I may appear to be free
But I’m just a prisoner of your love
And I may seem alright and smile when you leave
But my smiles are just a front
Just a front, hey
And I play it off, but I’m dreaming of you
And I’ll keep my cool, but I’m fiendin’
– I Try, Macy Gray

---

Thursday, January 6, 2000

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

The next morning, Sonny was surprised to see Jason arriving just after eight. “Where’s Elizabeth?”

“She had to go back to work this morning,” Jason said. He disappeared into the kitchen to make himself a mug of coffee, then joined Sonny at the table. “She had the opening shift.”

Sonny grimaced, sipped his own coffee. “It’s a nightmare to secure that diner,” he muttered. “Are sure we can’t talk her into taking a break? Sorel’s been warned, but he’s a moron.”

Jason didn’t much like it either, but he’d promised Elizabeth. “She has to pay for tuition,” he muttered. And she’d left the envelope of financial stuff he’d given her on the desk, her face screwed up with irritation when he’d given it to her that morning. He’d added her to the bank accounts and credit cards, so he’d had a checkbook and some cards for her to use.

“Well, if she were the type to take all the money you offered, then we probably wouldn’t be here.” Sonny shrugged it off. “We’ll make it work. The deal with Sorel will hold for a few weeks, maybe a month. He’ll wait until he think the others aren’t looking.”

“I know it.”

“But we bought ourselves some breathing room, and hey, we got a break—turns out Carly’s threat wasn’t that serious.” Sonny shrugged. “She’s neutralized—”

Jason hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to just write her off that way. Maybe she can’t put me in jail right now, but—”

“But the threat to Elizabeth and Bobbie isn’t there anymore, either. She left Bobbie out of the statement — and no one is going to let her go back and add on to it after the debacle last night. Legally, Carly can’t do anything. She might still try to torment you or go after Elizabeth, but what damage can she really do?”

That was a stupid question to ask, Jason knew, but Sonny hadn’t really paid attention to Carly before the last few months. And it was strange how the feelings of betrayal had faded when only a few weeks earlier, it had sent Jason spiraling, led him to collapse in the snow with nothing to live for.

Instead, he had Elizabeth. He hated what Sonny had done and still had no desire to revisit that night, but in the long run—

Maybe it had been a favor.

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Sonny was saying, “but I think you and Elizabeth should be fine to do the paperwork in maybe six months—”

“Paperwork—” Jason frowned at him. “What paperwork?”

“Divorce,” Sonny said, tipping his head to the side. “I know we were thinking this would be long-term, but Alexis said that the Moreno case is dead in the water. She’s meeting with them today to make that clear. The cops harassed Elizabeth one too many times. Without her corroborating or denying an alibi, it’s Carly’s word against yours. And they have zero evidence against you to back her up.” He picked up his coffee. “Capelli screwed them.”

“I don’t—” Jason couldn’t wrap his mind around any of this. The ring on his finger still heavy and strange, still new enough to feel out of place, and Sonny was already talking about ending it— “I know it kills Carly as evidence—”

“They didn’t have much to go on before,” Sonny reminded Jason. “Elizabeth was it. They know she was with you that night, but she never confirmed or elaborated on the times. Now, after that search warrant bullshit, they can’t even pull her in for questioning. Our guy at the PCPD said the plan was to do the warrants at the penthouse and studio, use Nikolas Cassadine as a backup for you being at the studio. He corroborates Carly on that, at least. Maybe Audrey or Bobbie get dragged in for that—”

“But—”

“Alexis said we might still be in danger of a physical search warrant for you,” Sonny continued. “To look you over for bullet wounds—”

Jason reflexively reached for the scar on his abdomen, the skin still shiny and stretched out, pink from healing. “Then—”

“But they can’t tie it to that night. All the PCPD has is that you ducked out of sight around the time Moreno did. You and Elizabeth are married now which backs up the crap Nikolas spewed at the hospital party,” Sonny said. “The DA won’t touch this case. Not with Carly as the only witness that says you were injured during this time period. I told you — Capelli disrupted everything by going too hard at Elizabeth. They might have been able to drag an alibi out of her with a subpoena, but not anymore.”

It should relieve him that Elizabeth was out of danger from the PCPD — and it did.  He’d called Carly’s bluff, and she’d gone nuclear. She didn’t have anything left to hurt him with—

“Alexis said it would be a year or more,” Jason said slowly. “And there’s Sorel—”

“Sorel isn’t going to last.” Sonny sneered. “Tagliatti and Vega are already eying his territory, and he’s pissed them off one too many times. A few months, he’s out of it. And they don’t care if you get divorced—” He paused, then focused on Jason. “I didn’t say you had to file tomorrow, Jason. Only that it wasn’t going to take as long as we thought. That’s good news.”

