he did when he was around her.

Sometimes he seemed angry with her. Like the time she asked what he'd been doing since she'd seen him last and he told her, in an almost pleased manner, that he'd traveled some intimating there had been a lot of women along the way and not just sights, and then had nearly settled down and gotten married. Other times, it was like no years had passed away. Like when he invited her to go on his bike with him and they rode for hours and he laughing said no when she asked if she could drive. And then there were the times when he swung between the various ends of the spectrum and all the points in between and seemed just as confused as she felt. He would open the door for her and his hand would fall naturally and easily onto the small of her back, until he suddenly seemed to realize what he'd done and then he'd yank his hand away, push his way past her until he was leading, and be cold and distant until the planned dinner out was over and he dropped her off at home.

The problem was that Elizabeth had come to the acceptance of her feelings much more quickly than he had, or probably would. While she was hurt to find out that he'd never asked about her, she accepted it as more than she'd deserved for the way she'd treated him in the end. And while she was jealous of the fact that he'd slept with other women and had almost gotten married, she knew that she had no right to be. She had no claim on him, especially at the end of his time in Port Charles. She was telling him she was in love with Lucky and had never even kissed him. He was perfectly free to move on and find someone else. And it wasn't like she'd been sitting around pining for him and wishing he'd show up on her doorstep, declare he loved her and wanted to be with her now that she was no longer with Lucky.

But Elizabeth had realized and accepted that she still had feelings for Jason. And being around him - dinners, rides, hikes through the nearby forests, scouting trips of scenery for new paintings, and a trip down the coast simply because he'd asked her - had brought those feelings back again for her. But she wasn't basing them on the man he used to be, she found the tender moments in the man he was now that showed he was thoughtful and caring. And she could easily find herself in love with him and wanting to see if they could work in a relationship.

The only problem was that there were aspects of Jason's behavior that she found completely unattractive. His reticence, his aloof behavior, and even the sometimes almost deliberate digs he said to remind her of how she'd behaved and all he'd done to forget her. She had no desire to be in a relationship with a man like that again, and she didn't know if this was who the real Jason was now, or if it was still his defensive mechanisms and with time they would disappear. Was it something she was willing to put herself through? Should she even have to? Would she constantly be fighting against these behaviors and making excuses for them? Was she giving up too quickly? Was she not being fair to Jason? Was she not being fair to herself?

Sometimes, it was all too much to think about and it nearly drove her out of her mind trying to sort it all out. Like tonight. It left her unable to sleep, to paint, to read, to watch TV, to listen to music, to do anything but pace and fret and wonder why she was putting up with all of this.

After a sleepless night, Elizabeth was not in a mood to put up with Jason's mercurial attitude the next day, and so she left home while it was still dark out. She pinned a note to her front door for him since they'd made tentative plans to get together, and told him that she needed some time to focus on her painting and she would call him when she got back. She was sorry that he drove over to her house, but she'd decided to leave early and hadn't wanted to wake him in case he was asleep. She doubted it would placate him completely, but she wasn't going to spend endless hours fretting about it. She'd already spent half the night in thought over him.

It had taken a while to finally put all her jumbled and cluttered thoughts aside, but she had eventually found the serenity she'd been searching for. She captured the sunrise over the ridge in front of her, light marching its way across the valley and causing the dark, shapeless mass to become distinguished, individual trees full of color and light playing through their needles and leaves. She found the right shade to depict the essence of the early morning mist, hovering above the ground, and she showed the differing greens, and just a hint of yellow peeking through. She painted for hours until her fingers were no longer numb from the early morning chill, but were numb from holding the brush.

When she finally felt like she'd captured the moment and would be able to put the finishing touches on it back in her studio at home, she laid down her brush and twisted and bent to stretch her back. She began to clean and pack her supplies, making sure to leave her painting undisturbed. As she turned to make sure she had everything with her, she gasped and stepped back, her hand clutching at her chest, as she saw Jason standing not far from her, leaning against a tree.

"Jason!" Her heart was racing and once she finally began to catch her breath, her anger that had simmered through her last night bubbled to the surface again. "What are you doing here? I left you a note."

He lifted his hand, her pale purple paper clear in his grasp. "I know."

