I’m proud of who I am
No more monsters, I can breathe again
And you said that I was done
Well, you were wrong and now the best is yet to come
‘Cause I can make it on my own, oh
And I don’t need you, I found a strength I’ve never known
I’ll bring thunder, I’ll bring rain, oh
When I’m finished, they won’t even know your name
– Praying, Kesha

---

Monday, December 29, 2003

Morgan Penthouse: Master Bedroom

Jason walked out of the bathroom, winding his tie around his neck, and hesitated as he watched Elizabeth carefully sit on the edge of the bed, close her eyes, and exhale slowly, pressing her hand to the curve of her belly.

She’d been resting since her breathing problems on Christmas Day, but he knew she still wasn’t bouncing back the way Kelly and Monica had hoped she would after nearly three weeks of dedicated rest and relaxation.

Instead—things seemed to be worse. The circles under her eyes were darker than they’d been even in the months after the panic room when he knew she hadn’t been sleeping well. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a full breath without thinking about it first.

He was spending a lot of time listening to her breathe, taking her pulse, and he was wondering if he should buy a blood pressure pump to have in the penthouse or an oxygen tank for each room.

“I’m fine.”

Jason blinked, then focused on her, realizing Elizabeth was looking at him, her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Elizabeth—”  He shook his head, then sat next to her. “You don’t have to go today. It’s over. It’s a formality. He’s going to prison today. Ned and Lois will be there. I know some of the other women from your group will be—but you’ve done enough.”

“It will never be enough,” Elizabeth murmured. “I can’t change the past. I can’t stop myself from going down that path, sitting on that bench. I can’t stop myself from taking a shower or not going to the police right away.” She looked at him, their eyes meeting. “It will never be enough. And it will never be over.”

“Hey.” He took her hand, laced his fingers through hers. “He’s not getting out of prison. He can’t come back—”

“Not physically. But he’ll never leave me. Not really.” Elizabeth sighed, then got to her feet to walk over to her closet. “Months will go by, and then something might remind me. I’ll have another nightmare.” She slid her feet into a pair of flat sandals. “I went to Baker’s sentencing. Five years ago. And Lucky told me it was over. That I wouldn’t have to think about him anymore. Not for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Elizabeth winced as she sat at the vanity table. “You want to protect me. You want me to be okay. Right? And yeah, I think I wish I could sit at home today and rest. I’m so tired…” She looked at her face in the mirror, touched the circles. “And maybe it is silly to think I have that kind of power—that if I don’t follow every step of the process, it will somehow fall apart.”

“It’s not.”

“If you—I know things are tense right now. Um, if you need to be at work, I can ask Ned to give me a ride—”

“Bernie and Justus know where I am if they need anything.” Jason met her eyes in the mirror. “Nothing else matters.”

Elizabeth managed a faint smile. “All right. Well, let me finish getting ready so we can get this over with.”

Quartermaine Estate: Front Room

“I don’t see why I can’t go,” Edward said, standing up from the sofa, furrowing his brows. “I want to be there to watch that monster dragged off for the last time—”

“Lois and I talked about it.” Ned put an arm around his ex-wife’s shoulders. “And my being there will make it enough of a press event. Quartermaines start showing up, and it’s back in the national news.”

“It should be—that scum—”

“We’re thinking of Elizabeth,” Lois said quietly. “She’s not feeling well,” she reminded the older man who sighed and looked at his daughter-in-law. “If we can minimize the attention, it will make it easier on her.”

“The local news will be covering it, Edward,” Monica told him. “We can watch it later, but I think Ned and Lois are right. The fewer people who attend, the less of a media circus.”

“I just—” Edward sighed, then sat back down. He looked at Lila’s kind and worried eyes. “I just want to help. Be there.”

“I know, darling.” Lila held out her hand, and Edward took it between his own. “But helping means listening to what your family needs.”

