One Shot Flash Fics.

A/N: I'm not sure where this came from...it's a slightly different Liason.

Elizabeth Webber had never been considered a good girl. In a family of blonde-haired, pure as snow doctors, Elizabeth had been the dark-haired, rebellious artist. Her pieces were considered avante garde, cutting edge and sometimes people found them to be a little dark. She wasn't one of those artists who depicted death, mutilation and devil worship, but the symbolism - for anyone who cared to dig deep enough - was a bit disturbing. Art critics and collectors said she had a lot of passion; her therapist would classify it as rage.

Elizabeth had taken up art all those years ago as a way to release the tension and pent-up frustration that came from years of verbal abuse from seemingly perfect parents who were to be praised for doing the best they could with their problem child. To everyone on the outside, Jeff and Alicia Webber were the perfect people. Two dedicated, talented doctors, who devoted countless hours to charities aiding less fortunate children. They were the proud parents of Steven and Sarah, brilliant children who were following in their parents' footsteps and would carry on the Hardy-Webber tradition of medicine. Elizabeth hadn't fit into that mold and so her parents hadn't quite known what to do with her.

When they tried to force her to be a doctor or a nurse for Halloween, she rebelled and made her own costume going as a character in a favorite painting. One year she was one of Vincent Van Gough's The Potato Eaters, another year she was Johannes Vermeer's The Girl with a Pearl Earring. Each year was a different painting subject and her parents grew tired, and sometimes embarrassed, of having to explain who she was to their colleagues and friends. For a bunch of high-brow snobs who attended functions at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, nobody seemed to actually know anything about art.

So when Elizabeth took up painting, her parents didn't fight her on it. They were resigned to it. And they were too stupid to see the little digs she put in her paintings about her supposedly perfect home life. The old weathered door on the abandoned building was actually scarred by knives, the way her soul had felt scarred by their put-downs and dismissals. In the corners were her parents' names, carved into the wood in crude letters, but nobody ever saw them. They just saw a house that spoke of once grandeur beauty left to fall into disrepair through years of neglect. When one critic asked how long the house had been abandoned, Elizabeth had immediately quipped back 'twenty-three years' and the critic never once made the connection to her age at the time.

Her parents didn't come to her art shows, or her gallery openings, they were always too busy off saving other peoples' children. Couldn't be bothered with their own. That was Elizabeth had ignored their phone calls and letters that began suddenly four months ago. She thought the first message, "Elizabeth, it's your mother; please call" had merely been to offer some lame, tired and recycled excuse as to why they'd missed her art show in London. So she hadn't bothered returning it; she didn't want to hear anything from them.

But the calls kept coming, and then came the letters, and the e-mails and the certified letters that she had to sign for. They all went unread, unopened, stuffed into a drawer or deleted from her computer. Let them know how it feels to be ignored, to be told 'sorry, I'm too busy to talk right now' and sooner or later they'd give up and fall back into the status quo of pretending they only had two children and Elizabeth was just an afterthought. When the calls stopped a week ago and she hadn't received any new letters, she thought they'd done just that, and she'd been relieved and kept right on with her life. Getting ready for her showing in Paris and working on her latest painting. Clocks, phone and mailboxes featured heavily in the theme.

Apparently though, her parents hadn't given up, they'd just changed tactics. At least that's what Elizabeth could gather from their latest calling card. All six foot two of him with blue eyes and hair longer than most men wore these days. Jason Morgan had been sent by her parents to contact her and he wasn't as easily put off as an ignored phone or an unwanted letter.

"Look, I don't think you understand," he sighed.

"No," she snapped, interrupting him, "you don't understand. I don't care what my parents want, I'm not interested. I'm busy. I have a life that doesn't include them. Much the way their life never included me when I was growing up. I have a show coming up, a promised new painting that I have to finish and I don't have the time to deal with them."

"Do you deliberately work hard to be an uptight, spoiled brat, or does it just come naturally?" he asked her with a shake of his head.

"Listen, Mr. Morgan," she sneered at him, "I didn't ask for you to come here, and I really don't care what you think of me. I don't have to explain myself or my relationship with my parents to you. You don't know me, you don't know a thing about my childhood, and since you work for my parents, I don't trust you as far as I could throw you. So don't presume to judge me on the fact that I'm not jumping through hoops to race back to my parents' side."

"They need your help," he stated.

"They need a lot of things, but mostly? They need to leave me alone. They did it to me most of my life, I figure it's time to return the favor. I needed their love, I needed their guidance, I needed them not to tell me I was stupid, fat, a failure, a worthless child that should never have been born, or any of the other things they said to me. So now that they're, what, in trouble, I'm supposed to just drop everything and rush to the side of people who treated me like crap my entire life simply because they're my parents?"

She shook her head and stood, walking to the kitchen, dumping her cold coffee and setting her mug in the sink. She didn't care what Jason Morgan said, she wasn't going to her parents' side, and since this was her house, he was unwanted, if he didn't leave, she'd simply call the cops and let her parents bail his butt out of jail. By the time they did that and he came looking for her again, she planned to be on a plane to anywhere else.

"Look, you have issues with your parents," Jason said, obviously trying to go for a new tactic. He had no idea he was talking to someone who had spent years in therapy so pop psychology attempts weren't going to work on her. "But are you really going to be able to live with yourself if they die just because you were too stubborn to talk to them?"

She turned and looked at him, standing in the middle of her living room with his arms crossed and a disapproving look on her face, acting like he owned the place and she was being completely unreasonable. Weighing her options, she shrugged and said, "I've wished for years they were dead, now you're telling me that wish might come true? Tell me why I should do something to stop it?"

"Because you're a human being," he stated. "And so are they. Nobody deserves to die for the wrong reasons, especially when someone could prevent it."

"What are the right reasons?"

"Excuse me?" he looked at her quizzically.

"What are the right reasons?" she asked. "You said nobody deserves to die for the wrong reasons. So what are the right ones?"

"I'm not going to have a philosophical debate with you, Elizabeth, you need to pack your bag and come with me. I've got a plane waiting at the airfield, and it's costing your parents money every minute it sits there."

"If you're trying to make me feel sorry or guilty for wasting their money, I'm not going to. They withheld my trust fund from me because they thought it would make me comply to who they wanted me to be. They somehow got me disinherited from my grandfather's will when after he came to my first art show he said he finally understood just how talented I was and that I was born to paint and not practice medicine. So, I don't care if they're losing money. Let them."

"Elizabeth," he sighed, clearly losing patience with her. "I'll explain everything on the plane, but I need you to come with me."

"If you're going to explain everything, you can do it now," she countered. "And even then, I'm not promising to go anywhere."

"You're just not going to give an inch," he shook his head.

"Nope," she said unrepentantly. "Unless of course I'm giving those inches to you."

He tilted his head in confusion and then she heard his intake of breath when he got her double meaning. With another shake of his head he said, "It's not going to work, Elizabeth. You're not going to sidetrack me."

"Oh, why not," she laughed with a pout. "I think it could be very fun to seduce you. At least then you'd shut up about me having to rush off and rescue my parents."

"It's not that easy to distract me," he said, a smug look ghosting over his face.

"Is that a challenge? Because that's one I'd certainly be up for."

"Elizabeth, in thirty seconds I'm going to come over there, throw you over my shoulder and take you to the airport."

"You can go caveman on me any day," she waggled her eyebrows at him, then produced her phone from the counter behind her. "But I'll call 911, tell them my name, your name and how you're kidnapping me for my parents. I've taken self-defense classes and I'll do whatever it takes, biting, kicking below the belt and ripping your ear off, to get the information to the cops before you overpower me and drag me from this apartment. So just how desperately do you want to do your job, because I will press charges against you, Jason, and them. So is what my parents paying you really going to compensate for the trouble you'll wind up in?"

"Saving them from the trouble they're in?" he asked as he uncrossed his arms and flexed his hands. She punched in 911 and then let her thumb hover over the talk button. "Yeah, it's worth it."

"Then I guess we're at a stalemate," she shrugged.

"I guess we are."

"So give it your best shot," she challenged him.

"Elizabeth, let's not turn this into a battle," he tried to coax her, "just come with me."

"No," she shook her head. "You're going to have to make me."

The moment he started for her, her thumb hit the talk button, dialing to the emergency switchboard. She had no idea what would happen, even though she suspected he would end up overpowering her, but at least she knew she wasn't going back to her parents without putting up a fight.

Another death, another day in Port Charles. Elizabeth wasn't even surprised anymore when she got the call that dragged her out of her warm bed and down to yet another crime scene. She'd seen death come in all manner and variety, and she examined the bodies, gave the police her preliminary findings, then put the body in a black bag and took it back to the morgue. There she, or someone else would autopsy the body, determine the cause of death, turn the official report over to the detectives, turn the body over to the funeral home, the effects over to the next of kin and move on to the next case.

It was routine, it was life, and while some may have thought it was grisly, it didn't bother Elizabeth. She'd worked as a doctor, trying to cure diseases, heal people, and she found that she liked the fact that the dead didn't talk back to her. Well, they talked to her, but only through clues and science and she found she could deal with that quite well. She didn't have to be perky; she didn't have to deal with a worried parent or an antagonistic loved one. She had to murmur a few words of condolences when someone came to ID the body, but those interactions were minimal and there were a variety of M.E.'s and office staff to handle such encounters.

That wasn't to say that Elizabeth was antisocial. She went out with the ladies after work, had coffee and donuts with the cops on occasion and she'd even managed to find someone who didn't mind the smell of death that seemed to linger around her and was currently engaged in a hot and heavy love affair him. Not that she flaunted it. They were discreet, even though there were some who suspected, and they were happy. That's all that mattered to Elizabeth.

She liked the solitude of the examinations, the puzzles the bodies presented as she tried to find out why thirty year old Angela had been found dead in her bathroom with a puncture wound in her cheek but no other signs of trauma, or why fifty year old Frank had died on the operating table during his gall bladder surgery. Those cases, though, in Port Charles were rare. The city's escalating crime statistics and murder rates ensured that most of the dead bodies she dealt with left her trying to figure out how they'd died and what clues the murderer left behind. She was a vital link in the crime fighting chain trying to clear the streets of offenders and she took her job very seriously.

Today, however, that obsessive attention to detail may have just put her in jeopardy.

Not one to back down from getting the truth out, though, she picked up the file on Zander Smith's murder, making sure the page with the most salient details was tucked away safely in her jacket and headed over to the PCPD. A prearranged text had alerted her boyfriend she was on her way so that he could arrange things on his end and then they could go somewhere and talk. Her findings could not be discussed at the station, it was simply too dangerous.

"Hey, Doctor Webber," Detective Rodriguez greeted her when she walked in. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I needed to speak to Detectives Spencer or Morgan," she answered. "Are they here?"

"Lucky's in court at the moment, but I think Jason's here," the cop smiled at her. Turning, he looked over his shoulder and saw Jason Morgan walking down the hall, coming back from the bathroom. "Morgan, Doc's here to see you."

"Hey, Doc," he nodded his head at her, taking a sip of his coffee. "What brings you by?"

"Wanted to talk to you about the Smith murder," she said, holding up her file.

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" he asked, gesturing to his cup.

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Drank too much of the battery acid at the morgue. Don't suppose you have any tea?"

"In this place?" he laughed and Rodriguez joined him. "Not likely."

If there was, Jason would have gotten rid of it anyways.

"Come on," he grabbed his jacket and gestured towards the door. "I'll buy you a cup at the corner bodega."

And just like that, they were out the door. Rodriguez was their perfect cover story, and everything would seem legit while she filled in Jason on what was really going on.

"What did you find?" Jason asked, dropping his voice low so that it didn't carry on the wind. She had to force herself to stay in the moment and not think about how that voice sounded like the one he used at night when he whispered sinful things to her in bed.

"I pulled the slugs from Smith's body."

"Did the lab run them?" he asked. "CSU hasn't given us their report yet."

"I asked Emily to hold onto it for a little bit, let me see it first," she said, knowing that Jason wouldn't mind her trusting her friend. "I had a hunch and wanted her to do a little digging before alerting you."

Jason looked over his shoulder and then grabbed her elbow, pulling her into an alleyway between two buildings. "Elizabeth, what's going on?"

"The slugs were .22s. Small, old, shot from an easy to conceal weapon. You know, like the kind that every cop unofficially carries."

She knew where his was. She'd watched him strap on his ankle holster enough times as he left in the morning, or when he got called out at night. She'd even purchased his extra gun, through a friend of hers, and gave it to him for his last birthday. She'd barely been able to walk the next day after Jason had showed her just much he'd liked her gift.

"Not many criminals carry small caliber these days," he agreed.

"No, they like to go for maximum destruction and firepower. Why go for finesse and precision when you can aim from the hip and blow somebody open with a .45? Nobody takes any pride anymore."

He raised his eyebrow at her, and she got back on track. "I remembered something my dad told me when I was growing up and he was partners with Lucky's old man. Luke used to carry a .22."

"You think he gave it to Lucky?" Jason asked.

"You don't know? You're his partner."

Jason rubbed his hands over his face and stepped away. "I don't know. Lucky and I have only been partners for a month or so. He's not real anxious to become chummy after what happened with Jesse. So I don't know what his extra weapon is."

"Well," Elizabeth stated, "I can tell you this. The slugs matched up to an old case that Luke worked with my dad. Luke dropped the perp who was in the process of fleeing, after he'd beat up my dad and nearly killed him. Back then, nobody really cared that cops carried something extra besides their service revolvers. Luke freely admitted that when his service revolver had been emptied during the chase, he used his spare. The city even gave him a medal for saving my dad and everyone called Luke Spencer a hero."

"And now, twenty years later, a drug dealer, who happened to be one of our informants, turns up dead shot with Lucky Spencer's dad's gun."

Elizabeth nodded and held her hands out to the side. "That pretty much covers it."

"Oh, man," he whispered and looked away. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth sympathized with him. "Normally I would have taken this to Mac, despite the fact that Lucky's now dating his daughter after Office Beaudry was killed. The two of them have supposedly bonded over their mutual grief."

"That's not all they're doing," Jason told her.

"Ah, then the rumors are true. Are you aware of the rumors that Maxie nearly O.D.'d after Jesse's death on something she bought on the street?"

Jason pierced her with a questioning look. "Where'd you hear that?"

"I overheard two detectives from narcotics talking about it. Seems Zander tipped them off to something he'd heard."

"Lucky was hurt in the shootout that killed his partner," Jason said, in his slow voice that he used whenever he started piecing together a case and was about to realize something. His instincts and his reasoning were what made him such a great detective. "He was in the hospital for weeks, on disability for a while after that. He was given some pretty heavy pain pills. Mac hadn't been ready to reinstate him because of it."

Jason paced away, talking aloud, more to himself than to her. "But when Mac had his heart attack and Taggert took over as interim Commissioner, he let Lucky have his job back. Assigned him as my partner. Said Lucky needed to work, to keep his mind busy."

"How's he been?" Elizabeth asked. "On the job and everything?"

"Slow," he answered. "But that's normal since I knew he was still recovering and shouldn't have been at work."

"Was he still taking any meds?"

Her boyfriend shook his head, but a crease between his brows told her he was clearly rethinking that. "He took acetaminophen, but he carried an old pill bottle in his pocket, like the kind you carry in your purse. He could have had anything in there. I never actually saw the pills, just saw him taking something."

"If he was still in pain, a doctor would want to re-examine him, wouldn't assign him the Vicodin he had in the hospital and the initial recovery."

"Unless he wasn't getting it from a doctor," Jason pointed out. "Zander was a dealer, he didn't touch coke, he dealt in pharmaceuticals. If he knew that Maxie was buying, he might have known that Lucky was buying as well."

"A cop on the force who's using, who's buying from a street dealer, he wouldn't want that to get out. But while Mac would have suspended him and insisted he go into treatment, would Taggert do that?" Elizabeth asked. "He seems more concerned about the numbers than the corners his cops cut to make the arrests."

"Mac was going to come back," Jason informed her. "Not many people knew it yet."

"But Lucky would have," Elizabeth saw the bigger picture. "Since he's dating the commissioner's daughter."

"Are you and Emily the only ones who know about this?" Jason asked, an urgency coming into his voice.

Elizabeth nodded, "she ran the test herself. She's the only one who knows."

"I want you to go back to the morgue, call her and tell her to meet you at your apartment. You two stay there tonight; I'll come over when I can."

While she knew Emily would be discreet to find out about her relationship with the cop, that wasn't what had her placing her hand on Jason's arm in concern, "Jason, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go to IAB. I...I know a cop there. Sonny? I've mentioned him before." She nodded at the man's name. "We get together sometimes for a drink. It won't be too suspicious if we're talking. Do you have the file?"

She nodded and handed it over, as well as the ballistics report she had tucked in her jacket. "Emily has the only other copy of that and it's locked in her desk drawer. As shift supervisor, nobody else has access to her office."

"Good," he smiled, stepping up to her and kissing her on the forehead. "Go back to the morgue, get Emily, go to your apartment. Lock the door and don't let anybody in except for me."

"Should I have my gun out, Detective Morgan?" she teased him, but it fell short. He nodded in all seriousness.

"Between you and Emily, you should be safe. Now, go."

"Okay," she nodded and turned for the alley while Jason pulled out his cell phone. She froze, a gasp dying in her throat. "J-Jason."

She knew the minute he saw Lucky Spencer standing there, a .22 she was certain was his father's old gun, and the gun that killed Zander Smith, aimed at them because she heard his gun clear its holster. "Put the gun down, Spencer."

"I don't think so, Morgan. Seems you and your girlfriend know my little secret...and I just can't have that."

"Has there been any change?"

The nurse turned her head to look at Jason, giving a sad shake in the negative.

"Thank you," he sighed, and he watched her go, his hands tucked into his pockets. When she was gone, Jason sagged as if a giant puppet master had suddenly cut his strings. He staggered to the chair by the bed and collapsed in a controlled crash.

He was so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn't. Not when he lived in fear that if he closed his eyes for more than a few seconds he'd wake up and find she was taken away from him. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. This wasn't supposed to happen to her.

The door opened silently behind him and Jason didn't turn his head. There was only one person it could be and Sonny didn't need to be acknowledged. His friend would understand. A sympathetic hand was placed on his shoulder and Sonny sighed, "The nurse said there was no change."

Jason swallowed roughly and shook his head. "No."

"You need to give it some time, Jason," the older man said in a placating tone. "We just started a new course; you have to give it a little time before we call it a failure."

"How long should I give it, Sonny?" Jason demanded, turning to stare at his friend. "A day, two? How long do I tell them to keep doing this, to keep pumping her full of solutions and chemicals, antidotes and antitoxins, all in the hopes of finding the cure for something we don't even know? How long until we finally admit that her quality of life isn't what she'd want to be stuck with forever? When do we say enough is enough?"

"When either she or we draw our last breaths," Sonny told him. "I'm not going to give up, Jason; I'm not going to give up on Elizabeth. I...did I ever tell you what she said to me that day she came to the penthouse?"

Rubbing his hands over his face, Jason shook his head. He'd heard sketches of what had happened, a few rumblings of conversations, but he'd been focused on Elizabeth. Stunned and dismayed at seeing her lying in a hospital bed, pale and barely clinging to life. That was all he could focus on. On finding the best doctors, on having access to the best labs so that they could analyze her blood, try to find counteragents and keep her from dying. Details like how Sonny had come to be her power of attorney hadn't been high on his list.

"It was after Nikolas came and asked me to help out. I hadn't been real keen on the whole situation, I'd promised Luke that I would stay out of things with him and stay away from his kid and since this was all to help Lucky, I hadn't wanted to get involved. But when Nikolas said that Elizabeth was planning on drinking poison, with or without my help, I knew I had to step in. I knew that I had look out for her. Spencer was gone, Lucky was useless, Nikolas and his witch of a grandmother were playing games with each other and I didn't think that anyone would have Elizabeth's sole interests at heart. Everyone wanted to protect Lucky, but who would protect Elizabeth?"

It was a good thing that Helena Cassadine had flew into a rage and killed her worthless grandson and the son of her biggest adversary, and then it was a good thing for her, that Luke had finally gotten over his obsession with toying with Helena and killed the old bat. It had been a bloodbath in Port Charles, and Laura Spencer had snapped after the death of her two sons. Alexis Davis had defended Luke Spencer and the entire clan disappeared to seek treatment for Laura. If the carnage had not already taken place, Jason would have swooped down on Port Charles like an avenging angel and done it himself. Nikolas and Lucky might have died, but Elizabeth was paying the ultimate price.

Whatever poison Nikolas had given her to make it appear she was dead had either been tainted or it had reacted badly with Elizabeth's system. Once Helena was convinced of her grandson's loyalty, the antidote was administered; a doctor hired by Sonny whisked her off the Cassadine yacht and onto his jet and flew her to the island. She was under constant supervision, and that was what had saved her life. When the convulsions started, the doctor had begun treatment, giving her anti-seizure and other medication in an effort to neutralize what was happening to her body.

"She came to the penthouse, and after being assured that Carly was out, she said she had a favor to ask me," Sonny continued on, his voice changing as he looked back into the past. "She said she had Alexis draw up a form for her, to change her power of attorney, appoint someone to be her medical guardian in case anything went wrong. She...she had the same fear I did. Would the Spencers and Nikolas really care about her or was she merely a means to an end to cure Lucky? She said she would have asked you, but since you were gone and since you probably didn't want anything to do with her, I was the next best thing. Then she apologized and said she hoped I wasn't offended I was her second choice."

Sonny laughed, and then sighed heavily. "I was surprised and humbled by the enormous trust she had in me. That after not really talking to her for months, even though I kept an eye on her for you, that she would come to me and ask me to make decisions for her of such magnitude. How could I be offended by that?"

"That's Elizabeth," Jason sighed, finally working up the courage to reach out and place his hand over hers as it rested on top of the covers. Always trying to help others and not thinking of herself. If she had, she never would have gotten involved in this crazy mess.

"So you see, Jason," Sonny said, "that's why I won't give up. She trusted me, she asked for my help, knowing that if something happened to her, I would no doubt contact you and you would help out. So it may take a while, but we're going to find out what happened to her, and we're going to figure out a way to make her better. I promise you that we won't stop until we have exhausted every resource, and I don't know about you, but I'm not even close to being broke yet."

A small smile tugged the corners of Jason's mouth and he nodded his head, the despair from this morning sliding off him like a waterlogged coat. Instantly he felt lighter and resolved. He wasn't going to give up.

Sonny gave him a light pat on the shoulder and then the older man turned for the door, leaving the two of them alone. Jason sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against her hand. It was cool from the air conditioning and he relished the skin to skin contact for a moment. Then he straightened up and shook his head with resolution.

"I'm sorry about that, Elizabeth," he told her, reaching up to brush the hair off her forehead. "I...you need me to be strong, not fall apart on you. I just...each time the doctor starts a new treatment I...I hope that this time it'll be the one. That this time we'll see some improvement and change and that there's a hope for you to wake up soon."

He let out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. "If this doctor can't find anything, there are others that Sonny's looking into. There's also...Robin's supposedly doing research in Paris and Sonny thinks she might help out. I don't know, but he does have power of attorney. You...you surprised him with that, and you surprised me. I think I know why you stayed with Lucky. It hurt, but then finding out that you voluntarily took poison to help him... You and I are going to have a talk about you doing dangerous things, okay?"

Jason settled back on the chair, and he turned it so that he could look at her, but also hold her hand her hand without having to stretch. "If this is how you felt after you found me in the snow, I now understand your anxiousness that day and while I was staying in your studio. I knew the risks when I went out to meet with Moreno that night and I never really thought about how my choices would affect other people. We can discuss that, too, if you want. I'll tell you how worried I was, you can tell me how worried you were. Seems like a fair trade."

Bargaining had become a part of his life ever since he got the call from Sonny telling him to come to the island because there was a situation. He never expected to see Elizabeth there, let alone in the condition she was. He had been shocked, outraged, and furious at Sonny and everybody else. Then he began to bargain. Pleading with God and Elizabeth. He begged her to fight, to not give up, and he exhausted many prayers asking that Elizabeth be spared and be allowed to live. He'd spent hours in the chapel with Sonny last night, now it was time to bargain with Elizabeth. Today's trade was the opportunity for her to rail against him for his foolish risks and chances.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he jerked upright when a steady hand was placed on his shoulder. Not letting go of her hand, Jason scrubbed at his face with his other and tried to shake the fogginess of sleep off. The doctor was standing next to Elizabeth on one side of the bed and Sonny was standing beside Jason.

"The nurse noticed a change in Elizabeth when she came in to change the IV bag, she got the doctor," Sonny explained.

"Is she waking up?" Jason asked.

"It's too early to say," the doctor hedged and Sonny tightened his hand around Jason's shoulder to keep him in his chair. "But there were improvements in her vital signs. More improvement than we've seen in any other treatment we've tried. I'd like to take her for a CAT scan and see what's going on there. We're going to continue to monitor her, and I'll give her another dose tonight."

The older man then tucked his pen into his pocket and stepped out of the room. Sonny stepped forward, brushing his hand gently over Elizabeth's hair, smoothing it out against the pillow. He looked over his shoulder at Jason and the younger man could see the hope warring against countless disappointments in his friend's eyes. He was sure his own looked much the same.

"It's the first good news we've gotten since this whole nightmare began. I told you we couldn't give up hope."

"No," Jason shook his head. "I'm not giving up hope. And I'm sitting with her tonight, because if anything happens I want to be here."

"What are you doing?"

Jason ignored Elizabeth's angrily hissed question as he pulled out of the bar through the back door and into the alley. He was forced to pay attention to her, though, when the pointy toe of her boot connected with the back of his shin and son of a gun it hurt.

"What's wrong with you?" he growled, turning to face her. He maintained a grip on her arm, but was careful to stay out of reach of her feet, or at least keep an eye on them.

"Me?" she asked incredulously. "What is wrong with you? What's with the caveman routine, Jason?"

"What are you doing in Jake's?" he snapped at her. "You're not old enough to drink."

"Boy, are you out of touch," she shook her head mockingly at him. "Jason...how old do you think I am?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "twenty?"

Hurt entered her eyes and he wondered why he suddenly felt like a heel for being the reason it was there. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and then poised her foot when he took a step towards her. Confident that he could recapture her in time if she tried to take off, he held up his hands and took a step backwards. Let her think he wasn't going to grab her; lull her into a false sense of security.

"For your information, Jason," she snipped, "I'm twenty-five."

His eyebrows went up and he shook his head. "What? How is that possible? You're younger than Emily."

"'Fraid not," she shook her head. "We're the same age. It's how we were in the same high school classes."

"But then...Laura couldn't be your mother," he said the first thought that came to his mind. "You and Lucky would be the same age and I may not remember anything from before my accident, but I know that Laura didn't have twins."

"No," Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. "She didn't. Laura's not my mother any more than Luke is my father."

"But your last name's Spencer," Jason shook his head in confusion.

"Wrong again," she chided him. "My last name is actually Webber. But I went by Spencer in school because Luke and Laura became my guardians when my parents died and when I was in fifth grade it was just easier to claim I was a Spencer relative when we were living in Texas and then when we moved to Port Charles, everyone just assumed I was actually their daughter."

"But why?"

"Why do you care?" she asked with a shake of her head. "Why does it matter to you what my last name is or how old I am or what I'm doing? You have no right to say anything regarding my life, Jason. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back inside to my date."

"If you think I'm letting you go back in there on a Friday night then you're crazy." He appraised her outfit and knew that every drunk dockworker in the place would be hitting on her. Since her date hadn't been able to stop Jason from taking her outside, he didn't trust the man to keep her safe.

"And if you think that you have any say in my life," she said hotly at him, "then you must have hit your head another time while you gone for nearly four years. Nobody runs my life but me and you can't stop me from going back."

"Wanna bet?" he challenged her as he raised a brow.

She just shook her head and turned for the bar. Annoyed and frustrated because she wasn't listening to him, he stopped her, pivoted her around, stooped and in one swift motion had her over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed like a wildcat and he pinched her bare thigh to make her stop squirming. It was at that point Jason Morgan realized just the precarious position his move had placed her miniskirt in and that was when his life became a whole lot more troublesome.

"Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?"

Elizabeth Webber, not Spencer, swiveled slowly on her barstool and gazed up at him with a perfect air of nonchalance. A look that absolutely set Jason's teeth on edge. When she didn't answer, he planted one hand on the bar beside her and leaned forward.

"Well, are you?"

"Yes, Jason," she said on a huff. "I lie awake in bed at night wondering what exactly I can do that will make you mad at me. Because I do so love our little encounters. I get all warm and wet contemplating what I can do to make you go all Neanderthal on me and order me around, drag me out of places and just, in general, make my life a living nightmare."

She turned away, effectively dismissing him. "Get over yourself, Jason."

He wanted to speak, he wanted to argue with her, but he was mentally listing the states in reverse alphabetical order and then trying to imagine every disgusting and vile thing he could think of. The week old corpse of a rival mobster he'd discovered a couple of months back was currently flashing through his mind. He needed something, anything to cool his lust-filled blood after Elizabeth talked about lying awake in bed. He didn't just want her thinking about ways to upset him, he wanted her there, with him, while he did all sorts of wicked things to her.

Okay, he needed to stop that train of thought of he'd embarrass himself in front of her. He really wished she'd worn a longer skirt all those weeks ago, or that he hadn't looked over and accidentally seen she was wearing black lace, barely-there boy shorts.

"Iowa, Indiana, Illinois, Idaho," he mumbled under his breath as he slid into the stool beside her, planted his hand on the back of hers and spun her to face him.

"Are you still here?" she sniffed at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "What are you doing here, Elizabeth? At the River Rat of all places?"

"Well," she tipped her head to the side, a dangerous glint igniting in her eyes. "Somebody told Coleman that I was persona non grata at Jake's. The man won't serve me, and he actually had his men remove me from the bar last week."

Jason didn't react outwardly, but inside, he was quite pleased. Coleman hadn't told him that tidbit; he deserved a hefty bonus.

"Do you have any idea how humiliated I was, Jason?" she asked him, moisture filling her eyes and causing Jason to suddenly lose his good feeling. "I was with some friends, I was supposed to be meeting a potential client, and I was actually picked up and carried out of the bar by some guy with a tattoo with a knife through a heart surrounded by barbed wire. I was told by the owner of the bar he wasn't allowed to let me inside anymore. I...right now, I never thought it was it was possible to hate you more than the time you told your parents that I was a bad influence on your sister and they shouldn't allow her to hang out with me anymore. I was wrong. I hate you so much worse."