Was it? A few days ago, Jason had almost been dragged into this plan by Elizabeth’s determination and his desire to stay in Port Charles with her. They’d only been married two days.

“You don’t have to do anything with that information,” Sonny continued. “And it is good that Elizabeth isn’t in danger. That’s the biggest reason we did this, remember? To keep her safe from Sorel and the cops. You’ve done that now.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just—”

“I didn’t expect Carly to go this hard this fast, to be honest. Or that the PCPD would screw it all up, but maybe we should have. We’re not dealing with Einstein here. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You still wanna wait at least six months, or, hey, leave the paperwork where it is until you guys break up. It’ll be easier that way, and Elizabeth will probably be glad we forced her into the prenup.” He got to his feet and went into the kitchen to make another cup of coffee, Jason staring after him with confusion and worry.

Kelly’s: Dining Room

The biggest change from being Jason Morgan’s secret mistress to his wife was that people bothered her less and left better tips, Elizabeth decided halfway through her shift as she counted the cash left from the breakfast rush. Warehouse workers who wanted to make good with the front office and others who didn’t want to piss her off, thinking she’d take it to Jason. She’d made twice as much as usual.

“People are really dumb,” she said, joining Tammy behind the counter. “Do they really think I’m gonna complain to Jason because they screwed me on my tip?”

“Hey, you might as well enjoy the fruits of their stupidity,” the blonde pointed out. She scooped grounds into the machine. “So, how long do I get to keep you?”

“Hmm?” Elizabeth frowned, pausing in her count. “I opened at five, so I’m here until one—”

“No, I mean, are you giving me your two weeks or—”

“I’m not quitting.” Elizabeth scowled. “This is my job, and I still have tuition. I’m on the installment plan for this semester—” Tammy peered at her curiously. “I’m not giving Jason my bills to pay. I can support myself—”

“I didn’t say—” Tammy paused. “Okay, let me rephrase this.” She folded her arms. “You’re a good waitress. Not the best, but solid and reliable.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, but it was a fair description. “But this isn’t where your heart is. You’re an artist. I’ve seen your work,” she added when Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “And between this job, your classes, and your personal life, you don’t get much time to paint.”

“That’s true,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “But—”

“You’re married to someone who can afford to help you out on this,” Tammy continued. “Now I didn’t say drop out of school. That’s insane. Get an education. I wish like hell I’d done better by myself in that area. But why waste your time here when you could be in your studio, painting until you drop and maybe getting some pieces together to sell? You could be making that your job, not this.”

She hadn’t thought about it that way. She worked full-time at the diner and had since she’d graduated high school. She liked the extra money and paying her own way, but she’d cut back painting to almost nothing. And classes had taken even that time—

Elizabeth bit her lip. “You make a good point,” she admitted. “I just—Jason just said I didn’t need to work, and I guess my brain sort of exploded.”

“He’s a nice guy, and probably meant well.” Tammy handed Elizabeth a carafe of coffee. “He wants to take care of you. That’s marriage. He supports your art, yeah?”

“Yeah, he does.” Even if he didn’t always understand it.

“Not everyone gets a chance to pursue their dream job, Elizabeth. Independence is important, and don’t lose that. But don’t let it cloud everything. Don’t be so stubborn. I’ll miss the hell out of you, but you should think about giving it a go.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Mac stared at the remains of Elizabeth’s wedding dress, then focused on the photograph Alexis had supplied of the dress’s condition only twenty-four hours earlier.

Elizabeth and Jason stood at the altar of St. Timothy’s Church. It was a full-length pose, with Jason’s arm curled around his bride’s waist, and she had turned slightly into his arms, one hand on the lapel of his tuxedo.

And the knee-length tulle skirt was a perfect snow white, both straps intact.

“They make a nice couple,” Mac said blandly, hoping his expression didn’t demonstrate just how absolutely screwed Andy Capelli had left them. The dress had clearly been destroyed beyond what any judge would believe was reasonable. Some property damage could be expected in a property search, but not the level of destruction in this dress, the painting Alexis had laid next to it and other photos.

And Mac would never admit it to another soul, but there was something a little chilling in the bedroom photos — the double closet doors had been thrown open to reveal that it had only really been half full to begin with. A few items on one side that were masculine, including a tuxedo which had not tucked into its own garment bag, as well as two other suit jackets. The other side of the closet was fuller, with dresses and other clearly feminine materials.

Elizabeth’s side of the closet had been destroyed — only two dresses remained on hangers. The others were strewn across the floor in front of it, and the garment bag on the hook of the closet door ripped and nearly torn from the hanger that held it up.

