Shorter than I wanted it to be, but I really wanted to get the dialogue of this scene right.

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Dear reader
When you aim at the devil, make sure you don’t miss

She didn’t turn around right away. One hand remained on the door knob, and the other resting against the door itself, her head dipped so that her gaze was on the carpet beneath their feet.

She didn’t turn around, Jason thought, but she didn’t open the door. She didn’t say a word. Deciding to take that as a positive, he stepped towards her. “I didn’t mean for you to be the last to know.” Had never even made that connection until right this minute — that one by one, he’d told every other important person in his life, and that somehow, she’d ended up at the end of the list —

“It’s because I didn’t ask.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, then slowly turned. Her eyes were still red, the skin slightly swollen from the tears caused by Sonny’s insanity and Jake’s anger. But her expression was unreadable to him now — that careful guarded look that she only rarely reached for. “I didn’t think you’d tell me. You never do.”

“I—” Jason stopped, stumped slightly by that response. “Yes.”

“I should know better after all these years, I guess.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “You typically respond to direct questions if you can. Or you tell me flat out you can’t say. I didn’t ask. So I guess I can’t complain that you didn’t tell me.”

He squinted, opened his mouth, then closed it again. Bewildered by the turn in the conversation. “I—”

“Let me guess. You told Sonny because you were accused of shooting Dante, and that you’d tried to kill him and he needed to believe that you hadn’t betrayed at him. And if I know Carly, she was probably in the room so that’s why she knows.”

“Yes—”

“And Sam—Sam didn’t want you to see Danny. So you told her so that maybe she’d change her mind.” Elizabeth folded her arms, tipped her head. “But I didn’t keep you from Jake. And I didn’t accuse you of anything horrible, so I didn’t ask and you didn’t have a reason to tell me.”

“That—I can’t tell you’re if you’re still mad at me,” Jason said finally. “Just tell me—”

Elizabeth exhaled, looked away, her brow furrowed as if she were internally debating the question. “No,” she said after a beat. Then she met his gaze. “Because I don’t need to be told you wouldn’t betray Sonny. And I wouldn’t use your job to keep you from your son. Not ever again. You didn’t have a reason to tell me. I wasn’t demanding answers from you. And the few times I tried to bring it up, you changed the subject. I let you do that,” she told him, “because I don’t want anything from you that I have to beg you for.”

He dragged a hand down his face, grimaced. “It sounds like you’re mad about something else now,” he muttered.

She smiled now, just a slight twitch of her lips. “Not mad. Just disappointed. After all these years, you still don’t trust me or anyone else very much. That’s not the right word—because I know it’s not about trust—”

“Then what is it about? Tell me and I’ll fix it—”

“It’s not something you fix, Jason. Because you were wrong not to tell me, but not because I’m Jake’s mother, or because we’ve been friends for so long. Because you need to tell someone. You went away for more than two years, and this time you knew. You were awake, and it was a conscious choice. You woke up every day and didn’t pick up a phone. You let everyone who loves you think you were dead. You made that choice not once, Jason, but more than six hundred times.”

Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. “And the one thing I do know about you is that you would never do that unless you thought you had to. So, no, I’m not angry that you were working for John Cates. Or that you were an informant. All of that — if you want to tell me more, I’ll listen. But I’m more interested in those choices you made.”

“There’s nothing interesting about that—”

“You’re wrong,” Elizabeth said gently, and so firmly that Jason just stared at her. “I thought you looked different when you came home. You agreed. Now I know why. The weight of all those days you lived without us, knowing that we grieved you, knowing that you would have to come home someday and face it — that weight doesn’t just go away because it’s over.”

His throat tightened, and he looked away, slid his hands back in his pockets. “I can’t change what I did.”

“No, you can’t.” She folded her arms again, and sighed. “It’s funny. I’m so angry at Sonny for the way he handled all of this, and I don’t intend to let him off the hook. But he’s got one thing right—”

“No, he doesn’t—”

“Yes, he does. You think you don’t have the right to fight for Danny in court. To stand up and demand your rights as a father. And you can blame me for it, and I could point fingers at Sonny or Carly, but at the end of the day, Jason, you’re the one who believes it.”

“Maybe all of that’s true,” Jason said slowly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have the answers. Just because Danny is my son, that doesn’t mean living with me is the best choice—”

“Why not? He thought you were dead, Jason! He had both his parents back for a handful of months, and just like that—” Elizabeth snapped her fingers, and Jason flinched. “His mother is dead, and his whole world is upside down again. You’re his father. You love him, I know you do. He needs you and he needs to remember he’s only fourteen years old! He’s not an adult. Jake is putting off school because he doesn’t trust you to put Danny first.”

“I’m trying to—” Jason dragged his hands through his hair. “I’m trying to—”

“No, you’re sitting back like you always do. Reacting. Waiting for someone else to make the first move. You always did that to me, Jason, and it drove me insane because it meant I had to do what I thought was right for you and I sucked at it. You’re the only one who knows what’s right for you.”

“It seems like you’re still doing it. Still trying to tell me what’s best for me—” He clenched his jaw, and could feel the vein at his temple throb.

“Yeah, and you used to hate that. So get mad and tell me to go to hell—” Elizabeth held up a hand, lifted her brows. “Oh, sorry, I wouldn’t want to tell you what to do. Old habits die hard, you know. Sonny was out of line, Jason, but he did it because he thinks you won’t. Carly stomps around in your life because she knows you won’t stop her. Sam and I make—” She closed her eyes. “We made decisions for the boys because we knew you wouldn’t.” She opened her eyes, met his gaze directly. “Stop worrying about everyone else, Jason. Stop trying to do the right thing. To please everyone. To be everything to everyone. Put yourself first.”

“How do you I know that’s not what I was doing for two years?” Jason demanded, irritated beyond measure that every word she said was the absolute, devastating truth. “Maybe I was doing what I wanted, and that’s why I feel guilty. Maybe it was a relief to be away from all of this, from the demands and expectations, and the regrets and the hurt, and the mistakes—maybe I have nothing to feel sorry for at all. Maybe I liked it because it was simple. I had a job, I did the job, and I went on to the next thing. Maybe—” He broke off, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Maybe I’m not the person I used to be, and everyone looking for me to be someone I’m not is what pisses me off.”

He stopped again, this time closing his mouth, mortified that any of those words had come from him, unsure how he could drag them back, shove them deep down where they belonged, in the dark. Just like him.

There was a long, terrifying moment of silence as they stared at each other, and then, for some reason, Elizabeth smiled. A true smile this time, one that reached her eyes. “Do you feel better?”

“I—” Jason paused. “What?”

“Do you feel better?” Elizabeth repeated.

“I—” He considered the question, because of course he didn’t feel better. How could he? He’d just spewed a bunch of a bullshit that wasn’t anything like what he really felt, except—

It was.

“I didn’t mean it—”

“Don’t walk it back.” Elizabeth came forward, closing the distance between. She reached for the edges of his jacket, tugging the sides straight. “Look at me.” She said nothing until he did as she asked, meeting her eyes again. “There’s no judgment here. Do you feel better?”

“Y-yes,” Jason finally admitted. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no. Don’t. Jason.” Her eyes softened. “Do you think I believe for a second you didn’t miss our son? That you didn’t worry about him or Danny or Michael or anyone here? Do you think for a second that I believe you were off living a happy life free of all the demands here?”

“No. No. I wasn’t—”

“I know.” She smoothed his jacket again, then let her hands fall back to her sides, took a step back. “But a piece of you was. And it’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.”