She stood, causing him to lean back, and grabbed her purse off the bar. "So I'll save you the trouble, Jason. I won't come back to the River Rat and you won't have to pay off the bar owner."

Then she stalked out of the bar, hurt, humiliation and anger radiating off her, and all Jason could think about was the fact that he could see a hint of a tattoo of her own peeking above her skirt that her shirt didn't cover. There was a new thing that was going to torture him for nights to come.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Jason grumbled when he stopped in at a small bar up by the Canadian border after taking a long drive to try to clear his head and rid it of thoughts of Elizabeth Webber. He had taken to playing endless games of pool in his penthouse and keeping the liquor cabinet stalked. He thought that he was safe stopping in for a drink somewhere outside of Port Charles. The town wasn't much to speak of and the bar was even worse, and there, oblivious to the lecherous looks and the danger she was in in a dive like this, sat Elizabeth Webber.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he approached her table and signaled to the waitress for a bottle of beer.

She looked up, her eyes glassy and unfocused and snorted. "Do you have a GPS unit attached to me? Is that how you always seem to find me when I'm at a bar?"

She rolled her eyes and then dropped her head onto her arms which rested atop the table. A portion of her hair fell into a puddle on the pitted surface, but he doubted she even noticed. "Go away," she said. "Please."

Unnerved by the sound of her voice, the hurt and desperation that overwhelmed her annoyance, he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. "Elizabeth? What happened?"

"What happened?" she asked. "Life happened."

"What do you mean?"

"I left Port Charles to get away from you," she spat out, not aware of how that stung him, even though he'd done the same thing. "It seems like every time I turn around you're telling me what to do. Where to go, who to see, who not to see, trying to tell Luke he should control me, or actually complaining to Sonny, Sonny of all people - my business partner in my gallery - that I'm stupid and reckless and immature and I'm driving you crazy."

She lifted her head and stared at him with pure fury. "I don't know who you think you are, Jason Morgan, or where you get off coming into town and telling me what to do, but go back to whatever cave you crawled out of. I have been going to Jake's for years; I have been living my life just fine without your guidance or interference. Because of my partnership with Sonny, I have guards, so I know I'm protected. I do not need some out-of-control, over-the-top big brother figure coming in and messing up my life. So would you please just stop? What do I have to do to get to stay out of my life? What do I need to promise? Just tell me, 'cause I'll do it. Whatever it is."

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. "You don't have to do anything, Elizabeth. You...you're right. I shouldn't tell you what to do, and I'll...if you want to go back to Jake's, I'll tell Coleman to let you."

Then he stood, pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and placed it down on the table for his untouched beer and her drinks. He turned and went to leave, stopping only long enough to make sure the bartender wouldn't let her drive home in her condition and the man assured him that the young lady already had checked into a motel in town and he'd call her a cab.

Jason sat in the parking lot, and waited until Elizabeth left, then followed her cab to the motel. He sat outside until he heard the lock click into place and then drove back to Port Charles. He was still angry, but now he was depressed. He'd just been called a big brother by the woman he was crazy about. She probably never even thought twice about him, except to consider just how overbearing and annoying he was. His night officially sucked.

"Why in the world are you here of all places?"

"What did I do to you?" Elizabeth asked as she pivoted on her bar stool and looked at him. "Did I take the last donut at the Krispy Kreme? Did I cut you off in traffic? Did I accidentally run over your cat? Tell me what I did to deserve this?"

She looked around and held out a hand. "And what is wrong with the Port Charles Lounge? Your family owns this bar, it's not the River Rat and it's not Jake's, so tell me what's wrong with it?"

"My family owns it," he said simply. "And aside from Emily and my grandmother, you hate my family."

"Who told you that?" she peered at him suspiciously, wrapping her blood-red lips around her straw. Suddenly he was back to reciting the fifty states because his jeans suddenly seemed to shrink.

"My grandmother and Emily," he told her. "Lila said the last time you were at the house you called Edward an old goat. So why would you come here?"

Especially since the confrontation two weeks ago had been because Edward was disparaging Jason and Elizabeth told him to shut up. She had actually defended him.

"It seemed like the last place you would be and I wanted a drink."

"You could have gone to Jake's," he told her. "Coleman said you haven't been back."

"I wasn't really interested in going someplace that it depended on your whim whether or not I could get service."

He planted his elbow on the bar and scrubbed his hand over his face. "Elizabeth...I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"Yes, you were," she agreed. "And I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you or Coleman for my humiliation."

"You're still angry with me?" he asked.

She looked over at him, and then shook her head. "You need to practice your begging, Jason. You look ridiculous and it doesn't suit you. Besides, what does it matter if I'm angry at you or not? It's not like we're friends or anything."

"I'd like to be," he told her.

She let the straw fall out of her mouth and her moist, pink tongue darted out to catch the liquid that had dripped onto her plump lower lip. "What?"

"I'd like to be your friend," he told her. In fact, he wanted to be so much more, but he figured it was best to start with friendship.

"I..." She shook her head and looked away. Suddenly she stiffened and hissed, "Oh, no."

"What?"

He started to turn his head but she put her hand on his arm and his gaze immediately dropped. "Don't look," she instructed him. "Your grandfather and A.J. just walked into the lounge."

She bit off a curse he had no idea she would even know under her breath and the bartender backed away with raised eyebrows. "They spotted us and are on a direct course. It's too late to hide."

"No," he agreed, "but we could give them a show."

Then Jason leaned forward and captured her mouth discovering Elizabeth Webber was addictive and tasted like sixty year old scotch.

Most people hated blackouts, but not Elizabeth Webber. She adored them. Some of the best things in life had happened during blackouts. When she was five, she was stuck at a friend's house during a blackout and they'd eaten Otter Pops and Creamsicles so they didn't go to waste. When she was 14, her older sister thought she would sneak into Elizabeth's room and borrow her sister's dress for Homecoming; instead Sarah tripped over Elizabeth's clutter, broke her leg and instead of going to Homecoming with Seth Greenburg, he'd taken Elizabeth. Sarah had never forgiven her for that, but Elizabeth figured she'd gotten what she'd deserved since she was trying to steal her dress in the first place.

Over the years her good luck had continued, and it was now to the point that any time a thunderstorm rolled into town or a heat wave hit the city, Elizabeth began praying for the lights to go out. Tonight, she'd been granted her wish. The loss of power hadn't come a moment too soon in Elizabeth's opinion. She was about to do bodily harm on a bleach blonde and now instead of being hauled down to the PCPD, she got to go home early.

Of course, Carly Quartermaine had protested in her usual obnoxious manner, saying that as the daughter of the owner she couldn't be kicked out, but Elizabeth had stood her ground. It was Bobbie's standing policy that when the power went out, they closed down the diner. Everyone's dinners were packed up, comped by the restaurant, and everyone was sent home. Clean-up could even wait until they once again had power. Bobbie took her waitresses' safety very seriously and she refused to let them stay. So Carly was sent off packing back to her husband and child and Elizabeth told her that if she didn't like it, she would gladly call her husband A.J. and tell him the reason his wife refused to go home.

The blonde had snapped her mouth shut, left her pie on the counter and stormed out of the diner. She was too afraid of A.J. following through on his last ultimatum to stay and continue arguing with Elizabeth. She knew that with Jason Morgan out of town, nobody would be around to help her stand up to the Quartermaine name and money should A.J. actually divorce her and sue for full custody of their son Michael. After what Carly had done to Jason when the paternity reveal came out, Elizabeth knew that Carly stood very little chance of her best friend's help even if Jason was in town. The young mobster could barely stand to look at the woman who had accused him of kidnapping and caused him to be tracked down by the FBI, arrested in front of the young child he'd raised since birth when Carly took off, and hauled back to Port Charles.

Alexis Davis had worked wonders on the charges, pointing out that Jason's name was on the birth certificate, he was the father of record and until a DNA test was done to support Carly's claim, he couldn't be accused of kidnapping his own child. When the DNA test confirmed what Jason and Carly already knew, and a long drawn out fight began, Jason eventually gave up Michael so the child wasn't confused or hurt any more than he already was, and Jason had vowed that he wanted nothing more to do with the caustic blonde after that. She just didn't seem to get the memo, or refused to believe it, because she kept trying to get back together with Jason. Despite being married to A.J., and despite expecting another child with the Quartermaine screw-up.

Carly hated Elizabeth because she had seen Jason with the waitress on several occasions around town, and she was certain that it was Elizabeth and not actually Jason, who was responsible for him staying away from her. She just knew that if she could talk to Jason and convince him, they could somehow make a family again. Actually, what Carly wanted was her bed buddy back, Jason's money and his disinterest in how she spent it. A.J. kept a tight rein on her and Carly did not like to be restrained. Unfortunately for her, Elizabeth was nobody's angel and she had no qualms about actually following through with her threat if Carly hadn't left the restaurant. Thankfully she had, and Elizabeth was able to close up, which meant she could go home early.

She didn't know what she'd do when she got home, sleep sounded wonderful, but then again, so did lighting a bunch of candles and sitting out on the fire escape to look at the stars without the bother of light pollution from the city. There were so many choices, and Elizabeth was looking forward to the prospect of them. The only thing that dampened the potential enjoyment of the evening was that Jason was out of town.

The first time they'd gone for a motorcycle ride was during a blackout. He'd run into her down on the docks as he was leaving the warehouse, and he'd told her that especially with the power out, she shouldn't be down there. While most people stayed inside during a blackout, the criminals took advantage of it and he didn't want her to get hurt. When he sat down beside her and realized she was crying after finding her boyfriend in bed with her sister, he showed her how he got away from everything and left it all behind. She was officially addicted after that and looked forward to whenever they could go for their next trip.

The first time she'd ever kissed Jason Morgan had been when a storm knocked out power to the entire city by knocking a tree over on a transformer. It was just before Christmas and when the lights went out and Elizabeth saw all her customers safely on their way and locked up, she stepped out into the snow-covered courtyard and was surprised to find Jason there. He hadn't taken her for a ride up the cliffs like they normally would have done because he didn't want her to catch cold. Instead he'd taken her back to his penthouse because it had a fireplace and her studio was freezing even with the heater on. He made her hot chocolate, Sonny insisted on only gas stoves in all the units, and sat beside her on the floor in front of the fire and listened to her ramble about her latest painting and the art professor who was trying to help her get a spot in the next student art exhibition.

The kiss had been a surprise, catching her completely off guard. She had stopped talking and looked over to find Jason watching her with a strange expression on his face. When she asked what he was looking out, he reached out his hand and said he was watching the fire play off the highlights in her hair. His fingers had slid through her hair, loosening it from the messy bun she'd thrown together before heading off for her shift at the diner. His touch had been so light, so sensual and she wondered if he had any idea what he was doing to her at that moment. She had tried very hard to keep their relationship friendly and not overwhelm him with what he would probably deem a schoolgirl crush, even if she was a senior in college. But then Jason shifted his gaze from her hair to her eyes and her stomach had come alive at the ember she saw burning in his eyes. He whispered 'You are so beautiful' and then he leaned forward and kissed her.

After that, their whole relationship changed. They began to date, even if they didn't flaunt it around town. She got guards put on her so that a repeat of her encounter with Sorel on the docks didn't happen, and she made a full-fledged enemy in Carly Quartermaine. Elizabeth didn't care about any of that, because Jason Morgan wasn't just her friend, now he was her boyfriend, and while he'd been a wonderful friend...he was a spectacular boyfriend. He bought her gifts just because, and he never expected anything in return. He treated her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and more than once he'd made her laugh when he said - completely seriously - that he didn't deserve someone like her.

Two months after their first kiss, they made love for the first time. During a black out, of course. An ice storm hit the East Coast, and for three days the town was without power. Jason had shown up at her studio and told her that she was coming to stay with him because he had a fire place and his penthouse would be warmer than her drafty studio. Half frozen from said drafty studio, she hadn't argued a bit, and had merely thrown some clothes into a bag, and relished in the warmth of the SUV as they drove to the Towers. It had been hard to go home after those three days, but she hadn't wanted to rush their relationship by moving in too soon. Some people hadn't understood, but Jason had, and that was all that mattered to her.

"Good evening, Francis," she smiled to her guard as she stepped out into the courtyard and locked the door to the diner.

"Good evening, Miss Webber," he smiled at her. "How are you?"

"Hot," she sighed. A heat wave had gripped the city and everyone was taxing the power grid trying to stay cool. Tonight the electric company hadn't been able to keep up with demands and the city was plunged into darkness. "It has to be worse for you since you're in a suit."

"I'm alright," he assured her as he escorted her to the car.

"Not that I don't appreciate you trying to give me a few minutes of AC," she smiled at the guard, "but we could have just walked to my building. It would be quicker."

"Actually, Miss Webber," he said as he started the car and a refreshing burst of cool air filled the car, "Mr. Corinthos asked me to bring you to the penthouse. Said he hadn't seen you in a few days and wondered if you'd like to have dinner with him. He said he'd fix some cold pasta dishes, make some of your favorite raspberry lemonade and before he lost power, he'd made some the chocolate mousse you like."

Elizabeth smiled in the back of the car, hidden by the dark. Sonny was always, it seemed, looking out for her. He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that when Jason was out of town she was to call him if she needed anything. It had been emphasized when Francis had apparently reported to him a couple of weeks that she'd called in sick for work and he hadn't seen the brunette waitress for a couple of days but had heard her moving around sporadically in her studio. Sonny had shown up the next day with soup, juice, rice and anything else that would be easy on her stomach and admonished her for not calling him. Jason wanted the older man to look out for her, and he would not let her be sick in her apartment with nothing to eat. Not while he was around.

Since then, they had dinner together every couple of days, partly for company since they both missed Jason while he was away on this assignment, and also - Elizabeth was sure - so Sonny could keep an eye on her. He made sure to have a wide variety of foods as he tried to learn her tastes and preferences, and he had, on more than one occasion, said she looked too skinny. He wondered if she was still sick because the waitress appeared tired and uninterested in food. Elizabeth assured him that it was merely after working in a diner all day, sometimes she just didn't want to eat. And as for being tired, well, she had discovered after several months that she just didn't sleep as well without Jason by her side.

The one food Sonny had discovered she would eat, regardless of how tired or uninterested in food she appeared when she arrived at his penthouse, was chocolate. The richer, thicker, creamier the chocolate concoction the better. So while she suspected he didn't normally approve of making so many sweets, he always seemed to have some on hand for her. After all, she wasn't his girlfriend, she was Jason's, and if chocolate made her happier because he'd sent the younger man out of town, then it was his penance to keep her supplied with chocolate delights.

As she arrived at the penthouse level of the building, out of breath and slightly dizzy from the climb, she was surprised when Francis didn't turn her towards Sonny's apartment, but towards Jason's. She looked at the guard in question, and then smiled broadly when he nodded at her and winked. With renewed energy, she practically sprinted across the foyer, knocked on Jason's door and then flung it open a second later.

Jason was there, wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in her hair, breathing her in. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, feeling his pulse flutter across her cheek as Jason walked them into the penthouse. She heard the door quietly click behind them and knew Francis had discreetly closed it.

"You're back," she whispered, kissing the pulse point that she loved. The one that made him groan.

"I told Sonny I had to come home when he called me a couple of days ago and said you still looked tired and he wasn't sure you were over your stomach bug from a couple of weeks ago. I...I told him about the baby and he was upset with me for not telling him the night he sent me out of town." He set her down and stepped back, holding her at arm's length as he scrutinized her. "How are you?"

"Tired," she admitted. "Morning sickness is such a misnomer. Smelling that food all day...ugg."

"You should tell Bobbie," he encouraged her. "She would understand, I'm sure."

"But then Carly would find out," she countered as he led her to the couch and coaxed her to sit down. She sank gratefully into the cushions and leaned her head back against the pillows. "She was in the diner tonight, going on once again on how it's all my fault you won't talk to her, that I must be a shrew of a girlfriend, blah blah blah."

"I'm sorry," he sighed, picking up her foot and rubbing the ankle lightly. "That's why I want you to move in here, Elizabeth. Once you start to show, it would be safer for you anyways."

She twisted her lips to the side and said, "We'll talk about it when I start to show."

"Elizabeth," he sighed, "why don't you want to move in here?"

"Because I..." she trailed off and bit her lip. "We didn't plan to get pregnant, Jason, and I don't want us to feel like we have to do anything, just because I'm pregnant."

"Doing something just because you're pregnant, would be getting married like Sonny told me I should do when he found out about the baby. You moving in here? I've been asking you to do that for months, Elizabeth," he leaned forward and waited until she was looking at him, "Because I want you here every day. I want you here when I wake up, and it has nothing to do with you being pregnant. The baby is just an added bonus. So will you?"

He drew her close to him and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'll let you eat Sonny's chocolate mousse first instead of making you wait until after the pasta salad if you agree."

"That's not playing fair, Jason," she chided him with a smile. "You're teasing a pregnant woman with chocolate?"

"I never claimed to play fair, Elizabeth," he grinned wickedly at her. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you to agree."

Elizabeth Webber had long ago given up trying to get any respect in her life. The moment people heard she was a psychic, they either expected her to be all sweet and loving like John Edwards and immediately communicate with their dearly departed friends and relatives, or they looked at her like she was one step below a witch and she would go in and read their minds while scrambling their brains. She felt that it was rude and intrusive, either assumption. She didn't walk up to a lawyer and immediately demand that he give her free legal advice, so why did they expect her to stop whatever she was doing and immediately summon Great-Grandpa Jones to tell them where the money was hidden?

Besides, Elizabeth had other things, bigger things - more important things - to do with her life, then tell someone that Mommy loved them and Daddy was proud of them. She had dedicated her life to finding criminals and putting them behind bars. She wasn't a cop, in fact most cops looked at her skeptically, or almost contemptuously if she assisted on a case. She was just someone who couldn't stand injustice in the world and wanted to make sure that sick monsters like Dahmer and Rader were caught and put behind bars. Men who terrorized communities, men who had no respect for life, men who got off on killing; she had dedicated her life to putting men like that behind bars.

She wasn't Dr. Kimball spending her life searching for the one armed man who wiped out her family, in fact her family thought she was a freak and wished that she was normal and something respectable. No, it was merely that Elizabeth Webber could not sleep at night if she turned her back on the families were who desperate to find out what happened to their loved ones. She wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she'd gone into medicine like her family wanted, or had even studied art as she'd been intrigued as a child, and ignored the voices that she heard, the feelings and vibrations that everything gave off and unraveled the mystery and found the truth.

That was what had brought her to the small upstate town of Port Charles, New York. A serial killer was on the loose and while everyone thought they had the killer behind bars, there were some people in town who weren't so sure. And that was why she was here. She'd been asked to come and see if she couldn't figure out who was responsible for the murder of several beautiful and innocent young women, young women connected to prominent families.

Pulling her car into the long, curving driveway of an imposing house, Elizabeth turned off her engine and climbed out, immediately greeted by a tall hulk of a man. He attached himself to her elbow and refused to step away.

"Miss Webber?" he asked, his voice soft in spite of his size.

"Yes," she admitted. "I was asked to come by-"

"Yes," he interrupted. "Mr. Corinthos is expecting you. I...forgive me but I need to search you. Security, you understand?"

She raised her brow slightly but nodded. She was gently, respectfully, almost embarrassedly patted down and her bag looked through before she was led inside and into a richly furnished and darkly paneled sitting room. A Latin man she could only assume was Sonny Corinthos stood and smiled at her hesitantly. Behind him, two women rose from their places on the couch. Both were stylishly dressed, impeccably put together in high fashion and two hundred dollar haircuts.

The blonde looked at her with a tilt of her head and scrutinized Elizabeth's tailored pants and warm sweater. She didn't know if the fashion maven - because while Elizabeth thought Couture was a bit ridiculous, she did know who Kate Howard was - was looking down her nose at her department store pants, or if she'd expected something more eclectic for a psychic. Maybe she should be dressed as a gypsy.

A shuffling from the corner of the room drew Elizabeth's eye tot the fourth presence in the room and a man melted out of the shadows. Somehow Elizabeth got the feeling he would have been dressed in all black even if he hadn't been in mourning. This was a man who seemed most at home in dark colors, and it wasn't a conscious decision to set off his piercing blue eyes that peeked out from underneath hair longer than most men wore these days.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Webber," Mr. Corinthos greeted her with an outstretched hand and a welcoming smile. "This is Kate Howard, Diane Miller and that's Jason Morgan."

The brother of one of the victims and ex-fiancée of another. She sensed his hurt the moment she walked into the room, but it was only for the sister. There was an odd lack of feeling for the other woman. It was intriguing, but it wasn't why she was here.

"I'm sure you've heard about what's going on," Mr. Corinthos said as he gestured for her to sit down.

"I've read the papers, along with the file you sent me," she acknowledged with a dip of her head.

"Nikolas Cassadine is accused of killing my children's nanny, Jason's sister along with his ex-fiancée. Emily, Jason sister, was Nikolas' fiancée and Sam was his cousin."

"And you dated Ms. Quartermaine at one time," Elizabeth said, showing that she had done a little digging on her own, "as well as fathering a child with Ms. McCall."

"Yes," the older man nodded.

"So why exactly am I here, Mr. Corinthos?" she asked him. "You said you wanted my help on the case, but you didn't say specifically what."

"We want you to help find the killer."

She raised her brow at that. "You don't believe Mr. Cassadine is the killer? Supposedly Mr. Cassadine has a genetic disorder that's recently manifested itself. He's experienced blackouts and has other violent attacks on people."

"Nikolas didn't kill my sister," Jason said softly, his back to the room as he gazed out the terrace doors into the dark night. "I may have had disagreements with him, and he once cheated on my sister while they were married, but...but he would not kill my sister."

"He's accused of murdering his cousin, attacking his aunt and putting his own sister Lulu Spencer into the hospital room. There's still some debate about whether she'll make it."

"He didn't kill my sister, because I know he didn't attack his sister," the younger man stated emphatically.

"How can you be so certain?"

"I was with him at the time." Anger and regret rolled off Jason Morgan and Elizabeth wondered what exactly had happened in that encounter. "I thought he did kill Emily, but when Lulu was found attacked, in the same manner as Emily and the others...that's when I knew it wasn't him."

"Have you told the police this?" she asked, wondering why the people in this room would not take the information to the cops and instead wanted her here.

"We have, but the cops don't believe Jason," Mr. Corinthos stated. "Jason has an...adversarial relationship with the cops."

He'd recently just beaten a murder rap for a crime that he'd committed. Elizabeth didn't know who Lorenzo Alcazar was, or what he'd done to warrant Mr. Corinthos giving the order, but Elizabeth knew as sure as the sun was yellow that Jason Morgan had shot Mr. Alcazar in the head execution style and then dumped his weighted body into the harbor. It was a bit unsettling to know the surety of that and be sitting in the room with these people.

"One of the lead detectives on the case is Lucky Spencer, brother to Nikolas. He's Lulu's brother, and was Sam's boyfriend. He's been taken off the case due to personal conflict, but he believes his brother, in illness induced blackouts, killed everyone. He thinks that Jason is covering for Nikolas because of Emily and also because Jason's employee had a crush on Lulu Spencer until he found out she was just using him to try to get an A in her computer programming class."

"Have the cops looked at anyone else?"

"My clients," Diane Miller spoke up, and now Elizabeth realized why the woman was at the meeting.

"They thought that Mr. Morgan or Mr. Corinthos would have killed women they were once involved with? A family member? That they would kill the nanny of little children that they loved?" Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, "Are the cops in this town stupid?"

"Welcome to Port Charles," Ms. Miller smirked. "We're not known for our stellar law enforcement."

That apparently was an understatement. Of course, they also thought Nikolas Cassadine would kill his fianc?e, his cousin and almost killed his sister. She wasn't impressed with the men in blue, and she hadn't even met them yet. She had no doubt that if she took on this case, the cops wouldn't welcome her help and would more than likely not believe any clues she presented to them. She hated working with police units like that.

"I'm curious as to why you would ask me to come here, and not Mr. Cassadine's family," Elizabeth mused.

"His aunt is rather grief-stricken over the loss of her daughter, Sam, his mother is incapacitated and her husband hates Nikolas on sheer virtue of being alive and believes that he attacked his daughter Lulu. Since his brother Lucky believes him capable of the murders, no one is really digging into this," Mr. Corinthos explained.

"But why you?" she asked. "It was your children's nanny that was murdered, your ex-girlfriend, why don't you believe Mr. Cassadine killed them?"

"Because I believe Jason," he stated simply.

"But why is it important to you to clear Mr. Cassadine's name?"

"I'm not doing this to clear Nikolas Cassadine's name," Mr. Corinthos shook his head. "I'm doing this because I want the truth. I want to know who killed my children's nanny."

"And I want to know who killed my sister," Mr. Morgan said from his spot by the windows. "I know Nikolas didn't do it, so I need to know who did."

"And if I am able to discover who the killer is," Elizabeth said slowly, drawing out the question. "What am I supposed to do with the information?"

"You tell us," Mr. Corinthos stated.

"And then what happens?" she pressed.

"I deal with the person," Mr. Morgan said, in a tone that left no one in the room ignorant to what he meant. She wondered how Ms. Miller worked out the ethics of her job.

"And what happens to Mr. Cassadine?" she inquired.

When the room was silent, Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. She stood and adjusted her purse over her shoulder. "I sympathize with you, I really do. It is horrible to have someone you love, someone you care about be ripped out of your life by violence and murder. I understand that you want to find the real killer. It's human nature to want to solve the puzzle, unravel the mystery, make sure that justice is served. But there is an innocent man sitting in jail that nobody seems to care about."

She met Jason Morgan's gaze as he turned to face her, his gaze thunderous and lethal as it pinned hers. "I know that you want to find out who murdered your sister and the others in town, but if I find out and tell you and you go off and murder this man, Nikolas Cassadine will still be sitting in jail for a crime you know he didn't commit. If I try to take the evidence to the police, I have strong reservations that they'll believe me. But when I give them the name of the person I believe is responsible for the murders and then he turns up missing or dead, people will suspect you. I might even be charged as an accomplice to his murder."

"So that's it?" Ms. Howard demanded. "You're just going to walk away?"

"I want to find out who killed these people, Ms. Howard," she said to the ex-editor, but also to the room at large. "But I don't know that I can be a party to what everyone is suggesting here. I'm not going to be able to live with myself if I know that an innocent man is sent to prison, or possibly the electric chair, for crimes I know someone else committed. It's better to walk away being curious, then live with my conscious forever over the injustice of the situation."

"You get me the information about who killed my sister," Jason Morgan said as he crossed the room towards her, "and I promise you that Nikolas will not go to jail. Either Diane will defend him and get this information introduced, or I'll break him out of jail. But you tell me who killed my sister."

"And then you'll kill him?"

He looked away and she knew she had her answer. Now she just had to decide if she could live with that.

"You...the Blonde One is planning on wearing...that to the party tonight?"

Jason was not going to look up. He was not going to get involved in another one of Spinelli's encounters with Lulu Spencer. The boy was going to have to learn on his own, and sadly the hard way, that Lulu Spencer was exactly like her cousin Carly and was merely a user. He'd seen the girl pout at the boy more than once after she'd yelled at him, giving him some lame, half-attempted apology and saying what a good friend he was and she would hate it if he was upset with her. The girl knew Spinelli had a crush on her, and Jason knew that she was never going to date The Jackal but she'd give the boy just enough hope in order to get him to take her back and then she'd walk all over him again.

Jason had warehouse receipts to go over and he was just going to keep his head down and stay out of this. He didn't want to look at her costume; he really didn't care what she went as to Carly's costume party. He wasn't going, despite how many times his best friend begged him, and he figured if he kept his head down, the pencil moving across the paper than he might escape this moment unscathed.

"Stone Cold," Spinelli implored him, "you must tell the Blonde One that it is a most grievous mistake for her to go to the costume party so adorned. Every unworthy and simian-like loser in town will be chasing after her and she shouldn't be sending out the wrong signals."

"Lighten up, Spinelli, it's just a costume," Lulu chided him.

"Stone Cold," the younger man pleaded, his voice now taking on a whining tone.

"Jason, tell the geek here that Lulu's costume is just fine."

He ground his back teeth together as Carly joined in the fray. When did his house turn into a teen hangout? Why did people think he cared about the drama of their lives and who was dating whom and who had hurt someone and the like? He longed for the day when he could shoot a game of pool without someone coming and wanting to talk to him. It almost made him wish that if he had to have someone living with him, it was Zander Smith. The kid had been annoying, but at least he'd stayed out of Jason's way for the most part. Besides, he thought wistfully, if he was back to when Zander was living with him, then that would mean Elizabeth was here as well. Knowing what he knew now, having now experienced one beautiful night with her, he wouldn't have sent her upstairs to go to bed the night they admitted they wanted to be with each other. He'd have sent Zander off to a safehouse with Johnny and take Elizabeth upstairs himself. And put her into his bed.

"Jason, are you listening to me?" Carly demanded, taking the pencil out of his hand and flipping the file closed that he was working on.

He looked up, annoyed, and bit out, "No, not really. I don't care what Lulu wears to your stupid party."

The older blonde looked slightly crestfallen and demanded, "What is wrong with you? Lulu could use your support here."

Knowing that it was just easier to look at the girl, make some comment and then claim he had work to do, Carly would let him go, he looked up. And stared.

"Well?" Carly asked, nudging him in the shoulder and grinning. "What do you think?"

"Is she supposed to look like a hooker?" he asked.

Lulu gaped at him and Carly slugged him in the shoulder. "What?! She does not look like a hooker."

"Yes, she does," Jason answered. "Actually, I've seen the girls on Courtland Street with more clothes on than her. And certainly less make-up. Even the girls at Coleman's old strip club started out with more clothes on than Lulu."

"You...you're not my father," Lulu spluttered at him. "You can't tell me how I can dress."

"I'm not," he shook his head. "I'm not saying you can't wear it, I'm just saying that you look like a hooker. And if that's the message you want to convey to Logan and Johnny, then by all means, go."

"Maybe I should just leave your penthouse," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and drawing Spinelli's gaze straight towards the straining top. "Since you seem to think I'm a slut."