“You’re right. As always.” Edward kissed her hand, looked at his grandson. “If anything goes wrong at this sentencing, I will get the President on the phone in an hour—”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Lois said, but she was smiling now because they both knew if Edward wanted to make trouble for the courts, he could. “But thank you. We just—we want to get through this day.” She looked at Ned. “It’s the last thing we can do for our little girl.”

Brownstone: Kitchen

Bobbie checked her watch, then sighed. “The sentencing starts in less than an hour,” she murmured, setting a cup of coffee in front of Carly. “I still don’t feel right not being there. I took off the entire day—”

“Jason said they were hoping to keep this one a bit quiet,” Carly reminded her. “Sit, Mama. You’ve been on your feet for days between Christmas and work. If we went to the hearing, then you know the Quartermaines would want to be there. They mean well—”

“But everywhere they go, they drag the media. I know. And Elizabeth needs the break. So do Ned and Lois. All of us.” Bobbie sat down, picked up her own coffee, and sipped it. “It’s chilling,” she said. “To think that I rented a room to him. That Ruby ran him a tab. Elizabeth served him for nearly two more years. And we never knew.”

“Monsters like Vinnie Esposito should come with a label,” Carly muttered. “But they don’t. They look like everyone else, and you don’t see the darkness until it’s too late.” She rubbed the side of her head. “I’m seeing Kevin tomorrow. He was able to fit me in.”

“I’m glad. I know you didn’t want to go back into therapy—”

“But I need to. I need to put myself first. And that seems crazy to say.” Carly leaned back in her chair, shaking her head a bit. “I spent my entire life putting myself first—what I wanted, needed—it was always my top priority. God, even after I had Michael—I couldn’t stop. The old me—I don’t think I ever would have stayed. I don’t think I would have gone back in the first place. I don’t know.”

“Carly—”

“I used to think that it meant something—the fact that I could put Sonny first—that I would stop and make sure I was doing what he needed me to do before I thought about myself—when he told me he was faking his death last year—” She tipped her head to the ceiling. “I felt so trusted. Like I’d earned my way back into the circle, and that he valued me. Respected me. How could we fall so far so fast?”

“You made a choice a few months ago,” Bobbie said, “when you and Elizabeth turned down that deal. And Sonny had the choice to respect and support you. Or to disagree and hold it against you. Two people—they can travel down a road quite easily if they agree all the time—but when you come to a crossroads—it’s the choice that defines what happens next.”

“He couldn’t see me.” Carly’s breath was shaky. “And I tried too hard to see him. I think, Mama, that I wasn’t lying when I told him I’m afraid of him. I know there’s darkness in him. I’ve always known that. I knew it before we ever fell in love, you know?”

She twisted her wedding ring. “But his darkness is different. Jason would get so angry at me—I did so much damage to him—tortured and hurt him a thousand ways—and I never felt afraid. Sonny—I never thought he’d hurt me.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Bobbie covered her daughter’s hand. “I’ve been there. Trusting your heart, your soul, and your body to a man that betrays you. Sonny might regret what happened, but until he gets some serious help—”

“I don’t think I could go back even then,” Carly admitted. “I’m starting—I think even if he had gone the day after it happened to a doctor or even admitted he needed help—I don’t know if I could ever forget what happened. Or forgive him. He put me back in that room, Mama. Physically. And mentally. And it kills me because his fear is mine. He can’t stand being locked up, and he did it to me.”

“You make whatever choice is right for you, Carly,” Bobbie told her. “And you think about your kids. They come first. Sonny is going to have to take care of himself for a change.”

Port Charles Courthouse: Courtroom A

Elizabeth sat down next to Lois in the front row, squeezed her hand, then looked around. She exchanged muted glances with Dana Watson and Veronica Logan, two of the survivors from the group who had chosen to come and watch the final step.

The others, including Renee, had considered the hearing and plea agreement the end of everything, and Elizabeth couldn’t blame them. She wanted this nightmare to be over — but as she’d told Jason that morning —

This would never be over. It would always be part of her DNA, part of her story, and somehow, Elizabeth needed to learn to be okay with that. Jason sat next to her, took her hand in his, and offered a faint smile. As long as she had him — she might be able to do it.

