September 14, 2020

This entry is part 3 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Not Knowing When

Written in 55 minutes. Time for a basic spell check but not typos.

YOU GUYS THIS PART IS WILD AND I CANT WAIT FOR YOU TO READ IT

Las Vegas, Nevada

The Chapel of Love: Parking Lot

Elizabeth might have had a head start, but Jason’s legs were longer and he did more running than she did — he caught up just as she passed the Fountains at the Bellagio, passing in front of her so he could stop her in her tracks.

Elizabeth scowled and nearly managed to adjust at the last minute to run past him, but he snagged her elbow and dragged her back.

“Would you just stop!” he snapped. He grimaced when he realized he was almost digging into her forearm with his fingers. He forced himself to gentle his hold and guide her back in front of him. “Just—just let me explain—”

“Explain?” Elizabeth yanked her arm away from him, cradling it against her chest, her eyes shadowed, almost hidden from him even as the bright lights of the Strip washed over them. “There’s nothing to explain! I am done humiliating myself—I’m getting a cab, I’m going back to Port Charles, and then I am never going to speak to either one of you again—”

“Why—” Jason hissed as she turned sharply and started towards the street. He should just let her go.

She was always walking away from him.

Never giving him a chance to explain.

Never believing him even when he did—

After nearly forty-eight hours without sleep, after hours spent in Brenda’s vexing company—Jason finally snapped.

“Why do you always do this?” he called after her, his tone scathing. “Why did you even come?”

Elizabeth halted, nearly six feet from him, her shoulders snapping straight. She turned slowly, lifting her chin, her fists clenched at her side.

“Are you really going to get mad at me right now? I—” She scowled, stalked back. Elizabeth jabbed a finger in chest, the tip of her index finger poking just below his collar bone. “You want to know why I came to Vegas? Why I showed up at your wedding to another woman like this is a bad romantic comedy?”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Yeah—I want to know. If you’re not even going to let me explain—”

“I came,” she bit out with a depth of bitterness that he’d never heard from her before, “because Sonny told me you were hurt.”

Jason’s mouth closed. He stared at her. “What?”

“He told me that you were hurt. That you needed—” Elizabeth closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as if it could protect her. “You needed me. Worse. He told you’d asked for me.”

He was going to murder Sonny.

Slowly.

And he was going to enjoy it.

Jason drew in a sharp breath. “Elizabeth—”

“And like the clearly stupid girl that I am—” Elizabeth opened her eyes, tears spilling over her lashes, sliding down her cheeks. Her voice broke. “I didn’t argue. Not until we landed in Vegas, and I realized that none of it made sense. He brought me here because he wanted to stop you from getting married. And he knew if he’d told me the truth, I never would have gotten on the plane.”

“It’s not what it looks like—”

“Really?” Elizabeth sneered. “Because it looked like you were marrying Brenda Barrett. How is there any way to explain that? How many times do you have to lie to me before I finally get it—”

“I have never lied to you—” Jason wanted to drag the words back even as they flew out of his mouth. Once he could have claimed that.

“For someone who prides himself on honesty,” Elizabeth retorted, “you’re really racking up the lies—”

“I tried to tell you that there things I couldn’t tell you—”

“No!” She sliced her hand through the air, the word exploding out of her like a bullet. “No! That is absolutely not going to work. No! Here are the things you can’t tell me—things I would never ask — what did you do at work today? When will you be home? Where did you go?”

“I—”

“You do not get to lie to me about the death of your best friend!” Elizabeth shook her head. “No. No, I’m not doing this—” She turned away again.

“You’re the only one who gets to make mistakes?” Jason demanded as he followed her towards the street. “How many times have you lied to me?”

Her eyes widened, and she whirled back around. “I—”

“How many times have you done things that anyone else would find unforgivable?” he continued, the rage boiling in his chest. “You knew Zander had betrayed Sonny. That he was my enemy, Elizabeth, and what did you do?”

“I—”

“You took him into your home. You—” He broke off as Elizabeth stared at him. “You slept with him. You asked me to leave him alone—”

“I thought you—” She swallowed hard, her lip trembling. “I thought you forgave me—”

“Because that’s what I do. I forgive you. Because, damn it, I love you!”

The words hung between them as she closed her eyes and Jason winced. That was not—that not the way that should have happened.

