I don’t wanna be so shy, oh, oh
Every time that I’m alone I wonder why
Hope that you will wait for me
You’ll see that you’re the only one for me
I wanna believe in everything that you say
‘Cause it sounds so good
But if you really want me move slow
There’s things about me you just have to know
– Sometimes, Britney Spears

---

Tuesday, January 4, 2000

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

“I think we should be discussing damage control,” Alexis declared, accepting the glass of wine Sonny handed her. “Carly might already be at the PCPD—”

“She’s impulsive and stupid, but I don’t think she’s going to the police tonight.” Sonny sipped his bourbon, then wandered over to look over the skyline of Port Charles as the sun dipped behind the buildings, plunging the downtown into night. “Tomorrow. Tonight, she’ll be cursing Jason’s name. We have time.”

“Sonny—”

“And we’ve done the damage control,” Sonny reminded her. “Jason and Elizabeth got married in a church with a priest. We’ll have wedding photos of them, there’s rings. They’re living together, and half the town already suspected they were dating before this. Carly crashing the wedding did us a favor.”

Alexis grimaced. “Maybe—”

“Because now when she tries to turn on Jason with no corroborating evidence but her word, the PCPD might go after us, but it won’t get to court. You said that, remember? She’s got nothing but her own testimony. Bobbie will lawyer up just like we will. She played the role of scorned woman almost too well today.”

“I suppose you’re right. All we have to do is tell the PCPD Carly vowed revenge on Jason and was cruel to Elizabeth about the rape.”

Sonny’s scowl only deepened at the reminder. “She barely had credibility before this, and now—it’s gone. She’s destroyed it.”

“Fair enough. I just—I put this idea into Jason’s head, and Elizabeth seized on it to keep Jason in town. I feel responsible. I don’t want either of them hurt.”

“Neither do I,” Sonny said. “I’ve already done enough.”

Quartermaine Mansion: AJ & Carly’s Bedroom

Carly paced the length of the room, an ice pack against her cheek, and quietly seethed at the events of the day. First that freak show of a wedding and then that humiliating scene with AJ —

She’d been so sure—so certain—that Jason would leap at the chance to protect his precious damsel in distress that he’d agree to leave town with her and Michael. Once they were gone, Carly knew she could change Jason’s mind. If they could just get a few minutes alone in a room, Carly was convinced she could have swayed him.

But instead Jason had done something wholly unpredictable. Something absolutely beyond the pale.

He’d married that little bitch. And why? Why? Why had he done such a drastic thing? What could it—

Carly stopped, meeting her own shocked eyes in the mirror. Because wives couldn’t testify against their husbands. Elizabeth could never be asked any questions about the studio or what happened there. Even if she was dragged into the police station, Alexis Davis would have her out by supper.

“That son of a bitch,” Carly muttered. He’d stood by while that damned bitch had punched her, and he’d abandoned Carly when she needed him the most. Why did he refuse to see how things could be? How they should be?

This couldn’t be allowed. It couldn’t stand.

She’d let him think he’d won tonight, but tomorrow — tomorrow she’d make Jason regret he’d ever walked into that damned church.

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

Jason put the lasagna in the microwave to defrost, then went back to the living room to wait for Elizabeth to return. He picked up his suit jacket where it had dropped to the ground earlier—

None of this was turning out the way he thought it would, but wasn’t that the story of every day since he’d met Elizabeth? Since he’d really and truly met her that night at Jake’s? Wasn’t that part of the reason he’d been drawn to her? Her smiles, her laughter, the twists and turns of conversations—

He hadn’t meant to tell her all of that tonight, hadn’t even known it was inside of him, but he’d desperately needed to explain how he could have done something as stupid as tell Carly he loved her only a few weeks ago without making what he felt for Elizabeth seem wrong or too fast. Or worse, a lie.

He’d believed what he had said to Carly in the moment, but it had already been fading and shifting and turning into something else. Not even hatred, but apathy. The only good Carly had ever brought to his life was Michael, and he couldn’t even think of the little boy without the pain that followed.

Jason just wanted to be done with Carly forever, and he wanted Elizabeth to understand that she was the key to that—to his realization that he’d been punishing himself by letting Carly stay in his life, clinging to a hope he could have Michael back.

Michael—and Carly—were in his past. Robin was in the past. And for the first time in a long time, Jason wanted to look to the future.

When the microwave timer went off and Elizabeth still hadn’t come downstairs, Jason started to worry. Was she upset? Had he pushed her too hard? Was she still thinking about Carly—

The door to his—their—room was partially ajar, but he still knocked. “Elizabeth? Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah. I forgot—you can come in,” she said. Jason pushed open the door, surprised to find her still in the wedding dress. She was standing in front of the full-length mirror, twisting and trying to reach—

“I can’t get it off,” Elizabeth said miserably, turning to face him. “It’s got all these little tiny buttons, and I can’t—” Her face flushed and she bit her lip. “Can you help?”

