Category Archives: Flash Fiction

September 7, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Not Knowing When

Written in 51 minutes. Time for basic spell check.

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Sonny scowled into the phone, rubbed his forehead. “I’m not asking you to shoot the fucking plane out of the sky! Just keep them at the airport in Vegas as long as you can—” He glanced at the clock on the desk. It was a quarter after midnight. If they could hold Jason at the airport for just fifteen more minutes — Sonny could be in the air by one.

He’d be less than a half hour behind them —

Why the hell were Jason and Brenda going to Las Vegas? Who went to Vegas in the middle of the night with no word to the people in their lives?

Idiots. That’s who.

And there was only one reason to sneak away to Vegas without a word.

Sonny didn’t know which one of them he was going to kill first —

He yanked open the door to find Max standing there. “Call down to the garage,” he started, but then the elevator doors opened, and Elizabeth practically fell out of them as she turned the corner towards Jason’s penthouse —

“Elizabeth?” Sonny said, stepping out into the hallway. “He’s not there—”

Elizabeth whirled around to face him, her eyes wide, her pupils tiny pinpricks. “What? Why? Where—” She pressed a hand to her chest, took a deep breath. “I need—I need help.”

“I gathered that if you’re storming the penthouse at midnight,” Sonny said. He squinted. But maybe the universe was giving him a break. If Sonny couldn’t talk Jason and Brenda out of this madness—

Jason would never do this if Elizabeth was in the room.

“Max, call down to the garage,” he said, looking at the guard. “Get a limo ready. Elizabeth and I are heading to the airport.”

“Uh, okay, Boss. Do you need me to grab luggage—”

“No, I can get what I need on the ground,” Sonny said. He turned back to Elizabeth whose face was stark white. “You can tell me what happened on the way to the airport.”

“The airport?” Elizabeth shook her head. “What? Why? What’s going on—”

Sonny pressed the button for the elevator, then ushered her on board. “Jason’s in trouble and he needs you.”

“He—” Elizabeth stared at him, blankly as the doors closed. “What? Is he hurt? Did—” She swallowed. “Did he ask for me?”

Sonny didn’t even think. “Yes,” he said, because if he didn’t lie, she might not go with him.

And he needed to stop whatever was happening in Vegas.

“Oh,” Elizabeth said shakily. “I didn’t—okay. Okay, well, you should send someone down to Pier 52. There might be a body.”

Sonny closed his eyes. “What happened?” he asked.

Airplane: Jason & Brenda

Somewhere over the Midwest, as Jason took out his phone and adjusted the time zone to Vegas time, he saw that he had three missed calls from Sonny. He turned off the phone, looked at Brenda was curled up on a sofa on the other side of the plane. “Sonny called.”

Brenda frowned, looked at him. “Why? Is there a chance he knows—”

“No,” Jason said after a moment. But maybe someone at the airport had called about Jason taking the private jet. They should have flown commercial but Jason didn’t want their names showing up on a flight list.

The whole point of this was to make Brenda safe and he didn’t want Alcazar tracking her movements.

“So what have you been up to lately?” Brenda asked. She folded her arms, then unfolded them and laid them at her side.

“Nothing,” Jason said shortly.

“Friendly as ever,” she muttered. “I guess if you had a life you wouldn’t be marrying me.” She glared at him. “So no one other than Sonny is going to be mad about this?”

Jason hesitated. Oh, man, he really hadn’t thought that far ahead. What if he was wrong—what if he went back to Port Charles, legally married to another woman, and Elizabeth—

“Jason, if you’re having second thoughts—”

“No,” Jason said finally. “It’s too late.”

Airplane: Sonny & Elizabeth

Elizabeth looked at her watch, then twisted the band back and forth. “Where are we going?” she asked Sonny.

“Why were you down at Pier 52?” Sonny asked, once again declining to answer any of her questions. He’d thrown her into a limo, they’d boarded a jet waiting at the airport, and he’d spent the first hour of the flight in another room of the plane, on the phone with someone.

“I was just walking,” Elizabeth said. “I didn’t want to go home yet.” She rubbed the cheek. “I wasn’t paying attention—”

“Why didn’t you have a guard?” Sonny said with a growl. “Damn it. Don’t tell me Jason let you go back to the penthouse without a guard? You were living there for six weeks. You think Alcazar doesn’t know about you?”

Elizabeth stared him, then squinted. “I—I don’t—I didn’t—” She chewed on her lip. “I don’t know,” she said. “I had Marco when I was living there. He took me to Kelly’s and back.” But he hadn’t gone with her when she’d left.

“Just lucky Alcazar didn’t grab you before this for leverage,” Sonny muttered. “After all the crap Jason did to get you out that damn crypt, he probably would have sold me out to get you back.”

“I—” Elizabeth’s eyes bulged. “What are you talking about? I don’t—” She shook her head. “No. I don’t matter like that. Jason said I didn’t—” She looked away, out the window. “He said it wasn’t about me,” she said softly.

“Well, then you misunderstood,” Sonny bit out. “Clearly.”

If Jason was asking for her—then she must have. Just as that lifted her spirits for a moment, they plummeted. “How hurt is he, Sonny?” Elizabeth asked. She looked at him, met his eyes. “Was he shot? Is—is he going—is that we had to come in the middle of the night like this? Where are we going?”

“I’ll answer everything when we get there,” Sonny said. “Just—just trust me. Everything will be fine if everyone just trusts me.”

McCarran International Airport: Car Rentals

Brenda scowled, looked at her watch. “It’s two AM. How can there not be a single car available in all of Las Vegas?” she demanded.

Jason rubbed his eyes, looked at the woman he was going to marry shortly, and glared. “It might be two AM, but it’s six AM in Port Charles, which means I’ve been awake for forty-eight hours.”

“Well, that would be your problem, not mine. Get some sleep like a normal human,” she shot back. She looked at the clerk who snapped to attention when she slapped a hand on the counter. “I want a car. Now. I don’t care how old it is, how crappy—”

“Perhaps a taxi—”

Jason dragged his hands over his face. This was such a mistake. At every single step of this trip, they’d been delayed. First, the flight plan had taken forever, then they had had to circle the airport for twenty minutes before they were cleared to land—

And now—now they couldn’t even rent a car.

Jason hated being driven around. He hated taxis. Hated not knowing his driver. You couldn’t trust them—

He exhaled slowly, looked at the clerk. “I want a car. Now,” he said, in a flat tone. This time, the clerk swallowed and nodded.

“I can see if we can move another reservation around,” he said in a weak voice. He started furiously typing on his computer.

“Finally, using your powers for good,” Brenda said. She wrinkled her nose. “Can you come with me the next time I go shopping? I could use a discount since all my money was given to charity after I died—”

“Brenda—” Jason bit off the harsh words he’d been out to say. “Look, it’s the middle of the night. Do you want to check into a hotel and get a few hours of sleep—”

“No. Not yet. After.” Brenda stared ahead at the bland gray walls of the car rental department. “Let’s get this over with.” She flicked a glance at him, and he could see the nerves in her eyes.

It was one thing to suggest this in his penthouse in Port Charles. It was another to have actually flown across the country to Las Vegas and be literally one stop away from getting married.

Something that had made some sort of sense almost eight hours earlier —

“Al right,” Jason said. Probably for the best — if they stopped now, they might not go through with it at all.

Limo: Route 15

Elizabeth stared at out the dim windows at the blinking and glittering lights of the Las Vegas strip, her suspicions and worry mixing into a strange sense of dread. When she’d first seen the bright lights as they’d prepared to land, she’d looked at Sonny, demanding to know why they were in Vegas.

Why was Jason in Vegas?

But Sonny had just shrugged. “Business.” Which meant Elizabeth was supposed to shut up and let it go.

And she tried to. Reminded herself that she’d seen The Godfather—she knew that Vegas was a mob town underneath the glitz and glamor. It wasn’t a stretch that Sonny had business out here — that Jason would be doing something for him here.

But Sonny was acting strangely—irritated with Jason—irritated with Elizabeth—as if whatever Jason had done — it was pissing him off.

And if he was angry at Jason—why had he brought Elizabeth? If she hadn’t shown up at the penthouse at the same time he was leaving—

Would he have called or picked her up?

Then the limo pulled into a parking lot for a large building with a blinking light over top — A Chapel of Love — 24 Hour Weddings!

Elizabeth looked at Sonny. “I’m not going in there until you tell me what the hell is going on,” she said. She folded her arms. “You have dragged me across the country, refused to tell me if Jason is alive or dead—and now—now we’re in Vegas at one of these stupid wedding chapels—”

“Jason’s—he’s hiding. Okay?” Sonny snapped. He shoved the door open. “You know better. We have work with what we’ve got He got himself here, and now he needs us to get him somewhere safe.”

She bit her lip, and there was just enough truth in that statement that she slid across the leather seat and stepped out of the car. If she went inside, at least Sonny would be out of time — if she didn’t find out what the hell was going on after all this —

“Fine. But this is the last place I’m going. I want answers.”

“You’ll have them,” Sonny promised. “I’m doing this for all of us.”

“Sonny—”

“Let’s just go.”

A Chapel of Love: Main Chapel

This was stupid. This was the dumbest thing Jason had ever done, and he had done a lot of idiotic things since he’d woken up in the hospital six years earlier.

He was standing next to a woman that he barely even tolerated on a good day, preparing to legally marry her and take care of her until whatever disease was eating her brain killed her —

He was marrying another woman, and the longer he thought about it, the more Jason thought this was probably not the best way to convince Elizabeth that he was sorry about the lying. And maybe he should be doing that.

But this was a runaway train, and Jason turned to look at Brenda, to start their vows. Her face was pale as well.

They both knew this was stupid, but neither of them were going to admit it first.

“Are you ready for your vows?” The officiant asked Jason. He checked the paper. “Uh, Jason, do you promise to take Brenda to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish—”

This was insane—Jason opened his mouth to interrupt him, to stop this because there was no way in hell he was going to promise to do any of that —

But then the double doors at the end of the room were thrown open. Jason and Brenda both turned to look at the same time Sonny strode through the doors, his face florid with fury — but Jason didn’t see him. Barely registered his presence—

He only saw Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was just behind Sonny, her eyes taking in the room, the garish decorations, the empty pews—before finally looking at him. At the woman next to her.

—

Elizabeth stared at Jason, blinking rapidly because at some point, the nightmare would dissolve and she’d wake up.

Sonny had dragged her across the country to stop a wedding.

To stop Jason’s wedding.

Jason’s wedding to Brenda.

She tore her eyes away from Jason’s startled gaze to look at Sonny. “You son of bitch,” Elizabeth bit out. Sonny looked at her, frowning.

“Uh, that’s him, not me — he’s the one marrying—”

She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she curled her hand into a fist, tucking her thumb inside to protect it, and let it fly.

Sonny grunted, falling back, holding his hands over his nose, spurting blood.

Then Elizabeth spun on her heel and fled. She dimly heard someone—Jason—calling her name—

But she just ran.