“I don’t believe you,” Elizabeth said softly. She cleared her throat, opened her eyes to meet his. “Because someone who loves me wouldn’t do the things you’ve done—”

“Damn it—”

“You sat in your penthouse, you looked me in the eye, and you told me that you wanted to be with me. That you wanted to try—and you lied. And then you kissed Courtney—”

“What?”

“And you were just marrying another woman—” Elizabeth gestured wildly at the Chapel of Love a hundred yards behind them.

Jason clenched his jaw. “And you came across the country because you thought I was hurt. What does that say about you? You love me, too, Elizabeth—”

“No, I don’t—” she snapped. “Don’t tell me how I feel—”

“Then don’t tell me how I feel,” he threw back at her.

“How the hell am I supposed to believe you?” Elizabeth threw up her hands. “What have you done except lie to me for weeks—”

If he could just convince her—if they could just get past this minute—he could explain everything about Brenda—and he’d fix that crap about Courtney — but she looked ready to bolt at any minute—

She’d flown across the country with little more than Sonny’s word because she thought he needed her.

Well, he did. Even though he wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. She was so damn stubborn—

“You want proof?” Jason scowled, his mind racing. He dragged a hand through his hair, stared at the wedding chapel for a long moment, then looked back at Elizabeth. “I can prove it.”

“I’d like to see you try—”

“Come with me,” Jason said, grabbing her hand, then all but dragged her back towards the chapel.

If she wanted proof—

He’d make her see that he wasn’t lying if it was the last thing he did.

Chapel of Love: Lobby

Sonny pressed the ice pack to his nose, wincing as he watched Brenda examine her nails. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” he asked.

“You’re going to have to be way more specific because your list of crimes is very long,” she said sweetly. She frowned. “This polish is chipped. I need my luggage. It’s in the car—”

“And what the hell are you doing in Vegas?” Sonny demanded, out of patience with her. “I came all the way here and all I’ve gotten so far is a busted nose—”

“That was a thing of beauty,” Brenda started to say, but then the double doors to the chapel opened and Jason stalked in, practically dragging Elizabeth after him.

Sonny thought Elizabeth had told Jason that instead of taking a minute to protect her after what had happened on the pier, Sonny had lied to her. He got to his feet, bracing himself to get another sock to the jaw—

But instead, Jason ignored Sonny and Brenda entirely and walked over to the front desk. “I need a new certificate,” he said, flatly.

Elizabeth’s face drained of color and Sonny saw her muscles bunch. If Jason hadn’t tightened his grip, she might have taken another run for it.

“Wait—what did he just say?” Brenda asked.

“Uh, Mr. Morgan—”

“A new marriage certificate,” Jason repeated. “Now.”

“Uh—” The clerk blinked rapidly, looked over at Sonny and Brenda, looked at Elizabeth. “Okay,” he said slowly. He set a fresh sheet of paper on the desk. “But it’ll cost you double. You were halfway through—”

“Put it on the card—”

“Jason,” Elizabeth hissed.

“Do you want proof or not?” Jason demanded, and Sonny raised his brows at the sharpness in his friend’s tone. He didn’t think Jason had ever spoken to her that way.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “You think this is proof?” She jerked a thumb at Brenda. “Your last fiancée is right over there—”

“Oh, well, fiancée is a strong word,” Brenda said, wrinkling her nose.

“So is wife,” Elizabeth snarled, tossing a dirty look at her. “Stay out of it.”

“I like her,” Brenda decided.

“You could find out where they’re registered later,” Sonny muttered. What the hell was going on—

Jason was ignoring them all as he grabbed a pen and filled out the form, signing his name at the bottom. He shoved the pen at Elizabeth and slid the paper closer to her. “Well?”

Sonny was sure Elizabeth was going to stab Jason in the eye or something else violent from the way that she looked at him. But then she drew in a shaky breath, signed the form.

“Huh,” Brenda said with a nod. “Well, at least this won’t be a wasted trip.”

—

Elizabeth couldn’t quite decide exactly why she’d signed the form or how she’d ended up in front of the same officiant that had nearly married Jason and Brenda less than thirty minutes earlier.

She almost felt like she was floating above it all and had been since the moment Jason had bit out a declaration of love like he wanted to hit over the head with it.