"You want to leave, then feel free," he told her. "I didn't ask you to live here, I've told you before it would be safer if you weren't living here, you don't listen to instructions when I tell you to leave the room because I have a business meeting and you treat Spinelli like crap and then I have to sit here and listen to him go on and on about how wonderful you when I just watched you treat him like the gum you scraped off the bottom of your shoe and I have to struggle to get him to focus on his work. So if you want to leave, I'll personally have someone drive you anywhere you want to go."

"Jason," Carly gasped at the same time a horrified Spinelli blurted out, "Stone Cold."

"He didn't mean it, Blonde One," the teen boy quickly said to the girl who was standing in his living room looking shell-shocked. Maybe he had been a bit harsh, but he was tired of all this drama and he was sick of staying quiet to spare everyone's feelings. Lulu had barged into his house on more than one occasion and berated and ordered him about after finding out Elizabeth's child was his and not Lucky's, so if she felt like she had the right to speak to anyone however she wanted, then maybe she should have the favor returned.

"You don't want me to live here?" Lulu asked, her eyes filling with what were no doubt crocodile tears.

"I told you that right now, it would be safer if you weren't living here. If you don't want to live at the Quartermaines, I can't blame you, but there are other places you could go." He shrugged. "And I never called you a slut; I just said your costume... I don't understand why women dress like that. Trashy isn't sexy...it's just trashy."

He thought he was done seeing cleavage baring tops and cut away dresses after Sam moved out. There was something to be said for leaving a little to the imagination; for not putting it all out there for everybody to see. What was she even supposed to be? A dead pirate cheerleader? He didn't know, all he knew was there was a lot of fishnet, ripped clothes and skin.

He knew what part of his problem was, or a large part of it. He missed Elizabeth. He missed her simple, classic beauty. It's not that she was adverse to showing cleavage; that dress she'd worn while pregnant with Jake during the hostage crises...he had a hard time tearing his gaze away from her when he was in the lobby disguised as a terrorist, and then when they'd been trapped in the elevator together. Pregnancy had certainly enhanced her figure, and then when he realized that it was his child that was responsible for the changes in her body...it was probably a good thing he'd been reeling from the revelation.

He thought she was beautiful in just her simple scrubs, like the day she'd shown up at the courthouse and flown into his arms after he was found not guilty. Of course, he was also in love with her, so he found her gorgeous whether she was frazzled and tending to Cam and Jake, or standing in Sonny's coffeehouse sipping on some iced coffee confection. To be honest, he wouldn't mind seeing what she looked like in a pair of fishnet stockings, and maybe not a whole lot else - he was a guy after all - but he found her beautiful whether she was dressed in a green halter dress or bundled up against the New England winter. It was who she was, and not what she wore.

"Jason, I can't believe you," Carly hissed at him. "You know that this is just a costume."

"Yeah, it's just a costume," he agreed. "But the rest of it? All true. She interrupts meetings, has deliberately gone off and met with Johnny Zacharra after I told her it wasn't safe because his father was crazy and we didn't need a mob war on our hands, she walks all over Spinelli and then pouts at him to get him to keep making her breakfast every morning and I need him to do more important things than worry about your cousin who is too selfish and immature to think of anyone but herself."

"How can you do this to me?" Lulu demanded. "After I've kept your secret, this is how you treat me?"

"You want to be treated with respect?" he shot back, "then treat others that way."

"What secret?" Carly demanded and Jason narrowed his eyes.

He knew the teenage girl knew exactly what she was doing when she made that slip probably thinking that he would apologize and let her continue to stay here just to keep Jake's paternity a secret. Little did she know he would gladly welcome the truth coming out, despite the threat looming over them all. Then he would have an excuse to move Elizabeth and her boys closer for their protection. He hadn't seen his son in months, and he missed the little boy so bad a piece of his soul ached every day.

Apparently Lulu was smart enough to read the danger signs in Jason's eyes and she swallowed and looked away. "Never mind, Carly. I see now that I've been imposing on Jason and he's just been too nice to say anything."

"Jason doesn't mind you staying here," Carly quickly spoke up. "He'd rather have you stay here than move in with Logan Hayes."

"Actually," Jason drawled.

"I get it," Lulu huffed. "Don't worry, I'll pack my clothes and then you won't have to worry anymore about me interrupting your life or distracting your precious little grasshopper. I'm tired of him drooling all over me anyways."

Spinelli looked wounded and shrank back, folding in on himself in that odd way he had. Carly glared at Jason and then wrapped an arm around her cousin's shoulders.

"You can come stay with Jax and I. We've got lots of guards around the house and we'll tell them not to let Logan through the front door." She steered the younger woman towards the stairs and up them, pausing only long enough to look back over her shoulder at Jason and glare at him. He knew she'd give him a piece of her mind and tell him he was mean and cruel to Lulu, but at least the girl would no longer be living here. And there would be one less thing for him to worry about.

"Stone Cold?" Spinelli's voice was soft and small, almost frightened and pleading. "Are you...are you mad at The Jackal? I...I know I asked Fair Lulu to live here without asking you...but have you really hated it that much?"

Jason sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. "No, Spinelli, I'm not mad at you. I...I wish you'd said something to me first, and I don't want you inviting people to stay here again without my permission. But...I need you to concentrate, Spinelli, and you haven't. Sonny and I need you to look into these texts and we need you to focus and instead you were making breakfast for Lulu and spending the night trying to track her down. She..."

"She's never going to see The Jackal as anything but a friend, is she?" he asked, not for the first time.

Jason once again shook his head, "No. I'm sorry, but I doubt it."

"She really was just using me, wasn't she?"

"I'm afraid so."

The young man cast a glance over towards the stairs and then stepped closer to Jason. "Do you...do you think she'll say anything to The Valkyrie about...about the Little Stone Cold One's true paternity?"

"I don't know," Jason sighed. Lulu had kept the secret so far, even once saying that she understood why he and Elizabeth wanted to keep it a secret. Even after Lucky and Elizabeth divorced and her brother tried to sue for sole custody of the little boy, Lulu had supported Elizabeth. She'd testified against her brother, saying that Jason wasn't a threat to Jake, that Jason had saved his and Elizabeth's lives on more than one occasion and Elizabeth was a good mother.

Of course, she hadn't supported the truth coming out and now she was hurt and Carly would no doubt be begging her to tell her what the secret was. Would Lulu keep it, or would she spill it just to be petty and vindictive like he knew she could be? Would she say anything to Lucky, or just swear Carly to secrecy? Of course, Carly couldn't keep a secret to save her life and he had no doubt that she would give him and Elizabeth grief and if Lucky didn't find out from his sister he stood a fair chance of finding out from his cousin.

"I need to go," Jason declared, grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair and reaching for his keys. "I need to go see Elizabeth."

"Are you...are you worried?" Spinelli asked, with one more nervous glance towards the stairs.

Part of him was, part of him just really needed to see Elizabeth and his son and this was the perfect excuse. So he shrugged and said, "If you hear anything that sounds like Lulu told Carly, I need you to call me immediately."

Looking proud at the trust Jason was giving, and resolved, Spinelli nodded and said, "I won't let you down, Stone Cold."

A/N: Yeah, I have no idea where this came from. I blame it on my cranky toddler and my crazy kids who are already too hyped up for Halloween tomorrow and couldn't wait for the pre-Halloween party tonight. That's the only explanation I have for this drivel.

Jason really hated these things. They were ridiculous, contrived and did he mention ridiculous? Some yahoo who read Harry Potter had brought the idea with them and the events sprung up like wildfire. Jason went to his first one out of morbid curiosity, and after that he avoided them like the plague. There was no way he was going to another one and there was no way he was ever going to have one for himself.

He was dead. He didn't need to have a party to celebrate the day he died. It was a rather unforgettable event. Why have a party to think about the day he went from living to not?

So why he was standing here now, he wasn't sure. He only knew he'd gotten roped into it by a witch. An actual, honest to goodness, real witch. Considering he was dead because of a sorceress, he didn't suppose he could really feign shock. It was just the idea of the whole thing that irritated him. And the fact that people were laughing and joking, carrying on and acting as if this was one big fete; as if they were still alive. People were milling about, telling jokes that had been told for millennia - they weren't funny then, they weren't funny now - and trying to make hooks ups.

That was the most ridiculous part of it all. They were dead. They couldn't fall in love, they couldn't get married, they couldn't start a family, they couldn't even have sex. Of all the things that Jason missed about being alive, that was the number one thing. Eating was overrated, and while a mug of ale had been enjoyable, he'd woken up too many times hung over and with his mouth tasting like he'd licked the floor with his tongue, to really care that he'd never be able to experience that again. But sex...he missed that.

"Is this the most ridiculous thing you've ever seen, or what?"

Jason turned his head to face the man who'd spoken to him. Sonny Corinthos was a recent addition to the afterlife, and Jason couldn't remember how they'd bumped into each other, but with nothing else to do but hang around being bored, the two men had struck up a conversation. And soon became friends of sorts. Sonny had died five years ago, shot down outside of a church while Jason had been sitting around for years.

"They act like they're at the Port Charles Grille, having hors d'ourves and sipping champagne. It's like they're hobnobbing and making deals; I keep expecting someone to sneak off to the balcony to kiss. Why exactly are we here?"

"Because one doesn't say no to a witch," Jason said succinctly. "We have to spend a few minutes here, and then once people start singing her praises and saying what a wonderful person she is, we can slip out of here and go find something else to do."

"If I had any of my money still," Sonny said with a chuckle, "I'd bet you that she didn't even die on Halloween."

"She didn't," Jason shook his head. "I was already here when she was burned at the stake in Salem. It was March when she arrived."

"How long have you been around?" Sonny asked, not for the first time.

"A long time," was all Jason said as they took advantage of their hostess turning her gaze away from their side of the room to step closer to the door.

Long enough to see technology and progress change people's lives, as well as the way they were killed. There hadn't been guns and process chemicals; sure there had been poisons and weapons, but death was more up close and personal. Unless someone died in an accident. Now it seemed there were hordes of victims to cowards who murdered from afar. Gods he was feeling ancient and morose.

Each new arrival seemed eager to share their tale of demise. To best the person next to him. If someone died of a gunshot wound to the head, the next person died of three. It all became too much sometimes and Jason wanted a nice, quiet corner where people wouldn't bother him with their stories and trying to find out his.

"She's moving away," Sonny whispered. "Let's go."

With a nod, Jason followed behind. He wanted to leave, he'd grown to dislike crowds after the eons he'd spent here, and the afterlife was getting more crowded every day. The way to the door suddenly became congested as the flow and mingle of souls halted. Despite being able to go through, it was considered impolite to pass through another soul, simply a courtesy that was followed.

"What's the hold up?" Sonny asked the taller man, unable to see ahead.

A whisper rippled through the crowd and then the witch called out, clearing a path. As the crowd parted, Jason was finally able to see the reason everyone had stopped. A fresh soul had arrived, right into the middle of the party. No doubt, someone in charge thought it would be nice for her to meet so many new souls, or someone had messed up. Whatever the reason, the young woman looked shell-shocked, like so many of the soldiers who died on the battlefield did when they first arrived.

"Welcome," the witch smiled brightly as she approached the woman. "Welcome to the afterlife and my Death Day Party. I'm sorry you have lost your life, but it's always nice to meet new souls."

Jason rolled his eyes and then gestured for Sonny to step around the crowd and continue on to the door. With such a prestigious new arrival, the old crone would never notice their departure. Perfect time to make their escape.

"What's your name?" the overly enthusiastic and not terribly sensitive witch asked. "You can share my party with me since we now share the same death date."

"Elizabeth," the newcomer said, and Jason found himself stopping. He turned back to look at the crowd, now suddenly straining for a look at the woman's face. "My name is Elizabeth."

"Welcome Elizabeth," the crowd followed their hostess' lead and lent their own welcomes to her. Jason moved closer, trying to get closer, to see her again.

"Jason. Jason. Jason!"

He stopped suddenly when Sonny was in front of him. "What are you doing?" the younger soul asked. "I thought we were leaving."

The din of voices made it unable for Jason to distinguish Elizabeth's from the rest and suddenly the thought of going back inside wasn't as appealing as it once was. "Yeah," he nodded. "We're leaving. Let's go."

Then they were gone and soon the party was nothing but a distant memory, even if Jason could not quite forget the sound of Elizabeth's voice and the pull he felt to see her.

"You're thinking of her again."

Jason was annoyed when Sonny's voice cut through the thoughts swirling around in his head. Uninvited, the other man sat down beside him and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"You disappeared yesterday; you were gone most of today. Are you following her again?"

Jason sighed and looked away.

"Look, man," Sonny held up his hands. "I don't care if you are. She's a beautiful woman. But you yourself was the one who told me that things are different up here, so why are you obsessing over someone like this?"

Jason couldn't explain it. All he knew was that her voice haunted him. Thoughts of her filled him and with nothing else to do, no meetings to attend, no battles to fight, no homes to defend, there was a lot of time for thoughts to intrude. After the life he'd led, he first had relished the quiet. No more shouted orders, no more clang of metal against metal, no more cries of wounded and dying men. He'd spent several decades, and more, simply having quiet and peace was blessed.

After a while though, it - like everything else about this place - really began to claw at him. Robbed of a warrior's paradise - it was reserved for only those who died in battle - he was consigned to spend the rest of eternity wandering around with little to do and few people to talk to. Well, at least any who interested him.

It was why his...friendship, for lack of a better word, with Sonny was so unique. It had lasted longer than any before it. After a few weeks, he found himself all talked out in regards to a new arrival and he moved back to his solitary existence. Five years and counting and he hadn't given Sonny the brush off yet. Elizabeth was the only other person here who had ever captivated his thoughts and made him want to know more about her.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" Sonny suggested. "It's got to be better than sitting around here looking like a love-sick pup over her. Man up and do something."

With a clap on his shoulder, a very odd sensation when one didn't actually have shoulders, Sonny stood and walked away. Jason looked down from his perch, through the sea of souls and saw Elizabeth where she saw. Off to the side, not really talking to people, though there were plenty of individuals who were trying to talk to her. Did he want to be just another one of the masses? Did he want to be another one of the people who fought their way to her only to be dismissed out of hand?

He'd told himself no, and yet the moment he stood to walk away, his feet had instead drawn him to her. He cut through the throngs of people, crashing like waves against the bench where she sat, her long hair spilling down her back, her skin glowing in spite of the place. As Jason got closer, he caught snatches of her voice, and that same pull he'd felt the first night of her arrival once again gripped him. He had to talk to her. There was no other choice in the matter.

As he neared her, he realized that the words he could hear was actually a song. Some tuneless melody as she sat idly brushing her hand over the bench beneath her, much the way someone would idly trail their hand over the sand on a beach. Jason froze before her, memories and realization hitting him, slamming into him, much like his body had crashed on the rocks.

"You."

His voice seemed to alert her that she wasn't alone and she looked up, tilting her head to the side in a most beguiling way. "Me?"

"It was you," he repeated.

"Do I know you?" she asked, her captivating voice now tearing at Jason.

"You're the reason I'm dead," he said, shaking his head to clear it of her song. "You're the siren who tempted me from the ship as we were sailing to battle. It was you."

She seemed unfazed by his accusation, or his anger. It didn't matter to her that because he'd leapt from the boat he'd technically been classified a suicide. She waved a hand languidly through the air.

"I may have lured many to their deaths," she admitted. "It was why I was hunted down and killed."

"You tricked me," he protested. "Lured me away. You...you're the reason I'm stuck here in Hell...and that doesn't even bother you?"

"Eww...gross."

Jason looked up from the contract on his desk that Bernie had dropped off tonight and looked over at Elizabeth. She was going through Cameron's candy bucket, looking at the wrappers and deciding what candy the preschooler could eat and what wasn't safe.

"What?" he asked. He'd heard the horror stories of tainted candy, but he'd never fully believed them. However, since it was his children now out gathering candy, he thought maybe he should be a little more vigilant. Like Elizabeth. "Did you find something?"

He would track down whatever sick creep was giving out bad candy, and the man would be dealt with. It wasn't just for his sons, but for every child. At least that's what he told himself as he looked down at the offensive wrapper Elizabeth was holding.

"What do you see?" he asked.

She looked up and must have read the lethal intent in her eye because she quickly shook her head. "No, Jason...relax. It's nothing dangerous, it's just...black licorice."

"Black licorice?" The confusion was clear in his voice.

"Yeah, it's disgusting. What idiot gives out black licorice to kids? Every kid I ever knew hated it...along with the black jelly beans at Easter. That anise taste..." Her nose wrinkled up adorably. "Yuck."

He couldn't help it, he laughed. "You don't like black licorice."

"You do?" she questioned.

He thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I don't know. I can't say that I've eaten a lot of it."

"If you're going to give out licorice," Elizabeth declared, as she continued sorting through the candy poured out onto the coffee table, "then it should be red. Red, whether it's cherry or strawberry, it's inoffensive. In fact, give me a bag of Cherry Twizzler Nibs and I'm a happy, happy woman. I ate them all the time when I was pregnant with Cameron and Jake. They were my biggest craving."

He sat down on the couch beside her, watching as she put the candy she deemed safe back inside Cameron's ghost bucket, taking out a piece of candy, some small little disc shaped thing, that had fallen out of its wrapper and set it aside. There were several other similar sized pieces, so something must have broken; Jason doubted someone handed out a handful of the things loose. He picked up the twin pack of black licorice that she'd set aside, inspecting it and crinkling the plastic wrap.

"Do you like Hot Tamales?"

He looked over at her, "What?"

"Cameron can't have cinnamon," she explained, holding a small red box in her hand. "He gets red bumps around his mouth and on his cheeks."

She unwrapped a piece of cinnamon candy and popped it in her mouth and then spoke around it, "I take out the cinnamon candy so that he doesn't even know it was there. You want them?"

He shook his head, still toying with the licorice in his hand. "Maybe I'll have this."

She arched a brow as she realized what he was holding. "Then you better brush your teeth really well after you do."

He loved Elizabeth, and many times he could follow her rambling, but sometimes it just left him puzzling and scratching his head. "What?"

"If you eat that," she explained, "then you better brush your teeth really well. And you probably better gargle as well. Because I don't want there to be any trace left when I kiss you."

"You really hate it that much?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I can't stand the taste or the smell of it," she said with that same adorable nose wrinkle. "Sarah and I both didn't like black licorice, so every Halloween and every Easter, we'd pick out the stuff and give it to our dad who loved it. He thought it was great. But I could always still smell it on his breath for hours afterward and I hated kissing him goodnight because it was the last thing I smelled right before I climbed into bed."

She stood, sweeping the candy to be thrown away into her hand and then picked up Cameron's bucket and headed into the kitchen. He followed behind her, watching as she threw away the litter and then set the plastic ghost on top of the refrigerator. She'd explained that they would have to keep the candy buckets up where the boys couldn't get them because if they didn't they'd wake up in the morning and find that Cameron had devoured half his bucket. It joined Jake's pumpkin that Elizabeth had already sorted through, and the ritual was done for another year.

"I'm just going to put the dinner dishes into the dishwasher and start it, and then I'll be out," she told her, looking over her shoulder, and letting her gaze drop to the candy that was still in his hand. "Do you want some coffee? I'm going to make some hot chocolate."

"No thank you," he shook his head. "I'm just going to look over the contract Bernie dropped off."

She smiled and nodded her head. "Okay...I'll be done here in a few minutes."

Jason walked back out into the living room, the sound of running water and the clatter of silverware fading behind him. He glanced at the contract on the desk, but then looked over at the closet. With one more glance at the kitchen, he bypassed the desk, opened the closet and reached for his gun box. He'd always been vigilant to put his guns away when he came back, never leaving them where Cameron might be able to reach. It wasn't something Elizabeth had asked him to do, but he'd seen the gratitude in her eyes the first time she saw him do it after he returned home. She knew where the weapons were, she even knew how to load and fire one if need be, but his gun box wasn't some place she normally went.

That was why it had been the perfect place to hide her birthday gift. Grabbing the box, he slipped it into his pocket, closed the closet door and then headed upstairs to their bedroom. A quick check ensured him that Jake and Cameron were both sound asleep and after the excitement of the evening, he knew they wouldn't be waking any time soon. Which was exactly what he wanted.

With the dishwasher humming faintly behind her, Elizabeth turned the light off in the kitchen and stepped out into the living room with her mug of hot chocolate in her hand. Maybe having caffine right before bed wasn't the best idea, but who said she had any plans of falling asleep right away? It was nearly midnight, the boys were asleep, Jake was sleeping through the nights now and after the excitement of trick-or-treating tonight, both her sons would be exhausted. Why not get an early start on her birthday celebration?

She was sure that Jason had something planned for tomorrow night. Something simple, since he knew she didn't particularly care for large, or surprise parties. Something that the boys would help out. A cake - even if it was bought from the store - along with homemade cards and plenty of wet, slobbery kisses from her sons and she'd consider the day good. Add to the fact that she and Jason were actually together, dating, living together, in love, and she had everything she wanted. But she certainly wouldn't object to a little alone time with him.

However, Jason wasn't sitting in the living room. The file was still on his desk. She wondered if he'd heard one of the boys fuss, or if he'd finished working and had headed upstairs. She hoped it was the latter. And she also really hoped he hadn't eaten that stupid black licorice. She wasn't joking. She hated the smell, the taste?everything about it. She didn't want to deal with it as she kissed Jason tonight.

Making sure that the front door was locked, she turned off the lights, except for the small lamp on the table they left on in case Cameron wandered downstairs, and then slowly ascended up to the second floor. She set her hot chocolate down on the table at the top of the stairs and picked up one of Jake's toys in the hallway. No sense leaving it out for someone to trip over in the middle of the night if they had to get up. She set it inside his room, drew the blanket up over her youngest son and whispered her fingertips across his cheek after pressing them to her lips. A quick stop in Cameron's room had her reassured that he was safely tucked into bed and then she stepped out in the hall and closed his door.

Elizabeth flipped off the hall light, the nightlight winking on after a momentary pause, and then she opened the door to the bedroom she shared with Jason. When she moved in here with him, it had never been a question as to where she'd stay. They were a family now, they were together, she wasn't sleeping across the hall from him. Rooms had been decorated, and all traces of former occupants had been erased. A part of her had been sad to see the pink room erased - that was where Jason had taken her the night Jake was conceived instead of taking her to the room he'd shared with Sam - and despite Jason's clear distaste with Brenda's decorating style, Elizabeth had liked it. Mostly for sentimental reasons, which was why it had been remade into Jake's room. He might have been conceived there, seemed fitting he should sleep there.

When she stepped into the bedroom, she frowned slightly and called out, "Jason?"

He wasn't there, but she was sure he hadn't been downstairs.

"Hey," he smiled as he stepped out of the bathroom. He'd taken off his boots and changed into a pair of sweatpants. "All done downstairs?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I wasn't sure if you were, but I went ahead and turned off the lights."

"I should have told you I was done," he apologized and she shook her head. Holding out his hand, Jason beckoned to her. "Come here."

She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of leather and soap that seemed to cling to him. Closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest, she was content to stand there and let him hold her. His hands rubbed lightly over her back and he asked, "Tired?"

"Relaxed," she amended. "But glad that Halloween is done for another year. Cameron and Jake loved it and were so wide-eyed and excited, but sometimes it's nice when it's all over and they're in bed."

"I think Jake enjoyed it more this year than last year," Jason agreed.

"Well, last year was the divorce, the custody battle, Sam decided to out the truth and Anthony Zacharra was running around town on the loose." She sighed and felt his arms tighten around her. "I'm glad he was so young last year, and that Cameron had a cold so he knew he couldn't go out gathering candy. I'm also glad that this year was better and they were able to enjoy it."

"So am I," he said, his voice soft. "I'm also glad that I got to be there this year."

"Me too," she smiled and pulled back, the message clear. She wanted a kiss and was pleased when Jason was more than happy to comply.

When they pulled back sometime later, now sprawled out on the bed and slightly less attired, Jason looked over at the clock on the bedside table and smiled. He stretched, reaching out to snag the drawer and pulled out a box which he placed between them on the bed. She looked down, knowing the size and the shape and strongly suspecting what was coming next. She looked up at him, her eyes slightly apprehensive and questioning.

"Jason?"

"Happy Birthday, Elizabeth," he smiled. "Go ahead, open it."

Mornings in the Morgan penthouse were one of the few quiet times of the day. Spinelli would get up when Jason pounded on his door, simply to keep the young man from sleeping until one in the afternoon, but he was never really awake enough to make conversation. He started out the day with coffee and orange juice, when Jason refused to let him drink orange soda in the morning, and sat in front of his laptop reading who knows what. It kept him occupied long enough to let Jason drink his own cup of coffee and read the paper before heading out to deal with his day.

There was no telling what the day would bring and Jason had become selfish enough to desire a quiet cup of coffee and an uninterrupted reading of the important parts of the paper. Someone could try to blow up the warehouse, steal a shipment, take a shot at him or Sonny, demand a meeting in which to posture or make empty threats that ended up with nothing changed and nothing accomplished, or Carly could decide that she absolutely had to see him and demand that he come over. In order to be able to deal with any or all of that, he wanted his coffee and paper. As well as the knowledge that Spinelli was up and had enough work to hopefully keep him out of trouble during the day. It had become a routine for them, and it seemed to work.

This morning, however, the routine was shattered by a spluttering squeak from the couch which quickly turned in a choking cough and Jason looked over to make sure the young hacker wasn't in danger of trying to inhale his bagel into his lungs. He was greeted by the site of Spinelli turning his head and spitting out the orange juice that apparently he couldn't make himself swallow. Jason frowned. He'd bought pulp free orange juice since the boy complained too much about grit in his drink otherwise, so he couldn't figure out why the juice was now showered over the coffee table and rug.

Spinelli looked up, glanced at Jason and then looked away. But it wasn't a sheepish, embarrassed look over what happened. It was an I just discovered something you're not going to like look, and Jason's frowned deepened. Especially when Spinelli looked at him once more and then quickly looked away, acting like he hadn't just met Jason's gaze.

Just as he was about to ask what was going on, the younger man spoke up. "Ah...Stone Cold, are you...are you done with the newspaper?"

"Yeah," he replied, his frown deepening. "Why?"

"Ah...I wanted to check something in it," the hacker demurred.

Spinelli read newspapers online. He always had his laptop with him, and he didn't like ink stains on his hands and he claimed that online was the wave of the future and daily deliveries were going the way of the dinosaur. So why would he need Jason's newspaper?

"I...I want to check something," was all he replied when Jason pointed out all the reasons Spinelli never read the printed paper.

"Fine," he shook his head, gathering up the item and dropping it on the couch on his way into the kitchen. He was going to need an extra cup of coffee if he had to deal with Spinelli's craziness this early in the morning.

"Oh crap, he was right!" the boy exclaimed and Jason's head shot up to look at the doorway to the living room as he set the coffee carafe back on the warming plate.

As Jason walked back out into the main room, the computer geek was furiously typing away while muttering to himself, "What e-mails?"

When he realized the older man was back in the room he quickly asked, "Did you give your e-mail account to anyone, Stone Cold? And then forget to check it?"

"Spinelli," he sighed as he sat back down at his desk. "You know I don't use my e-mail account. I told you I didn't need it. I didn't want it, but you set it up anyways. Why would I use one when you check the company's e-mail?

He had the distinct feeling that the younger man wasn't listening to him though as he muttered under his breath, "There's nothing there. What..."

Spinelli glanced back at the newspaper and then raised a brow. "What about the spam folder?"

With a few swipes of his finger over the touch pad and then a click he then shouted, "Bingo!"

His eyes widened the more he looked at the screen and then he sat back against the couch. "Whoa."

Jason knew he was going to regret this, but he asked, "Spinelli, what's going on?"

"Stone Cold, who's Elizabeth Webber?"

He frowned deeply. "Who?"

"Elizabeth Webber," the boy repeated. "She...uh...she..."

"Spinelli," he sighed heavily. "What?"

"She's trying to contact you."

Sitting up straight he glared at the young man. "What?"

"She uh...she's sent...dozens of e-mails to the account that's linked off the coffee business' website." Looking down at the screen and moving his finger once more over the touch pad he said, "They go back...weeks...no...months."

"Why didn't you see them?"

"Spam folder," he said by way of explanation that wasn't really one at all, and then picked up the paper and folded the pages specifically. "And today...she took out a quarter page ad addressed to you."

"What?" he asked, stalking over the couch and reaching for the paper.

"In the classifieds...the lost and found...section," Spinelli said, his voice trailing off as Jason perused the ad in question.

To Mr. Jason Morgan of Port Charles, New York:

Since you have not checked, or replied to, your e-mails; listened to your voice mail; or answered your mail, this is my last chance of reaching you.

Thank you for the rescue on Route 81 and for keeping me company that night while I waited for a tow truck.

A memory began to niggle at his mind. He saw the car sitting on the side of the road, hazard lights flashing as he was heading back to Port Charles and he pulled over when he saw a petite woman struggling with the tire iron. He'd changed her flat, tried to get her engine going again, and instead gave her a ride to a town up the road where she checked into a hotel so she could wait for the garage to open and the mechanic to help her out.

They'd gone to a dive of a bar because it was the only place open and she insisted on buying him a meal to say thanks. She kept him company while he had a drink she insisted on buying when he declared he wasn't hungry, then joined him on future rounds, and then he joined her in her hotel room that night.

He tugged on his ear and tried to not look suspicious or guilty as Spinelli stared at him in blatant curiosity. Clearing his throat, he read the rest of the succinct ad.

You left something behind when you left and I've been trying to reach you.

Please check your e-mail.

Elizabeth

"Stone Cold?" the boy asked hesitantly.

No doubt he wanted to know the story and Jason looked up sharply. "What?"

"Uh..." He handed over his laptop. "You can read the e-mails if you want."

Then he left the room, and Jason looked down at the screen, seeing the dozens of unopened messages. The one from today was sitting on top, the little cursor arrow next to it, ready to utilized. Spinelli hadn't read them, despite how intrigued he was and Jason realized he'd judged too hastily. He'd apologize later; he had reading to do.

Beginning with the one at the top he found it was a short message. He expected some clue as to what she was trying to return to him, but instead all he found was an apology for the public nature of her ad but she had to find some way to get his attention. Then she gave him her phone number and asked that he call.

She definitely had his attention. As soon as he remembered her. While he hadn't forgotten Elizabeth the moment he was out of her sight, he also had to be honest that in time she had faded from his mind. She wasn't a typical one night stand, something he'd had less and less frequently as he had grown from the man he was just after waking up from his coma. In fact, it had gotten to the point where Spinelli and the guards wondered if he'd taken a vow of celibacy because they never saw him with anybody.