—

“Damn it,” Sonny winced, barely even noticing as Jason ran past him after Elizabeth. He turned to Brenda who was sauntering down the aisle. She planted a hand on her hip and glared.

“Two questions,” she snarled. “One, who the hell was that? And two, why the hell do you only show up at my weddings when you’re trying to stop them?”

September 6, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 3 in the Flash Fiction: Sunday Rewrites

Recap

When Jason returned to town for a brief visit at the end of January 2001, he needed a place to stay with a view of the docks. Elizabeth let him stay in the studio, while keeping it a secret from everyone else. Over the next few weeks, it was clear they were both crushing on each other — though Elizabeth didn’t really seem to realize it, and Jason did.  Jason was forced to reveal his existence when he saved Sonny after a warehouse fire, and Elizabeth, seeing Jason come out of the warehouse, seemed to recognize for the first time that she had feelings. Lucky also saw her seeing Jason come out of the fire — and didn’t miss the looks they exchanged. Jason moved out of the studio and to a room at Jake’s. Lucky later asked Elizabeth to stop seeing Jason, and she reluctantly agreed.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Lucky were struggling with their own relationship woes. Lucky was working at Deception as a photographer and convinced Elizabeth to go out for the Face of Deception spot, sparring with Gia Campbell for the position. Elizabeth was uncomfortable with it, but Lucky was excited and she agreed. Carly and Laura who were running Deception at that point battled over who should be the Face — but Laura with the bigger share of the company won.

On the day Elizabeth fled to Jake’s and Jason, she had been at a Face of Deception photoshoot, dressed as Audrey Hepburn from Tiffany’s. It was in the same studio where Tom Baker had held Elizabeth and Emily hostage in 1998, but Elizabeth seemed to get over her nerves and begin the shoot. She did her best, but Carly disagreed and was really aggressively critical of Elizabeth’s posture. Lucky and Laura both defended Elizabeth, but when asked by Carly to say Elizabeth was the better model other than Gia, Lucky couldn’t or wouldn’t, and frustrated, upset, Elizabeth left.  She went to Jake’s, and Jason took her in, worried. Elizabeth tried to take off the heavy makeup she was wearing, but worried about ruining the long white gloves she was wearing. Jason started to wash her face.

Hence the scene in the in the banner and the kiss that wasn’t.

Until now.

Written in 60 minutes. No time for spell check or typos.

Part One

March 13, 2001

Jake’s: Jason’s Room

Elizabeth Webber could feel his breath against his lips, the scent of his aftershave lingering — Jason Morgan had fastened those beautiful blue eyes of his on hers — then dropped them to her lips, leaned in — and paused.

She should pull away.

She should absolutely stop this.

But another voice—the devil on her shoulder, the ever present reminder of who she’d been one — her Lizzie voice reminded her that she’d been such a good girl lately, and what had it earned her?

Nothing but humiliation. Standing in that studio, listening to Carly Corinthos deride Elizabeth’s looks, her figure, the way she stood, the way she smiled—picked her apart until Elizabeth thought everyone could see her bleeding —

And her own boyfriend couldn’t even muster the ability to say that his own girlfriend was more important that Gia, the woman Elizabeth had defeated for the job he insisted she deserved fair and square.

She’d been the good and dutiful girlfriend, agreeing not to see Jason anymore, to become a model, to stand in that studio of all places where Tom Baker had terrorized her barely two years ago —

And for what?

When Jason paused, Elizabeth knew why. His breath was quicker—his hand still on her face, his wrist against her cheek—his pulse had picked up. This man—this gorgeous, sexy man wanted to kiss her but he’d stopped.

Because it needed to be her choice. He wanted it to be her decision. It had to be something she wanted.

And what she wanted mattered to him.

What could be sexier than that?

So Elizabeth shut down the good girl inside of her that screaming, and listened to Lizzie for the first time in three years.

She leaned in, brushing her mouth against his, against the smoothness of his lips. Jason’s breath intake was shape—he hadn’t expected it—but that moment of surprised disappeared in an instant as his mouth became more insistent, covering her hungrily.

Elizabeth snaked an arm around his neck, moaning as Jason stood, lifting her against him. One of his hands speared through her hair, dislodging the up swept hair that had taken the stylist nearly an hour to achieve, the other arm was around her waist, holding her up. She clung to him, his chest hard against her softness—

Then Jason stopped—he drew back, carefully setting her down on her feet, the pads of his thumbs sweeping over her cheeks. Their breathing shallow, their eyes met for a long moment before Jason rested his forehead against hers.

It was some time before Elizabeth could form any words—before coherent thought set in. And even when she could form them —

What could she say?

She knew what she should say.

She should tell him it was a mistake.

Jason’s thumb slid across her lips before falling away, and she nearly protested — she wanted him to keep touching her—to kiss her again — to make the world fall away again —

“Should I apologize?” Jason managed finally.

“Are you sorry?” Elizabeth said, her voice rusty. She cleared her throat, stepped back, her knees brushing the back of the bed. But she didn’t sit down.

Jason studied her for a long moment, then shook her head. “No,” he admitted.

“G-Good.” Elizabeth licked her lips, and her stomach fluttered when his eyes dropped to her mouth again. Oh my God. I just want to lick him everywhere.

“B-Because I kissed you,” she continued. She pressed a hand to her belly, trying to calm the butterflies that swirled inside.

“I—” Jason exhaled slowly. Carefully. He stepped back, a foot of space separating them. “I know.”

“I need a minute,” Elizabeth admitted. She edged away from him, toward the other side of the room. She rubbed her neck, her hand encircling her throat. “I wasn’t—um, that wasn’t the plan when I came here.”

“I didn’t think it was.”

“I just—” She bit her lip. “I think it’s obvious that I have—that I—” Elizabeth closed her eyes. Honesty. Jason respected honesty. With that in mind, she opened them and looked at him directly. “I have feelings for you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Elizabeth—”

“It’s important to me that I don’t hurt you. Because you matter so much. You shouldn’t,” she said quickly, her voice tightening. “Because I’ve got everything I wanted. Everything I’m supposed to want.”

Jason just stared at her and she broke the gaze, rubbing her finger against her mouth again. “It’s so strange,” she murmured. “Before you came home, I would have said I was happy. But I’m not. And I haven’t been. When did that change? When did Lucky change?” She looked back at Jason. “How can someone change right in front of you with you noticing? I—”

She sat on the bed, staring blindly at the dingy paint on the wall. “I keep telling myself that he’s so excited about this new job that he just can’t hear me right now. And I want him to be happy. He’s had such a hard time since he came home finding something again. He kept telling me all the dreams we’d had once—those were for kids. Going to the city, living on art and music—just a silly dream.”

Jason carefully sat on the bed, keeping several feet between them. “Why is it silly?”

“That’s what I wanted to know. And if he didn’t want music anymore, well, why did that mean my dreams had to change? Why can’t I have dreams of my own?” Elizabeth looked at him, tears stinging her lashes. “Why do I have to share his dream? Why do I have to dress like this and pretend that I like being a model? Carly was right.”

Jason’s mouth pinched. “Carly doesn’t think—”

“No, she just says whatever she’s thinking.” Elizabeth smiled, faintly. “I used to be like that. I used to be in the moment. What I wanted, I took, and I didn’t think much about other people.”

She stared at her manicured nails, at the clear polish, wishing it was the red polish she preferred, even with it’s chipped. “I keep telling myself that Lucky can’t hear me right now,” she repeated, “because I need to believe that he’ll hear me eventually. But I think—” She met Jason’s eyes. “I think he does hear me. And he just doesn’t care. And that’s—” Her voice trembled. “That’s really hard to admit. That what I want and need isn’t important to the one person it should matter to the most.”

“I’m sorry—” Jason paused. “Elizabeth—”

“I just—I don’t want to hurt you,” Elizabeth repeated. “Because I do—this—this feels real. The way I feel when you look at me—but I’m just scared that it’s because I’m unhappy with the rest of my life. I shouldn’t—” She sighed, looked away.

“You shouldn’t what?”

“When we became friends, you were an escape,” she confessed, “a way to get away from all the things that hurt me. The pieces of my life that were suffocating me. I didn’t have to think or be anything when I was with you. And I shouldn’t need that anymore.”

Jason said nothing, and she couldn’t bare to look at him. She didn’t want to know if she was hurting him. She just couldn’t keep lying to herself.

“How can I tell myself I’m in love with Lucky and feel this way about you?” Elizabeth murmured. “How does that even work?”

She shoved herself to her feet, dragging her hands across her face, then through her hair. “You know, I talked to Lucky about wanting to see Italy one day.”

Now she looked at him, saw Jason inhale sharply, then let out a slow breath. “What did he say?”

“He said that maybe Deception could sponsor a photo shoot there and we could go that way. And I—I said that if I went there working—how would I see the art and museums and just exist? He laughed at me.”

Jason got to his feet with a scowl. “He laughed—”

“When was I going to give up on my silly dream?” Elizabeth murmured. “When was I going to grow up?”

“Elizabeth—”

“I should have seen it then. He didn’t believe me in me anymore. And, God, that’s almost worst than the rest of it. He was the first person who ever saw me. And now—now I don’t even trust those memories. It’s not the now he’s destroying, it’s the before. I don’t know what was real. If I ever knew him at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

She met his eyes, and he looked so upset, his eyes pained. “Jason—”

“I know how much your art means to you. How much Lucky believing in you meant. It was the first thing I ever learned about you,” he continued. “When your professor didn’t like that portrait of him—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. And I don’t want to make things worse—”

“You couldn’t,” she assured him softly. “I just—I need time. I need—I need to sort myself out. I can’t—I can’t let myself travel down this road with you until I know it’s—” She pressed her lips together. “Which is so conceited because I don’t even know what you want—”

“What I want,” Jason told her, sliding a piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing down her neck to her collar bone. “What I want is for you to be happy. To see you smile again with your whole face. You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Elizabeth’s cheeks heated and she bit her lip. “Jason—”

“Whether that’s with me or alone—” Jason paused, “or even with Lucky,” he added with a pained tone, “if you’re really happy—that’s what I want.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth drew out, “but do you, um, have a preference?” She tipped her head up, met his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper as he leaned down to kiss her—just one more time.

“Oh man,” Elizabeth muttered when he pulled back. She let her head drop against his chest. “It wasn’t a fluke, was it?”

“No,” Jason said with a shake of his head, the corner of his mouth curving up. “No, it wasn’t. Do you want a ride home?”

“I should probably take a cab,” she admitted as she stepped back. “I don’t think this dress travels well on a bike. And I need—I need to think.”

Studio

Elizabeth wasn’t entirely surprised to find Lucky pacing the room when she unlocked the door. He stopped at the sound of her key in the lock, then turned to glare at her. “Where have you been?” she demanded.

Elizabeth arched her brow, closed the door behind her, and looked at her boyfriend, waiting for the mixture of guilt and nerves to set in. She’d run to another man, let him hold her, then kiss her—

And the guilt never came.