He never got angry with her.

And when she’d asked for proof—

He’d gone to find a way to prove it.

So—

She married him.

When the officiant declared them husband and wife and told Jason he could kiss his bride, Elizabeth blinked, looked at Jason, wondering what he would do.

He gently pressed on her shoulder so that she was facing him, tipped her head back and kissed her, drawing her against him like he had that night in her studio. Tired of fighting it, tired of pretending, of being angry and sad — Elizabeth kissed him back, threading her fingers through his hair, dragging him closer to her, wishing she could just disappear into him.

She didn’t want to let go, didn’t want the moment to end, because then reality would hit — and he’d realize he’d made a mistake —

Elizabeth didn’t know if she could bear to see that in his eyes. If she never let him go—never opened her eyes —

But then there was a slight coughing from the front of the pew, and Jason drew back. Their eyes met as he slowly stepped back, sliding his hands down the length of her body until they rested at her waist.

She turned to look at Sonny and Brenda in the front row, blinking rapidly.

“Maybe we should go to the hotel,” Sonny said, getting to his feet.

Jason glanced behind them to see the officiant offering them a smile and a reminder to pick up the license out front. When he’d left the room, Jason looked at Sonny, his eyes hard. “Don’t ever lie to Elizabeth again. Especially not about me being hurt.”

Sonny winced, then he gasped in pain as Brenda whacked him hard in the ribs. “Damn it—” he grunted. “What the hell—”

“You dragged that poor girl all the way here and she thought he was hurt the whole time—I hope your nose heals crooked,” Brenda said. She whacked him one more time with the back of her hand.

“We’ll meet you at the hotel,” Jason told Sonny. “We’re taking the limo. You can drive there with Brenda.”

He took Elizabeth’s hand and led her out of the chapel.

Brenda scowled after him, planting her hands on her hips. “I think he thinks that’s a punishment. You’re lucky I didn’t marry you!” she called after them. “I would have made you miserable!”

She huffed, looked back at Sonny. “Well, let’s go. I need food and sleep. And a new plan because my best idea just walked out of the room married to someone else.”

The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas: Owner’s Suite

Jason shoved the door open and waited for Elizabeth to walk in front of him. She had been silent during the short ride to the hotel that Sonny controlled in downtown Vegas, and Jason hadn’t known how to start the conversation.

Elizabeth walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Strip, folding her arms across her chest. The sun was just beginning to rise in the west, peeking out over the horizon in the distance. Jason closed the door, took a deep breath. “Elizabeth—”

“If you’re sorry already,” she said softly, “can you just…wait to say it?” She looked at him. “Just a little longer.”

“I’m not sorry,” Jason said roughly. He crossed over to her. He reached out to touch her, but faltered, let his hand drop down. “I don’t really—I’m not sorry,” he repeated. “But I thought you might be.”

“I’m not really sure what I’m feeling,” Elizabeth admitted. “This is—” She laughed slightly, nerves making the sound shaky and fragile. “This is not exactly what I thought would happen last night when I left Kelly’s.”

“Me either,” Jason said. He framed her face in his hands, leaned his forehead against hers. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“I missed you, too.” She slid her arms around his waist and they stood there for a long moment, just letting the silence around them settle.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Jason suggested. “And we’ll—we’ll figure everything else out later.”

September 13, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 3 in the Flash Fiction: Sunday Rewrites

Written in ___ minutes. Time for a basic spell check but not a read through for typos.

Friday, March 14, 2001

Kelly’s: Diner

Elizabeth glanced warily at the stairs that led to the second floor of the diner before returning her attention to finishing her side work behind the counter.

She had stayed the night on her uncomfortable couch at the studio and didn’t know if Lucky was upstairs — and was not looking forward to seeing him again.

She’d left Jake’s yesterday, feeling genuinely conflicted about her feelings for Jason, nearly convinced that if she just tried to explain things to Lucky — he would take a minute and look at her.

He would see her the way he had once.

But Lucky couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do that. Instead of being worried about her, instead of listening — he had been cruel.

He had been mean.

And this was a side of Lucky Elizabeth simply had no reference for. Even when Lucky hadn’t liked her during her first few months in Port Charles, he might have been sarcastic and cutting, but he’d never been mean or dismissive.