"Then why are you here?" she asked, as she bent to pick up her case and stool. "I kinda made it clear that I wanted to be by myself."

"I was worried about you," he said, moving forward. He looked like he was going to pick up her easel and painting and she instead shoved her collapsible stool and case at him.

"Make yourself useful," she growled, and promptly turned her back on him to get her painting. "If you're not going to give me the simple common courtesy of actually listening to me, then don't act like you can just come up here and do whatever you want."

Then she stalked past him and tramped down the hill until she reached the trail back to the parking lot. She didn't wait for Jason, she didn't try to talk to him, she didn't even care if he was staring at her in confusion or even anger. She just wanted to put her things in her car and get away from him. Why in the world did it always have to be on his terms? She would ask him to do something, and he would say no, but then invite her to go to dinner with him or go for a ride only a night later. When she called and asked if he was busy because it seemed like a good night for a ride, he would claim to be busy and couldn't make it. She felt as if he was making it clear that he was going to be in control of the relationship and they were only going to do things when he said so. So why should he bother to give her space when she asked for it? He apparently wanted to see her and that was simply that.

When she reached her car, she put the easel on the trunk and reached into her pocket to get her keys. Then she unlocked it, lifted her easel so the trunk could fully open and put things away. She propped her painting up on the inside, and then turned to Jason, holding out her hands for the items he was carrying. Once they were stowed away, she took a tarp and covered the painting, making sure it was secure for the trip home. Then she closed the lid and turned for the front of her car.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he reached out to grab her arm.

Yanking out of his touch she looked him in the eye and said, "Wherever you aren't. I asked for some space today, Jason, but apparently that didn't fit into your plans."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Have you noticed that everything is on your terms?" she asked him. "You came looking for me only when you found out I hadn't stayed in Port Charles. We do things but only when you want to. I ask you to come over for dinner, you're too busy. I call to see if we can go for a ride on your bike, you're too busy. If you call and I tell you that I have plans to work on a painting, then you just invite yourself along. You say you want to be my friend, Jason, but it doesn't feel like a friendship to me. You sometimes take great delight in telling me about all the women you slept with after you left Port Charles and about the woman you nearly married...as if to prove to me that there were women who wanted you when I walked away from you."

She let out a breath and said, "I know that I hurt you, and fine...you're angry. I'm not going to tell you how to feel or that you have a right to be angry or whatever...that's not for me to say. Your emotions, your actions...they're your own. But I'm tired of this."

"Tired of what?" he asked. "The fact that I'm not keen to have you play me again?"

"So you're playing me?" she wondered. "That's what I'm talking about. I made a mistake, but I feel like you only see the girl I used to be and you refuse to see me now. I've already been in one relationship where my boyfriend told me where I could go, who I could see, told me what our life's goals and ambitions would be and then got mad at me when I didn't immediately fall in line with them like I was June Cleaver or something. I'm not going to do the same thing again...even for you. I finally came to realizations about things, and I should have ended things with Lucky and been honest about my feelings for you. I could easily fall in love again with your kind side; the guy that you are when you aren't deliberately hurtful or distrustful. When we go for rides or sit and talk like we used to...I could fall in love again with that Jason.

"But the man you are right now," she said with a sad shake of her head, "where you don't listen to me, where you don't give me space, where it all has to be on your terms and anytime I suggest something I get shot down...I don't like that man. And frankly, if that's who you've become, if that's who you really are, and the kind man is just an illusion now...then I think we need to just say goodbye and go our separate ways."

She let out a breath and gripped her keys tighter, "I won't let you treat me that way, Jason. I walked away from Lucky and my friends who thought they could treat me that way, and I'm not going to go back to a relationship like that again. You need to figure out exactly what it is that you want from me and the kind of man you want to be around me. Because I'm sick of the Jekyll and Hyde routine and being driven crazy by you and unable to sleep. It's not fair to either of us, and I'm putting my foot down."

How dare she! How dare Elizabeth compare him to Lucky Spencer in any way. The younger man had been arrogant and controlling, sometimes to the point that Jason had feared for Elizabeth's safety with him. He had warned her about Lucky, and she knew that; so for her to compare their friendship to the relationship she had with Lucky was ridiculous.