Because she’d been upset when she’d left, and Lucky didn’t seem to care about that.

“I don’t think that’s the question you should be asking me,” Elizabeth said coolly. She set her purse on her table, then removed her scarf and jacket. “I forgot my phone at Kelly’s.”

“And what should I be asking?” Lucky retorted, his hands clenched into fists at his waist. “You embarrassed me and wasted a whole lot of people’s time and money when you stormed off—”

“Stormed off,” Elizabeth said. She folded her arms. “You mean when I left the studio after being insulted repeatedly by one of the owners of the company—”

“That’s just Carly—”

“I don’t want to be a model, Lucky,” Elizabeth said, flatly. “And Carly just sees it better than the rest of you. So I’m going to thank your mother for her time—”

“Elizabeth!”

“—but we both know it should be Gia.” She took a deep breath even as his features folded into a thunderous mask of anger. “And that’s not the only change I’m making.”

“How can you do this to me?” he demanded.

“You can photograph Gia. Your dreams are not mine,” she said. “I don’t want it. And you don’t have the right to force them on me—”

“It was our dream—”

“Because you wanted it, and I wanted you to be happy. But I don’t want it for me. I want to be an artist—” She stopped. “I am an artist—”

Lucky rolled his eyes. “Again? With this? Come on—”

“And since you can’t believe in me, then I guess we should start thinking about seeing other people.”

Lucky’s mouth hung open for a long moment as his eyes bulged at her. “What did you just say to me? Are you—”

“We’re clearly not seeing eye to eye, we’re arguing all the time,” Elizabeth continued, “and I’m not happy—”

“This is because of Jason,” he said with a sneer. “Because of him—he’s poisoned you against me—”

“This is because of me. Because I need to know what I want, and I can’t do that with you shoving your dreams on me—”

“Damn it, tell me the truth!” Lucky demanded. “Is this about Jason?”

She met his angry eyes directly, then nodded. “I have feelings for him. And I don’t know if they’re real or if they’re just because I’m unhappy. So I need a break from all of it—”

“That’s bullshit.” Lucky sliced his hand through the air. “You don’t need anything except to stay the hell away from Jason—”

“I need you to leave.” Elizabeth opened the door and gestured at the hallway. “Now.”

Lucky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard—not from nerves but from anger, from rage—and she really wanted him out of her studio right this second. Her pulse started to skitter as she wondered what she’d do if he didn’t leave.

“Fine,” Lucky snarled. “But you’ll come crawling back when he leaves again.” He stormed past her and out of the studio.

Elizabeth closed the door behind him, locked it, and exhaled slowly. She leaned back against the door, touched her lips, closed her eyes, and brought back the way Jason tasted.

No, she wouldn’t be crawling back.

September 4, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 27 in the Flash Fiction: A King's Command

This is an alternate universe historical romance. I think I said it was set in medieval Scotland, but it’s more like Renaissance, heh — early 1500s, just before the Reformation (I KNOW I KNOW I’M VERY OCD ABOUT HISTORICAL TERMS).

ANYWAY.

Very few of the names on GH are historical accurate to the time period or place, but I promise not to let it hurt my head if you promise to whistle past a Scottish laird named Jason. K? K. Cool.

Written in 52 minutes. Time for basic spell check.

Edinburgh, Scotland – 1514

The Royal Mile

Jason Morgan had only been invited twice to the royal capital since taking over the leadership of his clan — and neither invitation had been welcomed. Like any respecting Highland warrior, he preferred the hills and forests of his own land, not the pomp and circumstance of the monarchy.

But this was no longer the times of his grandfather or great-grandfather before him, when Highland chieftains could reign autonomously, and ignore anything outside their borders. Not with England encroaching every day — with an English princess marrying their Scottish king —

“Married the Angus,” his second, Francis, snorted at his side. He reigned in the horse as they turned down a street with market stalls and more people. “What a bloody stupid thing to do. Women—”

“At least he isn’t the regent,” Johnny O’Brien, the third of their trio said. “That must have stunned the Angus — married to the queen and none of the power.” He shook his head. “Poor bastard.”

Jason turned, cast a dark eye at both his clansmen. “Careful what you say and where,” he said flatly. “We haven’t had trouble with the Angus or the Douglases in a generation. I don’t care for them to remember the past.”

“Aye, well, if he’d been named regent instead of Albany,” Francis said with a sneer, “we’d have trouble right quick—”

They rode to the livery and turned over their horses, then went to seek rooms at the Red Lion just off the Royal Mile.

While Jason might not say it out loud, Francis was right to suspect that matters for the Morgans might have gone badly if Archibald Douglas, the sixth earl of Angus, had found himself with the powers of the regency upon marriage to Margaret Tudor, the widowed Scottish queen. Instead, control of the young James V had gone to John Stewart, Duke of Albany.

Jason’s father had courted woman that a Douglas had wanted — and while Alan Morgan had ultimately married another, Douglas men didn’t like to lose, and blamed the Morgan for the lass in question leaving Scotland for the royal court in London.

Archibald and his brothers didn’t seem to remember that, and Jason had every hope that the rivalry had died with their fathers.

All the same — best that the Angus wasn’t the regent with the powers of the king.

A few streets from the Red Lion, another Scottish family was checking into a larger, more stately set of lodgings. These were not a Highland clan, but a minor gentry from the Lowlands — might as well as be Sassanachs, some people sneered of the Lowland Webbers — indeed, their name was English as Jeffrey Webber’s forefathers had settled in Dumfries during a period when the county had been in English control.

A long ago Scottish king had ousted the invaders, and Dumfries had returned to the Scottish crown — but the Webbers had stayed.

Elizabeth Webber, the youngest of the baron’s three children, rode down the street with wide eyes — she had never traveled to the court before, but this time, her father hadn’t a choice. The new regent wanted to take stock of all the noble daughters and form alliances through marriage.

Elizabeth didn’t have much hope of being chosen for such an alliance—not while her elder sister, Sarah, was still unmarried. Classically beautiful with her blonde hair and blue eyes, tall and slender—Sarah was the perfect child.

And Elizabeth was the short, brunette freak that few people had even met.

“When we meet with the regent tomorrow,” Jeffrey snapped as he herded Elizabeth into the smallest of the rooms he’d rented, “you will not speak. You will stand behind your brother, and God willing, the regent will forget I have two daughters.”

Elizabeth dipped her chin, looking at the wooden floor. “Yes, Father.”

“If we are fortunate—no one will ever know what you are. And we will go home, and you will return to your life there.” His voice gentled slightly. “You will be protected there.”

Protected. Such a strange way to describe the life Elizabeth lived in Annan, her family’s estate. Locked in her room.

“You mean you will be protected,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. She raised her eyes to met her father’s. “No one will know your shame.”

Jeffrey’s mouth was tight. “We both have the same goal, Daughter. If you were discovered—”

“Aye, Father. I know.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “I will not speak unless the regent speaks directly to me.”

“Good. Stay here until we leave for the court in the morning,” Jeffrey told her. “I will bring your meals. The fewer people see you, the better we will be.”

He left the room, slamming it behind her. Elizabeth took in her surroundings, sighed at the lack of a window, but at least there was a cot and a table where she could sit. It could have been worse.

It often had been.

—

The next afternoon, Jason and his men were on the grounds of Holyrod Palace, awaiting their turn to speak and swear oaths of loyalty under the new regency — a useless exercise and one of the reasons Jason avoided the royal court like the plague.

He was grimacing at two idiots attempting to spar without an ounce of skill or training when a royal messenger appeared at his side. “Laird, His Grace, the Duke of Albany, wishes to speak with you. Now. Privately.”

Jason frowned, turned to the man with a suspicious glare. “Privately?” he repeated. “Why?”

“I cannot say, Laird. Only that he asks for your patience, discretion, and speed.” The messenger eyed Johnny and Francis ranging behind Jason. “Your men should remain here.”

“I don’t like it,” Francis hissed to Jason. “You’re unprotected—”

“And Albany has no quarrel with me.” Jason nodded at the messenger. “Lead the way.”

He followed the other man through a byzantine set of hallways, towards the interior of the palace and what Jason suspected to be the royal family’s private apartments.

“My Laid, the regent awaits you.” The messenger bowed, pushing open the door. Jason shook his head at the strangeness of the encounter, then focused on the room itself — a standard, nondescript meeting room.

John Stewart, the Duke of Albany was standing in the center, a tall, thin man who had seen only three and thirty years — and two strangers to Jason — a man and a woman — He instinctively narrowed his eyes, spying the tight hold the man had on the woman’s upper arm.

She was tiny, no higher than the man’s shoulder—brown curls peeked out of the headdress she wore, and her eyes were trained on the man holding —

She was frightened.

Jason scowled. “What is this, Your Grace?” he demanded. If this girl was attempting to entrap him into a marriage through some lie—

“Morgan.” Albany swept him forward. “Allow me to present one of my fiercest warriors,” he said to the pair across the room.

“I beg you, Your Grace, allow me to take my daughter away. I will take her home and you will never—”

“Hush, Baron,” Albany snapped. “The die has been cast. Jason Morgan is a Highland chieftain with a large holding in the north. And loyal to me. Am I wrong?” he turned to Jason.

“Nay,” Jason said, warily. “But I don’t—”

“This Baron Jeffrey Webber, and his youngest child, Elizabeth. How many summers have you, dear?” Albany asked the girl with a silky smile.

She swallowed hard. “Nineteen, Your Grace,” she said in a soft voice. “But my sister—”

“I have no need to worry about your sister,” Albany said with a shake of his hand. “And Baron, release her—”

“I—” The baron looked down at his hand where it was digging into the girl—Elizabeth’s—upper arm. He released her with almost a thrust and she stumbled away from him. She rubbed her upper arm, and now she was close enough that Jason could see tracks of tears on her cheeks.

“Your Grace—”

“Elizabeth has done a service to crown here today,” Albany told Jason. “And in return, I would like to see her rewarded with an alliance to a man worthy of that service.”

“What?”

They spoke at the same time — Jason with a roar of surprise, and Elizabeth with a shaken gasp. But it was the baron who was shaking his head.

“I cannot allow this, Your Grace. My elder daughter is much more suited—”

“Your eldest daughter is of no use to me,” Albany retorted. Jason narrowed his eyes at that, and Elizabeth just closed her eyes, folded her arms, and looked at the stone floor. “You will have to find another alliance for her.”

“Your Grace,” Jason began again, concerned that he was about to get in the middle of royal intrigue — a state of affairs he most certainly did not want to be involved in.

“‘Tis unnecessary, Your Grace,” Elizabeth said, her voice a bit stronger. She looked up now, her chin lifted. “I thank you for the honor—” She chanced a glance at him—then her eyes stayed on locked on his for a long moment before she looked back at the regent. “But I promise you, my father has—he has protected me all these years. I will be safe in Annan.”

There was something in the way she’d said those words—something that twisted Jason’s stomach — what did she mean that her father had protected her? What service?