Next to the closet was a dresser with only the top drawers turned out — lingerie, as Taggert had argued. Lacy fabrics, jewel-colored—Mac shoved the photograph away, slightly sickened.

Not a single masculine item had been searched.

“If you’re sitting there with that expression, imagine what a judge will think,” Alexis said, drawing Mac’s attention. “No. Better. Think about a jury. When we sue you for harassment, civil rights violation, witness intimidation—think about a woman in the jury listening to Capelli. Whether I get to direct or cross him, it won’t matter.”

No, it really wouldn’t. Alexis Davis was skilled enough to make Capelli look like scum even before the idiot opened his mouth. Mac took a deep breath. “I suspended him last night on Taggert’s statement alone. I told you—”

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” Alexis paused. “You’ve known women. How many would enjoy this done to their wedding dress less than twenty-four hours later after they’d worn it?”

Even if their marriage had ended badly — Mac could still see Felicia in her pink wedding gown, her vibrant smile—

“What do you want from me?”

“No one comes near either of my clients without talking to me first. For at least a year,” Alexis said flatly. “They shouldn’t be going near Jason without a lawyer anyway. He’s made that clear on more than one occasion, but no one listens.”

“That’s it? We stay away?” Mac frowned at her. “No questioning?”

“For now. Jason might change his mind, but Elizabeth just wants to forget it happened. Be grateful he walked away in one piece—”

“Assaulting a cop wouldn’t have gone down well—”

“And I’d insist on a jury trial,” Alexis said, her teeth bared. “Find me a man who wouldn’t have shoved a fist down Capelli’s throat.”

Since both Mac and Taggert had nearly taken swings of their own the night before, Mac wasn’t in a position to argue. Still, he wasn’t going to give in that easily. Not yet.

“I have to run this past the city attorney,” Mac said. “I’ll give you a call when I hear back.”

Quartermaine Mansion: Nursery

Carly curled up in the rocking chair, Michael tucked in her arms, his head nestled against her shoulder, listening to her read.

There were small pockets, moments in time, when everything else fell away and Carly let herself feel happy. When it was just her and her son, she was happy. She had food to eat, a roof over her head, and Michael had everything he could ever want. She’d lied, cheated, stolen, and committed all manners of crimes, legal or otherwise to get here.

But could she hold on to it? Would AJ believe this baby was hers? Maybe. Due dates were just guesses based on the last date of the period, and she could lie about that if it became necessary. Babies grew at different stages—it didn’t have to be like last time.

“Mama, keep reading,” Michael murmured, his words jumbled and slurred from his half-sleep state.

“Sorry, Mr. Man,” Carly said, kissing the top of his head.

She’d nearly gone to Kelly’s that morning, but had only looked in the window when she realized she didn’t even know what the point would be. What was left to say? What threats did Carly have left? She’d blown up the remnants of her last bridge with Jason by going after Elizabeth Webber—whatever chance she’d had at forgiveness for that night with Sonny— it was over after she’d sent the PCPD to the penthouse.

She knew the best thing to do would be to listen to AJ. To put Jason and everything else about him out of her head. She didn’t need him, and he didn’t love her. He couldn’t and treat her this way. If he’d loved her even a little, why hadn’t he tried harder to be with her this last year?

But letting it go, letting Jason get away with abandoning her, letting that little girl think she’d won—

That wasn’t in Carly’s DNA. She burned for revenge, needed to get even—

She just didn’t know how. Not yet. She’d have to stew on it for a little while and let them both think they’d gotten away. That she’d given up.

They’d never see her coming.

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Elizabeth gave Francis a half-hearted wave as she opened the penthouse door, leaving the guard outside. She was getting used to having someone drive her around, but it was still a bit weird knowing he was standing outside all the time, only going home when she was sure to be home for the night.

But every time she felt a bit confined, she remembered that night in her studio, staring at the clock lodged under the table, ticking down to zero, the sweat sliding down her back, waiting for the explosion—

Had that only been six days ago? The Christmas party two weeks earlier? Her life looked so different now. How was that possible?

She heard the click of cue balls and found Jason standing by a pool table, which now sat between the stairs and the window. He had a long cue in his hands, staring at her. “Oh. The pool table got delivered. That was fast.”

“Yeah, a few hours this ago.” Jason set the cue back on the table. He shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t approach her. That was strange, she thought, but pushed it out of her head. “Were things okay at Kelly’s?”

“Oh, yeah.” She forced a smile, going to the closet to hang up her purse and jacket. “Tips were good today.” Better to be Jason Morgan’s wife than his girlfriend, she thought, but didn’t say anything. There was something weird in the air, just hanging there invisible, but she couldn’t really put her finger on it. “Carly showed up—”

“What did she say?” Jason demanded.