Even though she knew he was going to irritated, even angry with her, in a few minutes.

“You managed to convince Edward to stand down?” Elizabeth asked, breaking the silence.

“It was tough,” Ned admitted, putting an arm around Lois’s shoulders. “But Grandmother, as always, stepped in when all hope was lost.”

“No one manages Edward like Lila,” Lois said with a nod. “But he said he was putting the President on speed dial.”

Elizabeth almost laughed at the image of Edward having the White House on standby—but her mirth was smothered when the bailiff stepped forward, called the courtroom to order, and asked the deputies to bring in the defendant.

Taggert and Dante slipped in, sitting in one of the empty rows on the other side of the courtroom. Taggert offered Elizabeth and her group a nod of encouragement.

“All right,” Scott said, twisting slightly in his seat. “This won’t take long. We’re almost at the end.”

Elizabeth nodded, took a deep breath, but didn’t look towards the door that opened. She heard the shuffle of footsteps, the clanking of chains, but didn’t look towards him. She couldn’t do that quite yet.

“I understand that although the prosecution and defense have agreed on a sentencing recommendation, the DA’s office would like the opportunity to have impact statements presented?” the judge asked.

Scott rose to his feet. “Yes, sir, Your Honor. Considering the heinous nature of the crimes committed, the state wanted the victims to have a chance to speak on the record. Not all of the women brutally attacked and raped by the defendant have chosen to speak—”

“Your Honor, my client is only pleading to one such assault,” the defense attorney said, leaping to his feet. “Any others—”

“If your client would like to wait until we go to trial on seven accounts of rape and assault, two counts of attempted murder, and attempted rape—” Scott said pleasantly, “the DA’s office is ready, willing, and able to go to trial. We could start today—”

Elizabeth’s stomach rolled, and she closed her eyes. She was one of the counts of attempted rape and murder—Christ—

“Inhale and count to fifteen,” Jason said softly. She looked at him, then nodded. Better to get ahead of any problems.

“Spare me the histrionics, gentlemen,” the judge said blandly. “Your client may not be pleading to these counts, Mr. Oakley, but you can listen to the victims now or at trial. Choose.”

The defense attorney scowled, then nodded. “All right. We’ll waive any protest.” He sat back down and whispered to his client. Elizabeth refused to look over.

“Present your first statement, Mr. Baldwin.”

Scott turned to Lois, who took a deep breath and walked up to the front. Up until now, Ned had given all the public statements regarding Brooke’s case since he’d been running for election. Lois’s hands were trembling slightly as she set a piece of paper down on the podium.

For the first time, she turned and looked directly at Vinnie, meeting his eyes. “I knew you,” she murmured. “And you knew me. You knew my baby.”

“Ma’am, please address the court,” the judge said, gently. Lois turned away from Vinnie, met the judge’s kind eyes, then nodded.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. My name is Lois Cerullo. My daughter was Brooke Lynn Ashton. She was nineteen years old when Vincent Esposito grabbed her, threw her to the ground, raped her, then beat her. She’ll never see twenty.” Lois paused, took a deep breath. “The defendant knew my daughter. Grew up with her in Bensonhurst. The defendant is known to me. To my family. He was like one of our own. My daughter would have trusted him.”

She waited a moment, gathered herself. “Brooke could sing like an angel. She could make you feel something just by opening her mouth and letting her heart fall out with her words, with her voice. She was going to change the world—make it better. But Vinnie Esposito broke her. He beat her so badly she needed pain pills, and it was those pain pills she used to block out the horror of what he’d done to her. Those pills took her life.” Lois fisted her hand on the podium, squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’ll never know if she knew it was him. If she remembered him in her final moments. I pray she didn’t. I hope she didn’t leave this world knowing that a man she thought of as family had done this to her—it’s hard enough for me to live in the world with the knowledge of what this has done to my family. To the other women. Because my Brookie—she wasn’t alone.”