Seeing her on the side of the road had first brought out his protective side. He'd wanted to chide her for trying to change a tire in the dark where she could be hurt, but he realized that if anybody had tried she would have gone down swinging her tire iron. Her practice swings had been enough to convince him that she wasn't a completely foolish - or defenseless - person, she'd just hit some bad luck with an overworked car. The engine had failed just after the tire, leaving her stranded.

While Jason hadn't had anyone in his life in a while and things had been too complicated for a no name hook-up - he was still trying to get rid of Carly and Sam had been a bullet dodged when Spinelli discovered her connections to Lorenzo Alcazar - he was man enough to appreciate that Elizabeth Webber was a beautiful woman. She was a mixture of sexy, mature woman and enthusiastic, bubbly youth. She had thoroughly enjoyed the trip on his motorcycle with pure innocence and then she'd surprised him by preferring tequila shots to some fruity frou-frou drink.

With just enough alcohol to loosen their inhibitions, but not enough to blame for unknowing actions, they had given into the growing attraction between them. He'd stayed with her an extra day, making sure the mechanic didn't rip her off because she was a single female, and he'd been loathe to part from her. But he was returning to Port Charles and she was on her way to a town in eastern New York. They both accepted the night for what it was, professed to have no regrets, but didn't try to complicate things or make false promises with the exchanging of phone numbers. She was a beautiful memory, even all these months later and if Jason had been one to believe in regrets, he might have lamented the differences in their lives that kept them apart.

Writing down her phone number on a piece of paper, he clicked out of the e-mail program and then closed Spinelli's computer. He didn't know if he wanted to read the other letters, or even if he wanted to call Elizabeth. Whatever he'd left behind certainly hadn't been noticeable, and perhaps it was best to just leave the past the past. He wasn't going to make a hasty decision though; he'd just think about it for a day or two.

Jason let out a breath and ran his hand over his denim-clad leg before swinging it over his motorcycle and crossing the parking lot. After finally deciding to call Elizabeth, they'd agreed to meet in a town between their two homes, at a little diner in the town. He hadn't told Spinelli where he was going, merely said that he was going out and he wasn't sure when he'd be back.

The bell above the door jingled when he pulled it open and he stepped in, looking around at the customers. Even though Elizabeth told him what she would be wearing, he knew immediately who she was. She looked exactly like she did the night they met and memories of their time together flooded through him. She looked at him from the table she'd chosen and a nervous smile ticked her lips upwards. He wondered if they still tasted like strawberries.

A smile of his own teased his mouth and he made his way through the tables towards her seat. As he neared, his smile froze and then slipped away. While he recognized her, he also realized that she was not exactly like she was before. There was an unmistakable swelling of her stomach visible over the table and he stopped a foot away from her and simply stared.

"E-Elizabeth?"

There was no mistaking the nerves in her voice as she replied, "H-hi, Jason. You...you're a very hard man to get a hold of."

When the door slammed from the room two doors down, Jason Morgan looked up in mild surprise and a bit of annoyance. He hadn't wanted to take a room in this town, and he definitely hadn't wanted to take a room in this building. He'd walked away from this messed up place shortly after waking up from his coma and found his brain re-wired. His so-called family didn't seem to understand that he didn't know any of them, and he certainly couldn't put up with their constant crying and begging for him to remember and their overwhelming clinging to him that only caused him to pull farther away.

He accessed his trust fund, bought a motorcycle because it annoyed his family, and took off. He didn't look back. He didn't plan to come back. He didn't want to come back.

Port Charles, though, was a vortex. No matter how hard he tried to get away from it, it kept sucking him back. He couldn't get away from the place or its inhabitants. He ran into Luke Spencer in London and while the older man was kind enough to not expect him to be Jason Quartermaine, he did persist in telling Jason that he once knew him. He also told him about his family and what they were up to in the wake of his departure.

Most of the people he didn't care about. But he did remember a kind young girl who gave him a hug and said she missed her brother, but maybe she could get to know him, if he didn't mind. And he also remembered a sweet older woman with eyes like his who tried to argue his case to the rest of the lunatics and gave him her blessing, whether he wanted it or not, to leave town. So he listened to Luke, and he thought about them. And when he snuck back into town to just see them, because he found himself with this overwhelming desire to see if his memories of them were accurate, that's when he met Sonny Corinthos.

The older man had talked with Luke about him, and somehow, some way, despite all the incongruities and oddities about the whole thing, they formed a bit of a friendship. Jason didn't work for him in the traditional sense, Jason wasn't looking to get sucked down into the lifestyle that robbed the Cuban of his wife and unborn child, but he did provide services on occasion. Found people who tried to hide, gathered information of a delicate nature, and a few other things that weren't completely above the law, but certainly weren't wallowing in the bottom on the criminal code's heinous crimes.

Sonny always tried to get Jason to come back to Port Charles, and Jason always resisted. He provided information to the older man, and in return, his friend protected Jason's family and kept him informed about those he truly cared about. He knew when Monica had a recurrence of breast cancer, and knew when his sister had her own scare with the disease. He returned to town to place flowers on her grave, and months later returned to do the same for his grandmother who passed away in her sleep. At least he'd kept in touch with them and didn't feel the overwhelming guilt he carried that he hadn't made amends with his father before the older man died of a heart attack.

With each family member's passing, Jason had less desire, and less reasons to ever return to town. But Sonny Corinthos could be a very persuasive individual when he set his mind to something, and Jason found himself unable to say no this time. Sonny was in desperate trouble and the people causing problems didn't know Jason. He needed the younger man to do reconnaissance and information gathering.

The diner Jason was staying at was run by Sonny's father, and while there were rooms for borders upstairs, Mike hadn't been renting very many out in recent months. There was Mike's room, Jason's and a nurse who sometimes filled in at the diner when Mike was short-staffed. Sonny assured him that she wouldn't let anyone know Jason was in town.

He'd been assured that Elizabeth Webber was discreet. She had helped Sonny in the past with taking care of men who had wounds that couldn't be dealt with at a hospital due to the fact that they couldn't have the cops know of the injuries. She was loyal and she didn't let the cops intimidate her. She wouldn't, Sonny told him, do anything that would make anyone suspect there was someone new staying at Kelly's.

The problem wasn't that Elizabeth didn't live up to Sonny's description of her; she did. The problem was, that nobody seemed to pay any attention to the fact that Elizabeth Webber was an unhappy woman. She was a nurse, she filled in in a pinch at the restaurant, she was helpful, she was kind, and so much of it was merely a façade. She was everything that everyone wanted her to be, but she wasn't who she wanted to be.

Right now, Jason knew, she wasn't happy. Not if the slammed door and her angry voice drifting through the still night air was any indication.

The door down the hall slammed again, followed by harsh, angry footsteps which receded instead of approaching his room. She was on her way to the bathroom. Sure enough, he caught the sound of another door being slammed, the squeak of the pipes as the shower turned on, and then came the sound that caught Jason short and drew him away from the window where he was watching the alleyway beside the diner documenting the meeting that finally let him know who was betraying Sonny's organization and putting the man's family in jeopardy.

Elizabeth Webber screamed.

It wasn't the startled squeak of surprise people gave when seeing a bug or a rodent. This scream ripped from her soul, speaking of deep anguish and despair. It was then followed by a deafening crash. The men below heard the noise and scattered, and Jason didn't even bother following the traitor and driving him to the guards who would be waiting.

Jason sprinted across his room and in a few long strides reached the bathroom door. He tried the knob but it wouldn't yield under his hand and he anxiously pounded on it. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth?! I know you're there...can you hear me?"

The water stopped and he heard a soft, surprised, embarrassed voice drift through the flimsy wood. "Ja-Jason?"

"Yes," he burst out in a rush of air that was filled with relief that she could answer. "Are you alright? Open the door, Elizabeth."

"N-no," she denied his petition. "I...I'm alright, Jas-Jason. I-I-I'm sorry I dis...disturbed you."

Her words were coming in sobs and it did nothing to ease the fear and tension filling him. "Elizabeth," he insisted. "Open the door or I'm going to bust it open."

"What?" she asked in shock. "Ja-Jason, no. Just...just leave me alone. Please."

The final word was ripped from her throat, full of despair and Jason looked back to his room. He could get his lock picks, a skill he'd learned under Sonny's tutelage, or he could force his way in. An overwhelming desire to not leave her filled him and he cautioned through the door. "Elizabeth, move out of the way."

With one good shove of his shoulder, he pushed the door open and was met with an unbelievable sight. It wasn't the fact that Elizabeth was standing in her bra and underwear, cowering near the shower, which shocked him. It was the sight of the attached medicine cabinet and mirror, broken and hanging partially off the wall, that startled him. He stepped further into the small room, the broken glass crunching under his boots and faced Elizabeth.

She was now holding her towel in front of her, pale and trembling. "Go-go away."

"No," he shook his head. He didn't know what had happened, but there was no way he was leaving her alone in here. There was no way he was leaving her alone once they got back to her room. "I'm going to pick you up so you don't step on the glass and we're going to go back to your room. And then...and then you and I are going to talk, Elizabeth."

Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he approached her, allowing her to keep the towel between them as a shield. Lifting her into his arms, he held her slight form close to his chest as he maneuvered them out of the cramped bathroom and down the hall. It wasn't until they were inside her bedroom that he set her down. Placing her on the bed, he knelt before her to check her bare feet to ensure she hadn't stepped on any glass. Once he was certain she was fine, he stepped back and retreated to the other side of the room so as not to crowd her.

Keeping the towel in front of her, although it did very little to cover her, or erase from his memory what he already saw, Elizabeth shakily crossed the room to her dresser and pulled out an oversized sleep shirt. Once she was drowning in its confines, she sat back down on the bed and looked at him. Well, not really at him. More like over his shoulder somewhere.

"I'm sorry that I bothered you," she said in a soft voice. "I didn't think anybody was here. I knew that Mike would be gone tonight and I didn't see a light on under your door or your motorcycle out back so I...I thought you were out."

"Don't worry about it," he shook his head. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine," she said in a voice that sadly lacked conviction. Or even feeling.

With a sigh he grabbed the chair by the desk, spun it around and sat down on it, bracing his arms on the scrolled back. "Elizabeth. You're not alright."

She finally looked at him. But it was only briefly, and then her eyes fell to her lap. "I'm fine, Jason."

"Look," he told her bluntly. "That may work with every other blind fool in this town, but it doesn't with me. You're not fine, you're not happy?and clearly something upset you tonight or you wouldn't have destroyed the bathroom."

Her chin wobbled, and a moment later fat tears fell onto her pale sleep shirt. Jason sighed with regret; he hadn't meant to upset her. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It...it's not you," she told him. "I...I just found out that my...my boyfriend is cheating on me."

Jason raised his eyebrows. Lucky Spencer was Sonny's inside man to the police force. Everyone thought that the Spencer kid had rebelled against his absentee father in a fit of pique and decided to play on the straight and narrow path, but Spencer himself had been the one to suggest it and Sonny had agreed because an inside man would be helpful. The cop and Elizabeth were high school sweethearts, the good couple, and now Jason learned the idiot broke her heart.

"Worst of all," she managed to get out, "he's sleeping with my sister. I-I walked in on them at the hospital."

Jason frowned at her hurt. "I'm sorry."

"It's my own fault," she shook her head. "I...I knew Lucky wasn't happy...but I refused to see the signs. He-he's wanted me to move in with him...and I..."

"It doesn't matter if you wouldn't move in with him...or even if you wouldn't sleep with him," he shook his head. "Him cheating on you is not your fault."

"I just...I feel like a fool. We're the perfect couple. The cop and the nurse. High school sweethearts. Everyone talks about us getting married and I...I don't even know if I like him some days. I don't want to go to the bar and hang out with his friends; I want to catch up on my sleep after pulling a double shift. Or I want to read a book, or spend time with him, but... We've both changed since high school and sometimes I think the only reason we stayed together is because everyone expects us to."

She sighed and looked away, scrubbing at her damp cheeks.

"That's why you've been so unhappy," Jason said in observation.

She nodded. "If I don't want to do what he wants, everyone tells me I should do it anyways because he's my boyfriend. Why doesn't anyone ever tell him to do what I want for a change?"

"What do you want to do?" he asked. He wondered when the last time anyone had ever asked Elizabeth that question.

"I want to travel," she said on a wistful sigh. "We used to talk about taking off after high school and seeing the world. We'd hitchhike from place to place, I'd sell my paintings, he'd play his guitar in clubs...we'd go where we wanted."

"Where do you want to go most?" he prompted, resting his chin on his arms.

Her face softened into a beautiful, ethereal look. "Italy. The art, the architecture, the history, the museums...I'd love to see Italy."

"Then go," he encouraged her. "Take some of your vacation time I'm sure you've never used, take your money you've saved from Sonny, and go."

"I wish," she said mournfully.

"Why not? What's holding you back? An unfaithful boyfriend who expects you to do everything he wants, but doesn't care about you?"

"I can't just leave," she protested.

"Why not?" he challenged. "Everyone deserves a vacation, Elizabeth. I just finished up my assignment for Sonny and after I report in, I'm out of here. I've been to Italy, I could show you around until you get your feet under you and you decide you want to explore on your own. But don't stick around in a place that makes you miserable. That's why I left Port Charles in the first place."

She looked at him, desire and prudence warring in her eyes. Drawing her lip between her teeth she said, "I couldn't. C-could I?"

He looked at her, tilted his head to the side and asked, "What have you got to lose?"

"If you think I'm doing that then you are an absolute fool."

Elizabeth Webber looked up at the sharp voice that carried through the diner. She was tired, she was thirsty, she was hungry, and she had a long drive still ahead of her. All she'd wanted was a little peace, a little food and a little time before the little white lines of the highway all blurred into one again. What she did not want was to have her evening impinged on by some domestic squabble from some overdramatic teenagers.

"You don't want to go, then don't," the boyfriend snapped back, standing up and throwing his paper napkin down on the table. By the look of his high quality casual wear, Elizabeth imagined that the gesture was probably much more dramatic with heavy linen napkins that the young man was used to. "I've had enough of this, Lulu, and I'm not going to sit around and beg you to make up your mind."

The girl, Lulu, stood up and tears began to course down her cheeks. "I can't believe you, Johnny. You always do this. I don't immediately give in and you walk out."

"I don't immediately give in?" he asked incredulously. "I'm not the one constantly making demands and issuing ultimatums. You knew exactly who I was when you got involved with me and just because it's no longer exciting and fun, you want to change me. Forget it."

Then the man, Johnny, walked out of the diner. Lulu ran after him, slamming the door behind her, and in the wake of the overplayed histrionics, the other diners in the room shared an uneasy look before returning to their meals.

Elizabeth, though, forgot about her chili with hot sauce, and kept her attention focused on the other diners. Or, more specifically, one diner. With his spiked hair worn just a touch out of style, his arctic eyes that assessed everyone in his vicinity, and his leather jacket that screamed pure bad boy and not wannabe, he was distinctly out of place in the mom and pop establishment where teenagers split an order of cheese fries three ways and parents tried to get a semi-decent meal into their children as they shuffled from t-ball practice to ballet lessons. He was an outsider, and he wasn't bothered by the fact that the waitresses skirted his table and only went over when he signaled them. Or, she pondered as she watched the way people surreptitiously glanced at him, perhaps he was known to everyone, but he certainly wasn't acceptable.

Either way, he was the most intriguing thing she'd seen since she stopped here on her way to the Canadian border. He was better than any cup of coffee, any shot of espresso, and she found herself wide awake and intrigued as she blatantly continued to study the man across the room from her. She knew he'd caught her staring, but she didn't look coyly away. She didn't play silly games like that. Her chili was forgotten as she studied the specimen of humanity who at times seemed annoyed, and then discomfited, by her perusal.

If he didn't like people staring at him, then he shouldn't go out in public. But Elizabeth also noticed that he didn't try to hide the fact that he stared right back. And even when she diverted her gaze to finish her meal, she always could lift her eyes and return to their game of unabashed staring. Pushing aside her empty bowl, she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. Pulling out a crisp twenty, she placed it on the table, and then stood. She arched a brow, sent a silent challenge his way, and then turned to walk out of the diner. She didn't need to look back to know he had followed her.

She didn't head to the parking lot, but instead turned and followed her nose to the smell of salt water. Somewhere near by was the infamous Port Charles Harbor. She wanted a little brisk air in her face, plus, that that was where she was meeting her contact.

As she made her way to the end of the pier and tucked her hands into her pockets, breathing deeply, she was aware of the footsteps following her. They were slow, cautious, but they were there all the same. He stopped somewhere near the safety of the stairs, and they stood in a silent tableau. She didn't turn to acknowledge his obvious presence, and he didn't speak.

With a glance at her silver watch, a graduation present from her parents in the hopes she would follow the family tradition of medicine and therefore have need of the highly accurate timepiece, she finally turned, offering the other person her profile. From the corner of her eye she could see him standing there, watching her and the water. Turning her head, she lifted one corner of her mouth in a smile and asked, "Does dinner always come with a show in this town?"

He didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge he'd heard her. Her mouth twisted to the side and she arched a brow.

"Are you always this unsociable?" she asked. "I was making polite conversation with a fellow diner after we ended up at the same place."

"You were staring at me," the man replied simply.

"Is that a crime?" she inquired. "Or is that you want to know why I was staring?"

There was a slight change in his stoic mask as the muscle of his jaw twitched, but he gave no other indicator he heard her words. Especially not when he nonsequeitered the conversation with, "You shouldn't be out here at night. It's not safe. So if you have somewhere to go, I suggest you go."

"Wow," she whistled out slightly. "I've gotten politer brush-offs in biker bars. Nicely done. So not only are you unsociable, you're downright rude and overbearing. Well, I do have somewhere to go, but I can't go quite yet. I'm meeting someone here."

"New to town and meeting on the docks?" he asked suspiciously. "What for?"

"I believe that would be my business, and none of yours," Elizabeth replied. The handsome danger boy was quickly losing his appeal in the face of his stellar personality.

Footsteps off to the side had them both turning, then eyeing each other warily. A tall, giant of a man emerged from the shadows and Elizabeth would have known he was her contact, even without the blue scarf worn over his grey coat.

"Max?"

Elizabeth's head whipped around to look at the other man. How did he know her contact? Was this a set-up? She immediately loosened her coat and flexed her hand.

"Ja-Jason?" the big man stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"I decided to observe tonight," was all that Jason Morgan replied. No doubt he thought he was being cryptic.

"Oh," Max nodded. "I guess you already met Miss Webber then?"

Jason's head whipped around so fast she was afraid the poor guy was going to get whiplash. "You're the deliveryman?"

"Don't look so surprised," she sneered at him. "Women are quite capable of doing things. Besides, who's going to suspect little ol' me of being a courier for...coffee importers? I drive a non-descript car. Nothing too fast, nothing too flashy. I'm an architect...so traveling around with a messenger bag full of papers and pads and blue prints isn't out of character."

She tipped her head to the side and offered, "Your associate Mr. Spinelli thought I was perfect for the job. Are you telling me that I'm not? Or is it merely than you're an overbearing, misogynistic cretin like the previous man who ran this territory? Because if you're anything like Sonny Corinthos, then you won't have to fire me because I'll quit on the spot."

Jason Morgan's eyes narrowed and he asked, "How do you know Sonny?"

"I was living in New York when Kate Howard was sent away in disgrace. I was around enough to hear the gossip, to witness a few encounters between the two of them, and I know how he destroyed not only her reputation and career, but her life and her soul. As far as I'm concerned, whoever shot him did the world a favor. But I heard you were different, and so I took this job on a trial basis."

She turned to leave the waterfront, "I can see now that it was a mistake."

"I'm not like Sonny," the new mob boss stated. "I just think it's wise to be cautious, and I don't know you. Therefore I don't trust you."

"Yeah?" she questioned. "Well the feeling's mutual. So let's just cut our losses. I'll go my way, you'll go yours and we'll just forget that this whole unpleasant night ever happened. Whether you're like your former boss will just remain a mystery in the cosmos. One I'm not particularly interested to figure out anymore."

"I still need the package delivered to Canada."

She paused, her foot on the bottom step. She looked down and blinked, and then Elizabeth turned around slowly.

"And this concerns me how?"

"You agreed to transport it," he stated.

"Agreements change all the time," she replied back. She wasn't going to let this man's boorish attitude intimidate her. "Clearly this arrangement won't work, so I'm exercising my right to call it off. I'll return the retainer I was given, I won't even take any money out for gas. Then all business between us will be over."

She dusted her hands, "No muss, no fuss, no reason to ever encounter each other again."

"I need the package to go tonight," Jason repeated, his voice dropping slightly. "And it's too much of a hassle to find another courier."

His eyes made a blatant perusal of her, "You're right. You won't stand out. You won't cause anyone to notice or suspect you. You're perfect for what I need."

"Too bad I don't particularly feel like working for you," she returned smoothly.

"I'll pay you triple whatever Spinelli promised. And since I know it was already generous..."

Elizabeth licked her lips and then spoke very slowly. "Contrary to what you might believe, Mr. Morgan...there is more to life than money. There are principles and standards and no matter how weird or mixed-up they might seem, we have them. We don't cross them. There are things that people refuse to do simply because to them it isn't right. I have no interest in working for you any longer. Trying to bribe me and make me feel cheap moments after you just dismissed me as a human being and as a woman is insulting and yet one more reason why I am going to my car and I am leaving here. Good luck with your package."

"I don't need luck," he replied. "Because I have you."

"You don't have anything."

He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked at her with a calculated gleam in his eyes. "Yes, Miss Webber I do. Because you were staring at me in Kelly's and you were interested in doing more than merely standing by the water looking out over the harbor. And while you're acting offended and indignant now...I know people. And you'll come to work for me. I know it."

He looked her up and down once more, but this time Elizabeth didn't feel dismissed.

"You'll come to work for me," he repeated. "That...and a whole lot more."

"If I was in charge of the world," Elizabeth slurred as she grabbed the bottle of tequila Coleman had thoughtfully left for them on the table and proceeded to pour equal amounts of liquor into the glasses and onto the pitted wood, "then things would be different."

"How would things be different?" Lainey laughed, once again mixing up the order she was supposed to properly partake of tequila in.

"There would be a lot less whores in it," she stated emphatically.

Nadine Crowell, new nurse to the group spluttered on more than just the liquor. "I don't think I've ever heard you say anything like that before."

"You haven't been coming with us long enough," Kelly Lee stated, still amazingly coherent after the drinks they'd all downed. "Elizabeth can be quite shocking after she's had a few to loosen her up."

"Really?" the younger blonde nurse gasped, clearly grasping onto the good gossip. "How so?"

"Forget that," Robin shook her head. "You don't need someone to tell you...you just have to watch. Besides, I don't want to talk about that...I want to know who Elizabeth would get rid of."

"We're getting rid of people?" Regina asked.

"Hypothetically," Elizabeth clarified with a giggle like it was the most hysterical thing in the universe. But considering that no one, not even Robin - though she suspected and had some first hand knowledge of the situation - knew that Elizabeth was connected enough to have the hypothetical turn into the actual.

"Alright," Robin asked, arching a knowing brow at Elizabeth. "Which whores in town are we hypothetically getting rid of?"

She looked the brunette doctor square in the eye and said, "Carly."

"Carly Jacks?" Nadine spluttered again. "Why would you want to get rid of her?"

"I want to get rid of Carly Benson Roberts Quartermaine Corinthos Corinthos Alcazar Corinthos Jacks-"

"And she would have had Morgan in that litany if she could have managed it," Robin stated angrily and then gave Elizabeth a wink. Maybe she did know more than the nurse gave her credit for. It also saved her from drawing suspicion to herself by mentioning Jason.

"Because the woman has broken up more marriages, cheated on her husbands more times than I can count, and thinks that she owns Jason...and yet still has the gall to look down her nose at everybody else as if she hasn't done all the things that she accuses everyone else of," Elizabeth stated, and then tossed back her drink.

Plus, the woman was extremely annoying due to the fact that she called Jason all the time and demanded that he fix everything in her life and got upset if Jason wasn't around to do so. She attacked Elizabeth more times than the nurse could count, all because Carly wasn't blind - despite all her faults - and could see that Jason had an interest in another woman besides his married best friend. She was quickly becoming the bane of Elizabeth's existence and leaving the brunette extremely frustrated with her phone calls at the most inopportune times. It was almost like she had Jason rigged with a tracking device and if he strayed too far, Carly was there calling him back home.

"Who else?" Robin asked, moving the conversation along when Lainey and Kelly looked at Elizabeth with just a little too much suspicion in their alcohol-hazed eyes.

"My sister Sarah," Elizabeth answered. "Maxie - sorry, Robin, but after what she did to Lucky and to me...there's no going back on that one."

The doctor shrugged and thankfully let the matter drop.

"Sam," she continued. Even though the other woman's activities had benefitted Elizabeth. If she'd never slept with her stepfather, Jason would have continued to harbor guilt towards her and no doubt tried to work things out with the now unemployed former television host. The fact that she was currently sleeping with Lucky didn't bother her a bit...it was simply the matter of her constantly whining and bothering Jason and attacking Elizabeth like she had somehow been the one to break up Sam and Jason instead of accepting that it was her own actions.

"The universe has been kind to me and eliminated a few people," she admitted. "Faith and Courtney are dead, Gia's left town and it's almost like she never even existed. But it's the ones still in town..."

"People like that are sent here to test us," Robin declared. "And then some people, like Carly, are like cockroaches and will be around even after the nuclear holocaust."

Sad, but true. Elizabeth didn't think she was ever going to be free of Carly. Not so long as she was involved with Jason and the other woman was alive.

"If I was in charge of the world," Lainey stated, giving up on trying to do any more shots, "then everyone would be mentally well. I might be out of a job, but then I wouldn't have to listen to anyone again ever complain about their lives. Sometimes I just want to scream at it all."

"Then do it," Kelly urged with a laugh. "Primal screaming was a therapy practice back in the eighties...and you know what they say: The eighties are in again."

The two doctors fell upon each other laughing, and after a few more shots of courage, they poured into the back of a cab after declarations that they were going to scream on the way home. Nadine and Regina took the opportunity to leave now that they wouldn't be the first ones to go, and their merry little party was soon down to two.

Robin poured them another shot as she scooted around the table in order to sit closer to Elizabeth and after they finished sucking on their lime wedges, the other brunette leaned on her elbows and asked, "Carly causing you and Jason problems again?"

Even though her drink was long since gone, Elizabeth found herself spluttering. "Wh-what?"

"Look," the doctor said softly, causing Elizabeth to lean closer. "I've seen the looks between the two of you every time Jason comes to the hospital. I used to date him, I know how much he hates the place, and yet he's always around. And always during your shifts. I know that the two of you slept together last summer."

"Everyone knows that thanks to Sam's testimony during Jason's trial earlier this year."

"Yes," Robin nodded. "She was quite eager to spill that bit of gossip."

"It doesn't matter," Elizabeth shook her head. "My marriage had already ended, it's just that Lucky found out I was unfaithful as well the night I caught him in our bed with Maxie."

"Yes, but Carly found out then also," the other woman pointed out. "And that's when everything fell apart. Because she began to wonder if you and Jason were still seeing each other, and she absolutely flipped out and has become a huge nuisance to the two of you. I remember all too well how Carly can manipulate situations and use a child to pull Jason away."

Looking down Elizabeth nodded, grateful to finally be able to talk to someone about this. "Yeah. And...and we had been seeing each other...we still are, but we're discreet about it because Jason doesn't want me to be targeted by his enemies. The day after he was acquitted, someone put a bomb in my apartment simply because I hugged Jason and it was broadcast on TV. He won't risk my safety."

"That's why you have guards," Robin surmised. "They're discreet, but I used to have them too. But if you have the guards and you want to be with Jason, then why not just be with him? It's not like there's anything to hold you back."

"There's Jason's fears and Carly's interference and it used to work when we saw each other in secret, but lately everyone's just become too demanding and it's becoming harder and harder to find time to actually be with each other," she lamented, finishing another shot.

She shook her head, tired of the pity party and stood while stating, "I'll be back. Pit stop before I head home to my empty apartment. Besides...Patrick's getting antsy over there by the door."

Robin looked over her shoulder and Elizabeth took the time to escape to the bathroom. She didn't have to worry about Coleman calling her a cab; Jason's guard would drive her home. So she didn't rush; she didn't want to face Robin again tonight. While the other woman was becoming a friend and could understand Elizabeth's frustration with Carly, it just wasn't something she wanted to talk about a lot. It was hard to give voice to others about her relationship with Jason, because she liked having it close to her heart where few knew the truth.

When she came out of the bathroom, Robin was gone along with Patrick. Despite all the doctor's grumblings about being an independent woman and how she didn't need a playboy in her life, the two were well on their way to having everything neither of them ever dreamed of for their future. It gave Elizabeth a pang of jealousy, because at least they could be together openly and people understood when they were unhappy or worried or frustrated or deliriously joyful. Elizabeth had to hide all that and leave people to wonder why she was more moody on a particular day; like the time she saw Carly and Jason at the hospital and Jason just ignored her.

"Rafe?" she called out, knowing that the guard would melt out of the shadows and take her home. Before she got completely weepy, the less attractive side affect of her alcohol consumption, she wanted to go. Once in the safe confines of her apartment, she could crawl into the bed where she and Jason had often made love and just indulge in a crying fest. Then tomorrow she'd be back to bright, cheerful and acting like she didn't have a care in the world.

"I sent Rafe home," a voice stated near the door and her head whipped up. "Along with Coleman."

"Ja-Jason," she breathed out. "What are you doing here?"

"Robin called me," he replied. "I knew you were here from the guards, but I didn't know you were upset until she called."

She shook her head, not wanting to burden him with her troubles. She knew that nothing would change in their status if she told him why she was unhappy and she just wanted to spend whatever time she could with him this evening until someone called him away. "I'm alright. Robin overreacted. She's drunk...she blew it out of proportion."

He stopped in front of her and looked at her with deep blue pools of love and she found herself having to hold onto her resolve. A few more minutes and she'd tell everything and that would accomplish nothing but make him feel bad and he had enough stress in his life.

"The fact that you're in any way unhappy..." he trailed off and sighed. "I know I haven't been fair to you, Elizabeth. I've let Carly interfere by not being honest with her and I've hurt you."