“Do you not want a family, dear?” Albany asked, stalking towards her. “Are you uninterested in children?”

“I—” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “No. I should like a family. B-But—”

“Then we are well met. Jason has need of a wife—”

Jason frowned, but the regent ignored him. “And you are well above the age of marriage. Indeed, it is strange that none of your children have wed, Baron.” Albany arched a brow at him. “Have you been keeping them under lock and key in Annan?”

Elizabeth started at that, then quickly looked away as her father looked her furiously — and there it was — that strange feeling that something was not right. Is that what she’d meant about being protected? Had her father locked her up? Why?

“Of course not. I am merely careful with my children,” the baron said stiffly.

“Then allow me to reduce your problems. The ceremony will take place in St. Giles on the morn.” Albany turned away from them, sweeping his hand. “And that is the end of it.”

“Your Grace,” Jason began again, but then subsided when Albany merely arched a brow at him. He looked at Elizabeth, then at her father, and nodded. “I will be at the chapel,” he said tightly. “Am I dismissed, Your Grace?”

“Yes. Thank you, Morgan. You will see in time. I’ve done you a great favor.”

Jason didn’t look at his bride-to-be or her father as he left the room. Whatever secrets this girl was keeping — he could only pray that would not lead his clan into danger.

September 2, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 18 in the Flash Fiction: Shot in the Dark

This is a direct sequel to the Flash Fiction series, Darkest Before the Dawn.

Written in 55 minutes. Time for a basic spell check but no for typos.

February 2013

Port Charles Park: Ice Rink

“Are you blind?” Elizabeth Webber shot to her feet, cupped her hands around her mouth — “Hey, Ref! Get your eyes checked!”
“
“That’s crap!” Patrick Drake shouted from her side, dragging his hand through his slightly shaggy dark hair.

Sitting next to them, Jason Morgan just frowned, then looked at the rest of the parents in the stand—who were all on their feet, screaming obscenities that were a lot worse than Patrick and Elizabeth.

“She doesn’t look like she’d be a crazy sports mom, does she?” Laura Spencer mused as she picked up her grandson, two-year-old Aiden Webber, and cuddled him in her lap. “I’ll talk to Spencer about trying to decapitate Cameron. I promise.”

“He’s just mad that Emma made Cameron a nicer card for Valentine’s Day,” Elizabeth muttered as she sat back down. “And he keeps calling Cam a townie—”

“He likes to ignore the fact that he lives in town now, too,” Laura said dryly. “We’re working on it—” She winced as Spencer’s skates slid out from underneath him, and the eight-year-old started to slide across the ice. “Oh, no—”

“He’s back up,” Jason said, reassuring her. He winced as Spencer Cassadine got back to his feet, unsteadily, and started to skate in Cameron’s direction.

“I wear to God if that referee calls one more foul on my kid,” Elizabeth said, her teeth clenched. “And—hey!” She lunged to her feet again as Spencer bypassed Cameron and headed for Emma Scorpio-Drake.

“Oh, I know he’s not going after my kid!” Patrick said with a scowl.

“They know they’re talking about kids, right?” Jason asked Laura a bit dubiously. This was a side of Elizabeth he’d never seen before — but maybe it shouldn’t surprise him. She’d always been fiercely loyal to the people she loved and there was no one she loved more than her boys. It made sense it would translate to supporting them in sports, but this—

He found himself grinning as the referee managed to grab the back of Spencer’s uniform before he was able to finish swiping out with his stick towards Emma. Patrick’s daughter turned, narrowed her eyes, and launched herself at the Cassadine — the two kids hit the ice and started rolling around, shoving each other.

“Just like her mother,” Jason said, with a slow exhale. Robin had never taken shit from anyone, and he knew from experience she could throw a punch.

Elizabeth heard him, then smiled at him. “Yeah, Robin taught Emma how to defend herself. But—”

“There it is,” Laura said with a sigh, as Cameron launched himself on the two of them, dragging Spencer away from Emma, and the irritated umpire ejected all three of them. “I guess we’d better go get them.”

“I’m buying Emma all the ice cream she wants,” Patrick told Elizabeth as they trooped down from the stands and headed over to pick up their kids. It wasn’t the first game that the trio had been thrown out of, and they were used to the routine by now.

It was Jason’s first time making it to one of the games, and while he’d heard about the bitter rivalry, it was something to see the eight-year-olds all trying to kill each other. They could probably hold their own against Carly in her heyday.

“You know, Cameron told me that Joss gave him a Valentine,” Elizabeth said, as if reading Jason’s thoughts. She took Aiden from Laura and grinned at him. “I think that’s going to complicate things.”

Jason winced. “Oh, man. Joss takes after her mother, so—”

“It’s not my fault,” Emma said immediately as the adults reached them. Standing next to them was their beleaguered coach who was not having a great day.

“Mrs. Spencer,” Dustin Phillips said, with a sigh to Laura. “We’ve talked about Spencer’s sportsmanship—”

Spencer gasped. “He attacked me!” He jabbed a finger at Cameron who stuck his tongue out at his cousin. “You—you—you townie!” Spencer launched himself at Cameron all over again and would have reached him if Jason hadn’t waded in and grabbed Laura’s grandson — Elizabeth got her son, and they dragged them apart again.

“We’re working on it,” Laura said. “But in my defense, I told the league not to put them on the same team.”

“One more ejection, and I’m cutting all three of them,” Dustin said. He went back to the kids still playing.

“You’re ruining it for all of us!” Emma screaming, stomping her foot at Spencer. Her cheek was cut. “And you’re the townie, you dink!”

“I am not a townie! I live on an island!”

“You live on Charles Street you—” Emma went after him, intending to deliver a kick to the shins, but Patrick grabbed his daughter.

“Well, this has been fun,” he said dryly. “But I’ll take my kid home before she does anymore damage.”

“It’s not fair, Dad!” Emma complained as the Drakes walked towards their car. “He’s such a brat!”

Spencer glared at Cameron with an utter look of loathing that might have worried Jason if he wasn’t eight. “You turned her against me!”

“All right, all right—that’s enough!” Laura snapped. She grabbed Spencer’s shoulder and shook him slightly. “You went after that girl on the ice, Spencer Cassadine! And you tried to hit your cousin—”

“He is not my cousin!” Spencer wiped his nose, then glared at Cameron. “Uncle Lucky said you’re just a bastard—”

“Shut up!” Cameron roared, and then he was airborne, tackling Spencer to the gravel parking lot, then punched him square in the face before Jason was able to grab him, lifting him in the air, still kicking wildly.

“I’ll kill him! Let me kill him!”

Shaken slightly, Laura pulled her grandson to his feet, looking at Elizabeth with a blank expression. “I—”

“We should go,” Elizabeth said, tightly, sliding a hand down Aiden’s back as the toddler started to cry. Jason put Cameron on the ground, but kept an arm around his shoulders, holding him back.

“I think that’s a good idea. I’ll—I’ll talk to him.” Laura leaned forward to kiss Aiden’s cheek, then tried to hug Cameron, but he turned his face away from her. “I love you, baby,” she murmured, brushing his hair back. “I’ll call you,” she told Elizabeth, before taking Spencer’s hand and dragging him away.

“I want to go home,” Cameron said, flatly. He shrugged away from Jason and stalked towards their car.

Webber Home: Hallway

“Hey.” Jason touched the small of Elizabeth’s back as she left Aiden’s room, switching on the night light and closing the door. “Why don’t you let me put Cameron to bed?”

“I—” Elizabeth sighed, looked down the hallway towards her oldest’s room. “I don’t know. You think that’s a good idea? I mean—God, if Spencer’s right—I can’t believe—” Distressed, she looked away, swiping at her eyes.

“You’re still upset,” Jason told her. “And you know Cameron doesn’t like to see you cry. I’ll talk to him, and see if he’s up to talking tonight. Otherwise, it might be better if we gave him some space.”

“All right.” She clenched her hand in his shirt briefly before releasing it. “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.”

He kissed her forehead, and they separated. He waited to hear their bedroom door click shut before he knocked on Cameron’s door.

“I don’t need to be tucked in. Go away.”

“I just wanted to say good night,” Jason said. “Can I come in for a minute?”

“Jason?” There was a sigh. “Fine.”

Jason pushed open the door, then went inside the room to find Cameron sitting up in his bed, already dressed in his Captain America pajamas. He eyed Jason suspiciously. “Why are you here and not my Mom?”

“I can go get her,” Jason offered, closing the door, then leaning against it.”

Cameron shrugged a shoulder, then stared at his blanket. “It’s fine,” he said dully. “Spencer is a doofus. I know that.”

“He doesn’t seem like a nice kid,” Jason agreed.

“And I don’t care what Lucky says about me,” Cameron said in a small voice. “He’s not my dad. I know that. He doesn’t want me. He only calls Aiden. And he never comes to see him either. I don’t care—” His voice trembled slightly.

Jason stepped forward, perched on the edge of the bed. “It’s okay to be hurt,” he said softly. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting it.”

“I don’t need him,” Cameron said. He looked up, his blue eyes burning into Jason’s. “My mom is best mom ever. She’s all I need. I don’t need Lucky. I don’t need you either.”

“Okay.”

Cameron looked away, then a tear slid down his cheek. Then another. “I miss Jake.”

Jason exhaled on a shaky breath. Cameron didn’t often talk about his little brother, and he and Elizabeth were both careful not to reminisce about him often around the boys. “I do, too.”

“You were his real dad, weren’t you?”

“I—I was,” Jason admitted.

Cameron swiped his hand under his nose. “My real dad is dead. Spencer said his dad said my dad was a bad person. Was he? Did you know him?”

“I did know him,” Jason said carefully. “And Zander was…he knew how to get himself into trouble. But I know your mother liked him. And my sister—Aunt Emily—she loved him. She was married to him for a little while. He wasn’t all bad, Cameron. He just didn’t make a lot of good choices.”

“Mom says I have to be nice to Spencer because his dad just dumped on him Grandma Laura, and she didn’t want him stuck in boarding school. His mom is dead. And his dad doesn’t want him. So I guess—I mean—” Cameron sighed. “I’d be really mad at everyone if my mom dumped me on someone.”

“It sounds like a tough situation.”

“But my mom would never do that,” Cameron told Jason. “Never.”

“No, your mom would walk through fire for you. And your brothers.” Had walked through fire, Jason remembered.

“I’m sorry I said I don’t need you,” Cameron muttered. “I like that you live here now. Christmas was more fun this year.” He peeked up at Jason. “Mom smiles a lot now. More than since Jake died. Last year was hard.”

“I’m glad we’re together. I love your mother. And I love you and your brother,” Jason told him.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Cameron cleared his throat. “I mean, you and my mom—you’re gonna marry her, right? I don’t want her to cry again.”

“That’s something your mom and I have talked about,” Jason told him. “But I’m not going anywhere. There’s no where I’d rather be.”

“Okay.” Cameron nodded. “Okay. I’m okay,” he said, and this time it sounded like he meant it. “Tell mom I’m okay. She was right. Spencer is awful, but I think—I know what it’s like for a dad to dump you. And if my mom were gone—if I never knew her—man, that would suck.”

