Written in 62 minutes.

Late June 2000

It was the silence that jerked her out of a sound sleep.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, saw Jason still sleeping next to her, then laid there for another moment, trying to orient herself. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, looked towards the terrace and realized with a start that the doors were still closed—

The night came flooding back to her—dinner, sleeping with Jason, being grabbed by Dario, the hurricane—and—she looked back at Jason with a wince—she must have fallen asleep after he had.

The house was quiet—the wind that had swirled outside like a roaring train had died down, and she couldn’t hear any rain, not even soft drops. Had the storm completely passed over them or—

Elizabeth crawled out of the makeshift bed of blankets and found the radio they’d tucked away. She glanced at Jason, then at the radio, and decided to let him sleep longer. He’d desperately needed the rest, and she really didn’t even know how long they’d been out.

With her hand clutched around the radio, she climbed to her feet and headed down the hallway, eager to make sure that her room had escaped any storm damage so far. She pushed the door open, and breathed a sigh of relief. Her terrace doors remained closed, and the storm doors were still locked in place.

The room was bone dry, and she could make out the edges of her canvases, so they were safe.  So far so good, Elizabeth thought, then switched on the radio fiddling with the knob until she found a station. She closed the door behind her so Jason wouldn’t hear the radio.

“It’s the top of the hour, just after three in the morning, and we here at 88.7 The Jams are here with a storm update. We were lucky to only get a sideswipe from the storm,  but it still caused some nasty flooding. Never make a woman angry, that’s what I always say. The eye is passing over West Plana Cays and the island should hunker down for a nasty second dose of wind and rain. Mariah was last measured at 109 miles per hair, just a hair under a category 3. The front bands of the storm are attacking the Cuban coast, but here in Turks, we’re going to have a sunny and beautiful day just as soon as the storm clears out around eight—”

Elizabeth switched it off, set it down on her dresser, then dragged her hands through her hair. It had dried and frizzed slightly after being out in the rain earlier. She rooted through her drawers, trying to find something to put it up. They’d had maybe an hour and a half of sleep, which wasn’t enough so she was going to let Jason stay asleep a little longer.

Hair secured and feeling better with it off her neck, Elizabeth picked up the radio and pulled the door open, stifling a yawn. She stepped into the hallway, trying to remember which windows hadn’t any outside protection. She wanted to see the beach, get a sense of how bad the damage might be. She knew Jason wanted to clear out of here as soon as possible, and hoped there wasn’t too much damage to the garage.

Elizabeth took a step towards the guest room at the rear of the house, where Emily had staked out her claim back in March, but heard some rustling from the front of the house. If Jason was up, he was gonna be worried when he didn’t see her—and then annoyed she’d let him sleep.

Oh, well, he’d have to get over it, she decided, heading back towards the living room. He wasn’t superhuman—

And he wasn’t there.

Elizabeth stared at the empty blanket for a long moment, bewildered. If Jason was awake, why hadn’t he called for her?

“Jason—” Elizabeth shifted her grip on the radio, holding it in front of her more protectively, sweeping her gaze over the large open living area, most of which was cast in shadows and poorly lit by the battery operated lamps. “Jason—”

“I’m right here.”

Elizabeth breathed an easy sigh of relief when Jason melted out of the shadows of the kitchen, two bottles of water in his hand. “You scared the crap out of me,” she said, setting the radio on the table and coming over to meet him.

“I heard the radio,” Jason said, handing her a bottle of water, then drawing her against him, pressing his lips the top of her hair. “I figured you were getting an update. And that I’d get you back for letting me sleep.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” she muttered. “The eye is passing over us, and it’s just after three.” She made a face. “And I wish you’d slept longer—”

“I feel fine.” He rubbed her back, reassuring. “Did the storm get worse?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s like 109 now.”

“That’s pretty bad.” Jason sat on the stool by the kitchen island, only slightly wincing. “How long until the back of half of the storm starts?”

“They didn’t say. It’s a Turks station, and they didn’t get a direct hit.” Elizabeth sipped the water, then set the bottle on the island. She headed over for the terrace. “Can we go outside and look?”

“It’ll be pitch black,” Jason reminded her. He got to his feet. “But yeah, I want to see what kind of damage we can make out.”

He’d only taken a few steps when the lamp between them winked out, plunging the room into complete darkness. “Elizabeth?” he called.

“I’m right—oof—here—” Elizabeth muttered, rubbing the knee she’d just whacked into the table. In a regular storm, there’d be some lightning to give some extra light, but of course, they’d boarded up pretty much every light source. She fumbled for the batteries they’d put on the table. “We should have changed the batteries, but I fell asleep, too—”

Glass shattered in the back of the house, and Elizabeth whipped her head up, heart pounding. The package of batteries in her hands, she slowly climbed to her feet, terrified to speak. To give any sense of her location. She heard Jason breathing across the room, the pace of it picking up. But he said nothing.

She heard footsteps, grunting. Something thudded. Her hands trembled as she fumbled to find the lantern, to match the batteries correctly. When she slammed the last one home, she flicked the switch.

It illuminated the room and Elizabeth screamed, seeing Jason being shoved back against the wall—both hands fending off a baseball bat being wielded by a figure she’d only seen three times—

Twice in a bar, and then earlier tonight, in her room. Dario Colon.

The gun, the gun, she had to get to the gun—Jason had left it on the other table. Elizabeth darted forward, but Dario finally wrestled control of the bat, sending Jason off balance. He fell backwards, cracking his head against the pillar extending from the ceiling to the floor.

He turned, grinned at her. “It’s finally us, puta. Just you and me—” He saw the gun at the same time she did—and lunged—

He reached it first, scooping it up. “Oh, did you want this?” He spun it by the trigger guard in a loop around his index finger.  “Do you even know how to use it?”

Elizabeth backed up, her heart pounding so fast and hard she thought it might come up her throat. “What do you want? You-you can have anything—I know people with lots of money—”

“So do I,” he taunted, taking another step towards her, continuing the twirl the gun in one hand and the bat in the other. “You think money will make this go away? That it will be justice?”

“J-justice—you talk about justice?” Elizabeth’s fists balled at her side, her mind racing, cataloging every thing in the house, anything that might be used as a weapon. Her palette knife maybe. But it was down the hallway. Would she have time to get to it—

Dario twirled the gun again, but this time his finger hit the trigger and a bullet fired. He hissed and ducked, dropping both the gun and the bat. The gun clattered to his feet—but the bat—it rolled.

Elizabeth switched off the lantern at the same time she dove for the bat, Dario hissing and grunting in the background. With the bat in her hand, and the lantern in the other, she took off down the hallway towards the back of the house, his roar of protest and footsteps pounding after her.

The door to Emily’s room was open, and she raced towards it, taking just the extra amount of time to swing it shut so that he ran into it at full speed and fell down, slowing him down just enough for Elizabeth to see that the window had been completely blown out. She climbed through it, keeping her hands tight on the bat, and on the lantern. She’d need both if she was going to survive.

It was pitch black outside, and the roar of the ocean waves crashing against the shore line. The wind was starting to pick up. Elizabeth raced towards what remained of the garage—most of the roof was gone.

She ran around one side of the building, then stopped, leaning back against the metal wall, clutching the bat against her. She set the lantern down carefully at her side, then listened.

And when she heard the footsteps coming toward her, she swung around the corner at head height. Dario appeared just as her bat made contact with the side of his head and his eyes were nearly comical as his head was whipped to the side by the force of the blow.

He went to his knees, sputtering. Rain began to fall around them, but Elizabeth didn’t notice, didn’t stop to think. Because all that mattered was putting him down for the count and getting Jason help.

She swung, low and long and cracked him upside the jaw. Dario went flying back, laying spread eagle on the ground, his eyes staring up at the sky.

She waited, then crept forward, his body illuminated by the lantern a few steps away on the ground. His chest didn’t rise or fall. She kicked at his leg. Nothing. At his arm. Nothing.

He was dead.

+35

Written in 62 minutes. Had to stop a few times to check some hurricane facts, lol. You know how I try to be accurate.

Late June 2000

They’d closed and locked down every window in the house, blocking out all views outside — but nothing could keep out the sound of the winds swirling so fast and heavy that it reminded Elizabeth of a train like the one that had roared past the house where she’d lived in Boulder, Colorado. The rain pelted them from all sides—the roof, the terrace doors, and the front of the house.

She’d built them a makeshift bed on the floor in front of the sofa, though it had been a battle to get Jason to lay flat on his back. He didn’t want to fall asleep, he’d told her over and over again. No matter how bad the storm was outside, he worried that Dario Colon hadn’t gone very far.

Elizabeth shared that worry, but he’d fallen down the list of concerns as the radio station out of Turks and Caicos reported that the storm continued to baffle the metereologists who had forecast it as a tropical storm destined to weaken as it approached the Bahamas.