"We just have to accept what we can't change," she tried to be philosophical. Another byproduct of drinking and hanging around Lainey.

"But we can change it," he told her. "Come home with me tonight. And then tomorrow we stop hiding and just deal with what happens."

"I won't force you to do something you don't want," Elizabeth shook her head. "I know you're worried about my safety."

"I'll always worry about your safety," he admitted. "But I'm tired of missing you and pretending like I'm not in love with you. I want you with me, Elizabeth."

He was getting to her, breaking her resolve and she was about to give in when he went for her greatest weakness besides her love for him. "I brought the bike. You're too drunk to steer, but we can take the long way home. What do you say?"

She smiled brightly and nodded her head, "Yes."

As he wrapped his arm around her waist and led her from the bar he chuckled, "I knew you only liked me for my bike."

"'Come to Port Charles, Elizabeth,'" the brunette muttered under her breath. "'You've never been here and I'd love to introduce you to my family and Nikolas.'"

Elizabeth cursed her stupidity for actually giving in and agreeing to her old college roommate's pleadings. There was a reason Emily Quartermaine had left to go to college; Port Charles was one seriously messed up place. From Russian nobility by way of Greece who had plotted to freeze the world and then brought people back from the dead to crazy mobsters who all congregated on the upstate town to secret agents and crazy families, Elizabeth Webber had heard it all. Over the course of four years, Elizabeth had heard about the people from Emily's hometown to know that the other brunette was lucky to have escaped alive and with her sanity relatively intact. With every story her friend told, she grew firmer in her resolve that it was one place she would never visit.

She should have stuck to her guns and said no. After all, Nikolas was Prince Nikolas Cassadine and rich enough to own an entire island as well as a jet, so if Emily truly wanted Elizabeth to get to know her fiancé she would have suggested that they fly out to see her. But then that would sort of defeat the purpose of Elizabeth attending her ex-roommate's engagement ball. An event like that would be held among family and friends, not brought to where she was simply so she didn't have to walk into a vortex of insanity.

Emily had laughed at her and told Elizabeth she was over-reacting. The town wasn't that bad, despite the stories she'd shared over hot chocolate and brownies. It must have been the chocolate talking. Elizabeth should know by now that Emily wasn't in charge of her senses when it came to the creamy confection. Besides, her friend had pouted over the phone, how would it look if her maid of honor didn't show up to the engagement ball or the wedding?

Elizabeth had still been intent upon rejecting the offer, now because she didn't want to get stuck with some hideous dress she could never wear again. After all, what respectable woman would wear a dress the color of baby vomit or pink medicine ever again? That was when Emily had laughed and pulled out her secret weapon. Her distant cousin was none other than Chloe Morgan and she personally had designed the wedding dress along with the bridesmaids dresses. As maid of honor, Elizabeth's would be a Chloe Morgan original, because her dress would be slightly different than the bridesmaids'. Chloe was also designing the Bacchanalia dresses and had offered to have them altered afterwards into wearable dresses, so really there was no excuse to stay away. Certainly not fashion wise.

No, the excuse to stay away definitely should have been for her safety.

Because walking towards the pier to take the launch to Spoon Island and its gothic monstrosity of an estate Wyndemere, Elizabeth suddenly found herself dodging behind a dumpster as shots rang out. She ruined her Chloe Morgan original ball gown - no big loss to her, she hated Cinderella layer cake dresses - as she squeezed the yards of fabric into a tiny space between the metal trash bin and a brick building. She wasn't stupid enough to look around, or scream, or call for help. She covered her head with her arms and stayed as small as she possibly could all in the hopes of not being spotted and not being harmed. It was only when a wild shot hit the side of the dumpster not far from her head and a shower of sparks rained down on her that she screamed in surprise.

Whether it was her vocalization or merely the natural ending of the battle, the shots tapered and then stopped. Footsteps could be heard heading away, but still she waited. Someone may come searching for her, someone may lay in wait, and Elizabeth wasn't going to be stupid enough to rush out of her hiding place and into a trap. While she might very well be trapped right now, she was concealed. She was relatively protected. She certainly wasn't going to step out and give everyone a nice, ice blue target in silk to shoot at.

The silence stretched, her legs grew cramped and finally she began to think that maybe, just maybe, it was safe enough to leave her smelly hiding place. She let out a breath and wiggled slightly, scraping her bare arm once again on the brick wall, and slowly backed out of her refuge. Her hair caught, pulling half of the delicate do that had taken an hour to put into place out, letting curls cascade down her shoulder and back. She didn't want to think about the state of her dress, or what might be on her skin; all she wanted to do was get back to her hotel, take a really hot shower and call Emily to tell her regretfully that something had come up and she wouldn't be making it to the party. It was doubtful in Elizabeth's mind if she'd be sticking around for the wedding.

Looking up to scan the alley she'd ducked into once she heard the gunfire, she was relieved to discover she was alone. She stepped on the balls of her feet, hoping to minimize the sound of her heels, and made her way towards the exit she could see.

She didn't make it far.

She tripped over someone lying on the ground, falling forward onto her hands and knees. She could feel the silk rip, along with the skin of her palms, and she rolled to the side trying to scramble to her feet. She didn't know who she'd fallen over, but she wanted to get away from the dead body that had been left behind. A part of her wondered if she should call the police, but given Emily's description of the bumbling buffoons, she just wanted to be far away from this scene before they somehow tried to pin everything on her.

Her plans were arrested, though, by the fact that the dead body groaned. Indicating he wasn't quite so dead after all. Elizabeth froze, and then looked at him.

The man was dressed in a suit, a tuxedo actually, and a sinking realization filtered into her stomach. This man, whoever he was, must have been on his way to Emily's engagement ball. He was another innocent bystander affected by the insanity of Port Charles. Now she was going to have to call the police, and an ambulance, and get this person help. She couldn't just walk away and pretend that this whole night never existed. She couldn't do that to someone else.

"Are you alright?" she whispered softly into the night. In case anyone was still prowling the area, she didn't want them to hear her.

Running her hands gently over the person lying in the shadows, she encountered warm sticky patches of blood and instinctively brought them back to wipe on her dress. The man groaned in response and Elizabeth shushed him softly.

"It's alright," she told him. "I'll get you help. I just..."

She looked around, her head swiveling frantically. "I just need to find my purse and then I can call for an ambulance."

"No," the injured man breathed out.

"You have a phone?" she asked, eyeing his suit with its multitude of pockets that she'd have to rifle through. "Alright...just tell me where it is."

"No," the man repeated. "No cops. No ambulance."

"Are you nuts?" she asked him in disbelief. "You're hurt. You need a hospital. You could still have a bullet inside you."

"No," the man repeated and Elizabeth was beginning to wonder if he knew any other word besides that. "The cops can't know. No hospital."

Realization began to sink into her. The only people who didn't want to go to a hospital after being injured were criminals. Elizabeth knew there was a high criminal population in Port Charles and the knowledge that she'd more than likely been in the proximity of a mob shootout made her stomach sour. She also knew that in his tuxedo and his nearness to the docks, he'd probably been ready to head to Wyndemere. Some thug was going to go to her best friend's engagement ball packing a gun. Violence could have erupted there.

"I can't believe this," she hissed and muttered, "Emily wasn't kidding. I should leave you here to bleed."

She smacked the man's shoulder which caused a groan of pain to float up from him. "You were going to go to my best friend's engagement ball with a gun. You were going to walk into her fiancé's home and conduct business or take down a rival. What is wrong with you people?"

In righteous anger on behalf of her friend, she hit him again causing him to hiss and grab her hand. "Stop hitting me. And help...help me up."

"You're out of your mind," she told him. "There's no way I'm helping you. You were going to Emily's party with a gun. And there is no way-"

"Emily is my sister," he groaned.

She froze and gaped at him in the darkness. "Emily is your sister?"

"I'm Jason," he confirmed, reaching for her arm. "We have to leave."

Elizabeth didn't like it, was definitely scared of the fact that she was going to help a mobster get out of an alley so he didn't bleed to death but she found herself helping support his weight as he struggled into a sitting position. As she helped him stand she said, "Look, can't we call Emily? I mean...she's a doctor. She...she wouldn't tell the cops, but she could help you. I paint and run a gallery...the only thing I know about blood is that I try to avoid cutting myself with my artist's knife at all costs."

"We can't," he shook his head, stumbling and leaning heavily on her. She didn't know how she managed to keep them both up, but she did. He was definitely leading them even as she was supporting his weight. "I-I can't put her in that position."

"Of having to lie?" she asked. "Emily loves you. I know that much from all our conversations. She would do anything to help her brother."

"Not this," he insisted. "She can't know I'm alive until I can protect her."

"Oh, no," Elizabeth shook her head emphatically, causing more hair to fall from its styling pins. "There is no way I am going to lie to my best friend. Well...not about her brother, at least. We don't lie to each other about family."

Although Emily had apparently neglected to mention the fact that her brother was a criminal. In all the conversations the two women had about the seedy underbelly of Port Charles, the other woman had never said her brother was a part of it. Still, Elizabeth could not imagine talking to her friend and never mentioning that she had met Jason in a dark alley after he'd been shot. If he was going to the party, then Emily would be worried when he didn't show up and when she couldn't get a hold of him.

"No," Jason stated, his voice firm even through his pain. "She can't know. She's in danger."

"What?" she demanded, turning her head sharply to look at the man who was bleeding on her dress. "What do you mean she's in danger? If she's in trouble then don't you have men who can help her or can't we give an anonymous tip to the police? Or what about Nikolas? He loves her; he would do anything to protect her."

"Nikolas' men were the ones who shot me," he stated bluntly as they exited the alleyway near an old building. Jason guided them to it and opened the door.

"Upstairs," he wheezed and she blanched looking at the narrow staircase and wondering how exactly she was supposed to get him up them. "I...I have a place here...can watch the men...look for danger...nobody knows about it. We'll go there."

Despite all her internal objects that said she should not continue to be involved in this situation, she helped Jason up the three flights of stairs and then took the keys from his trembling hands and let them into the darkened room. It smelled musty and faintly of turpentine. Closing the door behind them, she locked it and somehow knew to keep the lights off. There was an old couch along one wall and she helped him sit down on it and then stood and nervously twisted her hands together.

Her best friend's brother was a mobster, her friend's fiancé had sent men to shoot him and apparently Emily's life was in danger. Nothing was going right, and everything was pointing to the fact that Port Charles was indeed a screwed up place. But if Emily was in danger and Jason was worried about her, then Elizabeth knew that she had to help. So she clasped her hands together and cleared her throat.

"So...what do we do first?"

He knew he shouldn't be here, but he couldn't stay away from Elizabeth. Not when she was in the hospital, fighting for her life after nearly hemorrhaging to death during labor. He should have been by her side, he should have been the father to her son, and instead he'd had to watch as another man married her and raised a family with her.

Well, they couldn't stop him from coming to see her at night. He knew this hospital; knew the ways to sneak in and the corridors to go down to avoid detection. It was long after visiting hours; in fact, it was long after midnight. The nightshift was always lighter, they were fighting off exhaustion themselves and they didn't bustle up and down the corridors because they wanted their patients to sleep. So he would be able to sneak into her room and spend a few moments with her. To tell her how much he loved her, and to tell her how things should have been different. It was important, he'd read, to talk to patients who were unconscious to let them know that someone was there who cared for them.

As he approached Elizabeth's door, he was pleased to see that no one was in sight. He could open the door and slip inside easily, a skill born through years of practice. Once inside, he paused and looked at the still figure lying on the bed. And his heart broke.

She was so small, so pale...so still. She looked like a doll nestled in cotton in a box. Her porcelain skin looking even paler due to the blood loss she'd recently suffered. Despite the transfusions, she still hadn't regained her color. She shouldn't be here. If only she'd been married to him, then this wouldn't have happened to her. He would have made sure she'd rested during her last trimester. He wouldn't have left her alone so close to her delivery date. He would have taken care of her.

"Elizabeth," he breathed out, drawing a chair close to the side of bed. He took her hand in his, cradling it gently between his larger ones and brought it to his lips. The only good thing about this situation was that the hospital had taken her jewelry off, and he didn't have to see his wedding rings on her finger.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," he said, wanting to touch her cheek but not wanting to relinquish her hand. "It's not right. You should have been taken care of. You shouldn't have been so worried and stressed; then this wouldn't have happened. I could have taken care of you?if only you'd let me. We could have been a family together...if only you hadn't accepted his proposal."

Light suddenly illuminated the room, a rectangle of light falling over the bed as the door was thrown open. He turned his head and looked over guilty, meeting cold, unforgiving eyes. Security stood in the background and he swallowed while standing up.

"Let go of my wife, Lucky," Jason Morgan ground out only moments before his hand snaked out and grabbed the cop's shirt.

He was dragged out of Elizabeth's room and slammed against the opposite wall while Morgan's goons stood watch to make sure nobody interrupted them.

"I've got you for assault, Morgan," he wheezed out as Jason began to lean on his forearm pressed against Lucky's throat.

"You're no longer a cop, Lucky," the mobster jeered. "Or have you forgotten? Like you've forgotten that Elizabeth isn't your wife, or that I told you to stay away from her, or that you have a restraining order against you that you are now in direct violation of?"

"She should be my wife," Lucky insisted. "But you stole her from me. You always wanted her, always wanted to take away from me and you slept with her. That should be my son in the nursery. That should be a Spencer."

"I didn't steal her," Jason shook his head. "You cheated on her and were doing drugs. If anyone destroyed your marriage, Lucky, it was you."

"Like you have a marriage," he taunted. "You only married Elizabeth 'cause you knocked her up and the truth got out. You don't love her; you only want the kid. And don't act so superior to me considering you're sneaking around town still seeing Sam. Everyone knows you're having an affair with her. Including Elizabeth. But she is so wrapped up in the whole Jason Morgan is wonderful mystique because she's in love with you that she's willing to overlook it. Despite the fact that you're breaking her heart and making her a laughingstock of this entire town."

"Shut up," Jason hissed, leaning harder against him. "Francis, call hospital security to hold him and then call the cops. Elizabeth isn't awake to protect you and I will make sure that you go to jail for violating the restraining order. I told you what would happen if you didn't leave my wife alone. Now you're going to find out that I'm serious."

Jason watched as Lucky was led away in handcuffs by his former partner and the police commissioner himself. He could tell that the cops didn't want to arrest their one-time colleague, but with Diane raising threats and insinuating filing lawsuits, the police had no choice but to comply. Lucky had violated the TRO filed against him, keeping him away from Elizabeth and Cameron, and Jason had been lenient once.

Then it was because the former cop and still drug addict, even if he was trying to hide it better than before, had come upon his wife and stepson in the park and Cameron, confused by the changes in his life, had run to Lucky and begged to be picked up. Even after the guards told him to leave and he refused, Jason still hadn't been able to press charges because Elizabeth had said that it was just a harmless run-in. She didn't want Lucky to go to jail, and the look in her eyes had been quite clear. She didn't want him to force her to press charges or to threaten the other man, and so he'd given in despite everything inside him that wanted to pound Lucky into the ground.

This time...this time he wasn't going to stand back and let him get off with a warning. He had come into Elizabeth's room at the hospital, and Jason wasn't going to forget it. He knew the cop was still on drugs, the word on the street was quite clear about the fact that Lucky was still buying, and he'd fail a drug test that Diane would insist be done. If they were really fortunate, the former cop would have something on him, and be busted for possession as well. Then he would be arrested, held without bail considering he was a flight risk like his old man, and then sentenced to jail. Elizabeth might not be happy about it, but Jason would. Because Lucky would be out of their lives and no longer around to hurt his family.

Of course, he was doing a pretty good job of that himself.

While he wasn't sleeping with Sam, the truth was that he hadn't fully cut her out of his life like he'd wanted Elizabeth to do with Lucky. He was still letting his former girlfriend play him because of the guilt he carried about the fact that she couldn't have children because of the bullet Manny Ruiz hit her with. A bullet meant for Jason. She had suffered for his lifestyle, and while the physical wounds might have healed, the emotional ones hadn't. Sam wanted to be a mother, and he'd taken that away from her.

Compounding that hurt was the fact that Elizabeth's child was his and he'd married her.

Everyone in town, not just his friends but hers as well, assumed that Elizabeth had married Jason to provide for her child. She'd never corrected them, even when she could have. She was one of two people who knew that she wasn't a gold-digging, opportunistic tramp, but she never defended herself. She probably was hoping that he would speak up and say something, and when he remained silent she had chosen to do so as well. Because only the two of them knew that she had turned him down, repeatedly, when Jason had tried to convince her to marry him. She said she wouldn't be an obligation to him, and she wouldn't do that to their child, because children always knew when they weren't wanted or that their parents had only stayed together because of them.

But then someone had made a threat against Elizabeth and their child and Jason had given her no choice. The only way he could fully protect her with the families was if she was his wife. And if she was going to be selfish and put their child at risk just for some foolish ideal she was holding out for, then he'd have no choice but to pack her up and send her off to the island.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to take them back, but it was too late. She was hurt and wounded by his behavior, but she'd quietly agreed to meet him at his penthouse where Father Coates had proclaimed them husband and wife with only the guards present as witnesses. Then she moved into the spare bedroom of his penthouse, put Cameron into the repainted bedroom Spinelli had vacated, and had done her best to avoid him as much as possible.

So she probably did believe that he was still sleeping with Sam and seeing the other woman. After all, he'd said nothing about loving Elizabeth in any of his proposals to her. He'd only talked about providing for her and the baby and Cameron, of doing what was right, of protecting her and the baby, of how they were friends and even though they were in love with other people, they'd still find a way to make it work. Nothing that talked of the feelings he had for her.

As time passed after their marriage and he watched Elizabeth be nothing more than a roommate who attempted to stay out of his way as much possible, he hadn't been happy with it. She didn't ask where he was going; she wasn't waiting for him to come back, in fact she sometimes didn't even acknowledge when he came home; and then when he began to volunteer information to her, she didn't seem particularly to care. Had she truly not cared, or had she merely tried to protect himself because she thought he was lying to her? And why hadn't he tried harder with her?

Jason sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, then walked into Elizabeth's room. He kept the lights off, and took a seat in the chair Lucky had been in earlier. He picked up her hand like the other man had, and then braced his elbows against the bed and closed his eyes.

The doctors had taken off her wedding rings. Her hand was bare and it bothered him. Even though she hadn't given any indication that she cared about the rings he'd purchased for her, she had never taken her wedding rings off once he'd placed them on her finger. He'd grown used to seeing them there, winking at him in the light as she played with Cameron, fixed dinner or folded up laundry, but he especially liked when he saw her hand splayed against her stomach. To know that she was cradling their child, wearing his ring...it touched a primal part inside him.

As he sat beside her, his thumb rubbing at the spot that should be covered, he sighed heavily as realization hit him. He loved his wife. Their arrangement wasn't just about their child or providing for her, it was because he wanted her in his life. He wanted her to be his wife, to be the mother of his children, and most of all, he wanted her as more than just an unobtrusive roommate.

He swallowed thickly and rested his forehead against their joined hands. "The doctors say you can hear me and I should talk to you?but I don't know what to say. Most of the time you're the one who talks. I-I don't know if it frustrates you when I don't say more?but I like listening to you. You say that I help you just by listening, but I think you know what to do, you just have to get there in your own time."

Pausing and trying to swallow past the growing lump in his throat, he continued, "Maybe that's why it's taking you so long to wake up. Maybe you just need to take your own time to find your way back. Or...or maybe you need some incentive."

Blowing out a breath he said, "I know about your Power of Attorney you signed, giving me power to make decisions for you, and Diane also told me about the will you signed after we got married. How you named me Cameron's guardian if I want him so that both your children would grow up together. You...you've given me a very precious gift, Elizabeth, and I'm not just talking about our son. You...you trust me with Cameron.

"But...but there was also something Diane mentioned," he said, his throat growing raw. "She said you had everything planned out in case something should happen to you. She said you'd mentioned that the thing you wanted most was to provide for your children if you were gone and you knew that I would do that."

Leaning forward, he brushed the back of his fingers over Elizabeth's cheek, "Don't you dare give up, Elizabeth. Don't you dare think that you don't matter to me or anyone else. Don't you for one minute believe that it would be okay if you weren't here simply because you think I'm going to take care of our sons. It's not okay for you to fade away from us. It's not alright for you to die and never actually hear me tell you just how much I love you or how much I want us to be a real family."

He rested his head against hers and said, "So you need to come back, Elizabeth. You need to come back to us...our sons...and me."

This was supposed to be a cheerful painting. Her professor's assignment had been to use color to create the mood, to set the scene and though the man hadn't actually said that the paintings should be happy ones, the underlying implication was quite clear. Professor Ellison did not like macabre paintings. He wasn't so nauseatingly cheerful that everything needed to be sunshine, roses and lollipops, but the aged professor definitely preferred more idyllic, peaceful, serene, happy paintings. Everyone knew it, everyone accepted it, and everyone in his class tried to pander to him because everyone wanted a good grade. To get a good grade in Professor Ellison's class...one turned in a cheerful painting.

Which meant that Elizabeth was going to flunk this assignment.

Because her colors were bright, bold and daring, but her painting had definitely gone to the macabre. Once again.

It didn't seem to matter how she started out, she invariably ended up ruining the picture. The Norman Rockwell-esque painting of the house at the end of the block where all the kids congregated to play in the tire swing in the front yard turned into a house of horror when it went up in flames and children were left staring at it in mute terror. The bright ocean scene of light reflecting off the waves was marred by the capsized boat with someone struggling to grab hold of anything to keep out of the water. The carnival in the park where balloons and flags fluttered in the breeze turned into a bloodbath; the little boy in the center wasn't crying over his ice cream cone splattered on the sidewalk, he was staring at the dead body at his feet.

No matter how cheerful she tried to be, no matter how many different scenes she envisioned and tried to put down on canvas, nothing was right. Everything went wrong. Because she wasn't happy. She didn't feel like painting happiness and sunshine when inside she was miserable and living in a hurricane. It had been that way ever since she walked downstairs for breakfast two months ago and discovered that Jason was gone. With no word, no way to reach him, no apparent regard for her feelings.

Or maybe that was just her rat bastard of a father who didn't give a flying flip about her. After all, he was the one who sent Jason away. No doubt he'd ordered the younger man to not contact her, and since they weren't supposed to be friends, it would have looked very strange if Jason had sat down to write a note or tried to slip up to her room in the middle of the night to say goodbye. Perhaps her father had discovered they'd defied his orders and remained friends, perhaps he merely suspected and so had sent Jason away to punish them both, or perhaps it was mere coincidence that the week after Elizabeth and Jason finally gave in to five years of longing and slept together, he was sent away on assignment.

Whatever the reason, Elizabeth had not been happy. She tried to hide it from her father; play it off as merely worrying about her last semester of school and all the projects and assignments she had to complete. Yet everyday he studied her with shrewd eyes, searching her, never taking her word and so she struggled to keep the truth hidden from him. If he knew she was upset with him, and why, things would not be pleasant around here. Well, less pleasant than they already were. Her father was a man accustomed to getting his way and he didn't care about anybody else's feelings when it came down to it. Everyone else was put on earth to serve his whims, satisfy his desires and wishes, and if anyone spoke up against him or tried to defy him, his tirades and actions were legendary. Pain was inflicted - both emotional and physical - and terror rained down from Heaven so that next time people would think twice about having the audacity to say no. Being his daughter had never spared her from that.

With a huff, she plucked her painting off the easel and flung it against the wall. The action would have been more satisfying if the frame had broken, or the canvas had caught on something that had torn it, but she settled for the simple fact that it was no longer in her sight. She sighed as she ran her paint-splattered hands through her hair and then froze when she heard the unmistakable tsk of her father's displeasure behind her.

"Really, Elizabeth," he scolded, "is that any way for a woman to behave?"

She turned around to meet her father's penetrating and unflinching gaze. She knew she must speak and so she swallowed and licked her lips, "I'm sorry. This assignment has been particularly difficult for me to complete. I lost my patience."

"One must always be in control, Elizabeth," he stated, repeating a mantra she had heard since childhood. Don't show emotion, don't show weakness, always comport yourself to a high and exacting standard.

Walking over to pick up the discarded painting, he held it and studied it for a moment, despite the fact that he never said anything encouraging about her work. "A shootout in a park?" he asked in clear disapproval. "Really, child, where do you get your ideas?"

"My life," she replied.

"I certainly didn't raise you like this," he denied.

"My father is a mafia kingpin, I grew up with guards and threats and learning to know at least three exits from every situation I was in," she retorted, ignoring the growing ire or the way his hands clenched the frame so hard his knuckles turned white. "I don't see the world in happy, cheerful strokes...I see death and destruction and pain and tragedy and I'm having a very hard time pretending that I don't simply to please some old blowhard who had an overinflated sense of self."

He moved before she even realized it, but she certainly felt the hand that whipped out to strike her on the cheek.

"My daughter will not speak that way to me!" he raged, showing that he'd picked up on her double meaning. She hadn't been talking about just her professor. "I see I have given you too much latitude. If you feel trapped by this life and can't enjoy the beauty around you any longer, then I will contact Trevor Lansing and arrange the marriage he has been so eager to secure between you and his son. You will soon learn what true disappointment is, instead of this childish moping you've been exhibiting ever since I sent Jason away. I had hoped to wait until I had word of Morgan's death before I agreed to Lansing's proposal, but why wait?"

And with that pronouncement, her father left her studio and locked the door behind him. He knew she'd tried to escape, but she also knew that her father would never let her leave. Whatever he had to do, short of killing her, he would keep her locked up until she married Don Lansing's son and united the two great empires.

For all of her father's sins, and he had many, the one that amused Elizabeth the most was that he had tunnel vision. He saw what he wanted to see and with the right amount of sycophantic flattery, he could be downright gullible sometimes. Case in point, Elizabeth's wedding coordinator.

Elton - he had a last name, he just didn't use it, preferring instead to join the celebrated ranks of Cher, Madonna and Prince who used and survived just fine with one name - was a brilliant planner. A little fey for her father's tastes, he had thoroughly impressed Elizabeth's progenitor with his vision for her wedding and claims that he would make the wedding the event of the season and the standard by which other weddings would be measured. It was enough for her father, and naïve in his belief that Elizabeth would spend her days with him discussing tulle and lace and whether organza or silk would be preferable, he disappeared into his study and dealt with business. Leaving Elizabeth and the other man alone. Even when he brought along his trusty employee, one Damien Spinelli.

Spinelli knew about as much as weddings as Elton would know about a NASCAR race, but that didn't matter to her father. He saw what he wanted to see; a week, nonthreatening man who was awkward and inept and therefore was easily dismissed. It was his biggest mistake.

Because Spinelli actually worked for Jason. Some how, some way, Jason had met this bumbling computer genius and sent him to Elizabeth. Spinelli caused delays in shipments for her father's business, which created untold headaches for the older man and kept him busy and further away from Elizabeth. He also was responsible for the wrong items being sent to the house for Elizabeth's wedding. Elton was beside himself, not knowing how his most trusted suppliers could have messed up the order when he'd specifically given them instructions. It upset Elizabeth, which upset her father, which caused him to send guards to have a talk with the suppliers who were completely baffled but swore to fix the problem immediately. Once her father was gone, Elton would wink at them both and then move on to the next catastrophe in the making.

All the men were busy, running around putting out fires created by the expert computer hacker and so they were completely oblivious to the plan that was being created that would take Elizabeth away from all this. Spinelli promised her that Jason would not let her get married to Ric Lansing, and she had perfect faith and trust in him. If he said it wouldn't happen, then she could easily go along with the ruse that she had come to accept her father's pronouncement and would marry the man he'd chosen for her. Once again, her father's myopia would be his downfall.

He should know better than to accept her docile compliance.

Yet, he did, and when Elizabeth left the house the morning of the wedding, dressed in a handmade, one-of-a-kind original designer gown, she gave him a kiss on his cheek and apologized for being such a bother to him. He had no way of knowing that would be the last contact he'd have with her. Once they arrived at the church, Elton bustled her off to the bridal room and her father went off to glad hand his business associates. The guards were on perimeter patrol, but the cathedral was huge and rooms that were supposed to be cleared and locked down weren't. Jason and a ragtag bunch of men he'd recruited in the months he'd been gone were waiting there to liberate her.

In the few seconds that the lights flickered and went out - old wiring, too many twinkle lights, overloaded circuits - and the back-up generator kicked in, the window in the bridal room was opened, Elizabeth slipped out, and she was gone. The guard detail didn't know it because the alarm system was down, and when they did a sweep of the area around the church afterwards and a sweep of the room - except for the windowless bathroom where she was standing in her underwear, according to Elton - they believed that all was well. The fact that they all paid for their mistake, when it was discovered an hour later, with their lives did give Elizabeth some pause, but by then she was over international waters with Jason. And that's what she focused on.

And when a war broke out between her father and Trevor Lansing, Elizabeth was on the beach enjoying her honeymoon to the man she loved. Of course, when her father was killed, she cut her trip short and returned to Crimson Point with her new husband ready to take on Trevor Lansing, his weak son, and an upstart mob boss from Port Charles who thought the territory would be ripe for the taking. They would all learn, just like her father, that they had sorely underestimated her. She was her father's daughter after all.

And with her new husband by her side, the Zacharra-Morgan Empire would continue to flourish.

"This is a very bad idea," Elizabeth hissed at her best friend. "A very bad idea."

"Oh, come on," Emily giggled n front of her. "Live a little."

"Live a little?" she queried. "Emily there is a huge difference between having a little fun and going out on a suicide mission. You are actively courting danger. This is quite possibly the stupidest thing you have ever proposed."

Both women knew that was saying something; because Emily Quartermaine was the queen of dangerous schemes, ridiculous plans and ludicrous ideas. Through each and every one of them, Elizabeth had been by her side, trying to talk her friend out of whatever harebrained idea it was right until the very end. When that didn't work, then Elizabeth was fervently trying to protect Emily from herself and keep her out of danger. And just like clock work, every single time, Emily would come out the other side smelling like roses without a scratch on her or a hair out of place, and Elizabeth wound up with a new trip to the hospital, or a trip to the police station.

Apparently the old adage was true, God protects drunks and fools. Since Elizabeth wasn't a fool, and she was never drunk when trying to save Emily from herself, she was never protected.