Jason didn't tell Elizabeth that she couldn't be an artist; he didn't try to force her to do things that made her uncomfortable. He didn't tell her that she couldn't be friends with other people, even though he had burned with jealousy inside when they'd gone to an art exhibition and she'd spent the majority of her evening talking to someone he later found out she'd dated. When she said that she was getting together with the other guy for coffee so they could talk about the possibility of her having an exhibit in a couple of months, he didn't stop her from going. And he never told her that he followed her to the meeting simply so that he could keep an eye on her and make sure that the guy didn't try anything.

She was smart and she was strong and she was able to take care of herself, so when had he ever done anything that would warrant a comparison to Lucky? It was only when Sonny had quietly stated that Elizabeth was right and she should have hit Jason for the way he was treating her that he paused. Then he demanded to know what his friend meant.

"I mean it sounds like Elizabeth is right," Sonny said. "You don't seem to listen to her, Jason. And things do sound like they've been on your terms without you taking her into account. You said that she rearranged her plans to go with you when you asked her to take a weekend drive down the Pacific coast, but what have you done for her?"

"I've done plenty for her," Jason insisted. "I've taken her on rides, I've put up with her cooking, we've gone hiking and then I've sat around for hours while she painted."

"Do you hear yourself, Jason?" his friend asked him. "You make her sound like a pest that you tolerate instead your friend. Forget about being a woman you might be interested in romantically."

"What do you know?" he demanded angrily.

"Apparently more than you're ready or willing to accept or even admit to yourself," Sonny said sadly. "And until you're ready, I don't think anything I say is going to make a difference. So I need to get back to making dinner; Michael will be home from soccer practice soon."

"Sonny," he began, and then stared at his phone in shock when he realized that the other man had hung up on him.

They were wrong. Jason wasn't treating her badly; he was her friend. Elizabeth knew that, and she should know that he only insisted on going along with her for her protection. Despite all the traveling she'd done, despite her claims that she knew the woods and always let someone know where she was going, it simply wasn't safe for her to be going off by herself. Why didn't she understand that? Why didn't Sonny understand that? Sonny would never let Carly go off by herself like this; there were too many people who would use the opportunity to make a strike at them by coming after Sonny's wife. Jason wasn't trying to control her, he was keeping her safe.

Maybe he hadn't explained that to Elizabeth, but he was sure that when he did she would see why he had gone with her on her painting treks or simply when she wanted to go hiking. And she would understand why he'd tracked her down that morning and had sat there for hours watching her while she painted; even if she hadn't been aware he was there. It wasn't to intrude on her or insist on having everything his way; it was to protect her because she was his friend and she was important to him.

Maybe if he explained it to her she would understand. She was fair; surely she'd listen to him and be able to see what he was telling her. Jason didn't call her to tell her he was coming over, he was afraid of giving her a chance to say no, or actually leave again and this time not put a note on her door to tell him where she was going.

The drive over did what it always did; it helped clear his head and made him realize that maybe there was some truth to what Sonny and Elizabeth had said. When she called him and asked him to do things with her and he said no, it wasn't because he was busy like he claimed. It was because in those moments, sometimes he felt like they were back in Port Charles and then the pain would resurface. She would call him, jerk him around - however unintentional - and then always walk away and go back to Lucky. In those moments, his self-preservation would kick in and he'd say no. And then he'd realize that they weren't in Port Charles, she had walked away from Lucky and he was being unfair to hold the past against her. That was why he'd call her up a couple of days later and invite her to do something.

He wanted to make it up to her for the way he'd treated her. He'd wanted to feel like it was even a date. He wanted to feel that way, and yet he just couldn't seem to let go of the past sometimes. She would so naturally fall into place beside him, and his hand would be on her back without him even realizing it, and then he'd suddenly wonder if Spencer was going to show up and start yelling at them and she would jerk away from him and leave him behind like always; so he'd pull away first before she could. And then he'd see that he'd hurt her, and he'd realize why, but he couldn't seem to make the cycle stop.