Instead, it had picked up strength over the warm waters of the Atlantic, and shifted to a path that no one had predicted, skirting Turks and Caicos, and heading straight for Cuba with West Plana Cays directly in its path.

By the time Hurricane Mariah made landfall just after one that morning, it was measuring wind speeds of nearly 103 miles per hour, which meant—

“Category two,” Jason muttered, switching off the radio and shoving it aside. He laid back, stared at the ceiling with frustration. Despite doing nothing but resting for nearly an hour, the fatigue had not only lingered, but deepened.

He needed sleep, Elizabeth thought, though he’d never admit it. She leaned over the pillows she’d tossed on the floor, and found the last of his travel books. “We just need to distract ourselves,” she told him. She sat up, folding her legs, and spreading the book across her lap. “I could read to you—”

He rested his arm across his forehead. “I can read to myself,” he muttered. “And we shouldn’t waste the batteries on the light—”

“We still have candles,” she reminded him. “And—” She flinched when she heard glass shattering. Jason sprang to his feet, his hand snatching up the revolver on the table by the sofa.

“It came from the back of the house—” Jason said. Elizabeth set the book side and rose, staying closing to his back. She could feel the tension radiating from him—and felt the swaying of his body as he fought to stay still.

“It’s probably—”

More glass shattered, and Jason spun, his other arm sweeping Elizabeth behind him as he aimed towards the terrace. But nothing happened.

“The storm. It’s shattering the windows,” Elizabeth murmured, her fingers twisting in the soft fabric of his shirt. “There were a few that didn’t have storm shutters on the outside, remember? We locked them from the inside and boarded them up. There’s no one out there, Jason. The wind is too strong—”

“I’m not taking that chance,” he said, but he lowered the gun to the side. “We should have stayed in town after dinner—”

“This was supposed to be nothing more than a summer storm,” Elizabeth reminded him, and he looked at her, his eyes shadowed in the dim light cast by the battery-operated lanterns. “You heard the radio reports. This was never supposed to happen.”

“Yeah, well—” His mouth was grim. “A lot of good that does us now. Even if we wanted to get out of here, the roads are definitely washed out if they weren’t already.”

“Come on. Let’s sit back down—” She tugged on his shirt. “You don’t look so good—”

“You think I don’t know that?” he bit out, then closed his eyes, dragged his free hand over his forehead where beads of sweat had formed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She took the gun from him, and the fact that he let her only heightened her worry. “Come on. Lay back down and rest.”

He reluctantly followed her directions, and this time didn’t argue when she picked up the book and began to read. “Piazza San Marco is often referred to as the living room of the Venice. It’s been the focal point for Venetian life and culture for over a millennium…”

——

A few thousand miles away, Emily was having trouble sleeping. She’d tossed and turned half the night in bed, a bit worried since Elizabeth hadn’t called her all day. She was planning to track down Sonny in the morning and demand an update, but at one in the morning, there wasn’t much else she could do.

So she settled for scooping up a bowl of Rocky Road and curling up on the sofa to find a terrible late night movie on television. As she flicked through the channels, she hesitated when she saw someone standing in front of a map—

Emily turned up the volume.

“Hurricane Mariah continues its mystifying path across the Carribean, strengthening over the warm waters of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s made its first landfall on West Plana Cays, a tiny  island of nearly two thousand permanent residents. We don’t have any damage or injury reports, but the local authorities have radioed that most major roads have been washed out, and that nearly five hundred of the island residents remain unaccounted for, as they lived near the coast and were unable to evacuate before the leading edge of the storm hit.”

Emily’s eyes bulged as she dropped the ice cream on the table with a clatter and leaned over to scramble for the cordless phone, her fingers shaking.

“The eyewall is over the island now, measuring the worst of the winds at nearly 105 miles per hour. Mariah is a category two, and may be a category three before it makes landfall in Cuba later this morning—”

“This better be good—” came the sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

“Nikolas! Nikolas! Are you watching the news?”

“It’s—no! It’s one-thirty in the morning, Emily—what’s going on?”

“A hurricane—it’s hit the island. Like a bad one. A-and Liz never called me back, and they say all the people living near the cost didn’t have time to evacuate because the storm got really strong without warning—”

“Okay, yeah, that doesn’t sound good. What do you expect me to do about that?” Nikolas demanded, some of the sleep washed out of his tone. “We’re in New York.”

“Well—” Emily pressed her lips together. “Okay, yeah, but you’re a Cassadine.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a beat. “I can’t teleport, Emily, unless my uncle is keeping even more secrets—”

“Well, no, but—” Flustered, Emily raked a hand through her hair. “Don’t you guys have a weather machine in the basement or something?”

“Uh, no. No, we don’t. The WSB seized that a few decades ago.”

Her throat tightened as she stared at the satellite map, with the radar image of the hurricane swallowing any sight of the island where her best friend and brother were trapped. “Okay. But I can’t do nothing.”

“No, I guess not. Look, let me make a few calls. See what I can find out. And then I’ll come over, and we can wait together for news.”

—

Emily wasn’t the only one watching the news and worrying. Luke and Sonny had landed in Miami, and were holed up in one of the hotels near the airport, watching the same coverage.

Sonny stood motionless in front of the television while Luke paced. “There’s no point in getting more worried,” he told Luke. “We can’t change anything. The house was built to withstand most storms—”

“Most. Not all. And this Dario guy—”

“We don’t even know if he went after them tonight,” Sonny reminded Luke. “We might have lost connection because the storm. Where the house is located—”

“Your guy in town couldn’t get a hold of them either and his phone worked phone—”

“Pirate’s Well is located on the highest part of the island. Jason’s place is—” Sonny winced.

“Jason’s place is what?”  Luke pressed when his friend fell quiet.

“It’s on the lower side of the island, barely above sea level. Roads would have been washed out that way faster. Look, Jason’s smart, and so is Liz. She dragged him out of a parking garage, onto an elevator. My money is on them.”

“Okay, yeah, against this Dario guy, I’d take that bet, too. Against a hurricane? Mother Nature doesn’t give a shit how smart you are.”

Sonny didn’t have a response to that, and just looked back towards the coverage, hoping for a satellite update to show that the storm was weakening or that it had started to fall apart.

Instead, the newscaster had less than happy news. “Mariah continues to pick up strength thanks to the back edge of the storm still spinning out over the Atlantic. The eye is approaching West Plana Cays and is projected to last nearly thirty minutes which should give the island’s authorities some chance to take stock of the situation and maybe make contact with residents on the outer rim. There’s some indication that the storm path continues to deviate slightly and that the back side of the storm might spin away from West Plana Cays, towards the rest of the Bahamas as Mariah continues to move towards the Cuban coast.”

—

Jason was fighting a losing battle. He’d lost count of how many times he’d forced his eyes open, tried to focus on Elizabeth next to him, her soft voice reading about Venice and the history of some of the sites. He liked to listen to her, he’d told her that weeks ago, and he’d always paid attention to every word, soaking in anything she had to say.

But tonight, the words were beginning to slide together until her voice was just a continuous hum, soft and sweet, buzzing in his ears—

And he finally lost the battle, though he didn’t know it. His eyes had closed, and stayed that way, his chest rising and falling in an even pace.

Elizabeth stopped at the end of the page, watched him carefully for a few more minutes, waiting for him to jerk himself awake. But nothing happened, and she released her first easy breath in a while. Jason desperately needed to rest, and she’d worried he would continue his stubborn fight.

She wouldn’t let him sleep long, she promised herself, stifling a yawn. The last radio report said that the eye of the storm would be passing over them soon, and she knew Jason would want the opportunity to look around. To check for damage and for signs that Dario Colon had left the area.

She laid down next to him, tucking her hands underneath her check and watched Jason sleep. As soon as she heard the storm easing, she’d wake up, Elizabeth promised herself.

But instead, her eyes drifted shut, and she slid into sleep herself, the storm still raging outside the walls.

—

A smarter man would have run for the marina the moment he’d jumped over the terrace wall, but then again—a smarter man might not have challenged Jason Morgan at all.

It hadn’t gone the way he’d planned, Dario thought with some bitterness, as he crouched in the unattached garage that housed the motorcycle Jason kept on the island, and the car they’d rented. The storm had battered the garage and a piece of the roof had been torn off.

He’d meant to drag that bitch over the terrace and be out of the house before Morgan had realized they were gone — he was supposed to be recovering from a gunshot, but the asshole hadn’t looked injured at all. And on foot, Dario hadn’t been able to get very far before the worst of the storm had begun to hit. He’d doubled back to the house, deciding he needed a new plan.

Dario ducked as another piece of the roof crashed down, knocking the motorcycle over. He shook the rain from his hair, and glared up at the storm.