She'd been arrested for vandalism while trying to clean up after her friend; she'd wound up in the hospital with a broken wrist and collarbone while trying to keep up with Emily. At this rate, she was never going to get a job because any potential employer doing a background check would wonder why she'd been arrested so many times, even if charges had never been filed against her. And an insurance company would refuse to cover her once she graduated from college and was no longer on her parents' plan, because she'd had broken bones, reconstructive surgery and there was that inconvenient splinter that had required a trip to the ER to remove. She was never able to look anyone in the face when she was there, and it wasn't entirely because she'd been face down on the gurney most of the time.

"Elizabeth, we'll be fine," Emily said smoothly. "Trust me."

"Emily, every time you say trust me, my bones ache and my left eye twitches. Trust me does not mean we are going to be fine through this. It means I am going to end up in the hospital, or jail, or quite possibly both. Trust me means you are going to be fine and I am going to end up in a huge pile of-"

"Let's go," her friend commanded, grabbing Elizabeth's arm. She was left with no choice but to sprint across the open space between their hiding spot and the building. She felt ridiculous, dressed in all black, running along crouched low to the ground and then plastering herself against a building.

"Emily," Elizabeth pleaded. "Stop this; let's go."

There was no change of course, no acknowledgement of her request; instead Emily inched along the building until she reached a side door next to the large door that let trucks and forklifts into the building. Reaching into her back pocket, the other woman extracted a small, black case and then proceeded to kneel down in front the building. Elizabeth's eyes widened to the size of silver dollars when she realized her friend was picking the lock.

"What are you doing?" she hissed desperately. "Emily, this is breaking and entering. What if there's an alarm? What if the cops show up?"

She grabbed her friend's arm and yanked, "Stop this right now! You're going to get us into trouble; you're going to get me into trouble."

Suddenly she dropped Emily's arm and spun around, certain she'd heard a sound behind them. It could be a security guard, it could be a guard dog, or maybe just another idiot like them. Whatever it was, she was certain there was someone or something behind them.

"Emily," she once again grabbed at her friend's arm. "That's it; we're leaving. We are not doing this."

The other woman was taller than Elizabeth, but they both weighed about the same. Elizabeth actually grabbed her friend around the waist and pulled back, succeeding in moving her away from the door. Unfortunately, Emily had been successful in picking the lock and the door swung open and followed her.

"I did it!" Emily squealed in delight. "I've never actually done that before. Jason never wanted to teach me, even when I said it could come in handy if I ever locked my keys in the car or my room. That's why Johnny taught me. But I've never actually done it before."

Elizabeth was so stunned that she let go of the other woman and stood mutely as Emily raced for the door. As she stood framed inside the opening, she turned to look back at Elizabeth and asked, "Well, aren't you coming?"

Like a sheep to the slaughter, Elizabeth sighed and walked forward. She was going to get into trouble. Some how, some way, this was going to end very badly for her. But she just couldn't leave Emily alone. Despite everything that told her to just go back to the car, go home and wait for the call from Emily to come bail her out of the police station this time.

As she made her way inside the structure, grabbing the door and pulling it closed, she saw Emily standing by the alarm key pad. "He is so predictable."

Before she could question her friend, however, Emily grabbed her arm and began leading her through the warehouse. It was a maze of steel girders, metal shelves and boxes stacked on top of each other. Elizabeth was soon hopelessly lost and knew this was how she was going to be caught. She'd somehow get separated from Emily as they were leaving, she'd take a wrong turn, end up in a dead end and then be unable to find her way out. She'd be arrested, tomorrow morning at the absolute latest, and this time maybe she wouldn't even bother calling her friend. Maybe if Elizabeth ended up charged with trespassing, and was forced to pay a fine or have to plead guilty to the charges, it would teach Emily a lesson. At this point, Elizabeth would happily sacrifice her criminal record just to never have to go through again.

Somehow, with amazing precision, Emily led them to a set of stairs that led to a small section with doors and windows. Probably the offices for the owner or the foreman. She didn't even bother trying to argue; she merely followed behind her friend as Emily went up to the second floor.

With a giggle, Emily set to work picking the lock on one of the doors and Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, sticking her ice cold hands inside the opposite sleeve. Perhaps she should get used to the straight jacket feel. Maybe she'd be lucky and she'd end up in an institution somewhere so she could be treated for exhaustion. A nice vacation from Emily, soft sheets, soft walls, and all the Jell-O she could eat. It actually sounded like a slice of heaven compared to this.

Her ruminations all changed the moment the door in front of Emily opened, but not due to anything the younger woman had done. It was yanked open forcefully, a light was switched on inside the room, backlighting its occupants and making it difficult to see anything but shadow against brilliant white light.

"Emily!"

"Jason!"

Terrified and not comprehending, Elizabeth began to back up, right into, and over, the half wall. The last thing she heard was Emily's terrified yell as she plunged to the floor below.

"This was the stupidest thing you have ever done, Emily. And considering the stunts you've pulled in the past, that's saying something."

A hard, angry, decidedly male voice drifted into Elizabeth's brain as she slowly gained consciousness.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded. "I suppose it would be fair to say that you weren't thinking considering what happened."

"Jason," Emily sighed in exasperation.

"Emily," his voice didn't soften at all. "For nearly the past four years I have kept an eye on you while you've been at school and I know about everything you've done. I also know that you've dragged your friend over there into every plan of yours and she's tried to talk you out of them. Do you know how many times I've had to pull strings to get the charges against her dropped? Or how many times I've had to pay her hospital bill?"

"You've done all that?" Emily asked in surprise.

"It seemed the least I could do considering she was in that situation because of my sister," he said tiredly.

"Oh," her friend's tone deflated. "I thought maybe you...never mind."

Knowing that sometimes Emily had a hard time with her family, especially her older brother who often was too busy for her and at times made her feel like he resented their parents adopting her, Elizabeth opened her eyes and turned her head slightly. "Em?"

"Elizabeth," the other woman nearly shouted in relief as she scrambled off the chair and over to the couch where Elizabeth was laying. Kneeling down beside her, she picked up her hand, "You're awake. How are you feeling? Are you alright? I have never been so scared; when suddenly you went over the wall and your arms were trapped and...you could have been hurt so badly."

Emily dropped her head onto Elizabeth's stomach and her voice cracked, "I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I am. I just...I was so afraid you were going to die."

"How come I didn't?" she asked.

"You hit a pallet of coffee," her friend explained. "But you hit on the side and one of the bags broke and you still fell onto the floor, which is probably why you lost consciousness and why you hurt. But the pallet broke your fall."

"Emily," her brother came up behind her and softly laid his hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you go get some more ice for her? And then tell Johnny that she's awake and have him find Doc."

"Can't you go?" Emily asked petulantly.

"I want to talk to your friend," he explained.

She looked between the two of them and sighed, "Fine."

Once she was gone, Elizabeth looked over at the man beside her. His chiseled features and ice blue eyes made it easy to see why he was ruthless in the business world and why Emily had always been slightly uneasy around the family's CEO in training.

"I'm sorry."

They paused and looked at each other, slightly startled that they'd spoken at the same time and wondering why they said the same words.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked.

"I tried to keep Emily from doing these things. I almost thought about asking for a different roommate after our first year of college, but I couldn't see anyone else caring about what she did and I didn't want her to hurt herself."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he shook his head. "Emily's always been a bit high strung and a free spirit and sometimes she goes off without thinking; even if she's got the best intentions before she begins. I'm sorry that you got hurt or into trouble for the times you tried to keep her out of it."

She frowned slightly at the other man. "You actually sound like you care."

"Of course I care," he said, sounding slightly put out by her comment. "I love my sister."

"Then how come you've tried to freeze her trust fund?"

He let out a sigh and shook his head, "That's A.J.; I'm Jason."

"Jason?" Elizabeth repeated. "I...why doesn't that sound familiar?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I don't really get along with the rest of the family, so I'm not at the house. I visit Emily or call her."

"My head hurts," she said in confusion. It explained the schizophrenic behavior she'd attributed to Emily's brother. The one who could make her laugh and then turn around and make her cry. The one who sounded nice and the one that Elizabeth would gladly mace. There were actually two brothers.

"That would be the concussion," Jason said in soft regret, gently reaching his hand out to brush her hair back and examining the bump on her forehead that felt rather large as his fingers outlined it. "I'm sorry about that. I just thought that maybe if I scared Emily she would stop these ridiculous games of hers. She needed to get serious about life since she'll be graduating from college in a month or two."

"They were never ridiculous games," Emily said from the doorway. "I knew that if I got into enough trouble, you'd do more than have a guard follow me or talk to me on the phone. You'd find a way to be close by, and look..."

She gestured to the room around her and grinned, "CM Imports suddenly set up a warehouse in my college town. Was that planned after I said I might stay here for grad school?"

"Yeah," Jason answered.

"Then my plan worked perfectly," Emily declared. "I get to have you close by, we're away from the Quartermaines...rand I finally got to introduce my best friend to my favorite brother."

He'd been on his way home from a meeting with the Five Families, annoyed and tense over the building tension in town, when he'd cut across the docks to head to the warehouse. A faint light on the water caught his attention and he paused, looking out towards Spoon Island. One year ago tonight, another light in his life had been snuffed out. Emily had been killed at what should have been her engagement ball. He would forever remember sitting in the ballroom with his sister's body, watching as Elizabeth draped herself across her friend and pure grief ripped from her soul.

Thoughts of Elizabeth caused his heart to clench and for a man who told himself not to dwell on the past, that regrets accomplished nothing, Jason found himself in danger of being mired down by such feelings. A year ago, he'd told Lucky that Jake was his son, a year ago he'd wrapped his arms around Elizabeth and taught her to protect herself, a year ago he'd kissed her and wished there wasn't a madman running around killing people. Those thoughts led him to reflecting on the year since then and while they'd had some beautiful moments together, they always seemed to get stuck with the danger, fighting to be together instead of actually being with one another. He wondered if things could have turned out different that night, and what it might have meant for him and Elizabeth.

With a sigh, he turned away from the sight of his sister's former home and continued on to the office. He had to focus on the here and now. And now was just as complicated as it was last year; there were a few different players, the pawns in the game arranged in different locations, but in essence, it remained the same. Sonny was out of control, Anthony Zacharra was just as crazy and dangerous as always, Jerry Jacks was still a murdering sociopath, and now they had to deal with the Russian Mob in the form of Andre Karpov. It was enough to make him crave a drink, but he needed to keep a clear head to focus on how to minimize the danger that would inevitably blow.

Once inside his office, he went to work and in the early hours of the morning he dragged himself home and fell into bed. All he wished for a few hours of sleep to help him prepare for another day of missing his son and the woman he loved, to have the strength to stand up to a man growing increasing erratic and volatile while accusing him of betrayal, and trying to stay one step ahead of the many players who seemed determined to capitalize on Kate's shooting and the growing unrest. What he got, was anything but that.

It always began with him speeding in the boat towards Wyndemere. He could never start that awful night at any point before then. If he could have, he would have knocked Carly out and kept her from going to Wyndemere with the intent of flushing out the Text Message Killer. Then he would have gone there, been waiting when Anthony Zacharra showed up and kept him from impaling Ric, taking Lulu, terrorizing Maxie and Spinelli and forcing Elizabeth up onto a parapet. He would have brought men with him and kept Nikolas under control, Emily safe and the killer would have been found before he could have taken Elizabeth onto a bridge and nearly caused her demise four months later after killing other women in town.

But that apparently was not the reason he kept living this night over and over again. He was not meant to storm the castle with an army, he was meant to outwit the enemy himself. It was just that it was proving nearly impossible to do everything himself. But with each iteration, he was figuring out what to do and what not to do. He knew where to go, he was now very familiar with the hidden passageways of the island and house, and with the choreography of a ballet, he knew where to move at exactly what time all in an effort to keep ahead of everyone else. It would almost work, until someone didn't act as expected everything fell apart.

At first, he tried to save everyone. He tried to keep the damage and the danger minimized, until he realized that he couldn't do that. He could not play Superman to everyone and fix everything. He had to focus on what truly mattered. Which meant he had to be honest with some people.

Carly was the first to believe him, because she was the first one he told. He needed her to stay in a room and not go searching through the house to go after Cooper Barrett, nor did he need her to nearly be strangled to death. He was honest, told her he'd been living this night many times, but had also lived through the following year. Cooper Barrett was not the killer, and she needed to stay out of the investigation. Every night he found her, explained his story, and locked her in a room. She didn't like it, but after telling her he'd knock her unconscious like he did once already, she stayed. Because he told her it was the best thing for her sons and she knew he would not invoke their names, nor make up some story about Michael being hurt in the future, unless he was serious.

Emily was harder, even when he pleaded with her to stay with Elizabeth and Spinelli in the barn. He begged his sister not to die, but sometimes she listened to him and sometimes she didn't. Elizabeth was skeptical of what he was saying, but would agree to do what he asked. He asked her to do it for him and for their son, and that was all she needed.

Others weren't as easy. Anthony Zacharra was running around terrorizing people, and Lulu Spencer was insistent to prove that she was tough enough to handle anything Johnny's life brought her. When he tried to reason with her, she walked out into the storm and was never seen again. Some nights he managed to save her, some nights he didn't. He was beginning to realize that he could only help so many people and while he never wished harm on any innocent person, he also knew that if they weren't going to listen or make wise decisions that he could not put everything else in jeopardy to chase after one person.

Anthony Zacharra was dispatched, Diego Alcazar stopped before he could kill again, Trevor Lansing met an unfortunate demise - Jason decided that this time around he was doing a preemptive strike and with Zacharra and Lansing gone, Johnny would be easier to work with - but the one thing Jason did not repeat from that Halloween night a year ago was telling Lucky he wasn't Jake's father. As good as that had felt, it had in reality only made things tougher. Lucky was more volatile with that information; he used that as leverage over Elizabeth and because Jason knew what the future held, or did not hold, for Elizabeth and him, he decided it was better to not say anything.

When Sam tried to threaten Elizabeth and taunted Lucky about knowing something he didn't, Jason stepped up and revealed her crimes. He mentioned her part of the kidnapping and hiring men to come after Elizabeth and the children, when she still tried to insist she had something to tell Lucky, Jason revealed Angela Monroe and her other aliases and said that she was only using Lucky to hurt Elizabeth for sleeping with Jason and that she wasn't someone who should be around children. A real father would put his children ahead of his own desires and wants, and if Lucky insisted on staying with Sam, then Jason would support Elizabeth in suing for full custody of the boys by revealing every piece of information about the woman he was associating with. Sam was hurt and humiliated that Lucky turned on her and fled from the barn.

After every reveal, Jason felt it was the right thing to do. It was better that less people knew the truth about Jake, no matter how much he could still remember the pride and joy and relief that had coursed through him that original night finally saying the words out loud. He would know in his heart that Jake was his son, but it was better if Lucky never did.

The only part that bothered him every time he stepped into the barn and walked out without revealing all was the look in Elizabeth's eyes. She looked at him with hurt and disbelief, rejection and pain, and then she would avoid him for the rest of the evening until they all boarded the boats to head back to Port Charles. No matter the outcome, even the times when Emily refused to stay in the barn and died in the ballroom, Elizabeth kept her distance and ice flowed off her. It tore at him, haunted him, and yet every night, he did the same thing, certain it was better for Jake.

This rendition of the longest night of his life was not going well at all. He couldn't find Elizabeth anywhere. She wasn't where she had been every other time, and he was afraid that if he couldn't find her in the hallway and get her to safety, that Anthony Zacharra would grab her and take her up to the parapet. It had frozen his heart in his chest when he'd walked up there that original night and saw her standing on the ledge, Anthony taunting her. He couldn't have it happen again and was grateful he'd avoided it every other time he'd been forced to relive this night.

Afraid that she might be there already, he made his way up to the top of the house, determined to save her, or at least get there early to prevent the crazy old man from terrorizing her. His throat seized with fear when he walked out on the parapet and saw Elizabeth staring blankly into the distance, tendrils of her hair blowing around her face. With his gun at the ready, he looked for Anthony Zacharra and was relieved when he didn't see the older man.

"El-Elizabeth?" he said softly, stepping farther out onto the stone structure. "What-what are you doing here?"

"Saving Anthony the trouble of having to bring me."

He frowned. "What?"

"You've been reliving this night, haven't you? When Emily dies, and Anthony makes us stand up here, when Carly almost gets strangled and Ric gets stabbed...you've been reliving it. You've been trying to fix it, trying to save people. Let me guess, you've discovered Diego Alcazar's hiding place and you've already killed him. He won't kill Georgie, he won't kill Emily and he won't take Sam and me hostage in a couple of months."

"You-you remember?"

"Tonight I do," she answered. Her eyes never left the horizon. "Other nights, I didn't. I only remember what's going to happen the remainder of the night when you walk out of the barn. When you don't tell Lucky that you're Jake's father."

He sucked in his breath through his teeth and then swallowed.

"I could never understand why. Why you passed up the opportunity to tell Lucky the truth. As satisfying as it is to watch Sam be exposed for all she's done and to have you go after Lucky for being with her, you only do it because you know he won't remember it the next go around. Even if Sam should happen to tell the truth to Lucky, he won't remember it, and you get spared having to speak up."

"Elizabeth," he began, but she kept talking, not letting him give any explanations.

"I understand now, why you've done that. Because tonight when I was on the boat coming over to the island, I had an uneasy feeling. I almost stayed on the boat and went home, and that's when I remembered. I've remembered the past year. Kate being shot at her wedding, Michael getting shot, you and Sonny fighting, Andre Karpov coming to town and Anthony getting crazier and stronger. You want to protect Jake. Everything you've done has to been to protect our son."

"It has," he nodded, taking a step towards her.

"It's all I asked you to do. From the moment I asked you to give him up after the Metro Court was blown up, I've told you I want Jake and Cameron to be safe."

"Yes," he agreed. "And that's why I won't tell Lucky the truth. Because it just makes things more complicated. He uses it to hurt you, to try to control you, and he might one day tell someone else. If I can keep him away from Sam and the mess she gets into with Karpov, then the boys will be safe."

"I understand why you're doing it," she said with a tiny nod. "Even if it hurts and breaks my heart. At first I thought you never said anything because you didn't want Jake or me anymore. Even though I couldn't remember your proposal or you asking me to Italy, there was an echo of it in my soul and that's why I would stay away from you. I realize now it's not about rejecting me."

"No," he shook his head forcefully, stepping beside her and trying to catch her eye. "It's never about not wanting you, Elizabeth. I want you every day, but it's not safe."

"I know," she whispered, swallowing hard. "But you not telling Lucky the truth is what keeps this night going over and over. You kill Diego, you save Emily, you eliminate Anthony and Trevor, but you don't tell Lucky the truth, and so you're doomed to live this night again and again. I'm trying to help by staying out of the way. Maybe if Lucky and Sam and I don't fight, she won't be tempted to tell him the truth. And if you don't have to face the decision to tell the truth about Jake and therefore lie by omission, then maybe this night will end. Maybe Georgie will be alive next year, and so will Emily. If Anthony's gone and so is Trevor, then maybe Andre Karpov won't come to town."

"Elizabeth," he sighed, his heart full of love for her and touched by her effort to help him.

She turned to look at him and Jason was startled by the flat, empty look in her eyes. "I'm just trying to help you, Jason. There is so little I can do for you, so little that you truly, honestly need from me, that I'm just trying to give you this. Anthony won't find me lurking in the hallway if I'm not there, I won't fight with Lucky or Sam, and you can focus on other people. You won't have to deny what you've been struggling with if you don't face Lucky. And then this night can end."

She closed her eyes and continued, "And then we'll just have to get through the next year, living with dual memories. But Emily will be alive, and you can broker a deal with Johnny Zacharra and hopefully keep Sonny from self-imploding. You can save Michael and Carly won't have to hurt, and neither will you."

"But what...what about you?" he asked. "What about us?"

"You told me yourself, Jason. There is no us. There will be no safe house for us, no times in my studio, there will be no proposal or almost trip to Italy. You made your decision for this night and every night that follows, and you chose not to claim your son. Because I know what the past year, or the next year," she shook her head in confusion, "brings, I understand why you made that decision. But it is that moment with Lucky that perpetuates this cycle, because what you've changed isn't about saving someone's life that's died or was put in actual, physical, immediate danger. I can't live through this night anymore, and I can't stand by and do nothing while you deny that part of your soul, so I'm trying to help you. Maybe together we can end this nightmare and the next year will be better."

The pain as she spoke radiated off her, and he knew she was hurt by his choice, just as she had been every time he walked away from her, every time he tried to end things with her, every time he broke a promise to her, or let her down. She was in such pain, but she was willing to make that sacrifice, because she loved him. He knew he didn't deserve it, but he felt it just the same.

"So go, Jason," she whispered to him, turning away once more to look out over the harbor and the Port Charles skyline. "Go deal with Anthony and Trevor, avoid Lucky and maybe when the police come and we get on the boats to go back to Port Charles we won't end up back here again."

He knew he should listen to what she was saying, he was desperate enough for this night to end to try her suggestion, but he couldn't seem to make his feet move. Because if he did what she was suggesting, he would lose Elizabeth, even more than he already had. He could see it all clearly. She wouldn't try to start an affair with him, they wouldn't get engaged, and despite Carly not letting Kate take Michael to the warehouse thereby preventing the little boy winding up in a coma, they still wouldn't go to Italy. Things would be different, except for the fact that Elizabeth and Jake would still not be in his life.

"No," he spoke, his voice rough in the night air. "No."

"Jason," her shoulders slumped and she folded in on herself. He could see her shattering and crumbling, but she still wouldn't look at him. "Please, just go. Take comfort in the fact that Emily will be alive, that Michael will be safe and so will Jake. Please."

"No," he shook his head, touching her for the first time and making her look at him. "No. Because it will all still be a lie. Jake will still be my son, I will still love you, and I'll still be apart from you and denying it."

"Sometimes sacrifice has to be made," she tried to reason with him. "Happiness has to be sacrificed to the better good. You've taught me that; I understand that now."

"Then I've taught you the wrong thing," he said regretfully. "Because each time I don't tell Lucky the truth, a part of me dies, Elizabeth. And watching you now, knowing that you'll keep your word about the next year, I feel like a stone's around my feet and I'm drowning. I...I don't want to live like this anymore."

He took her hand and stepped back, encouraging her to move with him. "It's time to tell the truth, Elizabeth, and face the consequences together. It's time to tell Lucky that I'm Jake's father."

"I hope you realize, Elizabeth, that someone owes me a new pair of shoes for this little...excursion."

With a sigh, Elizabeth looked over and without removing her sunglasses looked up at her husband's attorney. "Hello, Diane."

"What in the world prompted you to come...here?" the older woman sniffed as she sat down without an invitation. "I thought Southern girls were supposed to like the beach."

"I hate the beach," she replied. "Plus, I'm not from the South. My stepmother is from the south, and my older sister absolutely adores playing the part of the Belle of the Ball. Not me. I like the mountains. I like the snow."

"So when you ran, you ran to the mountains. Jason was right. He said we wouldn't find you on some beach somewhere sipping a Mai Tai."

Elizabeth swallowed at the sound of her husband's name, and was grateful for the sunglasses she wore. Maybe Diane would just attribute her red nose to the bitter cold air instead of the tears that had sprung foolishly into her eyes. Just because Jason obviously knew her didn't mean anything. He still sent his lawyer to find her.

"Well, now that I've found you," Diane said, getting down to business. "Jason has had annulment papers drawn up and wants you to sign them."

"Yes," she said evenly. "I imagine he has, and he does. Unfortunately, we can't get an annulment."

"What do you mean you can't get an annulment?" the lawyer squawked. "Elizabeth, you accomplished what this marriage was supposed to achieve. You moved out of your father's house. You accessed your trust fund. You've stayed married the prescribed six months and now Jason is dissolving the marriage. You get complete access to your money; your parents can no longer make any decisions regarding it or your future. You now have complete and full autonomy."

"As a divorcee."

"No," the older woman shook her head. "The marriage will be annulled. It will be like it never happened."

"Then doesn't that mean that my father can once again control my money, my stocks, and my life?" she asked.

Diane shook her head with a decidedly pleased smile. "No. I made sure of that before I agreed to draw the papers up. You will get to keep your money and your freedom. You just don't have to go through life with the stigma of a divorcee."

Elizabeth drew her lips in between her teeth and stared out over the frozen landscape. Jason had done everything he promised her he would do. He had married her, he had gotten her away from her family, and now he was going to give her an annulment. When she fled, he hadn't come after her, and just like she'd learned that morning in his home, he didn't love her, he didn't want her and he didn't care what happened to her. So despite the fact that she didn't want to end her marriage to the man she'd been in love with for years, she would give him his freedom. But it couldn't be an annulment.

"Diane," she said softly, trying to hide the pain in her voice. "I understand that I've disrupted Jason's life. I know that it wasn't very fair of me to ask him to do this. He didn't want to get married, he's never wanted to get married. Not after watching his parents divorce, remarry and divorce numerous times. He knows what my parents have been through in their own lives. He likes being single, he likes being a ladies man, and I put a crimp in his style. So I will end my marriage to Jason, but it can't be an annulment."

"Why ever not?" the lawyer demanded, clearly frustrated that her beautifully crafted legal document would go to waste.

Turning to look at the redhead, Elizabeth slid her glasses down her nose, "You're a smart woman, Diane. Think about why we couldn't have an annulment."

The other woman paused for a moment and then her eyes went wide and her mouth formed an perfect 'O'. "You consummated the marriage?"

"Well you don't have to say it like you're shocked," she said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not like I'm diseased or have three eyes or something."

"No, no, Elizabeth," Diane said, her voice softening. "That's not what I meant at all. I just...why wouldn't Jason tell me that?"

Running her tongue over her teeth, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "I guess he forgot. Or maybe he was just trying to block it out. I mean...it can't be...for a guy like him...he's been with a lot of women...I'm sure...I'm sure he didn't lose his virginity to a virgin...so...so being with one was probably disappointing."

"You were a virgin?" the lawyer asked in shock.

"I...I was a bit old-fashioned," she said, wanting to curl up and die from mortification. "I was saving myself for marriage. I just didn't realize my husband would forget he slept with me or want to pretend it didn't happen."

She pushed her chair back from the wooden table and assured the older woman, "I will sign the divorce papers, Diane. I promise. And I don't want anything from Jason. He keeps his wealth, I keep my trust fund. Now that I can actually access it...it will keep me set for life. I don't want alimony; I don't want...I don't want child support. I don't want anything from Jason. Please assure him of that. He doesn't have to have anything to do with us unless he wants it. But I won't contact him."

Looking much like a landed fish, Diane opened and closed her mouth several times before she finally got it to work, "You...you're pregnant?"

"Jason scored a grand slam first time at bat," she chuckled mirthlessly.

"How many months?" the lawyer asked, looking her up and down quickly.

"Three months."

"You disappeared three months ago."

Elizabeth stood, straightening her spine. "Yes, Diane, I know. I remember the first time I had sex and I know exactly when my child was conceived. It's clear that Jason doesn't. Apparently he had more than just a few shots of liquid courage; he was downright pickled. It might explain why it was over so quickly."

Then she turned and went inside her home, and left her husband's lawyer to call Jason with the good news.

Loud, angry knocking woke her the next morning. Elizabeth blinked and then slowly sat up, trying to make sense of the sound and finally realized it was coming from her front door. She climbed out of bed, shoved her feet into slippers and grabbed her robe as she made her way to the front door. She knew who she'd find on the other side, but she still wasn't fully prepared for the sight. Jason Morgan could wear anything, but she'd never seen a simple long sleeve sweater and a black, leather jacket look quite so good.

"You're pregnant?!" he demanded before she could even speak. "When were you planning on telling me, Elizabeth?!"

"I was still trying to come to terms with it myself," she answered. "I mean...the first time I have sex I get pregnant? I was a little caught off guard. I would have told you, but then when Diane showed up with annulment papers...I told her that we needed to get a divorce."

She shivered as cool air slipped through the open door and Jason finally seemed to realize they were standing half on her front porch. "You should probably be inside."

She nodded mutely and stepped back to let him in. Jason walked inside, looking around at her décor and rubbing a hand over his face. Once she had the door closed, he turned to look at her.

"This...this changes everything, Elizabeth."

She shook her head, "This changes nothing."

"How...how can you say that?"

"Because this wasn't part of our bargain," she told him. "You agreed to marry me as a friend; help me get away from my parents and get my trust fund. I knew you didn't want to marry me, but I begged you and I cried and I knew you wouldn't be able to say no in the face of my tears. I blatantly manipulated you. We were two friends living together, not even sharing a bedroom and I know I put a crimp in your lifestyle."

She paused and licked her lips, "I want to thank you for not bringing women to the house. I don't care if you met them elsewhere, I knew you wouldn't stay celibate for the six months we were married, I just...thank you for not making me feel awkward by having them there."

He looked at her in disbelief and with something she couldn't name, so she continued on. "I should have realized it was just the liquor talking that night. We'd had some wine with dinner, we went out and there was that nasty run-in with your grandfather and you had some drinks at the bar, then when we got home and I came downstairs after getting changed, you offered me a drink. I didn't realize you'd had more while I was upstairs."

"What-what happened?" he asked her, swallowing thickly.

"We talked," she told him. "And it was...it was like when we were growing up and were friends. Before we got older and my dad married his Southern Belle and started telling me what to do and you became the corporate playboy. It was fun to talk to you, easy, and then...and then you kissed me. And then...and then you took me to your bedroom."

"Did I...did I hurt you?" he asked uncomfortably.

She shook her head. "It...it wasn't bad."

"Wasn't bad?" Jason asked. "Well, that's a ringing endorsement. No wonder you ran."

"Jason, I...I had no frame of reference for comparison," she admitted and looked away.

There was a heavy silence until he seemed to figure out what she meant and then he swore. Dark, heavy words she had no idea he even knew. "I...you...I took your innocence?"

He sat down heavily on the couch and Elizabeth was afraid for a moment he was going to pass out. "It wasn't a big deal, Jason."

Intense blue eyes flew upwards to meet her gaze. "Not a big deal? Elizabeth I...you had waited...and I... Why did you run?"

She blinked, startled for a moment that he didn't ask her why she had slept with him if she had obviously waited so long. She was spared having to tell him that she'd intended to wait until she was married to the man she loved. Instead, she would get to skip that part and go straight to the embarrassing morning after.