She felt her phone vibrate in her apron pocket. Elizabeth tugged it out, then grimaced when she saw Laura Spencer’s name flash on the identification screen. She put the phone back. Clearly, Laura had received Elizabeth’s message.

She was very sorry she’d wasted every one’s time, but she wasn’t cut out to be a model. She thanked Laura for her time and energy and hoped there were no hard feelings.

Elizabeth turned away from the counter to check on the coffee pots behind her, to make sure there were full pots for the lunch rush due in soon. Dimly, she heard the bell over the door ring as the door either opened or closed.

Then she turned back and nearly jumped out of her skin when she found Nikolas Cassadine glaring at her while Gia Campbell smirked in the background.

“What the hell is going on?” Nikolas bit out, slapping a hand on the counter. “My brother is devastated, my mother is furious—”

“I told Lucky and Laura that I don’t want to be a model.” She glanced at Gia who arched a brow. “I’m sure you’re not surprised.”

“No,” Gia began but Nikolas sent her a hot look that had the former black-mailer pressed her lips together.

“How could you do this?” Nikolas demanded. “After everything my mother has done for you, this is how you repay her? Do you have any idea how much money and time you’ve wasted?”

“I do,” Elizabeth said slowly, “but I also know that it’s my right to quit a job at any time. Particularly a job where I am subjected to abuse and harassment by co-workers and supervisors.” She tipped her head at Gia. “Did they call you yet?”

“Yes.” Gia lifted her chin.

“Good,” Elizabeth said. “Because you and Carly deserve each other.” She turned back to begin another pot of coffee.

“What does that mean—” Gia began but Nikolas had launched into his next complaint.

“And what about Lucky? You’re ruining his dream—”

“Is he not capable of pushing the button on a camera if I’m not there to hold his hand?” Elizabeth asked. She measured out the coffee, ignoring the way her hand shook. She pressed the start button.

“That’s not the point—”

“What is the point?” Elizabeth asked. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to quit a job that I’m unhappy in, and I also don’t need your permission to break up with my boyfriend.”

“After everything we’ve been through with Lucky, you’re just abandoning him—”

“It doesn’t even matter to you,” Elizabeth said softly. She met Nikolas’s angry eyes. “It’s never mattered to you what makes me happy. What makes me sad. I wonder when that changed. Why I didn’t see it—”

“I—” Nikolas growled. “You’re just confused—”

“No, I think I’m seeing clearly for the first time.” She tipped her head as something even more devastating slipped into her consciousness. “How did Gia know?”

“What?” Nikolas blinked, shook his head. “Know what?” He looked at Gia, whose eyes had widened. “What?”

“Nothing—” Gia began.

“She talked about people looking at me, watching me. All the eyes on me. I didn’t know for sure—” Elizabeth flicked a glance at Gia who looked at the ground. “Until right now. You know I was raped by a photographer. That’s why you were trying to talk me out of taking the job.”

“I wasn’t wrong,” Gia said dully.

“No,” Elizabeth said. She took a deep breath. “No, your intent was to scare me away from the job, but you weren’t wrong. And I think part of me doesn’t even blame you. Because I know who you are. I’ve always known.” She focused on Nikolas. “But how did she know?”

“Elizabeth—” Nikolas faltered, and Elizabeth knew—she knew.

“I thought we were friends once,” she said. “But that was wrong. You told someone that does not like me about the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Her eyes stung. “But I guess I should have known from the beginning who you were. You threw my rape in my face before.”

“I didn’t—”

“I don’t care what your little girlfriend has been through,” Elizabeth quoted, watching the color in Nikolas’s face fade. “You said that night of the Nurse’s Ball when I had an attitude with you. And Lucky went after you. Because we both knew what you meant. You apologized later—you’re good at that. Being cruel without thinking, and then being sorry for it later.”

“Just—wait—” Nikolas put up his hands. “Let me—you’re twisting this—”

“Am I?” Elizabeth made a face and shook her head. “I don’t think so. You couldn’t stand that I didn’t want you. You tried to kiss me, and I said no—”

“Excuse me,” Gia snapped.

“And that’s when it changed between us. You became possessive, jealous, and cruel after that. You were never my friend. Not really. And this—this is just more proof.”

“Elizabeth—”

Emily bounced down the stairs and approached them with a sunny smile on her face. “Hey—” Then that smile faded as she looked between them. “What’s going on?”