Lois looked at Vinnie again. “You did your evil in the dark, but she was your last. And I can hold on to that. Because Brooke was strong enough to give her statement, and the police were able to make that connection to earlier cases. She didn’t know it, but she was part of the fight to stop you. And she did it. You’re done. You’re nothing. I’m going to leave this courtroom, and it will be the last moment I give you. From now on, I’m just going to remember my baby and her voice. My angel in the light while you burn in hell.”

She looked at the judge. “Thank you.”

Lois turned and walked back to her seat, squeezing Ned’s hand as she sat down. Elizabeth raised her brows when Scott called Dante up to the podium. Vinnie’s cousin took a bracing breath, then walked forward.

“My name is Dante Falconieri,” he said in a low voice. “And Vinnie is my cousin. Brooke was my godsister—” His smile was faint. “We take that seriously in Bensonhurst. I never had any siblings, and Aunt Lois was just as likely to whack me upside the head as my own mother was. It was my job to look after Brooke. I didn’t—I didn’t know I had to protect her from my own family.” Dante turned to look at Vinnie, who just lifted his brows. “I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I missed it. How we all missed it. But I can’t waste any more time on you, Vinnie.”

He faced the judge again. “I’m not one of Vinnie’s victims, but I’m speaking for the Falconieri family, even if they don’t think I got a right to do that anymore. I’m speaking for Brooke because it was my job to take care of her, and I failed her. I failed all those other girls because I didn’t know anyone could be so blind to evil could walking next to you. You throw him in jail, Your Honor, and make sure he doesn’t get out one minute early. We need to do a better job of protecting everyone else.”

Dante shoved away from the podium and stalked out of the courtroom. Lois twisted in her chair, her eyes dark with worry.

Elizabeth winced as Scott turned to look at her. She knew Jason would have argued with her about this — knew he expected one of the other survivors to speak next— but —

There were just some things she had to do.

Scott nodded at her, and Elizabeth tried to release Jason’s hand—but he held fast. “What—” Jason inhaled sharply, and she saw the flash of anger, a flare of hurt in his eyes before his expression went blank.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I have to finish it.”

His mouth tight, Jason loosened his grip, and Elizabeth walked to the podium, keeping her eyes on the judge. If she didn’t look away from him — she would get through this. Inhale, count to fifteen, exhale. Inhale, count to fifteen—

“My name is Elizabeth Webber, and I was Vincent Esposito’s first and last victim.” She met the judge’s eyes. “If you’ve listened to the tape or read the transcript, you know that he thinks I’m his soul mate. I was sixteen the first time he saw me. He took my statement after a shooting. I don’t remember him. I apparently served him often as a regular at Kelly’s. His face, his name — I don’t know him. I never knew him.”

She paused. Inhale. Count to fifteen. Exhale. “But he’s been my nightmare for nearly six years. At first, he raped me every night when I closed my eyes. Eventually, it was less. Days, weeks, and even months would pass, but the nightmares always came back. Even when I thought my attacker was another man, they didn’t stop. Now that I know for sure who attacked me that night in the park—even though I fought him off and stopped him from raping me again — I know that the nightmares will be with me for the rest of my life.”

She looked up from the paper. Elizabeth didn’t need to look at her words. Not anymore. “The purpose of a victim’s impact statement is to prove to the court the damage that’s been done to me because of this crime. I’m supposed to rip open a vein to prove to you that I am damaged by this man, and you—as the judge—are required to take my words into account when you pass sentence.”

Elizabeth inhaled, counted to fifteen, then exhaled. “The damage that has been done to me can’t be undone. It can’t be fixed. It will fade, but it will scar. And I will always know it happened. I will always be the girl who was raped in the park, and I will carry with me the knowledge that other women who looked like me were raped because my rapist wanted to relive his glory—wanted the experience of raping me again.

“That’s what I want you to remember, Your Honor, when you sentence the defendant. My attacks are what he’s pleading to, but I am not special. The other women deserve their pain to be known, to be remembered.