"I woke up while you were still asleep and went to the bathroom and when I came out, you were gone. I...I went looking for you and found you in the front room talking to my father. He was yelling at you about our marriage and you said that you didn't love me but you were going to help me get away from him. When my father accused you of using me and then planning to throw me away like the rest of your women, you said that you wouldn't do that to me. That you'd never sleep with me." She shrugged and did some mental editing, "I decided that I didn't want to have to explain to you that we had slept together and I figured it would just be better if I left until the six months was up."

Jason speared his hands through his hair. "You were a virgin, I didn't use protection, I was drunk and ruined your first time...no wonder you want to divorce me."

"I'm giving you what you want," she told him. "You didn't want to be married to me, and you fulfilled your part of the bargain. I meant what I told Diane, Jason. I'm not asking for alimony and I'm not even expecting child support-"

"Why not?!" he demanded. "You don't want any ties with me?"

"I didn't want you to feel tied to me!" she shouted. "You don't love me, you've told me over and over how you don't ever intend to get married or have kids and why should you be forced to live with something that you never asked for, that you never wanted, all because of a drunken mistake on your part?"

He stood quickly, unfolding himself from the couch with a lethal intensity. "Don't you ever refer to our child as a drunken mistake."

She took a step back, her hand instinctively going over her stomach.

"The only mistake that night was that I'd had too much to drink. I was trying to keep things under control, Elizabeth. I told myself that the reason I kept looking at you the way I was because I hadn't slept with anyone since I promised you I'd marry you."

Her eyes widened.

"I meant to drink myself into oblivion that night so that I didn't make a pass at you," he said and then groaned and turned away. "Instead, I...I finally sleep with you and I can't remember it."

"But...but you told my dad," she stammered.

"Your father is a fool," he spat out contemptuously. "He thought he could show up and play the noble father routine and I was hung over and I lashed out. I knew if I angered him he'd leave quicker and it would give me time to think. If I'd told him that I loved you and that I didn't want you to leave when the six months was over he wouldn't have left the apartment. But instead, he'd go and gather his legal team and try to fight the marriage and that would give me some time to talk to you, to take you away on a trip and try to find out if you could ever love me and instead you ran. You walked out of your room with your bag and said that you wanted to leave and I knew you'd never feel for me what I feel for you so I...I let you go."

She closed her eyes and sank down into the chair behind her. "I left because I thought you'd never love me and I couldn't bear the thought of staying in the same house with you, after we'd slept together and you didn't want to remember it, and not give myself away. Jason...I've been in love with you for years. That's why I asked you to help instead of someone else."

He knelt in front of her and cupped her cheek, "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm so sorry I can't remember that night."

His hand drifted down to rest over her stomach. "We made a child together and I love it already. Because I love his mother. I don't want a divorce, Elizabeth."

"I don't want one either," she told him.

He stood and declared, "Then we're going to do this right. We're going to get married again and the next time I take you to bed, I promise you I will remember it and you will be able to say it was better than not bad."

The sensual promise of his words ignited a flame low in her belly. "Soon?"

His eyes smoldered as he looked at her and assured her. "Soon. I'll get Diane started on things right away. She's going to be angry she spent all night working on the divorce papers."

Elizabeth laughed and then said, "Just tell her we'll buy her a new pair of shoes that she can wear at our second-"

"Our final," he cut in.

"Our final wedding," she amended. "That'll make her happy. In fact, tell her we'll buy her two pairs. After all, with my trust fund, we can definitely afford it."

It had always been considered the spooky, abandoned house on the outskirts of town. Others had tried to live in it, keep up the maintenance and raise their families there, but they'd always give up, sell the house and move on. It took on the reputation as being haunted, for why else would so many people abandon the house?

To Elizabeth Webber, though, it was a beautiful house, just needing a little TLC. Alright...it needed a lot of TLC. A turn of the century - and not the most recent one - Victorian house, it was run down and dilapidated. She, however, saw all the potential and beauty it could be. It was not a home for families, not in its present state. While the selling price was cheap, she was realistic. It would take a lot of time and extra money to refurbish it. It would have to be virtually gutted from the inside out, and everything replaced, fixed and brought up to code. It was not a weekend project for Mom and Dad trying to raise Junior and Baby while working full time.

That's why she knew she was the perfect person for the job. She had time, she had money, and she didn't have kids running around distracting her. Not that she didn't like kids; she, in fact, adored them. Part of her restoration plan was to make this house into an art studio for budding artists to more serious ones. Children would most certainly be welcome.

The whispers in town began when she bought the house. She didn't take out a mortgage; she bought it free and clear. Immediately everyone wondered who around here had the kind of money to do that, and the answer was nobody. Therefore, she was an outsider. Then she had to deal with City Hall and the Historical Society to lay out her plans to them. She had to gain their approval for the permits necessary to make the repairs, and establish her business. They were more than openly shocked when the plans she presented to them brought the house into the 21st century utility wise, but did not knock down walls or change the interior beauty of the home. The first floor would house studios and workspaces, designed perfectly to fit into the already large rooms; the second floor would be her personal living space, the third floor attic would be for storage and her guests, while the basement would be for storage and office spaces for the foundation she was establishing. All working within the existing structure of the building.

The Historical Society made no objections and in fact praised her for her vision, her understanding and her dedication to preserving the building's heritage. City Hall had no objections as long as the Historical Society didn't and she could pay the fees for the permits. With approval in hand, Elizabeth began the construction phase. The local craftsmen in town were pleased that she didn't bring in outsiders unless the scope of the work was beyond their capabilities. She infused cash into the neighborhood businesses, paid generously, and was often on site to supervise, but not harass them by interfering with their work. She stayed at a local hotel while the work was being done, ate in the local diners and generally did all she could to make herself agreeable to the town. She was putting down roots here, not just using this as a weekend retreat.

Which was why the first note didn't so much scare her as hurt her. After all that she had done to become a part of the town, to help the town, someone would come along and do this.

When the local sheriff came out, he laughed off her concerns. Said it was just kids pulling tricks before Halloween. Other folks in town had reported their pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns had been smashed, this was just more of the same. When she asked the cocky, patronizing man if any of the other people had been threatened, he said no. When she asked him to go count how many smashed pumpkins she had and he couldn't find any, she asked him why he would think her note was delivered by the same kids pranking the local homes. That's when he told her she was just overreacting and he was sure everything would be fine.

Then he left and wouldn't come back when she received more notes. Each one more threatening, each one more ominous. That's when she finally became scared, and that's when she called someone else.

She just hadn't expected what she saw when she opened her door. Jason Morgan of Morgan Security Firm was an imposing man. Arctic blue eyes, spiked hair, leather jacket and motorcycle boots, he looked like he could easily fit in at a bikers' bar. The men behind him were clearly hired for their muscle, but as she got to know them, she also realized they were smart.

Jason Morgan hadn't dismissed her concerns; he asked her why she'd waited so long. He didn't patronize her; he said she was right to call. Even if they found nothing, it was better to be cautious than not cautious enough.

"If only Sheriff Spencer shared your attitude," she said in annoyance. "He thought I was just being pranked by the local teenagers."

"Your house wasn't egged, your trees were toilet papered, and your decorations weren't destroyed," Max Giambetti listed. "He thought death threats were just harmless teenage pranks?"

She folded her arms over her chest and nodded.

"Idiot," the large man grumbled. And then he set to work installing surveillance cameras and motion sensor lights.

"Listen," Jason told her, steering her back into the house with a gentle touch on her back. "I don't make promises. I'm not going to tell you that we'll catch this person or that you have nothing to worry about. But I will tell you this; my men and I will do everything in our power to protect you. You already have a top-of-the-line security system, that's a good thing. That's one less thing we have to install. You've offered us rooms to stay here, and we'll use them. We'll have twenty-four hour surveillance going, and we'll be especially vigilant at night since that's when the notes are left."

He paused and gave her a smile she was sure was supposed to be reassuring, and it did feel that way instead of the smarmy smirk the sheriff gave her that made her feel like she was five years old and still believed in monsters under the bed. "You listened to your instincts and didn't believe Sheriff Fife when he told you to ignore the notes. I've got my tech and research guy doing some digging. We're going to check out the men who worked on your house, investigate the sheriff, general background check kinda thing. It would be helpful if you made a list of anyone who made you feel uncomfortable while you were working on restoring the house, anyone who maybe said something that seemed a little off. Spinelli will look into them."

She nodded, grateful that he was willing to work with her, to make her feel a part of her own safety. "Alright. I can do that. Do you want receipts and lists of all the contractors and craftsmen I worked with?"

"That would be helpful and save us some time," he told her. Then he frowned slightly and said, "You're probably not going to like this next suggestion, but I'm telling you because you're paying me to keep you safe. I think you should temporarily cancel your art classes."

Elizabeth looked at him with wide, dismayed eyes. "I was planning a holiday craft fair. The kids could paint mini pumpkins and wooden ghosts. I've got all the supplies already stored down in the basement. I've been advertising this for weeks."

"I know," the security expert nodded. "But we have no idea who's sending these notes. He could come as part of the crowd and try to put something in your house, rig a door or a window to allow him to come back later. My men can't watch a large crowd. Even if I hired a couple dozen extra men, I still wouldn't feel right about having so many people come into your home."

She knew that what he was saying made sense. It wasn't wise to open her home to the community when one of them could be trying to kill her. She had several staircases and despite roping them off, that wouldn't prevent someone from slipping upstairs, even with Jason and his men watching the crowd. She just hated the thought that she would disappoint those townspeople who had been looking forward to the event. That her dream of various holiday themed events was being thwarted. She'd only officially opened her studio a little over a month ago; it was so hard to accept that it could end up closed before the year was over.

"I'll call the paper to have them print a notice," she finally said. "And have some flyers printed up."

"I'm sorry, Miss Webber," the man told her. "I'd rather err on the side of caution."

"I understand," she told him. Then she went upstairs to her office off her bedroom where she could mourn the event in privacy.

Several hours later, the phone calls made and her tears shed, she made her way down the back stairs to the kitchen. She was growing hungry and she was sure the men would appreciate some sandwiches and hot soup and the ability to come inside for a few moments. The afternoon would be growing chilly and she planned to have plenty of coffee on hand for them.

She had just put the butternut squash soup into a tureen and was getting ready to take it into the dining room when the backdoor opened and Jason walked in with a short man in a wool beanie and a green cargo jacket.

"I'm telling you, Stone Cold," the younger man said earnestly, "That it's true. Sonny Corinthos has done a lot of investigating into Miss Webber and has even sent out feelers looking for someone to eliminate a problem."

The dish slipped out of her hand, the bone china shattering on the floor and sending hot, creamy liquid everywhere. Both men stopped short and looked up, Jason's eyes locking into hers.

"Elizabeth?"

"So-Sonny? You...is Sonny behind the notes?"

He frowned slightly, "You know Sonny Corinthos?"

"He-he's my ex-brother-in-law," she stammered. "I-I divorced his half-brother after I found out Ric nearly killed me by slipping birth control pills into my orange juice and that he'd kidnapped Sonny's wife and held her in a panic room in our house. When-when Carly died, it...it didn't matter to Sonny that I didn't know what Ric had done. He vowed to take a wife for a wife."

"Why didn't you tell the cops?" Jason asked.

"I did!" she told him. "I even gave them the answering machine tape where he threatened me. He...he was sent to jail. He...he's supposed to still be in prison."

The younger man sat down at her kitchen table, pulled his computer out of his bag and began typing. In a few minutes he looked up and said, "He escaped from prison a month ago."

Elizabeth's hands went clammy and she felt lightheaded. "Why...why didn't anyone notify me?"

"I don't know," Jason said, stepping through the mess to take her arm and lead her to the table. Once she was sitting, he went and got her a glass of water. "I don't know why nobody notified you, but we now know, Elizabeth. And now we can be prepared."

He stood and placed his hands on his hips, his jaw rigid and set. "I've taken on Sonny Corinthos before and I know his weaknesses. This time, there will only be one of us who walks away and I promise you it will be me."

Elizabeth was fairly certain her best friend was insane. One year ago tonight, Emily had held a Black and White ball at her fiancé's house and nearly been strangled to death. Two guests had died, and a mass murderer who had terrorized the city for months was caught. A mob war had broken out and her future grandmother-in-law had arrived just at the stroke of midnight and pronounced a curse upon the happy couple.

Any sane person would have decided that they'd tempted fate enough, but not Emily and Nikolas. For they decided to not only have another black and white ball on Halloween night, but decided that would be their wedding day as well. Elizabeth thought her friend was certifiable, but she'd bit her tongue and agreed to be a part of the wedding. Because this was her friend Emily, and she would do anything for her. Just like Emily had done for her.

After all, Emily had supported Elizabeth when as a teenager she'd broken from her family and had run off to Italy to study art from the masters. Emily had floated her more than one loan through the years to keep the struggling artist from being evicted from a cold and run down hovel, and the bubbly brunette had always believed in her. When Elizabeth sold her first painting, Emily had cried tears of joy alongside her. When Elizabeth had her first art show, Emily had shown up smiling brighter than a proud parent at a Kindergarten recital. When Elizabeth declared she found the love of her life, Emily had been her maid of honor. And when said love of her life turned controlling and abusive, Emily had been the person who helped Elizabeth flee to safety.

Elizabeth had supported Emily during her battle with cancer, through an accident that nearly paralyzed her, and when her fiancé had been injured and forgotten who she was. She heard the tales of the Quartermaines and flew into town when the beloved matriarch of the family passed away in her sleep. So despite the fact that Elizabeth remembered quite vividly the horror of the previous year, she once again cleared her schedule and flew to Port Charles to be by her best friend's side when Emily finally married her prince.

It was just too bad that it didn't seem the wedding was actually going to happen.

Elizabeth stood in mute horror looking at the scene in the ballroom and prayed she did not pass out. Helena Cassadine had been called many things, none of them polite, but Elizabeth had always believed they were merely the drunken ramblings of a man who blamed everyone else for the troubles around him instead of taking responsible for his own life. She had no idea that Luke Spencer had actually been correct when he called his stepson's grandmother a witch and Queen of the Undead.

The silver-haired woman stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by gaily dressed wedding guests. There was just one problem with the scene; everyone was grossly deformed as if they'd been decaying for years underground. Nikolas was unconscious in a corner and Emily was bound in the center of the room, screaming behind her gag. Obviously some ritual was about to be performed, and Elizabeth was determined not to let it happen, but wondering just how she could stop it. If she rushed in without a plan, she'd end up in the same predicament her friend was in and that wouldn't do anybody any good.

Frightened, desperate but resolved, Elizabeth was busy going through options when she was grabbed from behind and dragged away from the scene while a hand covered her mouth. She fought desperately to get away, terrified that these were men working for Helena. She reached behind her to claw at her captive's face and in her struggles she was able to get free enough to bite the hand of the man holding her.

He howled in pain and dropped her on the floor and before Elizabeth could get up to fight, a gentle voice urged her, "Relax, calm down. We're not here to hurt you."

She paused momentarily and looked up, startled to find the purest blues eyes she had ever seen looking down at her. His hands were held up in front of him, and he didn't crowd her. Dressed all in black, like the rest of the men, he pushed his ski mask up to rest on his head before he held out a hand to help her off the floor.

"Who are you?" she demanded, not accepting his help and rising all on her own, unmindful of the rip in the hem of her blood red gown.

"My name is Jason," he replied. "Emily is my sister."

She tilted her head to the side, searching through her mental database for facts her friend had told her about her family. Emily had two older brothers, one of whom was a drunk and running ELQ, the other who had changed his last name and taken off from Port Charles. But anyone could know such things about Emily and she was not going to blindly accept this man's word.

"If you're her brother, then why aren't you dressed for the wedding?"

"Because, as you saw, there isn't going to be a wedding," he answered. "Emily has no idea of the evil that runs in Nikolas' family, but I do. I've been fighting against such things for years and I knew that Helena Cassadine would not be able to stay away from her grandson's wedding. It was the perfect time for us to kill her."

She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Don't you think you're cutting things a little close? I mean, your sister is tied up and gagged in the ballroom while...creatures are dancing around having a gay old time."

"Those are Helena's minions," he replied. "She started the ceremony earlier than we thought. We believed she'd wait until after the wedding. Plus, we had some troubles getting over to the island with the storm that's coming up."

"What's Emily's biggest secret?" Elizabeth challenged him.

"What?" he asked in annoyance. "We don't have time for this."

"For all I know," she countered, "you're one of Helena's minions and are going to keep me from trying to help Emily. I'm not going to trust you until you can tell me what Emily's biggest secret is."

The lethal looking man regarded her and then said, "She doesn't really want to be a doctor because she's terrified of blood. She's afraid she'll pass out one day during a procedure."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and let out a breath, "Tell me what I can do to help you."

Jason stared at the pixie woman in front of him and fought the rising emotions that coursed through him as he shook his head, "Absolutely not."

"Look," she countered, folding her arms across her chest and accentuating the tight corset bodice. "That is my best friend in there, she's closer to me than my own sister; I am not going to let her be killed by some...some...whatever Helena is."

"I'm not asking you to," he shook his head. "I'm not going to let my sister die. But I can't save her if I'm worrying about you, Elizabeth."

"That is the most sexist thing I have ever heard in my life," she growled in frustration. "I know how to protect myself."

"Not against Helena," he told her. "You may know how to fight off a man or a mugger or something human, but that is not what Helena is. Don't make this difficult, Elizabeth. This is not the time."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "How do you know my name?"

"Emily told me."

She peered at him, laying him bare under her gaze and then recognition dawned across her face as she said, "I know you."

He was braced for her anger, but he never expected the sorrow that rolled off her. "Why did you run, Jay?"

He'd never told her his last name when he met her, hadn't realized that Emily's friend Elizabeth was the same woman he'd met two years ago. He'd been recuperating from a major fight, she had been recovering from a bad relationship, and the two had become friends. They met every day in the park or a hole in the wall bar when the weather was bad. They spent hours talking, but only briefly touched on their pasts, both accepting that there were deep wounds there the other wasn't ready to talk about because they were holding a piece back of themselves. Then one night, things just fell into place and they gave into the bubbling want that had been growing between them and slept together.

There was no awkwardness, even when they saw each other over the course of the next week. But then Jason got a call, his team needed him back and the life he'd been pretending to lead had been shattered by the reminder of who he really was and the dangerous beasts he fought against. He'd searched for Elizabeth to tell her he had to go, but was unable to find her that day. Instead, he'd left a brief I'm sorry on her voice mail and had disappeared from her life.

"We got a lead on Helena," he said. "And I had to go. We followed the wrong lead last year, or we would have been here when she showed up. I've been tracking her for the last year, trying to prevent this from happening. I...I went back to look for you, but you were gone. I took it as a sign."

She turned away from him in frustration, messing her hairstyle as she ran her hands through her hair. A bell sounded in the distance and Jason's attention was distracted. His team tensed around him and he knew they had to leave.

"Elizabeth," he said softly. "We've got to go. Please...please stay here."

She nodded while swallowing thickly. Jason looked over at Max and held out his hand, grateful when the man understood his silent order and set a handgun in his outstretched palm. He checked to make sure it was loaded and a round chambered, and then snapped his fingers for Milo to toss him a spare clip. Approaching Elizabeth he licked his lips and asked, "Do you remember the gun lesson I gave you?"

Her face was pale, but her countenance shown with determination as she nodded. "I do."

"Then lock the door when we leave."

"Jason," she grabbed his sleeve, not reaching for the weapon. "There's something you should know..."

"You can tell me afterwards," he told him, looking over at his team who were assembled by the door and waiting impatiently for him. "Emily needs me."

"So does your son," she told him, stunning him with the news. "So you have to make it through this, do you understand me?"

He stared down at her. She was embarrassed and looked away, "That's why I left. I didn't want to deal with the town's looks, their judgments or their pity when they realized that you left me and I was pregnant. I didn't know why you left, or I would have left a forwarding address for you."

Max coughed from the doorway and Jason knew he had to go. He leaned down, kissed her fiercely but all too briefly, and then stepped back. "We'll talk when I get back. I promise. Now lock the door behind me."

Elizabeth nodded and followed behind him, holding the gun in her hand. His team moved out, ready to go after Helena and her minions and save Emily. He walked through the door and then stopped, looking back at Elizabeth. "What's his name?"

She smiled for just a moment and said, "Jake."

Jason's lip curled up briefly, remembering the bar where they met, "I can't wait to meet him."

Then he turned and strode down the hall, determined that this time Helena Cassadine would not get away. He had a lot of time to make up for with the woman who held his heart, and the son he'd never met, and he was not going to let the Queen of the Undead stop him.

Elizabeth Webber had learned early on that life was her enemy.

As a child, she had struggled to find daily breath in her battle with asthma. More than once she'd been hospitalized, put on breathing treatments and her parents had sat beside her holding her hand and begging the doctors to help their little girl. Her mother was a tireless saint, giving up her medical career to tend to her only child who was sick more days than she was well. Carolyn Webber's former colleagues all rallied around her, praising her for her wonderful devotion to her child, and vowing to do all they could to make sure little Lizzie got better.

Those self-same doctors and nurses had all felt shocked and betrayed when the truth came out that Elizabeth had been slowly, terrifyingly abused by her own mother in a case of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. Her mother had withheld Elizabeth's medication, substituting empty canisters or worthless medicine all so that Elizabeth would be hospitalized and she would look like a wonderful, tireless, selfless, devoted mother worthy of her friend's pity and admiration. When a doctor finally realized that Elizabeth had no levels of the medication in her blood and charges were brought against her mother, the hospital had been shocked. Elizabeth felt pity from some, disbelief from others, and outright scorn from those who somehow felt she'd somehow, at eight years old, had fabricated the whole thing.

Her mother had gone to prison, her father filed for a divorce, and he and Elizabeth moved away. She had been glad to leave and anxious to start over where nobody would know her as the girl whose mother tried to kill her. Instead, she was left alone in a house with a nanny while her father slowly worked himself to death and made sure to finish the job off with a bottle of Jack Daniels. At the age of sixteen she was for all intents and purposes an orphan, and had to fight to become emancipated so she didn't end up in foster care or off with some relative she didn't even know.

That was when she learned that just because someone claimed to care about her and want her bests interests didn't necessarily mean it was true. Her lawyer robbed her blind, leaving Elizabeth penniless and on the streets by the time she was eighteen. For a sheltered, and mostly naïve girl, eating out of dumpsters and panhandling for money was a humiliating, humbling and downright scary endeavor. She knew it was only by the grace of a man that others considered scum and one step above Charles Manson that she hadn't ended up selling her body or turning to drugs to fight off the pains of hunger.

Sonny Corinthos - labeled a mobster, criminal, killer, Satan Himself - was hated by the town of Port Charles for his profession. But Mr. Corinthos didn't let anyone stop him from doing all he could to help others, particularly children. A child who'd lived on the streets himself, he didn't want anyone else to end up the way he had, and he opened up a halfway house for youth; a community center that was open twenty-four hours a day where meals were hot and free, showers and clothes were available to all, and counselors were there to help guide and direct impressionable youth into safer, law-abiding paths of life. Girls were kept separate from boys, only female staff were allowed into the girls' sleeping areas, and security personnel worked with police officers, case workers and chaplains to deal with the truly troubled souls. He did everything he could to ensure the safety of those who sought shelter, and would not allow anyone to prey on the vulnerable and weak that lived in the center.

It was there that Elizabeth turned her passing interest in art into a bona fide career option. Mr. Corinthos supported innumerable charities, among them those for burgeoning artists. She worked with well-known artists who donated their time and their talent and when she had her first art show along with others who had stayed at the shelter, Mr. Corinthos was present and purchased a piece from each artist. Some pieces went into his home, some went to his office, and some decorated the walls of free medical clinics that he built around the city. It was the only time she'd met Mr. Corinthos, and she'd taken his check, along with others earned that night and moved into an apartment building the man owned and kept well-maintained without raising the rent so much that it was prohibitive to residency.

In time she'd moved into a house and moved from the sphere of Mr. Corinthos' influence and patronage. But she'd never forgotten the man who changed her life and who for one night had seemed like a genuinely caring man instead of the monster others portrayed him to be. She could only hope that she was right and the rest of the town wasn't correct about his true nature. Because Elizabeth had gotten complacent in her life, had forgotten that every time things seemed to be going her way that life would rise up and try to snatch it away from her; her most precious treasure in life was missing and she would do anything to get it back.

Even beg the Eastern Seaboard's most wanted criminal for help.

"Boss?" Max stated slightly nervously as he stepped into Sonny's office. "I think there's a mistake with your next appointment."

Sonny looked up from the invoices he was going over and frowned at the guard. "What do you mean?"

"Your secretary said that your next meeting is with E. Webber, but it's not Eric Webber the Mendez Family's attorney. There's a woman sitting in the reception area."

Sonny paused for a moment and then said, "Send her in."

Max's eyes widened, but to his credit the guard reacted no further. Instead, he left the room and a short time later returned escorting one very nervous looking petite brunette into Sonny's office.

"Thank you, Max," the older man stated as he stood and buttoned his coat. He walked around the desk and held out his hand to the artist, "Please come in, Miss Webber. Would you like anything to drink?"

"No-no, thank you," she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"That will be all, Max," he instructed and waited for the guard to close the door before offering a seat to the woman standing in his office. He was afraid she was going to hyperventilate the way she was breathing so shallowly.

Once she was seated, Sonny waited a few moments until she calmed slightly, and then sat down as well. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together and said, "What can I do for you today, Miss Webber?"

"I need your help," she blurted out.

"With what?" he questioned. "You know that I am always happy to help the community and support many worthwhile causes, including art funding."

When she frowned slightly at him in confusion, he gestured to the picture hanging on the wall behind his desk. "The first Elizabeth Webber painting ever sold. I've been to many art showings as part of my involvement in the community center, and I've purchased the first painting by each and every artist showcased, but I will admit that I don't always remember the names of the artists. Your painting is one I always remember and I never forget your name. I was moved by your story, just as I was moved by your art. That is why I have it hanging here. Unfortunately, I spend more time here than I do at my home, and I like that every time I walk into my office, I can see your work."

Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked up at the wall where her framed painting hung in a place of prominence. "I still remember how I felt when I received your check and I almost framed it as well, but I needed the money."

He smiled beneficently, "And that is why I am always at the showings. Now, how may I help you, Elizabeth? Is it a proposal for a new program you're interested in beginning, or some other venture?"

She seemed to sober as she shook her head. "I need you to help me find my son."

"Your son?" he questioned in shock. "I-I was not aware you were a mother. Congratulations."

Then he frowned, "Your son is missing?"

"I try to keep my son out of the spotlight," she explained. "I want him to just be a normal little boy, as much as it is possible. It's not a secret that I have a child, but I don't talk about him in interviews or allow him to photographed if I can help it. I've learned early on that there are obsessed people in this world who will latch onto anything I say in an interview and become intrusive. I don't want my son bothered by things like that; he's only three years old."

"A noble, and truly maternal sentiment," he told her. "What happened to him?"

"My mother was released from prison, where she served a sentence for child abuse," the young mother stated, a tremor entering her voice. "My mother withheld my medication when I was a child so I would go into the hospital..."

"Munchausen Syndrome," Sonny said softly, remembering the history of the artist before him. "She was released?"

"And apparently she read about me when she was in prison and she discovered I have a son." Reaching into her purse, she extracted a plastic bag with a note inside it. "I have already told the police about this, showed them other notes, the FBI has been called in. I have wanted to keep it out of the media because I do not want to feed my mother's obsessive compulsion for attention. They have not found any clues, they are not very hopeful, and they aren't happy with me for requesting it not be broadcast over the new outlets. Today I received this."

She handed him the note and Sonny felt himself pale at the threat it contained. Elizabeth's mother was...upset, to say the least, over the lack of media attention that the protective mother had worked so diligently to avoid. It was obvious this was one unbalanced woman and he now understood Elizabeth's worry and nervousness.

"I know that this is unusual...it is rude and terribly presumptive of me, Mr. Corinthos, but I need your help," she pleaded with him as tears formed in her eyes. "I don't mean to insult you, but everyone knows what you do for a living, and I...I'm begging you to use your resources to help me find my son. The FBI are...limited in what they can do."

From any other person, in any other circumstance, he would have been affronted by what Elizabeth was asking. But he sensed the desperation in her, the fright she had for her child, and knew that she was at her breaking point. She loved her child enough to come to him; he knew she would strike any bargain she had to in order to ensure her son's return.

"I know you're frightened," he told her, leaning forward and offering her his handkerchief. My own children were kidnapped several years ago, and like you, I was anxious to keep it out of the news. There was someone who helped me, someone who like yourself was a graduate of my community center. This man doesn't work for me, though I have employed his services on occasion. I trust this man's discretion completely."

He could see her eyes begin to flicker with hope.

"Because he has his own investigative service, the police sometimes cooperate with him, but I also give him the full supportive of my own investigation powers. He found my children when I didn't think it was possible. He's skilled at unraveling mysteries and breathing fire back into cold trails. If there is one man who I think can find your son, and not alert your mother, it's him."

He stood and walked around the desk, dialing a number stored in his photographic memory. He only hoped the man answered, because otherwise he'd have to send Max out to track him down and that was precious time Elizabeth Webber and her son could not afford to waste. Thankfully the man picked up after only three rings and a gruff voice answered.

"Morgan."

"Jason, it's Sonny Corinthos," he said congenially, but also insistently. For the man on the other end of the line was no fool and he would know that if Sonny was calling, it was important. "I have something I need your help on. A little boy has been kidnapped, and I've told his mother that you're her best chance of getting him back."

He had to be around here somewhere. The town was only so large, and she'd been searching for hours. Surely she would find him soon.

Of course, she'd started off looking in the wrong areas first. She assumed that she'd find him in a high-priced hotel bar, or an upscale restaurant, and so had begun searching there first. She'd been wrong. So she widened her searched and begun the downward spiral to mid-level establishments. With no luck there, she went to kitschy diners and Mom and Pop joints. Now she was on the bottom rung of the ladder by visiting full-on dives. Bars that were open despite numerous health code violations and seedy clientele.

She found him in the last place she'd expected, but after what she'd seen and heard today, she wasn't surprised. He was sitting in the corner, a bottle of beer in front of him and a chesty brunette hanging on his arm. He looked bored, but completely blitzed and she knew that there was no way she'd be able to clean him up in time to bring him to the reception they were expected at. It appeared her dear, loving husband had decided to finally abandon all pretense regarding their relationship and decided to leave her holding the bag.