However, he did finally realize that he needed to be honest with her. She was honest with him, told him how she'd felt in Port Charles, how she felt now, and how much she was hurting because of his behavior. He needed to tell her that he wasn't trying to do it deliberately. She deserved honesty from him. Because he didn't want to see her hurt; especially by him.

When he turned onto her street and neared her house, he frowned when he saw the vehicles in front. Their ominous flashing lights lit up the night sky and his heart leapt into his throat. There weren't any fire trucks, and there didn't appear to be any indications of fire, but the presence of the police cars did nothing to settle him. Why were there police cars at Elizabeth's house? Had she been attacked? Had she been robbed? He parked his bike and jogged across the street towards the house, looking for a cop before he just burst onto the scene.

"What happened?" he demanded as soon as he saw an officer walking towards a patrol car. "The woman who lives here...was she hurt?"

"Are you a friend?" the cop wondered, looking at his leather jacket and then at the bike across the street.

"Yes," Jason burst out impatiently, almost desperately. "What happened?"

"False alarm," the man said. "Neighbors thought something was happening but it turned out to be nothing. You can go up there; we're done here."

Irritated by the man's answers that didn't answer anything, Jason dashed across the lawn and up onto the porch. Two officers walking out were startled by his appearance, and he took a step back upon seeing them. Elizabeth was behind them, her gaze on the ground. She looked up and gasped when she saw him.

"You going to be okay, ma'am?" one of the cops asked, a female who eyed Jason apprehensively and looked ready to stay if Elizabeth said the word.

"I'll be fine," Elizabeth said flatly. "I'm really sorry about the misunderstanding."

"That's okay," the other cop said. "We're glad it turned out to be a false alarm."

Both officers eyed Jason, but then headed down the stairs to their cars. Jason stood on the porch, looking into Elizabeth's house over her shoulder. She didn't look at him; she was clutching the doorframe and gripping it so hard her knuckles were turning white.

"Elizabeth?" he questioned softly. "What happened?"

"Why are you here, Jason?" she wondered, looking up but not at him. Her eyes were distant and glassy, just like her voice.

"What happened?" he repeated. "Did-did someone break in?"

"Jason," she bit out, even though her voice was laced with exhaustion, "I'm going to ask you one last time and then I'm going to close the door. Why are you here?"

"I came to talk to you," he told her. "To...to try to explain a few things."

She looked at him for a moment and then stepped back, letting him inside. "I don't want the cops watching us and sticking around. So, please say whatever it is you need to, and then I'd like you to leave. I have some things I need to do."

"What?" he asked, but when she glared at him, he got the distinct impression that she didn't want him asking her questions. She wanted him to say what he came for and then go.

Clearing his throat he said, "Okay...I...I wanted to apologize to you. I...I haven't been fair to you."

Elizabeth walked across the room, pushing her toe against a broken easel that had once held a picture on top of the credenza. He didn't know where the painting was. Turning around she looked at him and said, "No, you haven't, Jason, and I've tried to be understanding. I know that I hurt you when we were in Port Charles. I jerked you around, I gave off mixed signals, and I understand that nobody told you that I'd left town. So you came back and found out that instead of being Lucky's girlfriend or wife like you'd expected me to be, I was living on the west coast and was an artist. I didn't fit your preconceived expectations and you're trying to sort it all out in your head."

He swallowed and tried to speak but she kept going, "But I've had enough, Jason. Just like you got frustrated and told me that I couldn't keep running to you and telling you how much I loved Lucky and you wouldn't come to me again...well, I can't do this any longer. I cannot let you keep walking all over me just because I'm trying to be understanding."

"I'm not...I'm not trying to be mean deliberately," he told her.

She arched her brow and said, "So telling me about the women you slept with and the person you almost married...that wasn't being cruel?"

"No," Jason shook his head. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, and I wasn't trying to be mean. Sometimes I find myself saying or doing things and I don't mean to. It's just...it's like it's this protective instinct in me that I'm going to keep you at a distance so that you can't hurt me again by getting close and then running back to Lucky. I know that's not the case, and not just because he's really dead this time. It's because you walked away from him and you didn't go back when everyone was telling you that you should, that it was your responsibility to help him. You stood up for yourself."

