But if you asked me to
I just might change my mind
And let you in my life, forever
If you asked me to
I just might give my heart
And stay here in your arms forever
If you asked me to
– If You Asked Me To, Celine Dion

---

Friday, January 14, 2000

Morgan Penthouse: Bathroom

Jason knocked lightly on the ajar door, then smiled faintly when he pushed it open. Elizabeth was still soaking in the bubble bath. Her head was turned to the side, cushioned by another folded towel, her eyes closed, the steam of the water flushing her pale skin. The tendrils of curls that had escaped from the pile she’d gathered on top were damp, clinging to her cheeks. She’d scrubbed her face clean before she’d gotten in the bath, no traces left of the terrible night she’d had, save for the bandaged feet, propped up at the end of the bathtub on a pile of towels.

He could breathe a little easier. She was safe, tucked away where nothing could hurt her. Everything else could wait.

Jason knelt next to the tub. “Hey,” he murmured, brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. “You awake?”

“Barely.” Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered and she turned her head back, smiling at him. “How long was I out?”

“Not long. You wanna soak longer, or—”

“No. I’m going to end up wrinkled like a prune.” Elizabeth’s nose scrunched up as she tried to sit up but remembered her feet which needed to stay dry. “Ugh.”

“I got it.” Jason found a plush bath towel in a cabinet and within a few minutes, he’d lifted her from the water and deposited her on the bed. He crossed to the dresser. “What do you want to sleep in?”

“One of your shirts?” she asked hesitantly. He turned back to her, and Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “They’re comfortable.”

He liked her in his shirts, so there was no argument from him. He grabbed a blue one from a drawer.

“Um, are things okay?” Elizabeth asked, tugging it over her head. Jason didn’t answer at first, disappearing into the bathroom to dump the used towels in the laundry hamper and drain the tub.

When he returned to the bedroom, she’d scooted back against the headboard, the comforter folded back. “They’re okay for tonight,” Jason said finally. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Didn’t want to tell her how much of the terror she’d experienced was his fault.

It burned, like acid searing holes inside him. It could have been so much worse—so much more tragic—what if the man driving had shot and killed them both—what if there had been a bomb—what if Elizabeth had ended up like Lily?

He’d been stupid. Foolish. His anger had clouded his judgment, and Jason had thought he was better than that. He’d learned to harness his emotions. To turn them off and focus. Then Sorel had cut into the dance and put his hands on Elizabeth—

He’d just wanted her out of there. Nothing else had mattered. And that mistake had nearly cost him everything that did.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Elizabeth offered. “I mean, we don’t have to at all. I don’t know what I’m supposed to ask or not. I mean—” She bit her lip. “I was part of it tonight, but I know I can’t know everything. I don’t want to—”

Jason crawled into bed next to her, having changed into a pair of sweats. “Hey.” He tugged her into his arms, and she snuggled next to him, tucking her head under his chin. “You can ask whatever you want whenever you want. I might not always be able to answer, but you get to ask, Elizabeth. And this—this isn’t normal. It won’t be. I promise.” He wouldn’t let it be.

“Okay.”

“I just don’t want to think about it anymore tonight.” She was safe, the worst of her injuries were the cuts on her feet, and he still had a nagging headache, but he’d escaped a concussion. They’d been lucky.

No thanks to him.

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Sonny slammed the door shut behind him, stalking over to the minibar to pour himself another tumbler of bourbon. He tossed back the first, then a second—then finally just reached for the bottle. But when he lifted it to his lips, his hand tightened.

They’d limped out of an alley, bedraggled and bruised. Jason with blood trickling down his cheek, his tie gone, his dress shirt dirty and ripped —

Elizabeth bleeding from scratches on her arms, her legs, her feet destroyed, her dress in tatters. Her eyes swollen from crying, hair limply hanging around her face, tear-stained mascara tracks down her cheeks—

Sonny threw the bottle across the room, the smash against the fireplace oddly satisfying. And he liked it so much that he swept the rest of the liquor from the bar, sending it crashing to the ground in jagged shards of glass.

He’d nearly gotten them both killed, and for what? So Sonny could beg for more respect from people who would never give it? He’d sacrificed what little trust Jason had had left for him for this?

The magnitude of his failure burned him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He’d worked so hard to salvage their friendship after that terrible night—and Sonny had thrown it all away.

For nothing.

Morgan Penthouse: Master Bedroom

Elizabeth woke with a start, her heart pounding as she sat straight up and looked around, struggling to get her bearings in a pitch-black room — her eyes refusing to adjust—

“Hey. Hey.” Jason switched on the light on his side of the bed, and she could finally see where she was —

Safe. At home. Jason’s arms around her.