“I wasn’t going to speak today. I thought I had said everything I needed to say in Syracuse, at the press conference. But there are women who can’t speak yet, and might never be able to. Someone needs to stand for them. The system refused to. Even now, with this plea deal, the system has decided that it will be easier for all of us if we make a deal. Because to go to trial means to make us rip open wounds that have only begun to heal, and for some of us—we can’t bear to do it again—”

She stopped. Inhaled, counted to fifteen, then exhaled. Elizabeth turned to look at Vinnie Esposito briefly before directing her attention back to her notes, knowing the judge would not let her continue if she spoke directly to him.

“You will not win. My wounds will scar, but that will make me stronger than I was before you tried to break me. You will never have the power to hurt anyone else. I was the start of this terror, and I will be the end of it.”

She looked back at the judge. “It is my understanding that although Vincent Esposito and the DA’s office have reached a sentence recommendation, that it is the court’s discretion whether or not you accept that recommendation. That once the plea has been entered, he cannot withdraw it without showing just cause in writing.”

“Elizabeth,” Scott hissed. Ned straightened in his chair as Jason leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.

“I am asking you, Your Honor,” Elizabeth said, “to remember that I am but one victim. There are six others in Port Charles with DNA matches. Three more in Buffalo whose DNA matched. An ADA nearly died to bring this man to justice. To do what the PCPD couldn’t do for five years. I am asking you and this court not to throw us away. Not to let him win. We deserve more, and I am demanding better.”

And for the last time, Elizabeth looked at her rapist whose face had finally changed—the color had leeched from him as his lawyer looked vaguely sick. At the man who had haunted her dreams and stolen her childhood—

“I might have been the first, but I guarantee you — I am the last woman you will try to break.”

Without another word, without looking back at the judge, Elizabeth returned to her seat. Inhale, count to fifteen, then exhale. She couldn’t meet Jason’s eyes, couldn’t look at anyone. She knew Scott was probably pissed — she knew there was a chance the judge would listen to her, which meant Vinnie could appeal the sentence and there would be a trial—

She knew she might have torpedoed the whole damn thing —

But Elizabeth didn’t care.

“Thank you, Miss Webber, for that statement.” The judge lifted his brow. “You are correct, of course. Once a defendant has entered a plea of guilty, he must show just cause to withdraw it, and a court would have to agree with him.” He smiled thinly at the defense table. “It should be interesting to see if you can find a just cause with the case against you, Mr. Esposito—”

“Your Honor,” the defense attorney said, clearing his throat. “You should not make these decisions based on emotion—”

“On the contrary, I am, as Miss Webber reminded me, required by law to use the victim’s impact statement as part of my determination.” The judge looked at Scott. “Mr. Baldwin.”

“Uh, of course, the DA’s office will respect whatever the court decides,” Scott said weakly. “It’s just a recommendation.”

“It is. Since the defendant is pleading to a count of rape in the third degree, a count of attempted murder in the first degree, and assault in the first degree — it is this court’s determination that the defendant, Vince Esposito, shall be sentenced to two terms of twenty-five to life, to be served consecutively.” He paused. “That’s fifty to life, Mr. Esposito, if you were wondering. And if you make it to fifty years, there are still seven years on the rape count.” The judge banged his gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

“Bullshit—” Vinnie exploded as he sprang out of his seat. He went after his lawyer as deputies dragged him out of the courtroom. “Bullshit! You promised me I’d be out in twenty-five—”

“Will he appeal?” Ned asked as he stood up. “Can he?”

“He could,” Scott said, eying Elizabeth, “but it’s a steep hill to climb. And, uh, I see that Elizabeth gambled on just cause being in her favor.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said softly. “If I’d told you what I wanted to say, you would have told me no.”

“Maybe.” Scott shrugged, picked up his briefcase. “Maybe not. But if anyone has earned the right to flip the tables on this—” He grinned at her. “Well-played, Miss Webber. You should have been a lawyer.”

“But he’s—fifty years.” Lois pressed a fist to her chest, looking at Elizabeth. “He’s—he can’t come back.”