He placed a hand on his chest and said, "I know that, but sometimes...like when you call me and ask to go for a ride, or invite me over for dinner or something...the sound of your voice, the excitement in your words, it reminds me of Port Charles and I say I'm busy as a protective measure so that I don't get sucked back in again and wind up hurt."

"Thank you for being honest," Elizabeth said, her shoulders slumped wearily. "It hurts, but I appreciate you finally telling me what's happening. I feel, for the first time, that maybe you finally are viewing me differently than how I was in Port Charles. I don't know that you would have been honest with me before; you always felt like you had to hide from me, protect me from your feelings."

"When I went along on your hikes or when you'd go painting," he continued on, determined to say what he came to tell her before she decided to tell him to leave, "it wasn't to bug you or interfere or keep tabs on your or anything like that, Elizabeth. It's because even though I know you've been living here for a while and you've traveled and done so many different things...there's this part of me that thinks that I need to keep you safe. It's not safe to be alone in the woods."

"I appreciate the sentiment," she said after a long moment. "However misguided and ridiculous it was."

"It's not ridiculous to want you to be safe," he shook his head.

"No," she conceded. "Maybe not. But why not just say that, instead of showing up and being all sullen and acting like it's a huge imposition for you? I have other artist friends that I could have gone with...it didn't have to be you. If you were concerned about me and felt better that I wasn't alone, then I could have gone with someone else."

"I didn't want it to be someone else," he spoke with blunt honesty that surprised both of them.

"But yet, you're not sure if you want me for yourself," she stated. When he looked at her silently she rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jason; that's what this is really about. You don't know if you can forgive me for what I did to you, if you want to go forward and try for a relationship...so we hang out in this weird quasi-relationship-friendship kinda thing. But yet when I talk to another guy, you put your arm around my shoulders, or at my waist, and you glare at him as if to say 'back off, she's mine' but you don't go beyond that."

Licking her lips and pushing her hands through her hair she said quietly, almost gently as if to keep from hurting him in some way. "I am trying to understand just like you did, and realize that you're still working things out. But just like you said that you couldn't do it anymore, well neither can I. I've got to get out of here, Jason. My art is suffering because of how messed up I feel inside. I trashed my house in frustration over you and freaked out my neighbors who called the cops. I've got to get out of here while I can still breathe and think."

She looked at him and said, "Maybe you should go to Port Charles and figure things out for yourself. I've decided to take a trip, get away from here, do some painting, get my focus back."

"Will you return?" he wondered, an anxiousness creeping into him at the thought of her leaving for months. He suddenly wondered if this is how she felt when he told her he was leaving Port Charles.

"This is my home now," she told him. "I'll be back...I'm just not sure when. And if you don't feel like waiting around, or decide that you don't want to know when I get back, then I'll understand. But it's really up to you, Jason, what happens to us after this."

Then she looked at him, before closing her eyes tiredly, and whispered, "Please go now."

He could only numbly comply with her request and as he stood on her porch, knowing she intended to leave and he didn't know where she was going and he couldn't ask her, he finally realized what he wanted. He could only hope that she did return some day, because he had no intention of going anywhere until she did.

Elizabeth sighed heavily as she set her brush down and stared at the one lone stroke on the canvas before her. She'd been sitting here for over an hour trying to capture the look of the sun rising across from her and the moment was gone. She couldn't blame her inattention on altitude sickness; she'd been coming to Pike's Peak every morning for a week trying to capture the beauty of the moment and each morning she'd failed miserably. Everyone who came up the mountain wanted to see what she was working on, and each time she had to say that she simply got too caught up in the grandeur of the moment and she forgot to try to paint it.

It was a pretty lie, but it was still a lie. It wasn't that she forgot to paint; it was simply that every time she sat down in front of an easel her mind drifted elsewhere. It drifted back to that moment when she'd packed up her supplies to find Jason had disregarded her note and come looking for her. Not because he was trying to be difficult and have everything his way as she'd accused him of, but because he wanted to look out for her and keep her safe. She would remember the paintings she'd destroyed in her anger and frustration and then the look on his face when he saw her house and the confusion mixed with sincerity when he tried to explain to her what was driving him to do what he'd done.