Cameron had his mother’s soft heart and kindness — with Zander’s recklessness. God help the world, Jason thought as he helped the eight-year-old climb under the blankets.

“Hey, Jason?” Cameron asked as Jason switched off the lamp on the night stand.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“You promise you’re not leaving?”

“I promise.” Jason ruffled his blonde hair, then Cameron grinned, turned over, and closed his eyes. “Good night, buddy.”

“Night, Jason.”

Elizabeth was pacing when Jason went into their room, biting the nail of her thumb as she walked from the window to the end of the bed, before turning around and starting again. At Jason’s entrance, she whirled around.

“Is he okay? Does he need me?”

“He’s fine. He’s probably already asleep.” Jason rubbed his hands down her arms. “By the time I left, he’d already reminded himself that Spencer has it pretty rough right now — and Cameron says he knows how it feels to have a dad dump him, and how much worse it would be not to have his mom.”

Elizabeth groaned, then let her head drop against his chest. “Oh, God. I tried so hard not to let Cameron feel Lucky’s leaving like this. Lucky was already not doing much with the boys by the time he left the country—but he never calls Cameron—”

“He doesn’t blame you,” Jason assured her. “In fact, you’re the only person in the world he does believe in one hundred percent, so you’re doing something right.”

“Something,” Elizabeth muttered. She sighed, pulled away from him, then sat on the bed. “You’re sure he’s okay?”

“Yeah. He was mad at first, but he’s okay. He’s a good kid, Elizabeth. A good kid who’s asking questions about Zander, by the way. Apparently, Spencer also told him Nikolas said Zander was a bad person—”

“I could really kill the two of them right now,” Elizabeth snarled. “Talking like that in front of Spencer—What were they thinking? I liked it better when they hated each other—” She dragged a hand through her hair. “What did you say?”

“That Zander wasn’t a bad person. He just didn’t make great choices. That you liked him. That Emily loved him.” Jason hesitated. “Cameron seemed worried I might leave.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth blinked at him. “Oh. Well, I guess—I mean, you only moved in a few weeks ago. Maybe we rushed it. Did we rush it?” She chewed on her lip. “I just—I want so bad to be a better mom than I had, but I think I keep messing it up—”

“You’re an amazing mother,” Jason told her. “And Cameron would be the first to tell you that. No, I think he’s just been through a lot. Losing Jake. Then Lucky moving away — me moving in. It’s been a lot.”

“Right.” Elizabeth frowned. “We’re not going to have this fight again, are we?”

“No,” Jason said. “I asked you to marry me. And you wanted time. This was a compromise. And we didn’t fight the last time,” he reminded her. “But I’m in this. For good.”

“Jason—”

“It’s okay that you don’t believe me yet,” Jason said. “But this is what I want. You and the boys. It’s all I ever wanted. When we talked about getting married four years ago, one of the things I wanted to do was adopt Cameron.”

Elizabeth stared at him, her eyes widening. “Jason—”

“I know Aiden—I know Aiden has a relationship with Lucky, and I don’t want to mess that up. And if you think it’s not a good idea—”

“You want to adopt Cameron?”

“I’ve always loved him,” Jason told her. “Because he was yours. And then because he’s Cameron. Lucky had the chance to be his father—he doesn’t want it. I do. I can’t—it’s not about making up for not being there for Jake.”

“I didn’t say it was—”

“It’s about this life we’re building together.”

“I’d—” She hesitated. “I want to talk to Cameron about it. But, Jason—” She leaned forward, kissed him, fisting her hand in his shirt. “I love you. For wanting it.”

“I love you, too.”

August 31, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Not Knowing When

This story is set in 2002, beginning in late October. Elizabeth left the penthouse on October 8, the blonde who shall not be named kissed Jason on the 19 (around that date), and five days later, Jason married Brenda in Vegas. While Jason was juggling the blonde and Brenda, Elizabeth was hanging out with Lucky, dressing in leather, and springing Luke from a chain gang in the South. It was a strange time (but fun! It was great to see Elizabeth on a caper). In any case, this story keeps Elizabeth in Port Charles and begins after the blonde attacked Jason with her lips. (I’m sorry, I’m feeling salty.)

Written in 51 minutes. Had time to run a basic spellcheck, but didn’t read for typos.

October 2002

Kelly’s: Kitchen

Elizabeth Webber often wondered who she’d murdered in a previous life to deserve the existence she was currently living.

In fact, to deserve this specific moment — Elizabeth Imogene Webber must have been a vicious serial killer.

“I’m really sorry,” Courtney Quartermaine said with a wrinkle of her nose and a flash of sympathy in her baby blue eyes. She set down the tub of dirty dishes on the counter in the kitchen of Kelly’s. “It just happened.”

She’d decided that while closing the diner where they both worked and cleaning things up in the back, that it was time she opened her heart and was honest with Elizabeth. After all — Courtney didn’t want things to be awkward.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, turned away from the sink, and studied the other waitress, a woman she’d considered a friend. Not a close friend — but Courtney had been more than an acquaintance. A friendly face.

“Explain it to me again,” Elizabeth said coolly. She folded her arms, leaned against the counter. “Like I’m a five-year-old.”

Courtney winced. “I really—I think I covered it. I know you’re upset because you thought you were dating him—”

“Thought?” Elizabeth repeated, with a lift of her brows. Oh, man, was this chick lucky that the butcher block full of knives was across the kitchen. “I thought I was dating him? Yeah, you’re going to need to start at the beginning.”

Courtney bit her lip. “It was just—all that time we spent together, you know? I mean, you know how sweet he is—”

Might be worth making a leap for one of those knives after all.

“And with this stalking thing going on, I really needed to feel safe. Jason makes me feel safe—”

“So does a golden retriever,” Elizabeth bit out, even as she heard her own feelings, her own thoughts echoed back at her. “He was guarding you. Because Sonny wanted him to. You’re married.”

“I know. And that’s why it’s wrong. And why I really didn’t intend for anything to happen—”

Against her better judgment, Elizabeth’s heart began to beat faster, her pulse throbbing in her wrist. “But it did.”

“A few days ago. That’s why I had to tell you. Because I know you were upset after everything that happened,” Courtney said, widening her eyes. “But you have to see now — it’s obvious that Jason was just being nice—”

“Being nice to who?” Elizabeth asked, her voice flat. If Courtney had known her for long, she’d have heard the sound of a woman who was not in the damn mood.

“To you,” Courtney continued. “I mean, you were dating Zander for a while and he hated Zander, so maybe Jason just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I mean, you know how much he hates hurting people.”

“No, tell me more how Jason Morgan hates to hurt people.” Elizabeth fluttered her lashes. “I’m dying to hear your analysis of the man who works for your brother and that you’ve known for ten minutes. This is fascinating.”

Courtney scowled. “I’m trying to be nice—”

“You’re not very good at it,” Elizabeth retorted, even as Courtney’s words sunk in. She had been sort of seeing Zander for a hot minute in early August, and she did know how much that had hurt Jason.

She’d thought they were past it. She’d thought he’d forgiven her—not that she needed to be forgiven as they weren’t dating.

But—had they been dating at all? Or was Courtney right? Was it all in her head?

“What happened a few days ago?” Elizabeth asked with a sigh. Might as well rip off the bandage and let the air hit the wound.

“He kissed me,” Courtney confessed, her voice small and a bit ashamed. “I don’t know what to do. I love my husband—”

“I am not the one—” Elizabeth put a hand up in front her, then curled it into a fist. “He kissed you. A few days ago,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth nodded. “Okay. Well, that’s—that’s just—” She cleared her throat. “Listen. Thank you. For telling me. Good luck with your marriage and your affair. I’ll finish cleaning up. Go home.”

“Oh, no, Elizabeth, let me—”

“Go home, Courtney,” Elizabeth snapped. She whirled around, a box cutter in her hand. “Or I swear to God, I am going to hold you down and cut your fucking blonde hair off!”

Courtney actually squealed, jumped back, hitting the counter in the kitchen. “Elizabeth—”

Elizabeth made a jabbing motion with the knife, and Courtney rushed out of the kitchen, barely stopping to grab her coat and purse before slamming the door behind her, the little bell above it jangling.

“I wonder if I would have done it,” Elizabeth muttered. She tossed the knife aside, put both hands on the counter, then closed her eyes.

He’d kissed her.

Logically, it shouldn’t hurt this way. It absolutely shouldn’t. Elizabeth had walked out of the penthouse, tossing some cruel and angry words at him in her wake—then shut him down the one time he’d come after to talk.

Elizabeth had needed more than twenty-four hours, but instead of just telling him like a grown up that she needed a minute, she’d lashed out and slashed at him.

“Okay. Okay.” She dragged her hands through her hair, took a deep breath. “Okay,” she repeated. “This is—this is good. This is good. I needed this. I needed to know. And now I know. He’s moving on.”

Elizabeth finished stacking the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, shoving it from her mind, desperate to stop thinking about it. To stop wondering exactly when she’d ruined everything — when she’d slept with Zander? When she’d asked him not to hurt Zander?

When she’d left the penthouse? Here, the next day, at Kelly’s?

When had Jason stopped caring—

And when had he started caring about Courtney—

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, looked around the diner. The tables were clear, the chairs neatly stacked. She was done. It was time to go home.

Home to an empty studio with crappy heating.

“You know,” Elizabeth said to no one at all—just a crazy idiot standing in the middle of an empty diner. “It would be nice just once to lose out to anyone other than a fucking blonde. Another dumb blonde.”

She dragged on her coat, looped her purse over her shoulder and left the diner, clocking the door behind her.

“A fucking blonde,” she muttered as she started towards the waterfront. The air was cold, but Elizabeth didn’t want to go home just yet. Maybe a walk on the docks would clear her mind.

Maybe she hadn’t been just a serial killer in a previous life, Elizabeth thought idly as she stepped down towards Elm Street Pier. Maybe she’d killed bunnies or something. Or puppies.

Yeah, a puppy killer definitely deserved her life.

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Sonny Corinthos stifled a yawn as he snatched up the phone ringing off the hook in the living room. “Damn it, who the hell—What?” he demanded.

“Sonny—” His wife, Carly, rubbed her eyes from the stairs, as she stepped off the landing. “Tell them to call in the morning—”

Sonny cupped his hand over the phone for a minute, scowling at her. “Go upstairs, Carly. I need to handle this.”

Carly scowled, but he waited until he heard her stomping back up the stairs—then waited for the door to slam.

Sonny turned his attention back to the phone, took a deep breath. “Can you repeat that one more time, Francis? Who the hell is going to Vegas?”

Port Charles Airport: Hangar B

Jason Morgan did not believe in karma. Carly did—Carly believed in all kinds of spiritual crazy stuff. She’d always wanted to read him horoscope — apparently, Jason was a Virgo, whatever the hell that was.