When the storm eased, when the eye made landfall, Dario would make his move. And this time, he’d be the last man standing. He’d make that bitch pay for humiliating him, and maybe he’d make Morgan watch.

It wouldn’t be long now.

+33

Written in 63 minutes.

Late June 2000

Jason stood at the terrace doors, keeping his eyes alert for any movement but it was getting hard to see anything further than a few feet in front of his face as the wind-whipped rain pelted against his face like tiny stings. The weather had been forecast as the back edge of a tropical storm, but this was nothing like he’d been through before. He had the sinking feeling that there’d been a shift in the storm’s path.

And with the increase in the storm’s power came to the danger of a storm surge. The house was set too close to the water to play around with that possibility. Jason glanced back at Elizabeth who had changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and was tying her sneakers.

“Jason, if it’s a storm and the power is down,” she said, “aren’t we better off just waiting it out here?” She stood, then began to  bundle her hair back from her face. “You have the gun and we know there’s something out there—”

Jason pulled the doors closed, locked them, looked over to the corner of the room where she kept her completed canvases. He squinted, wondering where the best place in the house would be to keep them safe from water damage. Elizabeth followed his eyes, and her eyes widened. “Jason, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t—” There was no point in worrying her until he knew for sure. He kept the gun at his side, reached for her hand. “I have to get changed. Let’s go, and we’ll find a radio. Let’s find out what we’re dealing with.”

In his room, he changed into clean jeans and shirt while Elizabeth fumbled with the knobs on the radio, twisting until she found a station.

“…residents south of Crooked Island and Samana Cays will want to get to high ground. Tropical Storm Mariah has been upgraded to a category one hurricane with winds measuring 85 miles per hour. It’s storm path has shifted drastically, and it is now projected to hit the island of West Plana Cays head on, making landfall in the next thirty minutes. I repeat, residents of West Plana Cays need to get to high ground.”

Damn it, damn it. Jason exhaled slowly, dragged a hand down his face. It was possible that the road into the town was already washed out, but there was no way to know for sure. If they got there and it was washed out, there was no guarantee they could get back to the house.

And Dario Colon was still out there somewhere.

“Where’s the highest ground?” Elizabeth asked.

“The—the other side of the island. There’s—” Jason looked at her. “I don’t know that we could get there before the storm makes landfall. And this is just the outerbands right now—”  They could hear the rain pelting hard against the roof above them, the wind roaring, and the ocean waves crashing. “The house is well-built,” he told her, “but a storm surge—” He started for the door, then winced, pressing a hand to his side, and then he had to brace himself against the wall, his head spinning.

Elizabeth came to his side, stretched her arm around his waist. “Let’s sit down. Okay? Even if we wanted to leave, I don’t know where I’m going, and you’ve already pushed too hard today.”

He hated that she was right, but allowed her to steer him towards the bed. The adrenaline of the confrontation was draining away, and he just couldn’t drag Elizabeth out onto the island into a hurricane with the possibility he’d pass out and leave her stranded.

“We need to make the house safe. I need to clear it, and lock it down,” Jason told her. He took a deep breath. “We need to get the storm supplies and move them into one room. And—” he looked at her. “I need to teach you how to use this.” He held out the gun, and she looked down at him, then back at him.

“Okay. Let’s get started.”

—

Sonny came in from the cockpit, and shook his head when Luke looked at him. “No, Marco says there’s no sign of Dario, and they had to suspend looking for him. The island is expected to be hit directly and I can’t be the priority. The road up to the house was already washed out, so—”

“Christ. They’re stuck out there alone, with no communication, no power—” Luke paced the length of the plane. “How bad is the storm?”

“Category one. They think it’ll peak around 90 miles an hour, but it’s already deviated from its predicted storm path.” Sonny found a radio, switched it on low. It’s going to be over warm water. It picks up much more, they’ll upgrade it more—”

“How the hell did they get this storm so wrong?” Luke demanded.

“Mother Nature does whatever it wants, Luke. You know that.” Sonny found the right station, tuned in. “Look, I hate this. But Jason is with Elizabeth. You know he’d give his life before he let something happen to her—”

“Yeah, well he’s not exactly at one hundred percent, is he? So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna keep worrying.”

—

They cleared the bedrooms first, locking the windows and pulling down the storm shutters—not an easy job as Jason had to close them from inside the room. Elizabeth made sure her canvases were stored against the far wall, with their protective casing wrapped around them.

The house was empty, but Elizabeth couldn’t shake the jittery feeling. She told herself that Dario Colon had likely gone to higher ground — that it’d be suicide to hang around in this kind of water —

But she’d have thought it would be suicide to sneak inside Jason Morgan’s home and hide out, waiting for an opportunity to attack her, so they weren’t working with a man of sense to begin with.

When they reached the living area, Jason secured the front of the house, and set up the candles around the room. He winced, the shadows of the night keeping her from seeing just how much pain he had.

When the last battery operated light was switched on, Jason looked at her, and now she could see him a little more clearly. He held out his gun. “Let me show you how to use this—”

Elizabeth gingerly took the weapon, the cold metal heavy in her hand. He adjusted her grip, pointing out the trigger, the safety. Then he stood behind her, his arms coming forward to help her lift and aim the gun.

“Then you just pull the trigger,” Jason told her, his breath hot against her ear. “You keep shooting until whoever it is down and can’t get up or you’re out of bullets. There’s a kickback, so—”

“What does that mean? A kickback?” Elizabeth twisted slightly to look at him. “I don’t understand.

Jason hesitated. “It’s hard to explain — but when you pull the trigger, you  have to brace your weight or the force of it can push you down.”

“I don’t—I don’t want that to happen. I need to pull the trigger. Find out what it feels like.” She turned in his arms. “Because if I have to use this, that means you’re hurt or can’t do it. I need to make sure whoever is coming at us can’t get up. That’s what you said.”

Jason grimaced, looked past her. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go. Quick. The storm is only getting worse,” he muttered, but he took the gun from her and then took her hand, pulling her towards the terrace doors. He flipped back the storm shutter, then slid the terrace door aside.

The wind whipped in, the force of the rain nearly shoving them back, but Jason pulled her outside. He took her shoulders, made sure she was facing the water, gave her the gun, then stepped behind her.

He wrapped both his hands around her hands, helping her to lift the gun and aim against the force of the wind. “Now shoot,” he said, his voice close to her ear.

Elizabeth squeezed the trigger, jolting back and nearly pushing them both over. But then she pulled it again. And again, and by the fourth shot—she wasn’t moving at all.

“Good, good. Let’s go.” He took the gun from her, dragged her inside, and refastened the doors, shutting out the storm.

Water pooled around their feet, water dripping from their soaked clothing. Jason looked at her, then swallowed hard, swaying slightly.

“You need to sit down—” Elizabeth hurried to take the gun from him, and set it on the table. “Come on. I’ll get towels and dry clothing. I’m sorry, that was a stupid idea—”

“No, no you needed to know—” Jason grimaced, and she realized just how much willpower he’d been using to keep moving, because he stumbled slightly now. She moved him to the one of the chairs, helping him to sit down.

“I’ll get the towels—”

“Take the gun. Please.” Jason looked at her, drips of rain sliding from his hair down to his cheeks in thin rivulets. “I know we secured the house, but—”

“Okay.” It was easier to agree. He watched her check the safety like he’d told her and she hurried down the hallway.

It didn’t take more a few minutes to return with the dry clothes, and Elizabeth helped him to change, her guilt racketing up a few more notches when she saw that his wound was pink and angry. Inflamed, she realized. He might have healed superficially, but there was still internal damage that needed rest and light handling.

“Don’t—don’t worry—” Jason slid his finger beneath her chin, lifting her worried gaze up to his. “I’m okay. I just need to sit for a little while.”

“You’re not made of steel, Jason. This—I’m so sorry—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing,” he insisted. “Dario came after you because of what I did to him. If I had left it alone that day, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You were just trying to protect me and Emily—”

“I never even thought about her,” Jason said, and Elizabeth frowned. “I let you think that it was for her, for both of you. But it was just you. He put his hands on you, and I couldn’t let him get away with it. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault—”

“Well, it’s not yours,” he insisted stubbornly. Elizabeth smiled faintly, brushing her fingers over his lips. She leaned in, kissed him briefly.

“We could argue about this all night. Let’s just call it even and get into some dry clothes. This is going to be a long night, and I am freezing.” She squeezed his hand as she rose to her feet. “We’re going to be all right. The house is secure. We’ve got food and batteries. We just have to hold on until morning.”

+37

Written in 55 minutes.

Late June 2000

Jason laid back in the bed, one hand beneath his head, his ears cocked for the sound of Elizabeth’s return though he wouldn’t be able to hear the soft fall of her bare feet over the dull roar of the waves outside the window. They were louder tonight, and he remembered now that a storm had been forecast. He’d have to make sure the terrace doors were all closed and check the windows.