“Fifty-seven years,” Elizabeth corrected. “He’ll be in his seventies by the time he can qualify for parole.” She bit her lip, turned to look at Jason. “On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?” she asked.

Jason looked at her, then shook his head, and walked out, the doors to the courtroom swinging behind him. Elizabeth stared after him as Taggert crossed over to her.

“What’s crawled up Anger Boy’s ass?” he asked. “You’d think he’d be happy—”

“I didn’t tell him I was speaking today,” Elizabeth admitted. “I guess we’re back to name-calling.”

“How long did you think that truce was going to last?” Taggert shrugged. “You did good, kid. You need a ride?”

“No. He’s not going to leave me stranded here.” At least Elizabeth didn’t think so. She’d really thought this would be the kind of thing where she asked for forgiveness, not permission — but maybe she’d pushed Jason one too many times.

Courthouse: Hallway

Jason sat on the bench outside the courtroom, ignoring the reporters who knew better than to shove a camera or microphone in his face. Heat flooded through his body, and he knew that he had to get himself under control before Elizabeth joined him. It was taking every inch of his famed control to keep his expression blank in front of the reporters.

She hadn’t told him.

She hadn’t warned him that she was doing this—that she was speaking today, that she was going to encourage the judge to throw out the entire sentencing recommendation—

It was supposed to be over today. She was supposed to be out of this done with the stress, done with the worry—

Instead—

The doors opened, and Elizabeth emerged, flanked by Ned and Lois. Lois put an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder to keep the reporters from crowding her.

“Mayor, Mayor—”

Ned scowled, but with a glance at Lois and Elizabeth, who kept moving towards the elevator, he nodded. “I am gratified by the decision of the court today,” he told the reporter who shoved a mic in his face. “And humbled by the continuing courage that Elizabeth Webber has shown in facing not only the man who raped her at the age of sixteen but attacked her in her own home less than three months ago. If the PCPD had shown an ounce of her courage at any step in their investigation before my daughter’s attack—” Ned’s voice faltered, and he dipped his head to gather himself.

Jason watched Lois and Elizabeth get on the elevator and then decided to wait for Ned to finish his statement so they could leave together. He didn’t want to be alone with Elizabeth just yet. Not until he could talk himself out of being angry. Out of being hurt that she’d shut him out of this.

“I thank the Major Crimes unit and Lieutenant Taggert for their diligent work, the dogged determination of the district attorney’s office, and for the survivors who stepped forward, particularly Elizabeth. I hope when you report on this story tonight, it’s her words that you remember. That you report. Not mine. All those women deserved better from us. It didn’t have to be like this. She shouldn’t have had to step up over and over again. This case and the injustice done to those women is a stain on the city and the men who led it. Vincent Esposito is just a symptom of the disease. That’s all.”

Ned strode away from the reporters, and Jason followed him, shoving his hands in his pockets. When the elevator doors closed on them, and the reporters were gone, Ned looked at Jason. “Whatever you’re feeling, you have a right to it—”

“Ned—” Jason turned to his cousin. “You don’t know everything—”

“I know that Elizabeth’s health is fragile and that she just opened the door to a trial—it should be over today. Part of me wants it to be. To close the door. To get on with my life.”

Ned pressed the button for the lobby. “But it’s not up to you or me to decide that. Elizabeth has the weight of knowing that scum was raping her over and over again when he attacked those women—and it doesn’t matter that it wasn’t her fault. She’ll take it on anyway. She reminds me of you.”

Jason shook his head. “You don’t know me—”

“Jason Quartermaine decided he was going to save his brother no matter what,” Ned murmured. “He had everything going for him. He was acing medical school, was wildly in love with Keesha, had a family that idolized him—he was a prince among men—”

Jason’s mouth tightened at the reminder of who he had been. “That’s not me—”

“Maybe, maybe not. But Elizabeth could have sat silent today. She could have stayed silent in September and not come forward as a survivor. She could have moved on with her life, with you, the wedding, and the baby. She didn’t, Jason. Jason Quartermaine could have let AJ drive drunk that night and crash the car on his own. He didn’t.”