Most of all, she would remember the look of absolute devastation on his face when she announced she was leaving. She felt the echo of that look in her soul because she'd felt it when he met her on the docks that January morning and told her he was leaving. He'd been kinder than she had, telling her she was his friend, but his life was too jumbled up for him to stay. Even for the girl who had saved his life and become his friend. The more she thought about that moment and the one just weeks ago, the more the lone line on the canvas no longer mocked her for failure but began to inspire her in a completely different direction.

With haste she quickly packed up her supplies and carried them back to her car. Then she made her way down the steep road and back to her home away from home and locked the door. She finally felt inspired to paint, but this time it wasn't a landscape. She had something completely different in mind.

Jason scrubbed his hand over his face as he stared out the window into the night. It had been weeks since Elizabeth left and he felt lost and adrift. He was used to being on his own; he'd never felt that he had to have company. It was nice, but if it wasn't available he certainly knew how to make do. But as he tried to deal with the days since Elizabeth packed up her car and left, he felt restless and anxious.

He constantly drove by her house, hoping that he'd see the lights on to indicate she'd returned. He hoped that she'd get to wherever she was going and decide that she just couldn't stand to leave him behind and come rushing back. Then he'd shake his head at his foolishness and realize that it was just another piece of evidence that proved Elizabeth's charges against him. He'd missed her when he left Port Charles both times, but the emotional pain he felt had kept him away. The first time had been because of Sonny and Carly's betrayal and he'd missed the young woman who had saved his life, proven her strength and loyalty and stolen a piece of his heart without him even realizing it, but he'd been too confused and determined to stay away to think about what he was really doing to her.

When he left the second time, he missed Elizabeth, but he was also angry with her. And he'd been determined to live his life his own way and in a sense prove to her all that she'd given up by choosing to stay with Spencer. While he'd cared about the woman he'd been with, he hadn't loved her fully; that was why it was easy to walk away from her. When Sonny told him that he needed Jason to return for a little bit to deal with business matters, he'd wanted to say no and then he decided to return and if he happened to run into Elizabeth and she saw that he wasn't pining over her anymore while she and Spencer had made their happy life together, well then that's what she'd see.

Now he realized how bitter he'd been towards her, and how he'd carried that bitterness with him even as he searched for Elizabeth and ended up staying in the same town. He hadn't treated her fairly, and he'd hurt her in the process. She had made allowances for him, just as she'd done with Spencer, but she finally reached her limit and put her foot down. She put herself first, just as she'd done when she walked away from Port Charles, and he admired her for it. It showed her strength and her growth and he was glad that she was standing up for herself. He just hated that she'd had to stand up to him.

Most of all, he missed her. He missed the comfort of knowing she was just a few blocks away, safe in her home, working on another painting. He missed knowing that he'd be able to see her. He missed her smile, the sound of her laughter, the tilt of her head, the way she pulled her lip in between her teeth and worried it as she contemplated a painting or when she was confused. And so like every night since she left, Jason reached for his jacket and headed out to his bike, knowing that his ride would take him past Elizabeth's house.

She was tired and invigorated all at the same time. The drive had been long and she was glad to get out and stretch and she knew that she could easily walk inside and simply collapse on her bed to sleep for hours. But she was also wired up, glad to be home and anxious to bring everything inside and put it away. She knew that she faced a long task of cleaning ahead of her, but she looked forward to it. Maybe as she was cleaning and rearranging furniture, she'd also take the opportunity to paint the walls. Go for some brighter, lighter colors as opposed to the muted tones she'd had up since she moved in. And maybe if Jason hadn't given up on her and left town, he would help her.

That, however, would wait for tomorrow. She wanted to unpack her car, get everything inside, take stock of the situation and formulate her plan. She could go online to begin a preliminary search for colors before she headed out to the store to get some samples and see how they would look with the light inside her home.

There was a part of her that cautioned her to slow down. If Jason was still around, they'd need to talk. They'd need to talk honestly about their future together and if they truly moved forward. Those discussions could impact her choices because perhaps he wouldn't like the same colors she did and they'd need to find a compromise. She didn't want to just present to him her favorites and have him agree even if he didn't really like them. She wanted him to feel comfortable in her home and want to be there with her, maybe one day permanently.