He sat up, swung his leg over the side of the mattress, wincing when the healing wound low on his abdomen protested. Maybe today’s activities hadn’t been exactly the best idea, Jason thought, pushing himself to his feet, but he had no regrets.

He could rest tomorrow.

There was a crack and roll of thunder. Jason leaned over to find his jeans. He was just fastening his jeans when he heard another crack—but this one was followed by the flash of lightning illuminating the room, and Jason realized that the first sound hadn’t been thunder after all. It had sounded closer—

He jerked open the drawer on the dresser, retrieved his handgun. He checked the safety and headed for the hallway.

—

It was just like that night. A hand reaching out from the darkness, from nothing, grabbing her, snatching her backwards so fast that she’d lost her breath—

One arm wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her side, the hand digging into her upper bicep. The other hand on her arm, clamping down on her lips and nose that she couldn’t breathe.

She twisted, tried to bite the hand, wriggled, but it didn’t stop, she couldn’t think, couldn’t process what was happening—the ocean waves mixed in with her memories, and maybe it wasn’t the water, but the wind roaring in her ears, and her legs felt so cold, they’d been dragged across the snowy ground, rocks and dirt shredding her panty hose—

Her feet were bare. She couldn’t find her shoes.

No, no, no no no not again not again please not again

—

Luke paced the small office of the airport. “How long does it take to get a plane ready? Just turn the key and start the damn thing—”

Sonny sent him a dirty look, then turned back to the phone. “Look, Marco, I don’t care. There are other people who can prepare for a storm—it’s not even a hurricane—I need you to go to the house and check the phone lines. Did they pick up Dario?”

Luke glanced over when he heard Sonny set the phone down, the dull plastic receiving clacking down hard on the base. “Well?”

“Marco has three guys out looking in Dario’s usual places, but there’s a tropical storm that’s in the area. The island’s only supposed to get the back edge of it, but it’s complicating everything. We can’t even get a flight plan.” Sonny dragged his hands down his face. “How the hell did I forget about this guy?”

“That’s a damn good question. Some guy goes after her, Jason humiliates him in front of his buddies, and you don’t think he goes at the top of the damn list? You and Jason, you always think no one else has any enemies,” Luke muttered. “You never look past your own faces.”

Sonny started to challenge him, but the phone rang again. He snatched it up. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t care. Get the flight plan filed. We’ll stop in Miami and wait out the storm if we have to. Get it done.”

—

There was no sound in the house, no Elizabeth in the kitchen, and Jason’s pulse picked up, his heart thudding in his ears. But his hands remained steady, his steps quiet and measured as he crept down the hall, his eyes sweeping the darkness at the closed doors. He couldn’t remember now if any of had been open before.

He hadn’t done a sweep of the house when they’d returned, Jason realized with a thud. Securing the house with the open windows and terrace was a pain in the ass, but they didn’t need that kind of security, he thought. They controlled all ways onto the island. Which meant this was someone on the island.

And that left only one person who might be inside the house. One person who had a damn good reason for wanting to hurt Elizabeth.

Jason stopped outside her door. He listened, and he couldn’t hear anything, not over the wind and waves outside. The rain had started, and was pelting the roof, the walls. He didn’t know what room Elizabeth had been dragged into, and he didn’t just want to kick a door in —

He couldn’t think about what might be happening while he debated. Couldn’t think about how scared Elizabeth might be or—couldn’t do it. He only had one chance, one opportunity, and he wasn’t going to screw it up.

—

Classes. She’d taken all those self-defense classes, but no one ever taught you how to think when your brain was frozen, how did you stop it, how did get back into your body, how did you make it all go away, to stop swirling and screaming and—

Thunder crackled and lightning flashed, and the room around them was illuminated — Elizabeth saw her surroundings. And it was enough. It snapped her back, and she knew where she was.

It wasn’t the Port Charles Park on Valentine’s Day. And this wasn’t the man who had raped her. It wasn’t happening again. It wasn’t cold, and those weren’t rocks digging into her feet, but the cold tiled floor.

It was now, and Elizabeth was never going to let someone make her a victim again. She’d worked too hard—

She forced herself to go limp, making her body dead weight. Her attacker grunted, but his grip slipped just enough for Elizabeth to clamp down hard on the hand in her arm. He yelped, but his hand fell away, and she screamed.

——

“What if we’re in the air and something happens?” Sonny demanded, watching as the jet in the hangar was prepared for the trip. “What do we do then?”

“I don’t know,” Luke retorted. “What are we going to do if something happens and we’re on our asses here in Port Charles?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, stalked over to the window that looked out over the hangar. “I don’t like any of this,” he muttered. “Storm coming, you can’t reach the house. Maybe an island in the middle of nowhere was a bad idea.”

He turned back to find Sonny on the phone again, but his expression had shifted. Luke’s heartbeat picked up. “What? What happened?”

“We—we can’t get a flight to the island.” Sonny looked at him. “Not until the morning. The storm is shifting its path. It’s going to hit the island head on in about an hour. And it’s being upgraded to a category one hurricane.”

Luke exhaled on a long breath. “Okay. We’ll get to Miami, and you’ll charter a motherfucking boat. I’ll drive it myself.”

“Luke—look—”

“Don’t tell me that’s suicide, and don’t tell me Jason can handle it. The phones are out, Corinthos. That’s before the storm ever hits them. Your guy can’t find this Dario person in any of his usual places. That’s why he hasn’t picked him up yet. It’s already happening, and I’ll be damned if we’re going to twiddle our thumbs a thousand miles away—I can’t do nothing—”

“Marco said he’d go up to the house—” Sonny’s face was gray. “There’s nothing we can do, Luke.”

“Get us to Miami. At least get us closer.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see if I can manage that.” Sonny picked up the phone again.

—

Elizabeth’s scream ripped through the air, just behind her bedroom door, and whatever caution Jason had been holding on to disappeared. He hit the door with his shoulder, breaking it off the hinges, sending flying into the room, splinters falling to the floor.

He had the gun raised and pointed before he could even take in the scene — near the terrace doors, thrown wide open, drapery whipped around by the rain and wind swirling into the room, he saw Elizabeth being held by a dark figure, an arm around her neck and the other at her waist.

“Let her go!” Jason roared, but he couldn’t get a good shot, not with the darkness in the room, the way Elizabeth’s head was moving back and forth. She twisted, and then her leg was in the air, her foot came down hard—Jason saw the flash of her elbow—She planted both blows at the same time, leading her attacker to grunt and lose his grip.

Elizabeth twisted out of his grasp, whirling around to bring her knee directly into his groin before flying across the room. Jason caught her with his other arm, dragging her against his side, only barely registering the pain.

The lightning flashed again, casting light on Dario Colon’s grim expression as he got to his feet. Thunder cracked and rolled, the sounds were on top of each other. He saluted them with two fingers at his temple, then darted backwards.

Jason shot twice after him but knew he hadn’t been able to hit his mark as Dario flew over the terrace wall. By the time Jason got out there, he couldn’t find the other man in the dark, the pelting his skin as he stood there, trying to find him.

“Damn it, damn it—” Jason engaged the safety, set the gun on the dresser and came towards Elizabeth, dragging her back into his arms. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“N-No, no, I’m okay. But he got away—he’ll come back—” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Jason—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll get out of here. We’ll go into town. I’ll get you somewhere safe,” Jason said. He went to the lamp on the side table of her bed, flicked the switch. Nothing.  Damn it. Damn it.

“Jason?”

“The power’s out.” Which meant the phone was out, and neither of their cell phones worked here. And if Dario had been in the house before they got home from dinner, he might have had time to screw with the car.

Jason picked up the gun. “Get dressed. Fast. We need to get out of here.”

+38

Written in 110 minutes. The first scene was supposed to take 5-10 minutes. It took 40, and once I realized I was going to have to either make the ending really abrupt and terrible or go over, I decided to go over and take a little more time, lol. I’m sure you won’t complain.

Late June 2000

It was strange to think of Jason having a favorite restaurant anywhere, Elizabeth thought, but if she had to picture him out to eat somewhere other than Luke’s or Kelly’s, she supposed the nondescript wooden building set only a few dozen yards from the shore might fit that bill — except it was filled with people, lights, and music — three things she would never associate with Jason.

“Zaco’s Tacos?” Elizabeth asked, reading the words scrawled over the restaurant before looking at Jason with surprise. “Really?”

“It’s to throw off tourists from the casino,” Jason told her, taking her hand and winding around the crowded inside to a back deck where there were a few tables. “People mind their own business here.”

“Oh, well that explains everything,” Elizabeth said. She sat in the chair Jason pulled out for her, and let him order for the both of them when a man came over to the table, greeting Jason by name with a huge smile. “I forget sometimes that you probably know everyone on the island.”