And karma was Carly’s current favorite belief. “You get what you put into the world, Jase,” she’d told him a few months ago just after she’d married Sonny for what was probably the third time—but it might have been the fourth.

It was hard to tell sometimes.

If Carly was right—if you got what you put into the world—

Then Jason was getting exactly what he deserved.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” the brunette at his side snapped as she shifted from one foot to another. “I’m tired, and I just want this over with.”

“I told you. We have to wait until the pilot files the flight plan,” Jason said blandly. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked towards the private jet. “You getting cold feet?”

Brenda Barrett snorted. “No. That’s not me. I don’t get cold feet. That’s you and your boss.” She folded her arms. “It’s freezing.”

“Then go inside.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to care about my well-being—”

“Not until the paperwork is signed,” he muttered.

“Look, if you’re having second thoughts,” Brenda said with huff, “then have them here. Before we get on a plane and haul our asses to Vegas—”

“I’m not—” Jason shook his head. He was way past second thoughts and onto fifth thoughts. “I’m trying to retrace my steps to figure out how exactly I ended up here. At midnight. With you.”

Brenda pursed her lips. “Well, it started with me coming to your penthouse and threatening to break up Sonny and Carly’s marriage—you really need to work on your priorities by the way. You’re sacrificing your happiness so Carly can be happy. I mean—don’t you have a life?”

“I used to,” Jason said. He rubbed the side of his face. He thought he had. But there wasn’t anything left for him. Not after the last few weeks. After the last few days. He’d just been minding his own business, standing in the rain, and then Courtney had just—

He had tried to be very nice about the whole thing—and she’d left immediately afterwards. Jason had gone to Sonny, told him very nicely that he had other things that needed to be done and Courtney needed an actual guard.

Sonny had looked at him suspiciously, but had agreed. And then Jason had found Brenda in his penthouse. Sitting on his sofa, looking at the yellow knitted blanket Elizabeth had left behind.

What was the point of worrying about his future? The only woman he was interested in wanted to set him on fire, and maybe if he weren’t single, Courtney Quartermaine would stay away from him. And Carly would be happy.

An unhappy Carly was a destroyer of worlds, which Jason knew all too well. No, this was for the best.

“Jason, I’m serious.” Brenda’s tone had shifted to something less bitchy, and more quiet. “You don’t remember this, but we were friends before your accident. And we were almost friends before you—” She cleared her throat and looked away.

Before he’d humiliated her at the altar for Sonny. “Brenda—”

“Do not do this if you’re having second thoughts. I wouldn’t really mess up Sonny’s marriage. Not on purpose,” she added. “I just—” Her voice sounded tight. “I don’t want to be alone when it gets bad. And I know Robin would take care of me. Or the Quartermaines. But they love me. I don’t want them to have to make decisions. I know why this is a good idea for me. But I need to know I’m not hurting you.”

Jason hesitated, looked away, towards the doorway of the hangar—towards the flickering lights of downtown Port Charles, where the waterfront lay beyond it. He wondered where Elizabeth was right now. Was she at her studio? Closing Kelly’s? Was she painting?

“Jason?”

Wherever she was, she’d left him. Again. And this time, Jason hadn’t seen any hint that she’d change her mind.

“You’re not hurting me, Brenda. And I want to help you,” Jason told her. Because that much, at least, wasn’t a lie. “Let me go check on the flight plan. See how much longer it’ll be.”

Pier 52

At some point, Elizabeth lost track of where she was walking — she’d only meant to walk along Elm Street Pier where it merged onto Bannister’s Wharf, but then she’d looked up and realized—

“Pier 52,” she muttered. The Corinthos-Morgan warehouse loomed at the end of the pier, construction cranes scattered around the parking lot as they worked to rebuild after the explosion in August.

Elizabeth idly touched her arm where a faint scar still rested. She’d thought of that night as a turning point. Standing outside the burning building, watching Jason and Zander fight—Zander with a gun—

The sound of the shot—the searing pain in her arm—

The way Jason had looked at her—asked her about Italy—she’d thought for a minute that she hadn’t broken everything between them.

But maybe Courtney was right. Maybe Elizabeth had finally burnt the final bridge with Zander, and Jason was just too kind to tell her. Had ignored her all those weeks in the penthouse, hoping she’d get the message.

No. No, that wasn’t fair. She sighed, and started to turn back, intending to head back up the pier, to Elm Street, and to her studio. It was stupid to be wandering out here this late in the dark, after midnight—

“What the hell were you thinking?”

The angry voices startled Elizabeth out of her maudlin wallowing, and she turned — but the voice wasn’t talking to her. Footsteps were getting closer, and without thinking, Elizabeth ducked behind a a pallet stacked with boxes and metal barrels.

“You had one job!” a man snarled—Elizabeth frowned—she knew that voice. Why did she know that voice?

“You were to keep your eyes on my property, and now she’s gone!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Alcazar—”

Oh….fuck. Elizabeth closed her eyes. Walked right into a scene between Luis Alcazar and a flunky.

What was worse than a puppy killer? Because surely—

A gunshot echoed in the night, and Elizabeth heard a thud and a cry — Then another shot—this one sounded closer — and the man’s cry stopped abruptly.

Elizabeth shoved a fist in her mouth, choking back the sound that wanted to leap from her throat. Oh, damn, damn, damn —

She started to inch backwards — she knew a back way to the waterfront, one that would take longer — but was hidden —

Just as Elizabeth was a few feet from safety, from freedom — she tripped over a nail jutting out from a board and hit the ground with a crash, her arm slapping against a building on the way down.

“Who’s there?” Alcazar demanded. “Who is that? Morgan?”

Elizabeth didn’t stop, didn’t even think. She leapt to her feet, turned, and ran for the shorter route to safety—even as Alcazar shot after her, bullets hitting the corrugated metal just inches from her head.

She only had one thought. One person who she knew she could trust.

She ran up the pier, up to Elm Street, then instead of taking the turn towards her studio, she turned towards the large building a few blocks away.

To Jason.

August 20, 2020

This entry is part 20 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 25 minutes. No time for typos. Took a little extra time to end it well.

Elizabeth knocked lightly on the door to Cameron’s bedroom and smiled at him. “Hey. You almost done packing?”

“Yeah, just a few more things.” Cameron looked around the room with a grimace. “I didn’t really finish unpacking,” he admitted.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She sat on his bed. “I know we’ve moved a lot this last year, but—”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Cameron sat next to her. “You feeling okay? Should you be moving around so much?” He drew his brows together. “You’ve only been out of the hospital for—”

“Three weeks. I just a have a slight twing in my side and I still get tired a lot.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “You don’t have to come today. You can relax here with the boys. Make sure they’re packed—”

“Grandma Laura has that covered,” Cameron said with a shake of his head. “I want to go. I mean—” He got to his feet and went over to his bureau to check the drawers again. “I guess I want to make sure she’s really going away.

“You found out a lot about Sam that day, Cam. And a lot about Jason and Drew. I know you’ve struggled with it—”

“Look, I get it—Jason’s a big part of your life, and I guess you’ll always feel guilty about Drew. But we don’t need them.” Cameron turned her, his blue eyes fierce. He lifted his chin. “I can take care of us. I can take care of you—” His voice cracked on the final word.

“I know you can. And it’s not about that. Did you know that I lied to Jason about being Jake’s father?” Elizabeth rose. “That I asked him the day he buried his father to keep lying? That after Emily died, we continued the lie?”

Cameron exhaled slowly. “No, I didn’t know that. Why—”

“Because I am not perfect, Cameron. I’ve made terrible mistakes. And so have Jason and Drew.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “And so has Sam. We’ve all paid for them with a little bit of our sanity and souls. But I don’t want that for you. Yes, Jason forgave the woman who kidnapped Jake. But I entered into a relationship with a serial killer who kidnapped Aiden. Why do my sins matter less?”

“Because you’re my mother.” Cameron looked away. “Jason never blinked when he found out it was Sam,” he admitted. “And maybe you were right. Maybe we could trust him. I just—” He met his mother’s eyes. “Are you really okay with her not going to jail?”

“She’s sick, Cam. And heartbroken. I can’t forgive her for what she put us through, but I can move on and let her get the help she needs. She’ll go to Ferncliffe, get treatment, and maybe one day come home to her kids.”

“It doesn’t seem fair. After everything we went through—you nearly died, Mom—”

“But I didn’t.” Elizabeth framed his face. “I love you, you know. My brave little boy. All grown up.”

“I love you, too. And I’m glad we’re going home.”

“Me, too. I’ll meet you downstairs when it’s time to go.”

——

Jason stood up from the bench in the hallway when he saw Elizabeth and Cameron step off the elevator. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come,” he said, surprised and a little relieved when Cameron met his eyes.

It was the first time Cam had looked at him since Elizabeth had been released from the hospital. “Sorry. We got carried away. The moving truck will be at the house tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure everything was ready,” Elizabeth said. She looked at Cameron. “I’m sure Joss and Trina are already inside if you want to get a seat.”

Cameron eyed them both suspiciously, then sent Jason a dark look before walking away, into the courtroom.

“Everything okay with the paperwork? Diane said—”

“Diane said you pulled in every favor and some of Sonny’s to get us into the house this quickly.” Elizabeth folded her arms, offered him a smile. “Thank you. The boys are excited to be going home. So am I. And Diane said there’s already been an offer on the place I’m at now, so I’ll be able to pay you back.”

When Jason opened her mouth, she shook her head. “Don’t argue. It’s important to me.” She looked to the court room. “Have you talked to Drew yet?”

“No. He’s been in the back with Sam, her lawyer, and the doctor assigned to her. Elizabeth—”

“I don’t want any more apologies. It’s over. And we’ve all made mistakes. Let’s just—let’s just get this over with. I want to get back to my life.”

She went into the courtroom, and Jason followed her, unsure where that left them or their friendship.

The hearing was little more than a formality. The court appointed doctor had found Sam incompetent to stand trials on charges of murder and attempted murder. She had a glassy-eyed look and swayed slightly as the judge committed her to Ferncliffe until a doctor found her competent.

Sam never looked behind her—not even at Drew. And when the hearing was over, she was led out of the room.

Cameron exhaled. “I think I expected something more,” he admitted.

“Well, it’s Port Charles,” Trina Robinson said, patting his shoulder. “There might still be a bomb.”

“Oh, that is not funny,” Joss muttered as she followed the pair into the hallway. “Neither of you have ever been blown up. I have—”

“She’s going to need therapy one day, isn’t she?” Carly asked Jason and Elizabeth idly, then went after her daughter.

“Speaking of therapy,” Drew said dryly as he approached them. “Do you think Cam should—”

“Kevin’s already met with him a few times,” Elizabeth assured him. “Nothing formal. Just check-ins, really.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you. Both of you.” She said, looking at Jason. “For helping Cameron and I out of trouble. I know he’d say it was your fault, but we both know that it’s not the simple.”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I wish I could have done more—”

Elizabeth shook her head at Drew. “No. I don’t want to dwell on it. Me and the boys—we’re going home. And that’s all I need.” She flashed a smile at both of them then walked after her son.