“Hey,” he murmured against her ear. “We’re okay.”

She turned to him, touching the skin just beneath the beneath the cut he’d refused to bandage. “We’re okay,” Elizabeth repeated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just—” She winced, moving her feet. “I thought it was the park.”

Jason didn’t say anything, just held her tighter, his warmth surrounding her, easing the burn in her lungs as she’d fought to breathe.

“I didn’t know if I’d be able to get you out of sight.” She squeezed her eyes closed, fought down the panic that wanted to bubble up, the sobs that she’d never unleashed earlier. “You fell and you weren’t moving, and they were behind us—” She sucked in a breath, but she couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Don’t—” Jason swore, tugged her across his lap so he could hold her closer. He looped one of her arms over his shoulder. He smoothed her hair back. “Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I need to be stronger than this. I need to be able to handle it. I can. I promised I’d be able to—”

“You were strong.” Jason kept stroking her hair. “I still don’t know how you did it. Your feet—how far you ran—how fast—”

“I had to.” Miserably, she swiped her eyes. “I just—I was so scared. I got you down the hill, but I didn’t know if they’d be able to see us. I just—I laid on top of you, and I kept hoping, I kept praying that they wouldn’t see you because I could still run but you couldn’t—”

“If that ever happens again—” He grimaced. “You need to run. Do you understand? You leave me and you run—”

“Don’t—” She swallowed the first words she wanted to say. Don’t be stupid. “Would you leave me?” she demanded, angry that he’d even suggested it.

“That’s different—”

“It’s not. If I were unconscious with men chasing us, you’d never leave me behind. You’d carry me as long as you could, and then you’d find a way to protect me. I-I thought maybe I could keep running and distract them, but I was scared to get separated — ” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t leave you. Don’t ask me to do that.”

“Elizabeth.” Jason just looked at her, a bit dumbfounded, his hands cupping her face. “If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t—”

“I wouldn’t leave you,” Elizabeth repeated. She stroked his cheek. “Don’t ask me to leave you.” Ever, she wanted to say. Don’t ever ask me to leave. Let me stay right here forever. But she swallowed those words and anything else she wanted to say.

Instead of answering or making the promise, he kissed her, harder, a bit more roughly than he had before, though she wasn’t complaining. She gasped when he shifted, laying her against the mattress and covering her, his mouth greedily devouring hers with so much passion she thought she might drown in it. She frantically reached for the waistband of his sweats, shoving and kicking them down his legs, not even noticing the pain in her feet.

He dragged her panties down, barely getting them off before he thrust inside her, hard. Elizabeth cried out, biting her lip and tasting her own blood.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her throat. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no—” Her nails dug into his shoulders. “No, go. Keep going—” She gasped and couldn’t form another coherent word as he did exactly as she asked, until she nearly went blind from pleasure. She felt her body tense against his, and he groaned, and then it was over, the only sound in the room their heavy and panting.

Jason’s lips cruised over her face as she sighed, stroking his back. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.

“For what?” she murmured.

“I’m too heavy, for one thing,” he muttered, leaning up on his elbows. “And that’s—you deserve—”

“You know, the women I met tonight,” Elizabeth said, and he stopped talking, drawing his brows together. “They felt sorry for me. Because I didn’t have designer clothes or expensive jewelry.” She opened her eyes, smiled at him, lazily. “But you know, I think they were jealous.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Because I get to have you all to myself.” She stretched her arms over her head. “And they measure how much someone cares about them with the money they spend.” She met his eyes. “Thank you. For forgetting to be gentle. I’m not delicate.”

“No, you definitely aren’t.” He kissed the side of her throat, just under her ear. “But you are injured,” he reminded her. He looped her arms around his neck and lifted her up so that she was once again sitting in his lap. “And you’re going to feel this tomorrow.”

“Mmmm, probably, but worth it.” She kissed him again, her expression sobering. “I was scared tonight,” she confessed, and the amusement in his eyes faded. “I need to be able to tell you that. You were scared, too.”

“I was.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Terrified.”

“But we’re okay.” She laid a hand on his cheek. “We’re okay. And we’re going to keep being okay. Because you wouldn’t leave me, and I’m not going to leave you. I don’t know why you think I would.”

“I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m safe right here.” She laid her head against his shoulder, cuddling against him. “And there’s no place else I’d rather be.”

“Me either.”