“Yeah. I mean, they’ve heard of me,” Jason said. “Sonny started buying up land and property here a few years ago, as soon as he started to make real money,” he added. “Eventually, he owned enough to be the largest property owner on the island, and taking over the resort and casino meant that he was also the biggest employer.” He grimaced, reached for the water on the table.

“And you’re business partners now, so—”

“It’s still Sonny’s. But sometimes they don’t see it that way.” Jason shrugged a shoulder. “And it’s easier not to argue.”

“So Sonny doesn’t really own an island, he just controls one.”

“Most of it,  yeah. He just…likes to own things.” Jason shifted, a bit uncomfortable, and Elizabeth decided to change the subject. She didn’t really want to talk about Sonny anyway, though she was fascinated by how Jason had built such a strong and deep relationship with someone who seemed so different from him.

“You know, this is the most time I’ve ever spent near an ocean,” Elizabeth told him after their food had been delivered. She swirled her fork around her jerk chicken dish. “Colorado is land-locked, so the most I ever saw was lakes and rivers.”

“I didn’t—I never thanked you,” Jason said, and she frowned at him. “I know Bobbie’s a friend, and gave you a break on Kelly’s, but I’m sorry you had to put your life aside—”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I’m really being put out here. Spending two weeks in the Caribbean, not dealing with customers—spending time with you—the horror.”

Jason smiled slightly, but his expression remained a little tense. “You—you didn’t have to do any of this. I just want you to know I’m not taking it for granted. I know I wasn’t really—I’m not a good patient.”

“No, you’re really not,” Elizabeth agreed and his smile was a little wider now. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” she said a bit more softly, and Jason looked at her. “You got hurt because of me—”

“No—”

“We were standing next to each other, but not that close.” She looked down at her dinner, moved the food around on the plate. “You could have easily dived in the other direction to safety, but you didn’t. Your first thought was—was me—a-and I don’t know if I’d—I saw what that bullet did to you.” She lifted her eyes, saw his intense stare. “I was scared when I realized you’d been hurt, and so angry with myself for not seeing it before. The blood—” She looked down at her hand, pressed her fingers together. “I should have known—”

“You were upset and scared—and I’m glad it was me and not you—” Jason leaned forward. “I wouldn’t change anything. Except passing out in the parking garage,” he said with a wince.

“Well, yeah, that wasn’t particularly fun. You’re not exact the lightest thing I’ve had to drag around,” Elizabeth said, and she was relieved to see the smile back on his face. “But I got you upstairs, and thank God Sonny was there to take over. I don’t know where I else I might have gone.” She folded her arms on the table. “Um, we haven’t—I mean, I know what we talked about before we came down here. But I guess I wanted to—” She rubbed her finger across her lip. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to ask if you’d changed your mind.”

“Changed my mind?” Jason echoed.

“That day in my studio, we—we talked about why you didn’t want—” She hesitated, struggling to find the words, then just sighed. She was edging around the subject, hoping Jason would fill in what she was trying to ask. “I wanted to know where we are. Figuratively, not literally,” she added. “What…what we’re doing.”

Jason exhaled slowly, looked out towards the ocean, the sun dipping below the horizon, the reflection rippling out over the water. “I think it’s too late to stop it,” he admitted, and she frowned. “Maybe if I’d realized it sooner, I could have.”

“Makes me sound like a fungus,” Elizabeth said, trying to force some humor into the pit that curled in her stomach. “As inevitable as the chicken pox—”

Jason winced. “That’s not how I meant it.” He dragged a hand through his hair, then slid into the chair next to her so that they were closer and he was no longer directly across her. He looped his arm over the back of her chair. “By the time I realized what I was feeling,” he told her, his voice low, “it was too late to stop it. I’m not going to apologize for thinking you deserve better. For knowing it,” he added, and she wrinkled her nose. “But you’re the one that decides if that matters. So if this—if I’m the choice you want to make—then I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you never regret that.”

Elizabeth reached for his other hand, taking it between both of hers. “You said my name,” she murmured. “That day in our dorm room. Do you remember?”

Jason frowned, shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“You said my name, and I stopped for a moment, because I couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard you say it before. I must have, but maybe you’d never said it that way before that day. And our hands brushed when I tried to move the desk. I felt your touch.” She licked her lips, met his blue eyes. “And it startled me. The way it felt against my skin—” Her fingertips danced down the line of his index finger to his palm, then up again. “I’m not going to say that I started falling that day, but I noticed you in a way I hadn’t before.”

Jason swallowed hard, looked down at their joined hands. “Elizabeth—”

“That’s what I mean—right there—the way you say it. It’s softer than the rest of your words.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I felt safe with you from the moment I met you, and that wasn’t true of most men. I could talk to you, tell you things I hadn’t even said to Lucky—or maybe I had, and he hadn’t heard me. You always listened. Even when you couldn’t have cared less.” Their eyes met again. “That night you came to the dorm, and we went up to Vista Point. You told me I was letting myself down, that what I thought was love wasn’t good enough. That I should never settle for less than I deserve. I heard you, and I’ve spent the last few months learning to believe that.” She touched his jaw. “I did deserve better than what I had, and I’ve found it. I found you. So I hope you know when I make this choice, I’m choosing it with my eyes wide open. I’m choosing you, and I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you never regret it either.”

He leaned forward, captured her lips in a brief, searing kiss, but drew back almost before she could really sink in. Then he sat back, and she looked around, remembered that they were in a crowded restaurant. She bit her lip, looked back at her dinner. “We should probably finish eating.”

“Yeah.” Jason returned to his chair. “Do—we can take a walk on the beach if you want, when we’re done.”

Elizabeth looked out over the nearby shoreline, then smiled, looked back him. “I’d rather walk on our beach. Just us.”

—

It had been hours since his conversation with Luke, and Sonny still couldn’t shake the sensation that he’d missed something. That there was a detail he couldn’t make fit. He mulled over it the rest of the day, and continued to roll it around in his head when he went home, poured himself a drink.

What was bothering him? Sonny paced over to the windows. It was a simple set of facts. Someone—probably Anthony Moreno—had put out a contract using David Reece as their middle man. They’d shot at Jason and missed. So why hadn’t there been any issues since that night? If it was Moreno, why wasn’t he trying to get Jason out of hiding? Why didn’t he go after Sonny now with the momentum on his side?

It was that detail, Sonny thought. Something about the way it had all gone quiet and he’d never found any of the hint of the contract on the street. Only the shooter had known, and Reece wasn’t responding to any of the usual outreaches. The contract was unfilled, but even if it was personal, why not go for the jugular? Why not force Jason to come out? A few attacks on Sonny would have done that.

Sonny went over to the desk, reached for the phone. He needed more information, and there was only one person he could ask.

—

The house was quiet, cloaked in shadows, with only a few exterior lights to illuminate the driveway when they returned. Night fell quickly when there was little civilization to hold it back. The moon was tucked behind some shadows, so that even the water was black against the dark sky.

But Elizabeth didn’t care that there wasn’t enough moonlight to walk the beach. Somewhere between the restaurant and the house, she’d made a decision.

As soon as they were inside, when Jason had, by force of habit, flipped the lock, Elizabeth slid her hands up his chest. “I was thinking,” she said, “of the beach.”

Jason’s hand curled over her shoulders, his fingers rough against the skin left bare by the thin straps of her tank top. “I could get a flashlight if you really want that walk—”

“No, I mean—” Her fingers drifted down his torso, played with the hem of his shirt. “Earlier. On the beach. Today.”

“What about it?” Jason murmured, tucking an errant curl behind her ear, then trailing his fingertip down her cheek.

“And tonight at the restaurant—I keep coming back to this one thing. When you touch me—” She slid her hands beneath the shirt, careful to keep away from his injury, only touching the tight muscles of his abdomen. “I stop thinking.”

“You—” Jason swallowed hard. “You said that earlier.”

“I think I want to test that theory—” She leaned up on her toes to kiss him lightly. “See how long I can stop thinking. If you’re…I mean if you’re not too tired. Or hurt.”

His hand cupped the back of her neck, and then he was kissing her the way he had earlier, hungrily, backing her up until she was against the wall, the heat sliding through her like a lava flow, scorching everything in its path. She dragged his shirt over his head, desperate to feel him against her. Then her top was gone, thrown somewhere behind them.

Panting slightly, Jason broke away, his hand at the base of her neck, his fingers curved around her throat. “Are you sure? You have to tell me if you want me to stop—”

“I will, I will—” Greedily, Elizabeth dragged him back to her, worried that this feeling would go away, that she’d start thinking again and lose her nerve. “Just don’t stop touching me.”

——

Sonny grimaced, paced the length of Luke’s office. “I know it’s here. I know it’s in the contract from Reece. That’s the key to this whole thing—”

“Yeah, yeah, but you’ve been over it a thousand times with Benny.” Luke offered him a cigar and Sonny shook his head, turned it away. “So what’s different today?”