“She’s doing that thing again,” Drew muttered. “Lying right to my damn face like I can’t tell.”

Jason cast him a dark look, knowing that Drew was dipping into Jason’s memories of Elizabeth for that. “I know that. You worry about getting Sam committed. I’ll take care of Elizabeth and the boys.”

“Well, that would be a first,” Drew retorted, then walked away.

—

The next day, Elizabeth stepped out on the porch of the house on Lexington Avenue, then turned to look across the street where Patrick and Robin had once lived. She could hear the boys arguing inside over what to order for dinner for their first night in their new home—

Then Jason’s deep voice telling them they were getting pizza, and to knock it off. She smiled briefly, hearing the door open. She turned to him. “They argue over everything.”

“Yeah, I know. I think Jake does it on purpose just to get Cam mad.” Jason stepped up next to her. “He gets that from you.”

“Oh, sure.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Because you don’t rile anyone up for fun. I’ve seen you with Carly.”

Jason winced. “Point taken.” He hesitated. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. She looked at him, thought about lying, then shrugged looking back out over the street — the street that Jake had nearly on twice, but also the street where they’d learned to ride their bikes and play street hockey.

Where they gone trick or treating—the street where they’d hugged Emily goodbye for the last time—

“No,” Elizabeth said finally. She smiled at him. “But I’m going to be. I’m home. It’s a start.”

August 19, 2020

This entry is part 16 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

Written in 20 minutes. No time for edits or typos.

A few weeks later, Elizabeth was sitting at the table, struggling to wrap the last gift that needed to go under the tree. She usually did a pretty decent job of not shopping until the last minute but despite eight years of being a mother—she’d never managed to finish wrapping before Christmas Eve.

Now it was nearly midnight, and she still had to put the boxes under the tree. She wrinkled her nose as she stared at the closet where she had hid the gifts while the boys were in school that day — she hadn’t been able to hide them at home since Cameron had learned to climb.

The door opened then, and a rush of swirling ice and wind came through as Jason entered, closing the door softly behind him. “Hey.” He joined her at the table, brushing a light against her lips. “Sorry, I’m late. It took longer than I thought to put together the bike.”

“But it’s in the garage?” Elizabeth asked, wrinkling her eyebrows. “It’s the only thing Cameron really asked for—”

“It’s in the garage,” he confirmed. He stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the hook. “What else can I do?”

“I just need to finish wrapping this last one, then I can start putting things under the tree—” She nodded at the closet door. “Everything is in there if you want to start, and I’ll be over in a second—” She handed him the key to the closet, and he went to unlock it.

He stared at it for a long moment, then turned to her with raised eyebrows. “Did you leave anything in the stores?”

“Listen. At this age, it’s about quantity. When they’re teenagers or grown adults, I can start cutting back.” The last box in her hands, she went to the tree and set it down. “Let’s do Cameron’s on this side, and then Aiden on the other—”

Jason handed her boxes, and she arranged them—they worked in silence, hoping to get everything done quickly and quietly so that boys wouldn’t wake up — it had been incredibly hard to get Cameron to sleep that night, and Aiden always fed off his brother’s energy.

Halfway through the closet, Jason hesitated with a box in his hand. He looked at her, then looked back at the tag. “This is, uh, it says Jake—”

“Oh.” Elizabeth took the brightly colored gift, smoothing her thumb over his name. “I should have—I—” She cleared her throat. “Last year—it was the first year—” She paused. “I had ordered something for his birthday, and it came after he died. It was the first time I saw him—I saw him riding the little bike I’d bought for him—and I—”

Jason put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. “I’m sorry.”

“Last year, when I went shopping, I didn’t mean to—but I bought something for him. I got home from Wyndham’s and I just—I wrapped it, and I put his name on it. And I felt good about it. Because if I don’t buy presents for all of them, it’ll be like I don’t have three boys anymore. And I guess—” A tear slid down her cheek. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not. I know how much you love Christmas.”

“Jake did, too. More than Cameron. He loved the magic of it—that last year—when he was just three—it was the first year he didn’t cry sitting on Santa’s lap—he was so excited, and he babbled on for ten minutes about everything he wanted—”

Elizabeth sat on the sofa. “I know it gets easier to live with it,” she told him as he sat next to her. “And it has—I mean, I don’t think about him every day. But someone will ask me how many kids I have—and it’s wrong to say two. I have three beautiful boys. I had—” She put the gift on the coffee table. “I’m okay. Christmas is hard. But I don’t want Cameron to know it. I don’t want him to think about this as being a sad time.”

“He won’t. And one day, he and Aiden will be grateful you kept Jake’s memory alive for them. For all of us.” He kissed her, pressing his forehead against hers. “I don’t have enough memories of him,” Jason told her, his voice a bit rough. “That’s my fault.”

“Well, I’ll share all mine. You gave me that beautiful boy and kept him safe for me all those years. You always brought him back to me.” She touched his face. “It’s okay. We’ll put this upstairs with last year’s gift. And the birthday gifts I bought.”

Elizabeth scrubbed her hands over her cheeks. “I forgot to ask—you were supposed to meet with Diane to finalize the ELQ stuff today. Did Tracy sign over her shares?”

“Yeah, Diane has it ready for you after Christmas. She was kind of curious why Tracy was giving you another ten percent—”

“I still wish you’d take it—you’re the Quartermaine—” She grinned when he scowled at her. “I’m kidding. It’s okay. I’ll hold on to the extra fifteen percent, and then divide it among the boys when they’re old enough so they have equal shares.”

“Diane also told me that Sam has a hearing after Christmas about custody,” Jason went on as Elizabeth started to put away the trash and supplies she’d used for wrapping. “Tea is fighting her on custody—”

“Hard to blame her. I think, even if I knew the truth, I’d want to keep my baby. Six months is a long time.” Elizabeth sighed. “But she’ll get her baby back.” She looked at the Christmas tree, smiling at the paper chains that decorated it. “It looks a lot like that first tree, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jason stood her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to draw her back against him. “With an angel to watch over things.”

“It helps,” Elizabeth murmured. “To think of Jake being safe with Emily, you know? She’ll take care of him until we’re together again.” She took a deep breath, looked at him and smiled. “We’re going to have a great Christmas. I can’t wait until the boys get up tomorrow.”

“Me either.” He kissed her again. “Let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep before they get up at dawn.”

——

Meanwhile, in Greece…

Nikolas Cassadine sighed and pushed open the door to the cottage on his estate. It was a small and modest set of rooms, tucked away from any visitors.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

“Uncle Nikolas!”

A little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes dashed out of the back room, followed by his nanny and another man with dark hair and dark eyes.

“Hey—” Nikolas lifted the boy into his arms and smiled at him. He looked at the older man. “Father.”

“Nikolas. Jake and I were just getting ready to have dinner. Will you join us?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Nikolas looked at Jake, flincing slightly as he smiled. He looked so much like Elizabeth.

Soon. Soon, he’d be able to bring her son back to her.

THE END

August 18, 2020

This entry is part 19 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 20 minutes. No time for typos.

A week later, Elizabeth was released from the hospital. Since waking up in post-op, she hadn’t really wanted to talk about anything that had happened since Franco had broken into her home. The boys had stayed with Laura, and Jason wasn’t really sure what would happen when Elizabeth went home.

“Are you ready to go?” Jason asked, knocking on the door. He frowned when he saw her alone in the room, standing by the window. “You shouldn’t be up—I thought Epiphany was bringing a wheel chair—”

“I can walk a little,” Elizabeth murmured. She looked at him. “I haven’t been to the house since…” She bit her lip, focused on the view outside the hospital again. “Since it happened.”

“The PCPD released the scene a few days ago, and I had someone come in—I got it cleaned up. If you’re worried about that.”

“We just moved there.” Elizabeth rubbed her chest absently. “I wanted a fresh start. Away from Franco. And he ruined that. I have no one to blame but myself.” She exhaled slowly. “Are the boys still with Laura? I don’t know if I can—if I can go there at the same time and see them—”

“Laura said she’d bring Jake and Aiden over when you wanted them. I couldn’t keep Cam away. He went to the house with Joss to make sure things were ready.” Jason approached her slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I want to be angry with you. In fact, some of the last few days, I’ve been really good at making myself hate you.” Elizabeth met his eyes. “It’d be so easy to blame you for what happened. For not killing Franco all those years ago. For forgiving Sam. But at the end of the day, she—” She closed her eyes. “She wasn’t wrong. He raped her. And I spent years defending him. How do I live with that?”

“You didn’t know—”

“The signs were there. And I know she’s sick, but I just—finding out the truth about Danny while going through all of this with his cancer—I can understand how it broke her.” She cleared her throat. “I did a lot of terrible things while I was grieving Jake. Did—do you know what’s going to happen to her?”

“Elizabeth—” Jason shook his head. It wasn’t the moment to convince that what happened wasn’t her fault. So he answered her question. “The DA’s office charged her with Franco and your shooting, but I don’t think she’ll be found competent to stand trial. Drew is trying to get her admitted to Ferncliffe. I—” He paused. “I don’t know other than that.”

“How’s Danny? I didn’t—I haven’t—the cancer?”

“Julian is donating again,” Jason told her. “And we’re hopeful. I talked to Drew—even though we told Danny I was his father, he and I aren’t—he’s closer to Drew. He still calls him Dad.”

“I’m glad. I hope you and Drew can really work through all of this.” Elizabeth turned away from the window. “I’m ready to go home—well, I’m ready to leave the hospital.”

“All right.” Jason went over to get her bag. “Let’s go.”

—

As Jason’s SUV wound through the streets of Port Charles towards her house, she touched his elbow gently at a light. “Can you turn down here?”

“Here?” Jason repeated. He looked around with a frown. “But—”

“I just—can we go down Lexington?”

Jason looked at her for a moment. “Lexington? Where your old house was?”

“Yeah. I just want to see—” The last place she’d felt like she’d been home. A few turns and blocks later, Jason pulled up in front of the old house.

The last time she’d been here, the house had been a charred shell, but the developer she’d sold it to had gutted and rebuilt it. It looked nearly as it had the last time she’d left it.

“I loved this house,” Elizabeth said, staring at it out the window, resting her head against the seat. “Emily helped me find it. You know? And she loaned me money for the down payment. I raised my boys here.” She looked at him. “I don’t know what to do. How to feel. What to think. All of this—what happened with Franco, with Sam—and I know Cameron is hurting, too—it’s too big, Jason. I can’t do this.”

“One thing at a time,” he told her quietly. “Look at the front yard.”

Elizabeth frowned, then turned back. “For Sale,” she murmured. “Oh—Oh, I want go home.” Her vision blurred as tears spilled down her cheek. “I want to go home. Can—can you help me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get Diane on the phone.” Jason reached over and took her hand. “I know everything happened fast,” he told her. “But we’ll just—one thing at a time,” he repeated.

She smiled faintly. “What did you used to tell me? Sometimes things happen fast, but you have to live through them slow?”