Pardon me while I burst into flames
I’ve had enough of the world and its people’s mindless games
So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me, I’ll never be the same
Never be the same, yeah
– Pardon Me, Incubus

---

Friday, January 14, 2000

Street

The car had barely come to a full stop before Jason had twisted, shoved the door open, and launched himself out of the car, reaching back in only for a second to wrap his arms around Elizabeth’s upper torso, already halfway out, and drag her the rest of the way.

And then they were flying. Legs pumping, hearts racing, the air rushing past them, with Jason’s hand tightly in hers, as he steered them down an alleyway, behind a row of buildings, then another alley—it felt like a twisted labyrinth and if he knew where they were, he didn’t stop to tell her.

She didn’t feel the ground beneath her stockinged feet at first, but then something sliced through, and pain radiated straight up her leg. she stumbled, her hand breaking from Jason’s. Elizabeth fell to her knees, swallowing the cry that threatened to erupt.

Jason hissed, crouched down. “What is it?”

“Nothing—I’m fine—”

There was a shout, and he snapped his head up, focusing behind her.

“We need to go—” Elizabeth got to her feet, snatched his hand and they started to run again. She ignored the throbbing in her foot. Ignored the way the gravel and rocks bit into the tears in her stockings as they shredded into nothing more than irritants.

Jason took the lead again, turning down another alley, but this one butted up to Port Charles Park and she nearly wept from relief. Much of the park towards this side of town was covered in trees. They could get lost in the woods—

They started down a path, one that she vaguely recognized as twisting and turning through the west side of the park, leading out towards the business district. It would be crowded this time of night and maybe—

But then she didn’t think or speculate. Her feet were burning, the pain almost unbearable, but she pushed past it. Jason would get her to safety. He would—

This time it was Jason who stumbled, his foot caught on a tree root that had crept under the path. He went flying, his hand jerking out of her grasp, landing a few feet away, on his side.

No Name: Restaurant

Sonny fought down the swirl of nerves and fury, taking another drink from the bartender. So far everything had gone according to plan — Elizabeth had charmed the people she needed to charm though he was a little put out that she’d barely had to speak and Carlotta Vega had decided to approve of her.

Sonny had been trying for five years.

But she’d survived that gauntlet, made it through dinner, and the dancing — and Jason hadn’t murdered Sorel on the dance floor.

Now Sonny just had to wait for the limo to return.

“I like your partner’s wife,” Daniel told Sonny as he signaled for a drink of his own. “She does you both credit.”

Sonny exhaled slowly, forcing himself to sip the bourbon. “She’s a quick learner.”

“Carlotta was concerned when we found out she’s eighteen.” Daniel lifted a brow. “A bit young for marriage, wouldn’t you say?”

“Elizabeth didn’t agree.” Sonny bristled. “Do you have a point?”

“Jason did not look happy to be here tonight. I thought at first it was because we both know he’d rather gnaw off his arm than put on a suit for something like this.” Daniel tipped his head. “Did you, perhaps, leave him no choice but to bring his wife tonight?”

Sonny tossed the rest of the liquor back, ignoring the burn in his throat. “He showed up and did his part. He did everything we asked—”

“My quarrel is not with him. Or his wife.” Daniel’s mouth was grim. “She’s too young to be used like a pawn—”

“I’ll remind you that this was your idea,” Sonny shot back. “You wanted this reception. You know that Jason doesn’t like these things. You knew Elizabeth wasn’t experienced with things like this. If you’re feeling guilty for using her, Vega, look in the mirror.”

He left the irritated mobster and headed for the lobby. He wasn’t going to wait an entire hour. He’d call for a car. Let them handle their own damned problems from now on. He wasn’t going to stand around and be insulted.

Port Charles Park

Elizabeth nearly collapsed from the pain and the fear as she saw Jason lying unconscious a few feet away, but she couldn’t give in. Couldn’t give up. She started towards him, then nearly fell herself from the new waves of throbbing, burning pain in the lower half of her body.

She swallowed the cry that bubbled in her throat, terrified that someone might hear her. She limped towards him, wincing at the blood on the side of his face. He’d hit his head—oh, God—there was crashing in the trees behind them in the distance. She had to—She had to get them off the path.

Grunting, Elizabeth pushed, rolling Jason’s unconscious form until there was a dip in the earth and it rolled on its own. She winced and rushed after it, relieved when he came to a rest a few feet below—just out of sight. Harsh, gasping sobs slipped out of her mouth as she frantically found some branches and leaves in the drifts of snow, hoping it would give them just enough cover. The crashing in the trees was closer now and she could hear voices and shouts, footsteps—

Elizabeth dropped down, flattening herself over Jason, burying her face in his chest and squeezing her eyes shut.