“Uh—” Jason nodded, his throat tight. He crossed the room and Elizabeth faced the mirror again, her back to him. The dress began halfway down her back, and his fingers fumbled as he reached for the first small, pearl button. There were at least a dozen, maybe more.

Slowly and carefully, he slid each button individually from the loop, painstaking avoiding the bits of lace and fabric around each. She looked so beautiful, and he didn’t want to make a single rip or tear in the dress.

As each button came undone, the bodice of the dress loosened, the two pieces in back gaped, revealing the soft, pale skin of her upper back. The bare skin without a single piece of clothing beneath it. He focused on the dress, ignoring the way her skin felt as his knuckles brushed it, or the way her breathing had changed.

The final button was at the base of her back, and reluctantly, Jason slid the last one out of its loop. He probably could have stopped halfway down—the dress would have been loose enough for her to shimmy out of it, but he hadn’t wanted to stop touching her—and she hadn’t asked him to.

He remained behind her, raising his head until he met her eyes in the mirror. She had hands pressed to the front of the dress, holding the bodice in place so that it hadn’t slid down while he’d been unbuttoning the dress.

Then Elizabeth moved her hands, letting them fall to her side. The bodice had been sitting higher on her chest as she held it against herself, but when she let go, the straps on her shoulder loosened first, sliding down her shoulders.

As if in a trance, Jason raised his hands to her shoulders, sliding his fingers beneath the straps. Maybe he meant to pull them back up, to put the dress back into place so that he could leave and give her a chance to change in private—

But Elizabeth raised her hands, sliding a thumb beneath each strap, their fingers brushing. And she gently pulled. Her dress fell from her shoulders, to the ground in a soft rustle, leaving her in nothing but a pair of white panties.

His chest felt eight sizes too big as their eyes remained locked together in the mirror. Elizabeth kept one of his hands in her own, raising it until it cupped one of her breasts. She was biting her lip, and Jason could feel her entire body had tightened, tense from something. Was it desire? Fear?

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did anything that frightened her, that brought back those memories, so even though it took everything inside of him, Jason didn’t move his hand, just stood there, feeling the weight of her in his palm. Then he dropped his head down to brush his lips against the curve of her neck. Her body loosened and she sighed, slumping back against him.

Jason carefully lifted her from the folds of the wedding dress, aware that she’d been grabbed and lifted during her attack, and scared beyond words that he’d trigger something. But if he had, Elizabeth never let on, turning to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, then kissing him.

Jason pulled her against him, his fingers sliding across her soft, silky skin. His shirt fell off his shoulders, their skin bare against one another now. He started to gently steer her towards the bed, but when her legs brushed the comforter, Elizabeth was startled, jerking away, her body tensing all over again. Her breathing was choppy, her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s okay,” Jason said immediately. He kissed her one last time, soft and lingering to reassure her. He retrieved his shirt from the floor,  drawing it over her shoulders even as she started to use her hands to cover herself. “It’s okay,” he repeated. She met his eyes, still biting her lip. “I’ll go put the lasagna in the oven, okay? I’ll see you downstairs.”

She nodded, the motion little more than a jerk up and down. Jason closed the bedroom door behind him, but instead of going downstairs, he went into one of the guest bathrooms and splashed some cold water on his face.

It was going to be a long night.

PCPD: Lobby

Taggert tossed a report into the bin for Mac to read in the morning, and paused at the front desk to look through messages that hadn’t been passed to his desk.

A pair of uniforms passed by, and Taggert nearly ignored them entirely but he heard a stray pair of words that had no business being anywhere near each other.

Morgan…wedding…

“Hey. Hey, wait up!” He jogged after them, waiting as they turned. “Rodriguez, right?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Taggert?” The younger man frowned. “Did you need something?”

“Were you just talking about Jason Morgan?”

“Oh.” The other uniform, one that Taggert didn’t recognize, frowned. “Yeah, Cruz was just saying he hadn’t pictured the guy as the marrying type.”

His gut clenched. “Why? Why does that matter?”

“Figured you’d have heard by now,” Rodriguez said. “You’re usually more dialed in on this guy—”

“Heard what?” Taggert bit out.

“Jason Morgan got married this morning. That girl from the fire last year.” The second uniform elbowed Rodriguez. “Guess he likes ’em young.”

“Jason Morgan married Elizabeth Webber,” Taggert said. “Are you shitting me?”

“Nope. You’ll never see me getting so crazy over a broad—”

Taggert left them both and stalked back into the squad room. He snatched up phone and dialed the county clerk’s office. “Yeah, it’s Detective Marcus Taggert. I need to know if a marriage license was issued for Jason Morgan in the last few days.” He waited, then grimaced. Jason Morgan and Elizabeth Webber had filed for a license the day before, dutifully witnessed by Sonny Corinthos and Alexis Davis.