“Yeah. I should take my own advice.”

Elizabeth looked back at the house. “I’ll be okay. I’ll take my boys, and we’ll go home. And then we can figure everything else out.”

August 17, 2020

This entry is part 15 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

Written in 20 minutes. No time for typos.

“Miss Tracy is in the library,” Alice told Jason and Elizabeth as she let them into the mansion a few days later. She frowned. “Are you sure you want to see her? Because Dr. Q is at the hospital—”

“It’s definitely Tracy,” Elizabeth told her. “But, um, Jason isn’t going in with me. He’s going to wait outside. Is…can you not tell her that he’s here?”

Alice sighed. “Miss Tracy is up to something again? All right. I’ll go let her know just you’re here, Miss Webber.”

Elizabeth handed her coat to Alice, keeping hold of the paperwork in her hand. “You’re the best, Alice. Thanks.”

In the library, Elizabeth found Tracy scowling at a newspaper and holding a glass of orange juice. “What do you want?” the older woman demanded.

“It’s December, Tracy,” Elizabeth said blandly. “You know that what means.”

“Oh—right.” She sighed, set down the juice and newspaper. “Time to sign over the proxy for another year—” She peered at her. “Have you reconsidered my offer to buy you out? Neither of you are DNA relatives—”

“No, but Jake was, and I inherited his stock—we’ve been over this, Tracy,” Elizabeth said with a roll of her eyes. “Emily left this stock to my boys. They—” Her voice tightened and Tracy looked away. “Cameron can do whatever he wants when he’s eighteen.”

“I’m sorry. I—” Tracy pursed her lips. “Of course. Then maybe sign the proxy until he’s 18? There’s no reason—”

“Actually, I wanted to let you know that I’m planning to sell my shares,” she told Tracy. “I know that Emily’s stock should have passed to her children, and she should be raising Spencer—”

“Elizabeth—”

“I spoke Nikolas in Greece,” Elizabeth continued, watching as Tracy’s face paled. “I’m not a Quartermaine, and my little boy is gone. Emily is gone. I think these shares should go to the other little boy she loved. So Nikolas is going to buy them in Spencer’s name—”

“You’re selling part of my company to Nikolas Cassadine?” Tracy hissed. “You—you can’t do that—we—we had an agreement!”

“We did. Every year, I re-authorize the proxy. And we’ll continue doing that for Cameron—because Emily left those to him. But Emily loved Spencer like her own. This wasn’t my idea,” Elizabeth assured her. “Nikolas approached me. He’s been working on this for a while, I guess. I think he said Jason sold his stock to him as well—”

“That reprobate! It was all we could do to wrestle his back from Sonny, then my bloody mother had to leave him stock all over again—”

“And you know, Skye adored Emily—she wouldn’t sell all of it—”

“You—” Tracy jabbed a finger at her. “You’re not—you’re not serious! No, no—there’s no way you’ve orchestrated the sale of almost twenty-five percent—”

“No, it’s more like forty percent,” Elizabeth said. “Because Jason talked to Carly, and you know Michael has fifteen percent from Lila and AJ—”

“I—” Tracy stumbled over to the sofa, sat down. “How could you do this—how—” Suddenly, she focused on her, squinted her eyes. “You know, don’t you? You know what I did?”

“I do,” Elizabeth said coolly.

“I never knew about Jake!” Tracy lunged back up. “You have to understand—when I changed that will—I never knew about Jake!”

Elizabeth put her hands up, took a step back. “Wait—wait—what will?”

“Alan’s—” Tracy’s eyes bulged. “Oh—you don’t—”

“No, we don’t know,” Jason said, stepping in from the hallway, his tone like ice. “But maybe you should tell us.” He stepped up next to Elizabeth. “What did you do to my son?”

“I—I—” Tracy scowled. “I didn’t know about Jake! Alan left his stock to your children! And your children were going to be from that lying, gold digging con artist! I was never going to let Sam get a single piece of this company!” She hesitated. “Wait, if you didn’t know about the will—”

“We know about the the DNA test,” Elizabeth said, slightly shaken. “What you did to Sam and her child—all so you could keep her out of the company?”

“You—” Tracy stabbed her finger at Jason. “This is your fault! If you knew that child was Sam’s, that bitch would have gotten her claws back into you, and my father would have given him shares!”

“So, instead you let Sam think her son was dead. That is—” Elizabeth shook her head. “I would think that’s the worst thing you could do, but Emily told me enough stories. I know you’re capable of cruelty.”

Tracy lifted her chin. “I wanted to protect my family—” Then she exhaled slowly. “What are you going to do?”

“I could report you to the police,” Elizabeth said. “You participated in kidnapping an infant—” Tracy’s eyes bulged, “—bribery, extortion—falsification of medical records—”

“I—I—”

“But I’ll settle for Alan’s shares,” Jason said. “You’ll sign them over to Elizabeth. Now. They belonged to my son. They should be hers—”

“Jason—”

“You can split them between Cam and Aiden, I don’t care,” Jason told her. “But she’s not keeping them.”

“I—” Tracy shook her head. “How would I ever explain that?”

“I don’t care,” Jason told her. “You stole from my father. If I had known the contents of his will—Jake would have had his inheritance—I might—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They belonged to him. And you’re not keeping them.”

“Okay, okay—but you’re not selling to Nikolas?” Tracy asked, worried. “And Jason isn’t—”

“Michael’s thinking about business school,” Jason said, with a shrug. “He might want ELQ one day. And Cam and Aiden might want to go to college.” He paused. “Diane will be in touch with the paperwork.”

—

“You don’t think we let her off easy?” Elizabeth asked as they got into the car. “I mean, she’s losing shares—but she’ll probably inherit from Edward—” Jason’s mouth tightened at the mention of his grandfather—they knew he was ill and would pass soon. “She’s not going to learn anything.”

“I’ll talk to Monica about the will. Tracy didn’t do this alone. And I know who’d she ask to help.” Jason looked at her. “Who do you think Tracy would go to? Five years ago?”

“Luke.” Elizabeth stared straight ahead. “Well, at least you know he feels guilty enough to tell the truth. After what he did.”

August 15, 2020

This entry is part 14 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

Written in 20 minutes. No time for edits.

Elizabeth watched the news wash over Sam’s the face — the shock—the flash of denial—the desperate hope—

What she wouldn’t give for just the briefest glimpse of that same hope her little boy would come home—

Sam took the results from Elizabeth’s hands, ripped open the results—her hand was shaking so bad that she couldn’t get the paper out of the envelope. At her side, an ashen John McBain helped her—

“How could this have happened?” Sam demanded as she looked over the results. SHe shook her head. “What—these are just—initials—”

“Tracy had Brad run two DNA tests,” Jason told her. “The baby with your DNA, Franco’s, and mine—”

Sam’s eyes flew to meet Jason as she flinched. “Why? We—we already knew—”

“I guess Tracy wanted independent confirmation,” Elizabeth said softly.

“And Franco—” Sam closed her eyes. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she said softly. “I knew it. I can—I can live with it. John—”

John took the results from her, scanned them for himself. “And the second test?” he asked. “Is—”

“There’s no blood relationship between Franco and me,” Jason reported. “I guess—Tracy figured while she was at it—”

“I will kill her for doing this to me—” Sam pressed her hands to her face. “Okay, okay, what do I do? What do I do? Tea—” She looked at John. “She wouldn’t—this isn’t something—”

“Tea wouldn’t do this,” John said slowly. “Not willingly or knowingly.” His face screwed up in distaste. “Todd,” he muttered. “He delivered Victor—and this isn’t even the first time he would have done this—I told you what he did to Blair and Jack—”

“How—” Sam took a deep breath. “How do I tell her it’s—her baby is gone—how do I tell her that—” She hesitated. “What do I do?” she repeated to John, and Elizabeth was surprised — Sam hadn’t even spared much more than a glance for Jason.

“Well, first things first, I need talk to Tea,” John said. He folded the results, tucked them into his coat pocket. “I think—I think I can talk her into getting Victor tested. If that doesn’t work, we can try a court—” He looked at Jason and Elizabeth. “Was this test—was it done—”

“It was all above board. Jason gave me the samples, and Patrick wrote the test order for me. We put it through the lab,” Elizabeth explained. She folded her arms. “Brad gave me a false set of paper results, but the original test is in the General Hospital computers, and Spinelli told me he and his girlfriend have already put a lock on the file to keep it from getting corrupted.”

“Thank you.” Sam looked at Jason, finally, meeting his eyes briefly before looking at Elizabeth. “Thank for doing this. For—for thinking it was a possibility, and then not giving up. I just—I think—I think John and I can handle it. I mean, he knows Tea, so—” She paused. “What do we do about Tracy?”

“Leave Tracy to me,” Jason said. “I’ll take care of that. Good luck, Sam.”

“Thank you. Oh, God, my son—” Sam’s eyes were shining with tears and joy as she turned to John. “Danny—”

“Let’s go, talk to your mother,” John told her. He put an arm around her shoulders and they left.

Elizabeth hadn’t known what to expect, but to see Sam walk away—to not even ask Jason for help getting Danny back—

“So what are you going to do to Tracy?” Elizabeth said, finally. Jason tugged lightly on her elbow as they walked in the opposite direction, walking back towards the parking lot.

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. “I doubt she’ll be sorry. She never liked Sam, and she knew that if—” He winced. “If Sam and I had been together—not divorced—Danny legally would have been mine and then—”

“Entitled to ELQ shares when Edward passes away.” Elizabeth put her hand on the car door, then looked up at him. “She did this because Danny might have inherited stock? She lied about this baby just to—”

“There’s not a lot Tracy wouldn’t do to protect ELQ from anyone she thinks might hurt it.”

Inside the car, he rubbed his face. “This is why I left the Quartermaines,” he muttered. “Because this is what they do. This is what they always do—”

“Not Quartermaines. Tracy. And maybe—” Elizabeth leaned back against the seat with a smirk. “Maybe we should give her a taste of her own medicine.

Jason eyed her out of the corner of his eye. “What are you thinking?” he asked, a mixture of nerves and curiosity in his eyes.

“When Emily turned eighteen,” Elizabeth said, looking at him, “she inherited stock. Like you and AJ did. And when she passed away—she left it to Cameron and Jake.”

“She—” Jason stared straight ahead. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, and Tracy was very annoyed by that,” she told him. “She wanted to buy it back from me, but it’s all my boys would ever have from Emily, so I told her that I would agree to let her vote their proxy. Because I knew she’d protect ELQ, and that was fine. But I think maybe it’s time I tell her I want to sell to someone else.”

Jason frowned. “Who? She’d never believe you’d sell it to Sam—”

“No, but she’d believe me if I said I wanted to give it to Nikolas. You know, since he and Emily were engaged at the time, and he might have inherited it otherwise through their kids.”

“Letting Tracy think Cassadine Industries might get a foothold in ELQ—” Jason squinted. “Let me make a few calls. I think we can get a few other people on board.”