Again, she was getting ahead of herself. She didn't know if Jason was still in town, she didn't know if he'd worked through anything and how he'd act once they were around each other again. If they were around each other again.

She was just about to take a load of supplies into the house when she heard it; the unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle approaching. Her heart leapt to her throat and began to race and she clutched the box tightly as she turned her head. A single headlight illuminated the road as it turned onto her street and the engine slowed for a moment until it revved and the motorcycle approached quickly. The box began to cut into her hands from her clenched grip and then she stuffed it back into the trunk as Jason squealed to a stop at the base of her driveway.

"Jason!" she called out, running towards him as he fumbled with the kickstand of his bike and tried to get off. He barely had the machine braced when she launched herself into his arms and held on tightly, burying her face against him as tears sprung to her eyes.

"You're home," he breathed out in a thick voice as his arms tightened around her.

Then he pulled back slightly and looked at her, his face in shadows in the night, but she could see the turbulence in his eyes. At least until he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that she'd been craving for years.

There was no more hesitation. As Jason kissed Elizabeth with every ounce of passion he held for her, he thought that he might have surprised her with his action, but he wasn't going to apologize for it. For so long they had been so cautious with each other. So many times they almost kissed, but someone always pulled back. Would they have ended up here today if one of them had just gone for it and done what they clearly wanted?

The look in Elizabeth's eyes as she gazed at him, the mere fact that she was back, and the pure delight on her face as she ran towards him…it was not something to be squandered by being cautious. She was here, she was in his arms and there was no way he was just going to say he missed her and was glad she was back; he was going to show her. This wasn't just about trying to convince her that he had changed; this was seizing the moment and finally following through. He wanted to kiss her, he needed to, and he was going to do it.

By the way she was clinging to him, pressing her body into his and getting as close as she possibly could, he felt that she wanted this just as much as he did. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tunneled into his hair as she pressed his head closer. Her mouth was flowered open underneath his and she was doing everything she could to show him just how much she cared for him and wanted this moment, too.

When the need for air finally forced them apart, they rested their foreheads together, not letting go. Her fingers sensuously played in the hair above his neck and he shivered from her touch. "You stayed," she breathed out.

"You came back," he answered tenderly.

"I couldn't stay away," Elizabeth said softly. "I felt that I had to go; I was so torn up and I thought time away would help me regain my focus. Instead, I just missed you so much I could hardly do anything. I was in beautiful places, with gorgeous scenery...I stood on the mountain where 'America the Beautiful' was penned, and I couldn't paint anything. It wasn't until I finally stopped fighting against what was inside me that I was able to paint."

Her art was beautiful, her art was her passion, and it was also her livelihood and he'd almost crushed that in her by his callous treatment of her. He closed his eyes and tightened his hold on her, knowing the precious gift he held in her return. He was not going to take this for granted again.

"Come see what I finally painted," she coaxed him, firmly stepping back and breaking his hold on her. Her hand slid down his arm until it rested in his and she tugged. "Come on."

He followed behind her, stepping into her house and cringing at the destruction that still surrounded them. He was going to help her clean this, to fix this; it was only fitting that he work beside her since he loved her, and he'd been the cause of her heartbreak. They walked over to the couch where she had some tarp covered canvases sitting. She let go of his hand long enough to lift the cover and held one up for him to see.

The picture was a bit hard to make out for just a moment, and then it fell into place. Because it wasn't a landscape, it was a portrait; it was a portrait of him. He let out a breath and said, "That's me."

"It's when you came back to Port Charles that summer after you first left, and I saw you on the docks," she nodded.

When she ran into his arms and he knew she'd missed him just as much as he'd missed her.

"I hoped that I'd see that look on your face again," she told him, looking up at him a bit uncertainly. "That you'd be happy to see me again; that you'd want to see me."

"I do," Jason told him, taking the painting from her and setting it back down. Then he stepped closer to her, his chest brushing against hers as he brought his hand up to cradle her cheek. "I will always want to see you, Elizabeth, because I love you."

Her eyes closed, but two tears escaped from the corners and trekked down her cheeks. He wiped them with his thumbs and her voice quivered as she said, "I love you, too, Jason. I love you, too."