No longer worried for his safety, but fully annoyed, she marched into the bar and walked up to the table. The freckled bimbo looked up and smirked at her and Elizabeth had a strong compulsion to grab the woman by her hair and slam her face into the table. But she wouldn't. She was above such things. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the top of her husband's head, knowing that eventually he wouldn't be able to pretend she wasn't there.

The bimbo broke first. Unnerved by the tension accompanying the silent standoff, she nudged him slightly in the side and said, "Uh, Jason...I think there's someone here for you."

"Tell her to go away," he growled without looking up.

"You heard him," the woman replied, another smirk blooming upon her lips.

Leaning forward, Elizabeth looked straight at the other woman while ostensibly speaking to Jason. "I think you should tell your little plaything to run along, husband dear. You know how my father looks upon infidelity. He always blames the woman. I mean...if he shot his own wife after being assaulted by his lawyer, what do you think he'll do to the likes of her?"

Giving the brunette a disdainful once over she curled her lip and said, "She's cheap and tawdry. Two things Daddy despises. He cut the brake lines on my older sister's car because she showed too much leg and too much cleavage. She's horribly disfigured now and sits in a wheelchair with a blanket over her useless legs."

Jason finally raised his head and glared at her, "Leave her alone, Elizabeth. Anthony isn't going to do anything to her."

"Oh?" she questioned. "Are you sure, Jason? Could you live with yourself is something happened to Miss Chesty over here simply because you stepped out on Anthony Zacharra's daughter?"

"Zacharra?" the bimbo squeaked out. "You didn't tell me you were married to Anthony Zacharra's daughter."

"But he told you he was married?" Elizabeth asked, raising her brow. "And you sat here like a cheap hooker anyway? Now you had definitely better run because my father's men are standing over there in the corner and they'll no doubt report back to him the entirety of our conversation. They have amazing memories and can repeat whole conversations word for word. He may be upset at Jason for making me upset, but make no mistake, he'll blame this situation entirely on you. In your low-cut blouse and your blood-red lips, you're Jezebel and poor Jason just couldn't resist your tawdry seduction."

The woman scooted out of the booth and fled in a barely restrained manner. Elizabeth shook her head to keep Rodolfo from following her. She knew that the bimbo wasn't entirely to blame; Jason had come here and picked the tramp up. While she'd had fun scaring the woman, Elizabeth truly didn't want the other woman to pay for the insanity of her father or the idiocy of her husband.

"You better hope that she leaves town," Elizabeth said, finally turning to look at Jason. "Because my father will be upset. He's in one of his moods and you know what that means. Combined with the fact that we were supposed to head to New York City hours ago to mix and mingle at Ric's wedding and well...it's not going to be pleasant."

"I could care less about Ric's marriage to the senator's daughter," he sneered. "And Anthony needs to realize that I am not some little lapdog that he can command to suit his whims."

"Right," she nodded. "Because you're the great Jason Morgan. Feared enforcer turned mob boss. Men cower before you and don't even think of double-crossing you. You had a great racket going and I'll let you in on a little secret; my father was nervous about your growing power base and knew that there was no way he would be able to go against you."

She licked her lips and lowered her head while lowering her voice, "And then he got the upper hand. He turned the corner just as you were killing Andre Karpov. It's not that the old bastard didn't deserve it, and it's not that I think you should go to jail for it. If it were up to me, I'd give you a medal for doing to the world a great service. But it's not up to me; my father saw this as his way to bring you to your knees."

Jason looked away and brought his beer bottle to his lips. The clenching of his jaw was the only indication that her words were getting to the former mob boss.

"I wish that I hadn't gone to dinner with my father that night," she told him softly, causing his head to whip around and his eyes to go wide with confusion. "If I hadn't been there, what would you have done?"

He remained silent and Elizabeth dropped her shoulders as she dropped into the seat across from her husband. "You would have shot my father, just like you'd shot Karpov. And I wouldn't have cared. Johnny would have taken over, and the organizations would have co-existed like you'd been trying to broker. John might have even made a deal to give you the territories because he doesn't want it. But because I was there, you hesitated, and that was all my father needed to try to crush you. He threatened to call the cops and turn you in unless you did exactly what he said. And that's how we found ourselves standing in front of Father Coates and my father has done his best to break you ever since."

Elizabeth sighed and rested her elbow on the table, then massaged her temple with her fingertips. "I don't want to live like this anymore. You can't stand me because I'm part of the prison my father put you in. I don't care three straws about you aside from the fact that I have to put up with my father's erratic moods because of your insolence. You take off for days and you get to escape the house. Who do you think has to deal with my father while you're off joyriding or boozing it up with cheap hookers?"

Jason looked at her, studying her as if seeing her for the first time.

"That's right," she confirmed. "I'm the one who has to run interference for you; make up stories and excuses for business associates when they come for dinners you're expected to be at; play the dutiful daughter and wife while listening to my father yell and scream obscenities at me and wondering if this will be the day that my father decides to pull out the gun again and shoot me like he did to my mother."

"Does he...does he threaten you?"

"What do you care?" she scoffed. "I've been dealing with Anthony Zacharra longer than you've been Jason Morgan and even knew about the mob. But I'm tired of it, Jason. If you hate my father, then fight him. I'm not asking you to kill him, and I'm not asking you to love me. I'm asking you to step up and be a man. Do something more than sit in a corner booth of a cheap bar and troll for bed buddies. You're supposed to be a man of action, a man of decision; you were feared and now you're a little boy hiding behind my skirts."

She stood and tugged at her jacket, "Stop leaving it to me to clean up your messes. And you better figure out what you're going to say to my father because I intend to check into a hotel, take full advantage of their spa services and not return home until you've dealt with this. I'm done covering your backside and paying for your attitude."

Then without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out of the bar. If that didn't get him kicked into action, she'd just have to try something else.

"Mrs. Morgan."

Elizabeth bristled, and then turned her head towards the man who spoke her name. "Mr. Morgan. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for my wife," he smirked, as he approached her chaise lounge and towered over her.

"Well, you've found me," she said, flicking her dainty wrist like she was swatting at a fly. "Now run along because you're blocking my light."

"A woman like you shouldn't be out here trying to tan," he chided her in a mocking tone that set her teeth on edge. "You'll get freckles."

"And here I thought you liked freckles," she mused. "Since you've been seeing an awful lot of them on Miss Chesty's...chest."

He laughed and sat down, completely uninvited. Quite rude of him. "Are you keeping tabs on me, Mrs. Morgan? Are you jealous?"

She turned and looked over the top of her sunglasses at him, "Mr. Morgan, I don't care if you find a bunch of freckled trollops and frolic with them. Of course I have my men report back to me. I need to know what you're doing so I can answer my father's inquiries and summons. Besides, being the poor, cheated-upon wife makes my spa retreats realistic. It keeps me out of the house, away from my father, and keeps his wrath turned on you."

"Your father won't be causing anymore problems," Jason said bluntly. "For either of us."

Appraising him, she asked, "Am I your alibi? What day should I say you arrived at the hotel, looking to salvage our marriage?"

"Your father is alive," he answered. "Barely. He had a heart attack last night in a meeting. When he arrived at the hospital, he went into seizures and they discovered an aneurism in his brain. He nearly bled out on the operating table."

"Were these natural...or aided?"

"All very natural," her husband answered, sounding affronted. "See, you may have thought I was hiding behind your skirts, but I was biding my time. I had someone pilfer your father's medical records and I knew he was a heart attack waiting to happen. It was just a matter of waiting."

"You could have waited a long time," she pointed out.

"Not really. Every time he got angry and shouted, he stressed his heart and the blood vessels. I just hadn't realized he was taking it out on you."

Elizabeth looked at him and scoffed, "Then you clearly didn't do all your homework, Mr. Morgan. It's not exactly a secret that my father lives to torment his children. Who else would he have taken it out on? You certainly weren't around."

"He's been handled," Jason stated definitively. "He won't recover from this."

"Ah," she nodded sagely. "Now you'll aid along his demise. So...how does this work? Are you going to take over the territory, or will you allow Johnny to have it? Will there be deals and concessions the Zacharra family has to make to you in order for us to have the privilege of being safe? When should I expect the divorce papers to arrive?"

"Johnny doesn't want the territory," the man across from her answered. "We've already worked out an agreement; I'll absorb the territory into mine."

"Bully for you," she quipped, pushing her sunglasses back up on her nose and turning her gaze back to the pool.

"Second, there will be no concessions. You'll be safe because you're connected to me. Because there will be no divorce papers."

Elizabeth glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Annulment papers?"

"There will be no annulment," he refuted.

She turned to look at him, swinging her legs over to rest her feet on the cool tile of the deck. "No annulment, no divorce...you can't possibly mean to stay married. Look, I am not my father. I'm not going to inform the police about Andre Karpov's death. I'd get up and lie on the stand about what I saw. I have no desire to stay married to you, and I'm certainly not going to try to blackmail you with the information. I don't want to stay married."

"You said that twice," he laughed.

"Because it's doubly true! Why in the world would you want to stay married to the daughter of the man you hate, who blackmailed you into marriage, who made your life miserable? Go find Miss Chesty and enjoy your little romps in the flea-infested rooms above that gross, little bar."

"My reasons for wanting to stay married are my own," he said enigmatically. "And just for the record, Mrs. Morgan, I never once broke my marriage vows to you. Miss Chesty was nothing more than a decoy and she worked pretty well, based on the jealous way you spit out her name."

He stood and let his eyes slowly travel over her bikini-clad body. "Enjoy your day at the spa, dear. Will you be coming home on your own tonight, or should I have my men pack up your belongings?"

Then he walked away and Elizabeth was left with the sinking realization that the tables had just been turned on her. It was a feeling she didn't like, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it, and then she'd make Jason Morgan pay for ruining a perfectly good plan.

All her son wanted for Christmas this year was a Chuggin' Charlie train. Too young to really know the song he'd heard earlier this Christmas season and keep the tune, he'd taken to going around the house belting off-key in a shout that all he wanted was the plastic, perma-fixed, ride-along train and he really, really, really hoped Santa brought it for him this year.

The request was about to send Elizabeth into a full-out panic. She and her grandmother had been doing their best to get the toy, but every toy store in Port Charles was sold out and by the time they finally made it to a store in a neighboring city, the one that had been on the shelf when they called was gone. Elizabeth had checked online auction sites and was just about to completely max out her already stretched-thin credit card simply to ensure that her son had his wish. Because the little boy sure could use a cheer in his life right about now.

It wasn't his fault he'd had his world blown apart. That lay solely with Elizabeth and it seemed that the very least she could do was get him the one, super hard-to-find toy he'd wanted if it meant he might actually smile on Christmas morning. It seemed, though, that she was going to fail at that completely as well. Just like she'd already failed her son in the father and family department.

She was so focused on calling stores in different towns that she'd barely acknowledged that Jason had made it back to Port Charles. He'd taken off in October after the encounter with Ric in the parking garage and hadn't returned since. Alexis had tried to get her job back as D.A. and had finally been forced to resort to suing the city to have Ric removed and herself reinstated. That hadn't endeared her to Mayor Floyd, but her refusal to press charges against Jason Morgan for the assault of her newly ex-husband had really enraged the already irate man. It was only when Elizabeth stepped forward and outlined the illegal wiretap on Jason's home, the taunts and the threats and blatant laws broken that the mayor had backed down. Ric Lansing was no better than the criminals he was trying to put behind bars and he became a huge embarrassment for the city. People were now calling for Mayor Floyd to resign and both Sonny Corinthos and Edward Quartermaine were greasing palms in back rooms trying to make it happen and put someone in charge who would be a little sympathetic towards their interests. It was a fight she didn't care about; she was happy to help pave the way for Jason to come home.

After all, it was the least she could do for her baby's father. Even if he had no idea about his impending bundle of joy.

It only made sense, though, that he would return home to see Michael and Morgan in the hospital's nativity play. Slipping in at the very last moment to sit beside Sonny and Carly and then leaving as soon as it was over. Elizabeth was off duty, her gram was taking Cameron home, and Elizabeth was standing at the nurses' hub making one last desperate attempt to track down her son's most desired gift before she gave in and called the man from Craig's List who was asking over two hundred dollars for it. When she finally found one, she rushed out of the hospital desperate to get it since the store wouldn't let her pay by credit card over the phone and reserve it for her. She had to get Chuggin' Charlie for Cam or she herself might just start crying.

Her mission had not been successful. By the time she got her broken down car started and made it through the ice and the snow to the other town, the store had sold the plastic train. She'd called the man from Craig's List and had been informed that he'd sold his train as well. That had been her last hope, and now it was gone. Cameron was not going to get Chuggin' Charlie for Christmas; her son was barely going to get anything for Christmas except for more disappointment and more of his mother's tears.

Unable to go home to her grandmother's house just yet, she made her way down to the docks in the hopes that the bracing air would help her keep her composure. She didn't want to go home like this. Cameron would be waiting to read stories and set out cookies and milk for Santa and if she couldn't get her emotions under control, she would break down and confess to her three year old boy that SantaMommy had completely and utterly failed him and destroyed his world even more than she already had this year.

As she descended the stairs, holding onto the wooden railing with her gloved hand, she turned towards the water and stopped short. There, sitting on one of the benches, was a garishly bright, perfectly wonderful Chuggin' Charlie with a bright red bow on it. Her eyes welled up, knowing that some little boy or girl was going to get their present; it just wouldn't be her son. Some parent had forgotten it, though, and Elizabeth knew that they'd be frantic when they discovered it was missing. Maybe there would be some clue on it so she could return it to the rightful owner; if not, she'd sit beside it until the parent came back and make sure that someone else didn't walk off with it. Despite the selfish part of her that wanted to grab it and run home to her son with it, she couldn't be the one who destroyed another family's plans all to satisfy her life.

There was a tag attached to the smoke stack and she gently reached out her hand and turned the paper. To: Cameron. From: Santa. She swallowed and blinked, but the words didn't change. Even when she said them out loud. This couldn't possibly be for her son.

But then there were footsteps behind her and Jason's hesitant voice said, "By way of a friend."

She whirled around and there he stood in his suit that he'd worn to the Christmas play, his hands tucked into his pockets and she stared at him. He shifted and tugged on his ear before taking a half-step towards her.

"Ja-Jason?" she whispered, the words barely carrying above the waves.

He grinned slightly at her, "I heard you on the phone looking for a gift for Cameron and I wasn't sure if you'd find one, so I...I got one. Just in case."

Tears crested and slowly trekked down her cheeks and with that, the dam broke. The slow trickle became a raging torrent and she could hardly see through the moisture. Sobs wracked her body and she was dimly aware of Jason's arms wrapping around, supporting her, holding her up before guiding her back to the bench and sitting her down. He sat beside her, keeping his arms around her and held her as the stress of the past months finally caught up with her and the one person she would truly be honest with was with her at last.

Jason held Elizabeth gently as she cried against his shoulder; his hand gently caressed her thick coat and he wondered if she even felt the sensation. When he'd seen her at the play at the hospital, he could see the strain and fatigue weighing on her and thought back to the reports he'd gotten from Sonny about the happenings in town. His situation of having to stay out of town to avoid assault charges paled in comparison to what Elizabeth was going through.

Just because she was pregnant with Lucky's child, a fact Sonny said Elizabeth had confirmed to both him and Carly, did not mean Elizabeth intended to get back together with the other man. When the cop finally realized she was serious, that she would not spend the rest of her life with a drug user and a man who had cheated on her with the commissioner's daughter, Lucky had become angry. He harassed Elizabeth at work, at Audrey's, anywhere she went, until her grandmother finally had enough as well and convinced Elizabeth to file a restraining order against the man. The cops were no longer indulgent about their comrade's desire to regain his family since it became abundantly clear to everyone around them that Lucky was still using.

He was kicked off the force, even arrested, and then found dead in an alley one morning. A drug overdose, the tox screen ruled. Elizabeth wasn't entitled to any money because he hadn't been a cop at the time of death, and the insurance company was ruling the case an accidental suicide and refused to pay benefits. She was working to support herself and Cameron and the baby on the way, and Jason wished - not for the first time - that he'd turned out to be the father of the baby she was carrying. He would have done all he could to help her, to provide for her, and he knew that she wouldn't accept anything more from him than a cheap, plastic toy for her son. He only wished he could do more.

Finally, with many sniffles and wiping of her face, Elizabeth pulled back and looked away from him. "I'm sorry, Jason. I just...I don't know what came over me."

"It's alright," he assured her. "I know these past few months have been hard for you."

"They have," she admitted in an uncharacteristic moment of honesty. She always tried to downplay what was happening in her life. "But my heart breaks for Cameron. He had his world blown apart this summer and no little boy should have ever had to come to see reality the way he has. When I told him that I wasn't going to get back together with Lucky and that the three of us - him, me and the new baby - would be a family, he didn't fully understand. But he did after Lucky showed up at my gram's one night."

Jason frowned and asked, "What happened?"

"Lucky said he'd sue me for custody. But only of the baby. He didn't care about my stupid brat, but there was no way he was going to let me cut him out of his child's life. Cameron heard everything and when he came running out in tears, Lucky left me to explain why the man he called Daddy suddenly didn't care about him." She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. "It's why I wanted to find Chuggin' Charlie for him. It's all he's been talking about, it's all he's asked for and he's just sure that Santa will bring it for him. I had to convince him that he wasn't a bad boy this year, that it wasn't his fault we're no longer a family with Lucky."

"It's not your fault, either," he said firmly when she trailed off and he could read the guilt on her face. "You're not to blame for what happened with Lucky, Elizabeth. You didn't make him do drugs and you didn't make him cheat on you. And you're not responsible for his overdose."

"I feel like I am," she whispered. "He was my husband and I should have supported him more; I...I shouldn't have accepted so much help from you. He never could get over that you were the one who rescued me from Manny."

"Then that's his problem," Jason declared. "It's not your responsibility to fix his inadequacies."

"I wouldn't reconcile with him," she tried to castigate herself again.

"You were protecting your son, your baby and yourself," he said. "Is it my fault I wouldn't reconcile with Sam and she got arrested for cons she ran and killing a guy?"

Elizabeth let out a breath, "Jason, her schemes as Angela Monroe or whoever else she was had nothing to do with you. She did those before she ever came to Port Charles. Lucky...I..."

He took her hand and said, "Lucky was an adult and despite what everyone else told you, it wasn't your responsibility to fix his life. You didn't owe him anything. He had to want to get clean for himself and he didn't and that's not your fault, or Cameron's or this...or your new baby's."

Her free hand drifted down to rest over her stomach and Jason could see just the faint outline of the swell of her child. It made his heart squeeze.

"I'm just sorry that you're not entitled to any help from Lucky's benefits," he told her. "His-his child should have them."

She pulled her hand from his and locked them together across her middle. "What...you..."

Then she sighed and said, "Carly and Sonny must have told you. They both..."

"I wish I had been the father," he confessed without thinking and her head whipped up quickly to lock her eyes on his. He felt caught and he said, "So I could help you. You...you shouldn't have to..."

"So you only want to be a father so you could take care of me?" she questioned, her voice small and her eyes filling with tears again.

He felt like he'd disappointed her and he didn't know why, but he hated to see her cry again. He could only shake his head and whisper, "No. I...I wanted to be the father of your child because...because it's you."

She closed her eyes and a fat teardrop rolled down her cheek. He reached out to wipe it away when she stopped him with her words. "I never actually told Sonny or Carly that Lucky was the father. They just assumed he was."

His hand fell to the bench between them and his heart was seized with hope and also fear. "El-Elizabeth? Am... Who's the father of your baby?"

Her eyes opened and he knew before she even spoke the words and gave him the best Christmas present he could have ever hoped for if he'd allowed himself to dream. "You, Jason. You're the father."

"Come on, Stone Cold," Spinelli said, stopping just short of grabbing the older man's hand and dragging him through the store. "I know that we may not be in the land of snow and ice and there are actually some people around here that decorate palm trees and I swear I saw someone with a decorated tumbleweed in their front window...but it is Christmas time and Christmas means decorations."

Jason swallowed and licked his lips, listening to the younger man with equal parts annoyance and remembrance. If Spinelli wanted to decorate their temporary apartment, then that was fine. It was clear the kid was a closet Christmas nut who was determined to make the place as garish and bright as he possibly could. He just didn't understand that Jason didn't care about how the apartment looked, or what decorations they had, and so hadn't been unwilling to take no for an answer and accept that Jason didn't want to go shopping.

However, as they walked through the aisles of decorations and trappings, Jason couldn't help the memories that washed over him. He thought of another Christmas and another equally obsessed and excitable person determined to make him celebrate the season when all he'd wanted to do was ignore it. And he couldn't help but think that if it was Elizabeth who was dragging him through the stores to pick out lights and decorations and ending the day by picking out a Christmas tree, that he would happily go along. Of course, she never would have tried to make him go, because while she'd managed to corral him into making paper chains, she also would understand him enough to know that he didn't want to go out shopping for the ornaments.

Thoughts of Elizabeth made him slow his steps as he wondered how she was. Was she safe? Was she healthy? Had she had a boy or a girl? Why hadn't she come back to Port Charles? Where was she?

Audrey Hardy had returned from Napa after going out there to assist her granddaughter with the birth of her first child, and returned and told Emily that she expected Elizabeth to be back soon. Instead, both women were surprised when they received calls that told them Elizabeth had decided against returning to New York. She and her child were headed elsewhere. Mrs. Hardy had been shocked and the older woman seemed to age rapidly, becoming decidedly frailer without her young family to keep her going. Emily had been quietly subdued, striving to hide her devastation; she tried to bolster Elizabeth's grandmother's spirits and so hid away her own hurt and disappointment over her friend not returning. Jason had only been aware on the periphery of what had been happening, but as months passed and his life changed, he found it odd to be in Port Charles and know that Elizabeth wasn't there.

He'd never tried to find her, though. They certainly hadn't been close enough when she left for him to do something intrusive like that. He could only hope that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, that she and her child were happy. She deserved that; for she certainly hadn't found much happiness in Port Charles. And maybe that was why she'd decided against coming back.

With a heavy sigh that Spinelli didn't understand, he followed the young man out of the store and over to the tree lot nearby. An assortment of pines and firs stood nobly and people wove in and out of pathways and aisles, searching for the perfect tree. Mothers and fathers tried to keep their children from running wild and grabbing the first tree they saw and he found himself watching them more than he listened to Spinelli go through and systematically inspect and dismiss various trees because of their perceived flaws.

Some were too short, some were too crooked and some had unsightly gaps in the branches on one side. As Spinelli continued to search the lot looking for the perfect tree, Jason saw a flash of color as a little child raced through the aisles. With so many people here and with cars going by just outside the fence, he was concerned and he watched to make sure that the little boy didn't dash out into the road.

"Mommy, Mommy! I found it!"

Jason's breath caught in his throat when the mother turned. She was older, her hair was longer, and she had the worn tiredness of so many mothers, but there was no mistaking the genuine excitement on her face when she turned and crouched down to look her son in the eyes.

"Really?" she asked. "Well, then show me."

Her son took her hand and scampered along to show her the perfect tree and Jason found his feet carried him along behind them. He didn't say anything to Spinelli; he followed like a sailor after a siren. He wondered how big the perfect tree would be, and instead found himself laughing out loud when the little boy stopped in front of a short, crooked, scrubby tree. Elizabeth's son was completely like her.

"It's perfect, Cam," she declared, bending down to give him a hug. "I think this tree will be the happiest to go home."

Jason's laugh couldn't be contained and finally the sound must have reached her because she straightened slightly and looked around curiously. When she met his gaze, she froze, her mouth slightly open and stared at him in shock.

"Ja-Jason?"

"Eliz-"

"It's hopeless, Stone Cold," Spinelli cut him off, intruding upon the scene. "None of these are right. Of course, I don't even know why we're bothering. After all, Christmas is just a co-opted holiday, taken over by the Church to turn a pagan celebration into something acceptable. We should just go."

She stared at the younger man in confusion, but her gaze returned to his. It widened when he took a step towards her, leaving the computer hacker behind. "Elizabeth."

Her voice was equally soft as she replied, "Jason. I...what are you doing here?"

"Working," he shook his head. He didn't want to talk about his job. He wanted to make sure this wasn't a mirage or an illusion. That he hadn't somehow conjured her up just because he'd been thinking of her. He looked down at the little boy and he asked, "Is this...is this your son?"

She easily lifted the little boy who must have been three by now and settled him on her hip with a smile. Side by side, it was so easy to tell that this was Elizabeth's child. He had her nose, her curly hair and her same impish smile. The only thing he got from Zander was the color of his eyes.

"This is Cameron," she proudly said. "Cameron, this is my friend Jason. Jason, this is Cameron."

The little boy buried his head in his mother's neck, and peeked up at Jason through a curtain of his mother's hair. But he gave a small smile and Jason felt a warmth spread from his stomach.

"Stone Cold?" Spinelli questioned in confusion as he walked closer to the group. When Jason looked over at him, he could see the younger man was curious about what was taking place.

"Spinelli," he said, barely taking his eyes off Elizabeth and her son, "This is Elizabeth Webber and her son Cameron. Elizabeth, this is Spinelli. He...he works for me."

"It's nice to meet you," Elizabeth said politely. "So you're...here on business and shopping for Christmas trees?"

"Spinelli wanted a tree for our place," he shrugged, feeling awkward explaining things. He really didn't want to talk about the business or what had brought him here. "You and Cameron are tree shopping, too?"

She smiled and looked down at her son, resting her cheek on top of his head. "Yep. Cameron helped me find the perfect tree, didn't you, Cam?"

He nodded his head, his fingers tucked up under his chin.

"It's clear he's your son," Jason said with a slight laugh. "That tree reminds me of the one you brought to the studio."

She looked over at the scraggly tree and smiled brightly, "It's the happiest one to be going home and it's going to be perfect in our apartment, isn't it, Cameron?"

Again the little boy nodded as he continued to stare up at Jason with wide eyes.

"Can we help you with it?" Jason offered.

"You don't have to," she shook her head. "I'm sure you've got things you need to do."

"Not at the moment," he countered and reached out and grabbed the tree. Spinelli looked at the pathetic thing in shock and then over to Elizabeth.

"It's a Charlie Brown tree," the computer hacker spluttered.

Jason turned to glare at him and the boy shrank back, but Elizabeth could only laugh her amusement and agreement. "Yes, but that just means it's the best. Because it doesn't care where it goes, and once we get it decorated it'll look great."

She looked at Jason and her eyes twinkled, "I know you prefer trees in the forest with snow, but since you're unlikely to find them here, do you remember how to make paper chains?"

"Paper chains?" Spinelli said under his breath.

"Yeah," Jason said in resignation, but also knowing that he'd happily sit and do whatever Elizabeth asked him to do. Even make paper chains. "I do."

He paid for the tree over her protests, and then secured it to the top of his SUV, saying that he and Spinelli would follow her. Her car was older, but seemed reliable; Jason was determined, though, to look it over just to make sure. They made their way to a quiet neighborhood and a small group of apartment homes where Jason saw there was a small backyard that Cameron could run around in. It was better than being stuck in a huge complex where she'd have to deal with stairs and noisy and inconsiderate neighbors. It was almost like being in a home and as they stepped inside Jason saw lots of touches that Elizabeth had done to make the place comfortable and inviting.

Cameron ran off to his room to gather some treasures to show Jason, while Elizabeth showed him the tree stand she already had out waiting for her purchase. He worked on putting the tree in place and getting it straight while Spinelli wandered the living area looking around. Once the task was complete, Jason straightened up and looked over at Elizabeth. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, so many things he wanted to say, but couldn't seem to find where to start. So he settled for a neutral inquiry about how she was doing.

"We're doing great," she smiled. "We are."

"How did you end up here?" he asked, finally allowing the question he had most in his mind out.

"I didn't want to stay in California," she told him. "But I didn't want to go back to Port Charles. I...I love my gram and Emily but I just...I felt maybe it was time to start over. Get a new place, a new start and just get...away from everything with Port Charles for a while."

He nodded his head, because he had felt that way before. He'd left before, feeling overwhelmed by the people and everything that had happened, so he could understand why she'd felt that way. Her marriage to Ric had fallen apart for the second time, she had a baby with a dead father, and he certainly didn't blame her for not wanting to rush back where she'd be the divorcee of Sonny's brother and a single mother with no job.

"So I took the money Cameron got from Cameron Lewis' estate and we figured out a place to go," she explained. "I became a nurse, working at a hospital while going to school and Cameron's in the daycare there, and we have a place with a yard and a park down the street."

"You sound like you're happy," he told her, feeling slightly wistful. "You look like you're happy."

She blushed slightly, "I am. I...I miss my grandmother and I...I was actually missing the snow this year. As Cam and I went to go get our tree I was remembering your favorite tree and wishing I could show them to Cam. I...I tell him about you sometimes."

He felt stunned by the admission, that she would remember him, that she would think about him enough to actually tell her son about him.

"Hey, Stone Cold," Spinelli called out, breaking the moment and causing Elizabeth to turn away and busy herself sorting unnecessarily through the decorations already laid out ready to go on the tree. "It's a picture of you."

He looked over at the younger man and the picture he was standing in front of and walked over, finding a recent picture of him and Emily at his penthouse. His sister must have sent it off and wondered why Emily had never talked about Elizabeth since it was obvious she knew where her friend was. He lifted the frame and ran his thumb over the glass and then looked over at Elizabeth who still had her back to him.

"Um...it's...it's clear that Stone Cold knows the Maternal One...but you didn't know she resided in this fair city," the younger man said awkwardly. "Perhaps while we are here..."

Whatever Spinelli was about to suggest was cut off by Cameron coming back into the room and rushing over to Elizabeth. She laughed as he burrowed against her side, but then lifted him up and turned to look at Jason. "He wants to show you his motorcycle."

Jason was at her side instantly, gently taking the toy offered up by a shy little boy and giving it the proper attention the moment deserved. As he inspected it, he realized that it wasn't just a generic motorcycle toy; it was detailed, right down to the brand and the model. It was...he looked up at Elizabeth and saw her cheeks flush.

"It was the motorcycle I remembered you driving," she said, astounding him with the details that she'd remembered of their time together.

"I still have the bike," he told her. "But I don't have it with me. I wish I did, though. I could show it to him...and then I could give his mother a ride. Somehow, I think she still has the bug."

As he looked at her blush deepen and also the smile on her face, he wondered if he could get it shipped out here in time for Christmas.