“Today, you’re going to listen to him talk about the conversation he had with the shooter before we, uh, arranged for his exit,” Sonny said. Luke smirked, and went to let in Benny Abrams, Sonny’s business manager.

“Luke, Sonny. I hope nothing’s wrong,” the older man said. He closed the door. “You said you wanted to talk about the shooter, but I told you everything—”

“Start from the top for Luke,” Sonny directed, and Benny just shrugged.

“Shooter wasn’t that forthcoming, mostly because I think he know who hired him. That’s the beauty of going through some like David Reece. You get to have some deniability.” Benny paused. “He gave us Reece’s name and said his only directive was to make sure that Emily Quartermaine wasn’t hit in the crossfire.”

Luke pursed his lips, considered the words. “That’s it? You got Reece and lay off when Emily Q isn’t around?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, I never understood why they went after Jason here,” Luke said. “On that night. Jason’s at the damn garage all of the damn time. Why not take him out there?”

“We thought it was the message to you—”

“Maybe.” Luke squinted. “How long did he have the contract?”

“A day, he said. Why?” Benny asked.

“Something I’m just—” Luke tipped his squinted. “He named Jason as his target? He said that? He had orders to get rid of Jason Morgan.”

Benny opened his mouth, then closed it. “Well, no, not in those specific words. He just said he picked up the contract the day before from David Reece, that the target spent a lot of time with Emily, and to keep her and the family out of the crossfire—what, what?” he demanded when saw Sonny’s grimace and Luke whipped the cigar from his mouth.

“Shit, shit, shit—” Sonny muttered, snatching up the phone on Luke’s desk.

“What am I missing?”

“Elizabeth didn’t work on that Friday. She wouldn’t have been out in public until the concert.” Luke hissed. “Damn it—she lives on the Quartermaine estate—”

With the phone in the crook of his shoulder, Sonny’s scowl had only deepened. “Jason was shot shoving Elizabeth to the ground. He aimed for her! God damn it—Jason’s not picking up.”

—

Jason lifted Elizabeth, ignoring the pinch in his side when her legs wrapped around her waist, kept kissing her. He carried her down the hall, by passing her bedroom and heading for his, backing in, knocking the already ajar door wide open, then kicking it closed, never breaking contact or concentration.

Elizabeth was the focus, the center of everything, and for as long as she as she’d let him, he was going to spend every second making sure she never regretted it. He planted one leg on the bed, then gently laid her down, his fingers reaching for the button of her jeans. Her hands covered his for just a minute, and he froze, his eyes going towards his. Did she want him to stop—

“I can do that faster,” she breathed. She leaned up kissed the underside of his jaw. “You worry about your pants, and I’ll take care of mine.”

He cupped her face in his, kissed her again, then leaned his forehead against hers. “Best deal I’ve ever heard.”

—

“There’s not a storm on the island, is there?” Luke wanted to know. “I mean, we can call up to your resort, leave a message—”

“No, no, you don’t understand—damn it, I was so stupid. So goddamn stupid. We all were. We were so sure Jason was the target, that Moreno was behind it or hell, your stupid kid, that I didn’t even think to ask myself what if it was Elizabeth—”

“Okay, but other than my kid who didn’t do this,” Luke bit out, “who the hell would hate Elizabeth enough to do this—”

Sonny pressed his fingers to the phone, hung up the current call, then dialed again. “I sent her right into the lion’s den, God damn it—Marco?” he bit out. “Yeah. Yeah. I need you to find Dario Colon and shove him in a jail cell until I get there. Tell Armando I’ll handle it. Then get up to Jason’s. The phone must be out.” He hung up the phone, took a deep breath.

“Who the hell is Dario Colon?”

—

She clung Jason, her legs wrapped tightly around Jason, her heart pounding so hard that it drowned out the sound of everything, even the roar of the ocean waves just beyond the house.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his own chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Are you all right?” he managed to say.

“I am….” Elizabeth finally opened her eyes, saw his face above hers. She touched his cheek. “If there something better than perfect because that’s where I am.”

He nuzzled her neck, rolling off her, but pulling her against him. She curled into his side, enjoying even the way the sweat rolling down his chest felt against her fingers. She’d done that to him, they’d done that together, she marveled. This gorgeous man had been out of breath from making love to her.

“Are you—” Jason frowned. “Are you laughing?”

“No—” She giggled, pressed her fingers to her lips. “No.”

“I might not pick up on all the cues—” Jason shifted and now she was on her back again, and he was looking at her, his elbow planted in the mattress. “But I know what laughing sounds like.”

“I just—I can’t help it. I laugh when I’m happy.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “And I’m happy right now.” She bit her lip. “Are you?”

“That is definitely one of the things I’m feeling.” He leaned down, kissed her lazily. “Relieved. Grateful that you didn’t decide to go with your third date idea.”

Elizabeth drew her brows together for a moment, then laughed again. “I forgot about that. Well, if you count correctly, this is our third date.”

Jason arched a brow. “How do you figure that?”

“Well—” She touched his chest, tracing the hollow of his collarbone. “If you count the beach in March, then the club a few weeks ago—I mean you did give me the ticket and drive me home, so—that would make this our third date.”

He just shook his head, but kissed her again. She sighed, contented—and thirsty.

“Mmm, I could drink a gallon of water.” Elizabeth sat up. “I’m going to grab some from the kitchen. Do you want any?”

“I’ll get it—” Jason started to get up, but she shook her head.

“No, I’ve got it.” She saw her jeans, then wrinkled her nose. “Can I just borrow one of your shirts? I don’t feel like putting those back on—and don’t say I don’t need something to wear—” she said when he opened his mouth.

“I wasn’t—yeah. Top drawer.”

Elizabeth shimmied into a dark blue t-shirt,  then kissed him one more time. “I’ll be right back.”

She left the door partially ajar and headed down the hallway towards the rest of house, all her body cells practically humming. She was practically dancing on air, she thought. All the pieces of her had been stitched back together, and she was alive in ways she hadn’t even been before that night—

So distracted in her own happiness, Elizabeth didn’t notice that her bedroom door had been opened sometime between their arriving home and her trek towards the kitchen. She always kept it closed, worried that Jason or anyone who came to the house might see what she was working on before she was ready.

But the partially ajar door didn’t register to her—until she was just past it. She paused, frowned, and started to turn—

Not fast enough. The hand clamped down on her math, an arm jerked her off her feet and yanked her back, into the room, kicking the door closed.

+37

Written in 64 minutes.

Late June 2000

He nearly didn’t go after her, but after a moment of indecision and ignoring the pain in his side, Jason moved as quickly towards the house as he could, only stopping to rinse the sand from his feet just by the terrace.

He expected to find her in her room, the door closed, but instead she was sitting on one of the loungers, a towel clutched to in front of her. Jason stopped just at the top of the stairs, unsure what to do now that he’d caught her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her head snapped up, her brow furrowed. Jason swallowed hard. “I wasn’t thinking, and I went too fast, didn’t I? Or I-I made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry for that. It’s just—” It was just that he’d tried very hard not to think about her that way, especially after she’d told him about Lucky, about what that little son of a bitch had said to her. But then he’d seen her, walking towards him out of the water, water sliding down her bare skin, with nothing more than scraps of cloth covering— “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“You didn’t—” Elizabeth slowly got to her feet, still holding the towel in front of her, her eyes averted, on the ground. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me—”

“But—”

Her gaze flickered to him briefly before dropping again. “I just—um, I forgot. You’re hurt—”

“I’m fine—” Jason stepped towards her. “Is…is that why—”

“Why I ran away like a little girl? The kid that I keep promising I’m not?” She finally met his eyes head on and his throat tightened when he saw the shimmer of tears. “It’s really not you. I promise. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“Okay,” Jason said slowly, taking another step towards her, relieved when she didn’t back up. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I—” She closed her eyes, took a long, deep breath, then looked at him. “I don’t know. I just—I had a moment to think, and it was—it was just so fast—the way I just completely forgot where I was and—” She sat back on the lounger, pressed her forehead to the towel. “Can it just be enough that you didn’t do anything wrong? Do we have to talk about it?”

“No,” Jason said, carefully sitting on the lounger across from hers. “We don’t have to talk about anything if that’s what you want.”

Elizabeth sighed, sat up, rested the towel on her lap, her fingers plucking at the rough cloth. “But you’ll never touch me again because maybe I’ll go crazy on you—”

“Elizabeth—”

“I don’t want that. I don’t,” she said, shaking her head as if he’d protested. “I just—I want to be normal, you know? You—” She looked at him again. “You looked at me, and I could see what you wanted, and I liked it. And you’ll stop because you don’t want to scare me or pressure me—and then you’ll bottle it up and—”

“I’ll get irritated, and resentful and make it your fault,” Jason finished. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, but didn’t argue with him. “You think what happened with Lucky is your fault.”