He slammed down the receiver.

Fuck.

Morgan Penthouse: Kitchen

Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure how she managed it, but she had tossed on clothes and gone back downstairs where Jason had heated up food for dinner.

And, mercifully, Jason didn’t ask any questions or even refer to the…incident in the bedroom. Which seemed like the safest way to think about it. Elizabeth had lost her damn mind, and she’d thought for half a second that she could just ignore everything else in her head and go with the way he’d made her feel—

And then she’d basically humiliated herself, and probably ticked him off. He was too nice to say so, but there were names for girls like her, girls who basically stripped in front of a guy and then didn’t deliver on the unspoken promise—

She’d choked down some bites of the lasagna Sonny had left in Jason’s freezer, knowing if she ate nothing, Jason might want to talk about it, and she wasn’t ready. She didn’t think she’d be ready if she lived a thousand years.

But he didn’t bring it up. He asked her about work, about school, and she found answers, grateful that he was trying to make things normal.  After dinner, she took their dishes and went into the kitchen, happy to have something to distract her.

“I was thinking—”

Elizabeth jumped and spun around, the dish rag in her hand went flying right into Jason. Specifically at his chest, drenching the blue shirt he’d changed into. Her eyes widened, her cheeks reddened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jason bent down and picked up the rag. He tossed it back into the sink, where the faucet continued to run.

“I didn’t—” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t hear you come in. I’m sorry.” She ripped paper towels from the roll and nearly raised her hand to dry him, but then thought maybe she wasn’t really ready to touch his chest or run her fingers over his muscles—

Her cheeks flaming, she just held out the towels. “Um, here.”

Jason met her eyes, a bit skeptically, she thought. Then took the towels and blotted at the water. “It’s fine.”

“Right. Right.” Elizabeth turned back to the sink and scrubbed at the already cleaned plate. “Um, you said you were thinking about something.”

“I didn’t really move in,” he told her. “Before you did. I just put clothes upstairs, and Sonny gave me some leftover furniture from storage.” He leaned against the counter next to her. “I never really had a place of my own before. I lived at the boxcar, then Jake’s. Then I was at Sonny’s.”

He didn’t mention the cottage where he’d lived with Robin and Carly, and Elizabeth didn’t bring it up either. “I haven’t either, but that’s probably not news to you.”

“We should probably get some things. I don’t have a television. That doesn’t bother me, but you probably want one.”

“Oh.” She glanced out into the living room, realized how much extra space there was. There was just a leather sofa, armchair, and coffee table with the desk by the door. “Okay.”

“Do you want, I don’t know, a table?” he asked. “Out there.”

Elizabeth made a face. “Like a dining table? Wouldn’t that just mean people would come over? You don’t like people.”

“No, but you do.”

“Not lately.” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, we’ve got the table in here if we really want to sit down. I thought—” She folded her arms. “Um, I thought—you’d know better—but it looks like there might be enough space for a pool table.”

Jason squinted, then looked out at the space she gestured at. “Yeah, maybe. But—you—do you play?”

“No. Um, no. But you do.” Restless, she twisted the ring on her finger—something she’d done a thousand time with the one she wore on her index finger, but the new one—the diamond Jason had slid on her fourth finger that day—it still felt somewhat uncomfortable on her finger, so she twisted it, and the glint of the stone must have drawn his attention because he dropped his eyes to it.

Elizabeth stopped, then clasped her hands behind her back. “Um, unless you prefer to go play at Jake’s. You probably do. And you should keep doing that like before,” she said in a rush. “I mean, you used to do that all the time, but you don’t anymore, and I don’t want you to think you have to baby sit me—” And maybe he’d want to get away from her because she was a babbling idiot child—

“I went to Jake’s all the time,” Jason cut in, his tone almost amused, “because I didn’t have anything better to do. I wanted to look for a fight most of the time.” He stepped towards her but Elizabeth instinctively stepped back, flushed, caught herself and stepped forward, but the moment was lost. He put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really feel like going there the way I did before,” he continued. “You’re right. That’d be a good spot. I’ll measure.”

“Jason—” She started, but then closed her mouth, miserable. He’d probably been about to say something sweet and wholly untrue about how he didn’t need Jake’s because he had her, but she’d ruined it, like she ruined everything— “Um, I’m tired. I’m gonna go up early.”

Jason nodded. “Okay. I’ll be up in a while. I have some paperwork to do from the warehouse.” He waited another moment. “You’ll probably be asleep before I finish.”

Her throat tightened. He was giving her a reassurance—he’d stay downstairs until she fell asleep so it would be less awkward. As if anything could be— “Okay. Um, good night.”

She flew out of the kitchen before he could say anything, angry with herself for how she’d ruined her own wedding night.

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