“I quit modeling and broke up with Lucky,” Elizabeth said, not taking her eyes off Nikolas. “And Nikolas told Gia I was raped.”

“You told Gia—” Emily glared at Nikolas. “What’s wrong with you? She blackmailed me! It’s bad enough you’re sleeping with her—but then you go and give her ammunition—”

“Oh, my God, I am not the anti-Christ!” Gia said, throwing up her hands. “All I did was remind Elizabeth that people would be looking at her, particularly photographers! How is that a bad thing? Am I the only one who thinks that the last place she should be in a photography studio? I mean, Jesus—” She scowled when no one said anything and stormed out of the otherwise empty diner.

Emily pressed her lips together. “You broke up with Lucky?” she said.

“She told him she has feelings for Jason—”

“Of course that’s the only part he concentrated on,” Elizabeth muttered, but Emily was already shaking her head.

“Elizabeth, how could you do that—”

Elizabeth retrieved her phone from her apron, untied it, then tossed it on the counter. She stalked away from the counter and towards the front the diner where her coat and purse were hanging.

“Are you quitting another job?” Nikolas asked sarcastically. “Jason going to pay for everything now?”

“Emily’s shift starts in ten minutes. She can cover until Penny gets here at noon.” Elizabeth stared back at two of her oldest and—until this moment—closest friends. “You can both go to hell.”

“Wait—”

“Elizabeth—”

She slammed the door behind her so hard the building shook, and stormed out of the courtyard.

To hell with all of this.

Port Charles Park

Jason sighed and rolled his neck as he turned back to Carly. “Is there a chance you’re not going to make a stupid plan to get us all in trouble?” he asked.

“Oh, my God, just once, I’d like you to give me the benefit of the doubt!” Carly said, planting her hands on her hips.

“I’d like to,” Jason said slowly, “but you were also the one that shot Tony Jones in open court, then faked mental illness and ended up locked up for almost a year.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Then you had me arrested for kidnapping—”

Carly narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t file those charges, AJ did!”

“You also tried to help Sonny and Mike, and what happened?” Jason asked with an arch of his brows.

Carly huffed, looked away, muttering something.

“I’m sorry—can you say that louder?”

She glared at him. “I ended up getting Sonny arrested for drug trafficking. You know, when you just make a list of my worst crimes like that, it sounds bad.”

“Is there another way to make that list?”

“Context,” Carly told him through clenched teeth, “adds a lot.”

Not convinced, Jason shook his head. “I also don’t hear you telling me you’re not planning something stupid that’s going to get us all arrested.”

“I—” Carly pursed her lips. “I’m not planning to get anyone arrested—”

“No, that’s usually just a bonus—”

“I don’t even know why I talk to you,” she muttered as she stalked away. Five seconds later, she heard a thud and a groan—Carly turned back, saw Jason on the ground with some crazy bastard on top of him. She broke into a run.

“Hey! Get off of him!” Carly grabbed the attacker’s jacket, yanking him back. “Holy shit—” She leapt back as she saw the flash of a knife—then she realized who was holding the blade to Jason’s throat. “Lucky—what the hell—” Her fingers shaking, she dived for her purse which she’d tossed to get to Jason. Sonny. She needed to call Sonny—

But then, Jason got the upper hand and with an explosion of fists, he’d thrown Lucky off him, the knife skittering away. He was just getting the upper hand, raising his fist to knock the little shit out when he froze.

Carly scowled, then turned to follow his gaze—only to find Elizabeth Webber standing on the steps into the park, her face pale, her eyes wide. “Screw her, Jason! Finish the little shit!”

Jason was distracted long enough for Lucky to get breath back and land another punch to Jason’s jaw, knocking the enforcer into a nearby bench. Breathing hard, he got to his feet, then saw Elizabeth.

Carly watched as his eyes shifted, his angry, murderous expression melted into a hurt, confused, and scared one. “Elizabeth—thank God. You stopped him. He—he came out of nowhere—”

“Oh, fuck that all the way to next Sunday—” Carly snarled as Jason wearily got to his feet, looking away from Elizabeth. She glared at Elizabeth. “You really are the dumbest person alive—”

Elizabeth swallowed hard and walked towards them, edging away from Lucky, but never taking her eyes off him, and Carly realized—she realized that Elizabeth hadn’t said a word.