“A little, maybe. I could—I could have done more, I guess—I know he’s the one that said it, and that’s on him, but I know the lack of—that it was affecting us. I could feel it happening, and I wanted to fix it—but it was already too far gone—” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes.”

“You’re not. Elizabeth—”

“I just—I was so young when it happened,” Elizabeth confessed in a quiet voice. “I didn’t even know how much that night stole from me until I started to get it back—I’d never had a boyfriend. Never been kissed. I’d had crushes, but I’d never felt—” Her mouth tightened, and he hated to see the misery shimmering in her eyes. “The way I feel about you. It’s like pieces of me are waking up and coming back to life, and I s-should be glad. Okay? I sh-should be happy that I’m not scared and that maybe I can do and have all the things that I thought were gone.”

He hated this, he hated every minute of being on this side of the terrace and not right next to her, not holding her as the tears spilled down her cheeks. But he was—

Jason exhaled slowly. He was afraid to touch her. Just like she’d worried.

Bracing one hand against his side, he moved across the small space separating them and sat next to her, leaving a few inches between them. “You get to feel whatever you’re feeling, Elizabeth. There’s no right or wrong here.”

She shifted slightly to angle herself towards him, he was relieved to note, tears spilling from the corners of her beautiful eyes. “I shouldn’t be angry.”

“Why not? Why wouldn’t you be angry?” Jason wanted to know. “Something was taken from you. You had to take it back, piece by piece, and you never should have had to do any of that work.”

She pressed her hands to her mouth, closing her eyes, her shoulders shaking, but when he pulled her against him, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she didn’t flinch, but leaned in. He kissed the top of her head, and held her for a long moment, before she pulled back, swiping at her eyes.

“I should, um, go take a shower. The salt water is going to make my hair a complete mess.” She nervously ran a hand through the tangled, damp strands, already curling madly in the humidity. “Um, are you—I didn’t—hurt you, did I?” Elizabeth gestured at the wound in his side. He’d stopped wearing a dressing a day or two earlier, and the sides of the wound had started to close, but it would lead a visible scar.

“No, no. I just—” He got to his feet, held out his hand. She let him pull her up. Jason kept her hand in his. “I forgot, too,” he said, echoing her words. Going on instinct, he added, “I saw you—” Then he swept his eyes down her body, before meeting her eyes. “And I wasn’t thinking about it anymore.”

Elizabeth’s smile widened and he saw that light come back in her eyes. “I know the feeling.” She stepped closer to him, their bodies brushing. “Do you remember the night we were out here? A few months ago?”

“I do.”

Elizabeth raised her hand, lightly touched his chest with her fingertips the way she had that night. “You must have thought I’d lost my mind that night, but I couldn’t stop myself.” She licked her lips. “I told myself I was imagining it. But I wasn’t, was I?”

“No. And let me finish what I was started that night.” Jason cupped the back of her head, drew her against him, and kissed her. She relaxed against him, and he held her with his other hand splayed against her back, skin to skin. He’d meant to just kiss her lightly, just to reassure her, but he lost himself in the way she tasted, the feel of her beneath his hands, everything he’d been trying to pretend he didn’t want for weeks and weeks.

When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, their hearts pounding—he could feel hers against his chest, the flutter of her pulse under his fingers when he cupped her jaw. Her eyes were slightly glazed when they finally opened. She was so beautiful.

When her lips curved again, he realized he’d spoken the words out loud, and that he didn’t remember saying it before. He hadn’t given her anything she really deserved, and that was going to change, Jason decided right now.

“Tonight, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?” She wound her arms around his neck. “Where?”

“Out to dinner. There’s a place I go when I’m here, and you’d like it.” He kissed her again, stroked his fingers along her cheek. “We’ll go out on the bike.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Elizabeth asked, her fingers combing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah.” He caressed her bottom lip with his thumb, the way he’d done that night on the sofa. “What do you say?”

“The best offer I’ve had in months. Just tell me when and where so I know what to wear.”

“About six,” he decided, because he needed to make a few calls. “And we’re on the bike, so—” He sighed. “None of those skirts you like.”

“You look a little disappointed when you say that, so maybe I’m not the only one that likes them.” She kissed him again, but then backed away. “But I really need to wash my hair so it’s half decent. And grab our things from the beach—”

“I’ll get them.” He didn’t want to let her hand go, but didn’t have a choice when she headed for the doors. She turned back and smiled back at him, then went inside. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks pink, and he felt his own smile in response, stretching across his face.

Oh man, he was in real trouble.

—

More than a thousand miles away, another man was in a little trouble but Sonny Corinthos wasn’t one to admit that easily. Which is how he found himself sitting across from Luke in the back office of the club with a bad feeling swirling and no way to explain it.

“You just like being dramatic,” Luke said, looking at the end of his cigar before putting it back in his mouth and reaching for the lighter.

“Coming from you, that’s funny.” Sonny rubbed one finger along his bottom lip. “He made the meeting too easy. That’s what it is.”

“He was supposed to play hard to get?” Luke smirked. “Sorry, but you’re just making up reasons to be worried. Get Jason home, set up the alibi, and you’ll be all set.

“Yeah, yeah. I just—” Sonny got to his feet. “I feel like there’s something I missed. You know? Like a piece of this puzzle I’m missing. I can’t stop thinking that it’s all…simple. We still don’t even know for sure that Moreno set up the hit—”

“You’re not back to thinking my boy did it—” Luke scowled. “Even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to contact David Reece—”

“But other people do. I just don’t—”

“No one else has a reason to hate Jason the way Moreno does. And we’ve been over this. Elizabeth was just an accident — the shooter waited for Emily to be gone. End of story. No one even knew Morgan and Liz were really an item. They do now, but—”

Sonny sighed. “I know. I know. Lucky was the only one saying that bullshit, and no one believed him. They wouldn’t have waited so long if they did.”

“See? What’s what I’m saying. Make the meeting, finish this.”

“Yeah. Maybe when it’s over, I’ll be able to shake this feeling—I just hate feeling like I missed a detail.”

“You missed nothing,” Luke said again. “We went over it and over it. Relax, it’s all good.”

Later, Sonny would wish that he’d paid attention to his feeling, that he’d really gone over every detail because, well, he had missed something.

Something very important.

And it was too late to fix it.

——

On the island, he watched from the protection of the palm streets clustered around the house. Watched as the puta pranced down the steps in skin-tight jeans and a tight black top, strapped on her helmet, climbed on the bike, and the duo roared off down the road.

When they came back, he’d be waiting. He could be patient. He’d waited months, hadn’t he?

But it was going to end tonight.

+34

Written in 64 minutes. Got a late start thanks to the cat napping in front of the keyboard.

Late June 2000

By the beginning of their second week on the island, Jason was up and moving around on his own schedule. He woke early and went for walks on the beach while Elizabeth slept in, enjoying her break from not opening Kelly’s at the crack of dawn. By the time she finally shuffled out of her room, Jason would have returned, showered, and made coffee.

This morning, she was still stifling a yawn when she emerged from her room, wearing a long pink wrap over her bikini, the top peeking out from where the wrap dipped down over her shoulder.

She slid onto the stool, accepting the coffee he handed her with a wrinkle of her nose. “Does the sun have to be so bright all the time?” she muttered. “It’s so aggressive.”

“How late were you up?” Jason asked, leaving the kitchen area and heading into the living room proper. He picked up one of his heavier travel books, then did a few reps with it, wincing slightly at the pull on his wound. It had mostly healed, but he’d yet to regain his full strength on his left and he couldn’t sprint for more than a few steps without losing his breath.

“Just until three,” Elizabeth said. She spun on the stool, watched him lift the book a few more times, and he waited for her to make a protest about pushing himself. But she just sipped her coffee. “I hit a groove with the canvas last night, and didn’t want to lose it. I don’t know if it’s good enough for the exhibition, but at least it’s progress.”

“Whatever you finish down here—” Jason set the book down, looked at her. “I’ll make sure it gets back to Port Charles safely. Just tell me what you need to ship it.”

“Did Sonny say something? Do we know when we’re going back?” Elizabeth slid off the stool, went into the kitchen to set her empty cup in the sink.

“No.” And that grated at Jason — he knew why he’d had to recuperate somewhere far away from Port Charles, but someone had tried to kill him—had nearly killed Elizabeth—and he was too far away to do anything about it. Relying on Sonny wasn’t nearly good enough. Maybe if he continued to recover at this rate, he could talk Elizabeth into staying on the island while he went home to finish this.