“Nothing.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I saw her in the courtyard. She came to the door, saw me, and left. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

Jason leaned back, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “She’s probably angry that nothing happened after she went to the PCPD.” He paused. “I have to go out later. I mean, to work. I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

“Oh, okay.” Elizabeth folded her arms, feeling flustered. “Is, um, everything okay? I mean—” The last time he’d acted like this—the last time there had been this strange wall between them was the day he’d told her he was leaving.

Was it going back to work? Was he afraid she’d ask questions?

Elizabeth was determined not to let his odd mood discomfort her. “Um, did you get lunch or whatever—”

“I have to tell you something.”

Elizabeth blinked as Jason blurted out the words. He winced as if he hadn’t meant to say anything. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he assured her but she wasn’t convinced. “It’s just—Sonny and I were talking after you went to work this morning. About the PCPD.” He dragged a hand through his hair, looking away.

“Okay. Did Alexis hear something we should be worried about?”

“No. It’s good news,” Jason told her. “You’re basically off the hook. They can’t bring you in for questioning or anything else. Alexis filed a harassment complaint about Capelli, and Mac’s taking it seriously.”

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. That did sound like good news, but—

“And Sonny, um, pointed out—” Jason got to his feet, shoved his hands into his pockets. “He pointed out that’s why—” He exhaled slowly. “It’s why we got married,” he finished finally. “Because of what Carly knew.”

Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment. She knew that. Of course she knew that. “I know. We thought they might try use drug charges or something against me, but okay, yeah, I guess they can’t now. That’s—” She twisted the ring on her finger, feeling the metal slide across her skin. “Alexis said we’d need at least year—”

“Yeah, that was when we thought it would take longer for Carly to go to the cops.”

There was a crushing weight on her chest as she focused on him. “But I’m now off limits,” she said softly. “Because of the search warrant.” And that had nothing to do with her marriage. So they didn’t need to be married at all, did they?

In fact, they hadn’t needed a wedding at all. Forty-eight hours. Had their paperwork even been filed? Was it real? What was he asking? Did he want an annulment or a divorce? How did this work? Why was he telling her this?

“W-What does Sonny say?” Elizabeth asked, forcing the words out though her throat was tight. “What do we—”

“Uh, six months maybe, instead of a year,” Jason said. He cleared his throat. “He said we could just leave it alone, too, until we want to deal with it.”

“Until we want to deal with it?” Elizabeth echoed. She frowned. “I don’t—” Oh. Sonny thought they should just stay married until they broke up. Because if they got divorced now, it would be strange to continue dating. Or whatever they were doing. They hadn’t even sorted that out before the bomb in her studio and Carly’s threats.

Leave it alone. What a terrible way to phrase it. They could just drift along the way things were until Jason wanted to leave her. She didn’t even know how to wrap her mind around any of it. They’d had a deal, and she’d put it out her mind over the last few days. They were married, and she knew they’d be married at least a year. That had felt like a lifetime only days ago—an infinite amount of time to figure out what was going on between them.

They’d barely even kissed a week ago, and then they’d poured gasoline on everything by getting married.

Now Sonny had lit it on fire.

What did she even do with this information? Was she supposed to agree to it? To be married but not married with a some sort of expiration date somewhere down the line but not the same one they’d agreed to?

Jason opened his mouth, but the phone in his pocket rang. He tugged it out. “Morgan. Yeah? Okay. Yeah, I’m on my way.”

He was leaving? Now? After  dropping this on her? Why the hell had he even told her—

“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking into her thoughts with regret in his eyes. “Things are—I mean, it wasn’t supposed to happen until later. But it’s now—”

“It’s fine.” Elizabeth smiled at him. “Really. I’ll, um, see you when I see you, I guess.”

“Yeah. Don’t wait up,” he advised as he went to the closet and pulled on his jacket. “I don’t—”

“I know.”

Jason hesitated at the door, his hand wrapped around the knob, unsure. Then he left.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She waited until she knew the elevator was gone. Until Jason was probably out of the building, then opened the door again to Francis. “Hey. I wanted to go to my grandmother’s. To get a few more of my things.” She just wanted to get out of the penthouse, and she’d promised not to return to her studio until the security had been improved.

“Sure thing, Mrs. Morgan,” the guard said, straightening. “I’ll call down for the car.”

Mrs. Morgan. That wasn’t even her name yet. Not legally. And maybe it wouldn’t be. What was the point if it was going to be changed in six months? Maybe less. What if they broke up in two months?

Stop, she told herself. Just stop. It didn’t matter why Jason had decided to tell her what Sonny had said. She just had to decide what she wanted to do about it, and then move on. No use irritating herself with the little things.

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