As the doors opened, Jason saw Elizabeth standing at the security desk next to Lois, her face pale, her eyes tired.

“She didn’t tell you, Jason, and maybe that was wrong, but from where I’m standing — knowing Vinnie Esposito won’t be able to see the light of day until long after I’m dead? It doesn’t feel that way.”

Jason didn’t respond, and Ned let the subject drop. They walked over to Lois and Elizabeth.

“Jason—” Elizabeth began, but he shook his head.

“We’ll talk about it at home,” he told her, glancing around at the reporters who had come down the stairs. “Let’s go.”

Harborview Towers: Hallway

The ride home was quiet, and Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure how to handle Jason in a mood like this. Their arguments had been few and far between since July—and they’d mostly been about the way she’d handled her health and Jason’s reaction to it.

Should she apologize? Probably, she admitted as the elevator climbed towards the penthouse level. He deserved honesty from her, especially now, but—

The doors opened on the fifteenth floor, and Elizabeth fought to contain her irritation when she saw Sonny waiting. Fantastic. With Jason in an unpredictable mood, this was the last thing they needed.

“Do you need to get on?” Jason asked dully, holding his hand to keep the doors from closing as he and Elizabeth stepped off.

“No, I was waiting for you,” Sonny snapped. “Wally told me when you got back. Where the hell have you been?”

“Wait for me in the living room. I’ll be there in a minute,” Jason told Elizabeth flatly.

Even though she knew she was in the wrong, Elizabeth bristled at what sounded like an order. “I know you’re mad, but—”

“Can’t you ever do anything you’re told the first time?” Sonny retorted. Elizabeth swung her head around, her eyes flashing with irritation. Why did he always have something to say?

“Don’t—” Jason bit out, then took a deep breath. “Elizabeth. Please.”

“Fine.” She walked around the corner, and Cody, already at the door, hurriedly shoved the door open. Jason looked at Sonny, his jaw clenched.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again. If you can’t pretend to respect her, then don’t even bother talking to her at all,” Jason told him. “Do you need something?”

“You haven’t been in the warehouse in days—and you were off again today—”

“It was Christmas,” Jason said evenly. “And we had the sentencing today for Esposito. If you care.”

“I—” Sonny pressed his lips together. “I forgot that was today—”

“Yeah, a lot of that going on right now,” Jason muttered and stalked away from him.

“I’m not done—”

“Well, I am,” Jason said, then shoved his way into the penthouse and slammed the door behind him. He’d spent the entire drive home trying to talk himself out of being angry with her—had nearly managed it—but then Sonny had reminded Jason of all the things he was trying to balance—

Why couldn’t Elizabeth just give him a break? Just once. He just wanted one thing to go the way it was supposed to, and he had a right to expect the woman who said she loved him to have his back.

Elizabeth was standing at the window by the pool table, her coat already thrown over the back of the desk chair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jason demanded. He stripped off his jacket, grabbed hers, and hung them up, the hangers swinging from the force of his movements. “You should have told me you were going to speak today. That you were going to ask the judge to throw out the sentencing recommendation—”

“Because you would have argued with me.” Elizabeth turned to glare at him. “And this wasn’t something I wanted to have to justify wanting to do. You tried to talk me out of going this morning—”

“And I backed down—”

“Only because you thought I wasn’t going to make a statement.” Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re not going to use my health against me, Jason, to stop me from doing what I have to do—”

“What if Vinnie appeals, and we have to go trial?” Jason stalked across the room, his blood boiling. “This was supposed to be over today. He was going away for twenty-five—”

“It’s not enough—” Elizabeth swiped angrily at her tears as they spilled down her cheeks. “It won’t ever be enough. He was making a deal, and it wasn’t—I could live with this plea before that transcript. Before the tape. But only being punished for me and not for the others? He was winning. And I couldn’t let him—”

“What if he goes to trial? What if he gets bail? Elizabeth—you can’t be—” Jason dragged his hands through his hair. “I’m not mad,” he said slowly. “I’m—”

“Yeah, you are. You’re mad. Admit it, Jason. Just—for once—” She jabbed a finger at him. “I’m the reason Ric is alive, and now I’m the reason Vinnie might go to trial instead of rotting in jail starting today—I keep making your life more difficult—”

“It’s—” Jason turned away, put his hands on the sofa, and leaned over, taking a deep breath. He had to stop. Had to think. He was furious—and why? Why? Because Elizabeth had told the truth in her statement?