Please. Please. Please. Keep running. Don’t stop. Don’t see us. Please please please—

The voices and footsteps ran past them, fading into the distance. But Elizabeth didn’t trust it. Didn’t believe they wouldn’t circle back.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, only that the pain in her feet had started to fade into numbness, the cold seeping into her body. She hadn’t worn a jacket, expecting to travel directly from the building to the limo and back again. The snow had started to fall again, the thick flakes all around them. The wind was picking up.

But the voices and footsteps hadn’t come back. Elizabeth raised herself up. They were alone. The woods around them were silent. She shivered, rubbing her hands to get feeling back into them.

She looked at Jason, laying so still beneath her, but still breathing. “Jason.” She rolled off him, wincing at her feet. They could come later. Head wounds first— She knelt at his side, feeling the back of his head. The bleeding had stopped, so that was good—

“Jason—” She pressed her hands to his cheeks. “Please, please, open your eyes—” She pressed her lips against his, freezing, hoping for something—for a miracle. She couldn’t do anything from here. Couldn’t carry him. Couldn’t save him—

He groaned first, but then his eyes opened, just a sliver. “Elizabeth—”

“Thank God. Thank God.” She lowered her brow to his. “You’re awake.”

He grunted, then shoved himself up, bringing her with him, looking around with confusion. “What—What happened—”

“You hit your—” The adrenaline was starting to fade, and the fear and shock were setting in, her hands shaking as she tried to form words. “You hit your head. I—”

Jason exhaled slowly, then looked around again, more alert this time, taking in the pathway nearly twenty feet away, slightly uphill. “We were being followed—”

“They went past. A while ago. I was—” She couldn’t say anything else. Couldn’t form the words. “They didn’t come back.”

Jason nodded, then took a deep breath. He dragged himself to his feet, lifting her up. She cried out as she put weight on her feet. She’d sat for too long— “Damn it,” he muttered. “We won’t get reception here on the cell,” he told her. “We have to move.”

“I know.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her limp back up to the path. “Your head,” Elizabeth said. “We need to get it looked at—”

“I’m fine. I just—” Jason twisted, looking at the path for the first time. He took out the phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. “One bar. Might be enough. We can go back the way we came, I think.” He crouched down, lifting one of her feet, trying to examine it in the inky darkness, nothing but the dim light of the cell phone to work with. “Damn it. How are you walking on this?”

“Think about it later,” Elizabeth suggested shakily, but clung to him tightly. He started to lift her into his arms, but she stopped him. “No, you can’t. You might have a concussion. I made it this far, okay? Let’s call Sonny and find somewhere to meet him.”

He wanted to argue further, but instead he whipped off his suit jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders. Her shawl had disappeared somewhere or had been left behind in the limo. He needed to get her out of the cold, out of the open.

He was able to connect to Sonny long enough to give him a meeting place, then they limped back the way they came, dipping off the path at any strange sounds. No one came back, but that didn’t make either of them feel any safer.

Not until they left the path for a well-light street and the café Jason had given Sonny. There was a car parked in front, but he kept Elizabeth behind him until Sonny emerged from the passenger side, his face creased in worry.

“Jason hit his head, “Elizabeth blurted out as Sonny approached them. “We need a doctor—”

“I’m fine,” Jason repeated, turning to her. “You need—”

“You both look like hell. Richie will be waiting at the penthouse,” Sonny clipped out. He gestured to one of the guards to open the back door. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Elizabeth never made a sound as their doctor gently worked on her feet, but Jason held her hand tightly. The doctor had to cut the stockings away from her ankles, then gently peel the shreds out of the various cuts and gashes in her feet before he could even disinfect and treat them.

“If I had left my shoes on, I’d have broken my ankle before we got out of the first alley,” Elizabeth reminded him with gritted teeth. “It was the only way.”

The only way.

She was right about that, of course. Once they’d been trapped in a limo, ditching the shoes and running was the only option available.

But it shouldn’t have been.

He didn’t know how she’d done it — how she’d run so far on those feet when he knew she’d had the first cut within seconds of leaping from the limo. Her dress was torn, a strap dangling down the side of her dress. Her hair had come undone, the curls falling around her face, and her cheeks were streaked with her makeup, smudged by tears.

Somehow she’d managed to keep them both safe on the path when he’d fallen, and she’d barely had a word of complaint other than winces and hisses of pain.

She deserved so much better than this.