He watched Elizabeth as she rifled through her tote bag—they always went down to the beach after coffee. She liked to sit out and sketch and he’d do another walk. Tomorrow, he decided, tomorrow he’d be able to jog the full length of the beach, and then Sonny would have to let him come back.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Elizabeth said, looping the strap over her shoulder. She slid a pair of sunglasses over her eyes.

“I’ll grab the towels,” Jason started to say, but the phone on the counter rang. He scooped it up. “Sonny?”

“Hey, is this a bad time?” his partner asked, the line a bit crackly.

“No, it’s good—” Jason made eye contact with Elizabeth and she nodded. She grabbed the second bag with the beach towels and gestured towards the beach. “It’s good,” he repeated after she’d stepped out on the terrace.

“Elizabeth around?”

“Just went down to the beach. I’m glad you called. Can we set up a flight for Friday?” Jason wanted to know. “I’m ready—or I will be by then—”

“Let’s hold off on that,” Sonny said. “I was actually calling to let you know that Taggert came sniffing again, looking for you. Mentioned making a stop to talk to Audrey who said Liz was on vacation and that’s all she knew. Liz is talking to her grandmother, isn’t she?”

Jason frowned. “Yeah, we said that’d be fine, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just didn’t expect Audrey Hardy not to be throwing a bigger fit over her granddaughter disappearing the night she was shot at. Taggert seemed perturbed at it, too. Wants to know if you’re dead.”

“All the more reason for me to come home on Friday, but it it’s not safe yet, maybe Elizabeth—”

“No, no, I wanna wait until at least this weekend. The longer you’re both gone with Liz still still keeping in touch, it lends weight to the cover story. You know, that you’re off somewhere together.”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t care what people said about him, but he didn’t much like people speculating about Elizabeth behind her back. “Okay, but—”

“I also—I gotta work out a few things on my end, you know, so I’ll let you know what’s a good day. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

—

Emily pushed her fries around her plate, wondering why she always ordered extra when she never had the appetite to finish them.

“If you’re not going to eat them—” Nikolas reached across the table, tugged on her plate. He set aside his burger, then dumped ketchup on what was left. Emily watched him with her chin propped on her first.

“Remember when you were an elegant prince who’d never seen ketchup?”

“What can I say? America has corrupted me.” Nikolas popped a fry in his mouth. “What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing I can talk about with you—” Emily started, then made a face when she saw a familiar face heading their way from the parking lot. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

Nikolas twisted in his seat, saw his brother, and sighed. “Em—”

“I know, you’ve forgiven him, and that’s fine, but—”

“Hey.” Lucky stopped by their table, one of his hands tucked in the pocket of his jeans. “I was hoping to run into you here today.”

Emily wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t.”

Lucky ignored the comment, took a seat. “I’m not here to apologize again or whatever. I just—” He looked down at his hands. “I know I acted like an idiot a few months ago, but I’ve been worried since the shooting at my dad’s place. I know Elizabeth was there that night, and I know she’s been gone since. I’m not stupid, Em. Jason and Elizabeth are both gone. One of them is hurt. I just—I wanted to know if she was okay.”

Emily lifted a brow. “I saw her the next day and she was fine. A few scratches from the gravel—Jason pushed her down in time.”

“Yeah, he’s got some experience in that area,” Nikolas said dryly. When Emily shot him a dirty look, he shrugged. “I got shot in the throat because of him, I get to have an opinion.”

“Anyway,” Emily said, rolling her eyes, “like I said, she’s fine. She’s just taking some time to work on her exhibition for next month—”

“She’s with Jason, you mean. So he  got hurt—”

“I’m not answering any other questions—”

“It’s my fault. All of this.” Lucky sat back. “If I hadn’t have introduced Elizabeth to him, or gone to work for Jason, then she wouldn’t be in danger now—”

“Jason’s my brother, so Elizabeth was always going to be around him,” Emily said without thinking and Lucky scowled. “Not that she’s with him now, I’m just saying—”

“You know, maybe I was off base about Elizabeth being into her before we broke up, but we both know I wasn’t wrong about him—”

“Maybe you were off base?” Nikolas said. Lucky ignored him, focused on Emily.

“He was into Liz for months—”

“Whatever Jason thought or felt isn’t the point. The only person who screwed up your relationship is you. Jason could have paraded naked in front of her, and Elizabeth wouldn’t have looked at him. She loved you.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Is that why you’re still talking trash about him? Because you want him to admit that he had the hots for your girlfriend? Big freaking deal. I had the hots for Nikolas when he was dating Sarah. Didn’t matter at all.”

Nikolas frowned. “What?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid. We both know I had a huge crush on you before I actually got to know you,” Emily said, waving her hand at him. “I kissed you.”

“Yeah, but you were high—”

“Which is why I had the courage—never mind.” Emily dismissed him, focused on Lucky. “Jason doesn’t owe you answers. So if that’s why you’re still aggravating him, I’d stop if I were you. It’s starting to look desperate and pathetic. I should know, that’s where I was two years ago over this one.”

“I really don’t think I like this conversation,” Nikolas decided.

“All I want to do was see if Elizabeth was okay,” Lucky said stiffly. “So thanks for that.” He got to his feet. “Sorry to bother you.”

Emily watched him go, then shook her head. “He’s so dramatic. It’s honestly annoying.”

—

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how long Jason would be with Sonny, but the last few times they’d talked, it had been at least ten or fifteen minutes. She decided to take advantage of his absence to get in the water and cool off.

This time on the island, she’d been a little self-conscious about stripping off her cover-up and going in the ocean when he was around. Her red bikini wasn’t too revealing, but after things had changed between them, it suddenly felt like being naked around him.

And while Elizabeth thought maybe she was almost ready for that step, she knew it wasn’t definitely.

She dumped her bags near their usual spot, laid out her beach towel, then tugged her cover-up over her head. She’d do a quick dip, get her hair wet and cool, then towel off and cover up again. No problem.

Except she was in the water, covered to her chin when she saw Jason on the terrace, then crossing the sand towards the shoreline. Damn it. And of course, Jason wasn’t the least bit self-conscious trudging towards her with a pair of shorts hit just above his knee and the rest of his body completely bare—

Maybe she could just live in the water from now on. This could be her home. She might get wrinkled like a prune or starve to death, but at least she didn’t have to walk in front of Jason in nothing more than a wet bikini.

Okay, she was definitely overreacting, and she wasn’t actually naked as long as the straps didn’t come undone and humiliate her on the way back to the shore.

If she wanted to be an adult in a real relationship with the hope of physical intimacy in her future, she was gonna have to take the first step.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and stared to walk towards to the shore, emerging from the water, droplets streaming down her skin. The hot air hit her cooled skin, and she shivered slightly as she came towards the edge of the water.

Jason had stopped by their towels, and he was watching her. When she drew closer she saw that his eyes dip down, then slowly drag their way back up to meet her gaze. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Elizabeth reached him, her foot sinking into the hot sand. She fought the urge to fold her arms because that would only draw attention to that area. “I thought—you usually talk to Sonny, um, longer.” The towel she wanted to use to dry off was behind him on the ground.

“You—you could keep swimming.” Jason swallowed hard, his eyes dropping again briefly before lifting again. “You don’t have to stop.”

“I just wanted to, um, cool off a little. It’s…hotter today.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I, um, need my—” She gestured behind him. “My towel. It’s, um—”

Jason blinked, then cleared his throat, jumping as if he’d been put on fire. “Yeah, yeah, right. Okay.” He scooped up the towel, then held it out to her.

Elizabeth touched the rough fabric, curling her fingers around a piece of it, but he didn’t let go, and he was looking at her with something different in his eyes—something she didn’t really know what to do with or hadn’t seen before, but somehow, instinctively, she knew what it was. Desire. Physical. He was looking at her, and he wanted her.

She understood that feeling—hadn’t she felt the same way that night on the terrace when he’d been dripping wet, and those drops had slid down that smooth, golden chest—

She didn’t know who moved first or if they’d moved together, but the towel was tossed aside, and she was in his arms, her hands in his hair, and he was kissing her, devouring, and all that heat she’d seen in his eyes was pouring off him now, radiating through her until she was  burning, too.

They fell to the ground, and she was beneath him, panting as his lips left hers, cruised down her neck to the hollow of  her throat, and she jolted when he nipped at the soft sensitive skin,  his hands gliding up and down her body, hooking her leg over his waist. His mouth came back to hers, and a hurricane could have rained down on them, and Elizabeth wouldn’t have known the difference. She’d waited her whole life to feel like this, to be touched like this—

And then she moved her other leg, and Jason drew back with a wince, pain flashing across his face. “Damn it,” he muttered, sitting up, holding one hand to his side.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. Trembling, Elizabeth sat up. “Are—are you—I’m sorry. I didn’t—” She snatched up the towel she’d wanted earlier, held it against her chest. “I’m sorry.” She leapt to her feet and took off for the house.

+39