But her eyes said it all.

She was scared.

Of Lucky.

“Are you okay?” she asked Jason softly. “I—I saw—” She looked away, where the switch blade had fallen, the blade glinting against the snow. She touched Jason’s throat. “He didn’t—”

“I’m fine,” Jason said roughly, staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

“Elizabeth, get away from him—” Lucky started forward but Carly swung her purse—heavy with cosmetics and a flat iron she never went anywhere without—and cracked him across the face. Lucky ended up sprawled in the snow, blinking at the sky.

“You come near him again, and I will end you!” she retorted.

“Carly—” Jason winced as Lucky rolled to his side, coughing out blood. “Get over here—”

“Little piece of shit, coming at you like he’s worth anything,” Carly muttered. She kept one eye on Jason as she crossed over to Jason and Elizabeth. “With a knife! A freakin’ knife!” She scowled, turned back as if she was going to take another whack at him.

“I saw it,” Jason said, dryly, and she was relieved to see that blank look had vanished. He’d been so sure Elizabeth would take Lucky’s side, and not that Carly even liked the little wench, but at least she hadn’t hurt Jason.

If she had—Carly might have let her purse swing in her direction next.

“What is in there?” Jason asked Carly as Lucky rose unsteadily to his feet, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “He looks worse now than when I hit him.”

“You need to get away from him,” Lucky tried again. He attempted to step towards the three of them, but Jason stepped in front of Carly and Elizabeth, making sure to kick the knife away from Lucky.

“Walk away,” Jason said in a voice that would have frozen even boiling water. “You’re not attacking me from the front this time.”

“Yeah, and I’m packing!” Carly tossed out. She looked at Elizabeth. “You got anything to back us up?”

Elizabeth blinked, but actually started to search inside her much smaller purse.

“Carly—” Jason bit out.

“Shutting up.”

Lucky glared at Jason before leveling a malevolent look at his—Carly was hoping—ex-girlfriend. “This isn’t over.”

“If it wasn’t before now,” Elizabeth said, her voice a bit shaky, “it is now. You—you attacked him with a knife! How—” She pressed a hand to her chest. “What is wrong with you?”

Lucky said nothing else, but slunk away, disappearing around the corner of the park. Jason turned slightly, but kept an eye on the entrance.

“What—”

“Carly, it’s time for you to go home,” he said, finally. He looked at her. “Don’t do anything stupid until I talk to you.”

Carly narrowed her eyes. “That’s not helpful. You know I don’t know it’s stupid until after I do it—”

“Then go home, sit on the sofa, and do nothing,” Jason said, with a roll of his eyes.

“That—” Carly pursed her lips. “I can do.” She looked at Elizabeth. “Thank you for saving me the energy of firing you. You’re a terrible model—”

“Carly—”

“And you’re a terrible boss,” Elizabeth retorted. “So I think we’re even.”

“That’s right.” Carly nodded, then walked out of the park — leaving Jason and Elizabeth alone, against her better judgment.

September 11, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 27 in the Flash Fiction: A King's Command

A few notes —

Dukes get called Your Grace instead of My Lord when you’re addressing them because…well, nobility.

Regents take over for a kingwho is a minor. It is sometimes the mother, but usually another powerful guy. James V is a real Scottish king who was born in 1512/1513, the son of Margaret Tudor and James IV. Margaret is Henry VIII’s sister. James IV died, and Margaret was the regent for a brief time until she married the Earl of Angus, Archie Douglas. Margaret Mallory is writing a great series set in this time period about the Douglas sisters, so that’s historically accurate.

I am not super well-versed on this period of Scottish history outside of some research and reading a lot of romance novels, LOL. I’m much better with later British history.

Written in 48 minutes. Time for a basic spell check.

When they returned to the inn, Elizabeth expected her father to throw her into the small rented room —

She should have known better.

Jeffrey hurled her into the larger room that he shared with Steven, and Elizabeth wasn’t able to stop herself from falling into a high chest of drawers.

“Father!” Steven surged to his feet, his eyes wide. His sister, Sarah, warily stood and edged behind her brother. “What—”

“What did I tell you?” Jeffrey demanded, stepping towards Elizabeth, his eyes bulging, his nostrils flared. “What did I tell you to do when we arrived at court?”