Because her truth meant this still wasn’t over?

Because it made his life more difficult?

Shame spiraled through him as he accepted that he was angry because what she’d done meant he had to worry about her. He was making this about himself—taking the worst thing that had ever happened to Elizabeth—

He was no better than Sonny lashing out at Carly who just wanted to deal with her trauma on her own terms.

Jason exhaled slowly. “It’s easier to be mad than terrified,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “You’re sick. You know you are. We have these tests tomorrow, and you might have another blood clot, or it might be something else we don’t even know about. And I can’t make that go away.”

“Jason.” He heard her sigh behind him, her steps soft as she approached him. “I don’t expect you, too.”

“I’m supposed to fix things. That’s who I am. What I’m good at. And I can’t—I can’t find Ric. I can’t make you healthy. I can’t make Sonny get his shit together—I can’t do anything. And you just—you just invited more stress into all of this. If this goes to trial, if he wins on appeal, you’ll have to testify—”

“If it makes you feel better—though it probably won’t,” Elizabeth said, quietly, “I did talk to Justus first. I didn’t do this without thinking it through. Scott would likely fight any appeal on the sentence. And he could and would fight to the state courts. I wouldn’t have to testify in a trial for a year or more. And Justus also told me that winning the appeal would be very unlikely. Case law is in the state’s favor. I gambled, Jason. Because I couldn’t stand that he was only being punished for my attacks. Not for any of the others. I had to try one last time.”

She’d done all that—had gone to Justus—and hadn’t told him. Hadn’t brought him into this decision. Because she’d known he’d be upset—because she’d known it would worry him.

“And if I had to testify in a year—well, I’ll be a year closer to being okay. The baby will be here, and whatever is wrong—” She put a hand on his chest, and he finally met her eyes. “You don’t have to fix me, Jason. And it is not your job to fix other people.”

“I—”

“You’re good at it, yeah, but you’re not a superhero, Jason. And sometimes, the rest of us need to make mistakes and fix ourselves. I needed to do this. And I am sorry I didn’t trust you enough to tell you before. I knew you’d make this about my health, and I can’t—I needed to be the one to finish it.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, then exhaled slowly. “You and this baby are everything,” he told her, his voice husky. “If I lose you—either of you—”

Elizabeth leaned up, kissed him, framing his face with her hands. “You won’t. We’ll get through this. And we’ll be stronger for it. I love you.”

“Wishing you were less brave—or less reckless—” Jason added, and she grinned, “would be asking you to be someone you’re not, and I don’t want that. I just—if you could just give me a heads up before you decide to bring down the system again, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll do my best.” She kissed him again. “Now—I’m starving, so—” As she stepped away, and Jason turned towards the takeout menu drawer, her cell phone rang. He went over to the desk, found it in her purse, then hesitated. “It’s Monica.”

“Oh. I guess it’s about tomorrow.” She took the phone from him. “Hey. What’s up?” She listened for a minute, then swallowed hard. “Oh. Okay. I mean—are you sure—no, I guess that makes sense. Um—yeah, no, I get it. Okay. We’ll see you then.”

“What is it?” Jason asked as Elizabeth flipped her phone closed.

“She’s adding a test tomorrow,” Elizabeth said softly. “An x-ray for my chest.”

“An x-ray,” Jason repeated. “But—”

“I know.” She tried to smile. “I guess she thinks it’s worth the risk. Which—” She exhaled slowly. “Kind of scares me.”

“Tell me everything she said.”

← Chapter 66 | Chapter 68 →