“You’ll want to stay off the feet for a few days,” Richie advised as he wrapped Elizabeth’s foot in gauze, then a wrap to protect the bandages. “Maybe longer. I don’t think any of the cuts need stitches, but we need to keep our eye out.” He glanced at Jason. “How’s the head?”

“Feels like hell,” Jason bit out. “But I’m fine—”

“You could have a concussion,” Elizabeth argued, shifting away now that her injuries had been seen to. “You were out for a while—”

“I know the symptoms,” he told her gently, squeezing her hand. “We’ll keep an eye on it, but I’m okay for now.” He looked at Richie. “Right?”

“Yeah, you know the drill. Not your first knock out. Won’t be the last.” The doctor got to his feet. “I’m going to leave you what you need to take care of the feet,” he told Elizabeth. “Call me if any of it gets worse.”

“Thanks,” Sonny said as the doctor passed him. “Appreciate the quick service.”

“Appreciate the paycheck.” The doctor left, and Sonny turned back to them. “You should get some rest—”

“You want to tell me what the hell happened?” Jason demanded. He’d not said anything in the car, not wanting any of the guards involved. He knew if he started talking, he might explode.

This was Sonny’s fault. Every cut, every gash, every bruise, every piece of Elizabeth damaged from tonight was his fault—

And Jason’s.

“We didn’t realize anything was wrong,” Sonny said, chagrined. “I left early and was already on my way home when you called. Sorel was still at the No Name when I left. I contacted Vega—Sorel left just after I did. He must have found out somehow—maybe there’s a rat—”

“Maybe it was fucking obvious you were setting him up,” Jason retorted. “I told you, didn’t I? But you all had your own games you wanted to play. He wanted hostages of his own. You wouldn’t have known anything was wrong until the car didn’t come back for you, and by then it would have been too late. Sorel would have had us to bargain with.”

Sonny shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, dipping his head down. “I know—”

“What happened to Max?”

Elizabeth’s soft voice drew both of their attention and Jason’s breath caught at the reminder of the guard who was supposed to be in the car.

The man Jason hadn’t bothered to check for when they’d gotten into the limo. He’d been so eager to leave, to get Elizabeth away from the restaurant that he hadn’t bothered to verify the driver. Rookie mistake.

“They found him behind the No Name. He was shot. Not dead,” Sonny added in a rush when Elizabeth’s face paled. “He’s being seen to. I’m sorry—”

“Wait here,” Jason cut in again. He turned to Elizabeth. “You need to rest,” he told her softly, lifting her in his arms. “I’m going to take you upstairs.”

“Mmm…I want to take a hot bath.” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck. “I promise, I won’t get my feet wet. I just—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Once Elizabeth was settled, soaking in the bath she’d asked for, her feet carefully propped up to stay dry, Jason returned downstairs where Sonny was still standing.

“I never wanted her to get hurt,” Sonny said. “You know that, don’t you? Whatever’s wrong between us, you have to know—”

“There was always a possibility tonight would go wrong,” Jason interrupted. “You knew that, and you decided the risk was worth it. Sorel already made it clear he doesn’t care what happens to her. The only reason she didn’t die on New Year’s was a faulty wire.”

“We don’t know that he wanted her dead, Jason—”

“I’m not in the mood to be charitable. He put a live bomb in Elizabeth’s studio and then called her to make sure she knew she was going to die. And tonight, he tried to kidnap her. There’s no more games. No more rituals or traditions. You’re done using me.”

“I didn’t—” His face gray, Sonny swallowed hard. “That’s not what I wanted to do—”

“It’s all you’ve ever done. You call yourself my brother, my friend?” Jason demanded. “I’ve lied, cheated, and stolen for you. I’ve killed for you. And all I ever asked you to do was to respect me. To respect my choices.”

“I—”

“And you don’t. You used me to get back in good with Vega and everyone else because they’re still pissed you took off and left me in charge.”

“This is my fault, I know it—”

“I don’t give a damn about your martyr act,” Jason snapped. “This is your life, not mine. And I don’t want it anymore. I’m done.”

With those words echoing in the air, Jason stalked upstairs and left Sonny alone in the living room. He didn’t want to think about the man anymore tonight. Not when he had his own guilt twisting in his stomach.

For all that he blamed Sonny, Jason knew he was the real culprit. Sonny had put them in a dangerous situation, but it was Jason’s mistakes that had led to Elizabeth nearly being kidnapped and dragged through the park until her feet had been sliced into ribbons, forced to protect them when he couldn’t.

Tonight was his fault.