“What did Lizzie do?” Sarah complained, feeling more comfortable now that she knew it was her sister in trouble. “Is that we had to leave? I wanted—”

Jeffrey silenced her with one look before focusing on his youngest daughter again. Elizabeth pulled herself to her feet, cradling her sore elbow which had taken the brunt of the damage. She backed away slowly.

“You told me to be silent,” Elizabeth said in a small voice. “I tried—but I—”

“But what?”

“Father—”

“Have you thought about what will happen to you in the Highlands?” Jeffrey demanded. “Married to some primitive barbarian? When he discovers your curse?”

Elizabeth hadn’t thought that the laird of the Morgans had seemed all that primitive or barbarous. He had almost seemed kind, if irritated by the situation. But her father’s point remained.

“He—he won’t—”

“Lizzie is getting married? That’s not fair!”

“Father—”

Jeffrey stalked forward, grabbed Elizabeth’s sore arm and dragged her forward, towards him. “Why did you speak? Why did you reveal yourself?”

Sarah gasped and Steven swallowed hard. “Elizabeth,” her brother said, anguished. “How could—”

“I didn’t mean to. I just—I was very quiet,” Elizabeth said, her tone pleading as she tried to pull her arm away from her father’s painful grasp. “No one but the regent heard me—”

Jeffrey slapped her, the back of his hand whipping across her cheek, her skin flaming where the signet ring on his smallest finger ripped at her. “You have caused me shame for the last time!” he snarled, shoving her away from him.

Elizabeth stumbled and fell to the floor in a heap. She pressed a hand to her cheek, the warm blood dripping down her fingers.

“Father—” Steven said with a scowl. He pushed past Jeffrey and knelt in front of his sister. He tipped her head back, swearing. “Sarah, fetch some rags. And water.”

“I am not a servant—”

“Sarah,” Steven retorted. “Go.” He grimaced, looking at Jeffrey. “You should not leave marks. Not where they can be seen. If the regent has commanded her marriage—”

Jeffrey growled. “I am her father—she is mine to do with as I please—”

“Has Albany commanded a marriage for her?” Steven cut in. When Jeffrey remained silent, Steven looked at his sister. “Elizabeth?” he said kindly. “What happened?”

“I—I didn’t mean it,” she said, tears sliding down her cheek, mingling with the blood. Steven took the bowl of water and rag from Sarah who flounced away and sat back at the table, sullenly.

Steven gently cleaned her cheek. “That doesn’t answer my question, Bits—”

“Always you coddle her—” Jeffrey threw up his hands. “Keep her away from me until morning,” he said. “Sarah, come.”

When their father and sister had left, Steven just sighed, moved onto wiping Elizabeth’s hand. “Bits?” he asked again.

“It was just Father and I at the front,” Elizabeth said softly. “And I—I saw a flash. I didn’t mean it. You know I can’t—I can’t stop it.”

“What did you see?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “The Duke of Albany sipping his wine at luncheon. The wine at his side. I saw him falling. I—I told him very softly he should not sip the wine.”

Steven closed his eyes. “OF course you did.”

“I had to—I had to stop him, Steven. He would have died. He was—he was angry at first, and Father started dragging me away, but the regent forced us to stay. He took us to another room. He had someone bring him a rat who licked the wine. He…the rat became ill.”

“He could have had you executed,” Steven told her. “You took a terrible risk—”

“I know,” Elizabeth said dully. “But I didn’t know how else to stop it. I didn’t say anything, and Mother—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Not again.”

“And what of this marriage?”

“The regent sent for Jason Morgan. A laird in the Highlands—” At Steven’s wince, Elizabeth stomach rolled. “What?”

“Mother,” Steven said painfully, “was from the Highlands. She met Alan Morgan at court. And the Angus’s father, George Douglas. Both of them wanted to marry her, but she spurned them both and met Father in London.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth sighed. “Well, that’s…that’s not too terrible, is it? It’s not a blood feud?”

“You don’t know the Douglases,” Steven muttered. “But perhaps they’ve forgotten. I’ve heard nothing of the son. I can’t—this can’t be allowed to happen. I can’t protect you if you’re in the Highlands, and I can’t leave Annan—”

Elizabeth smiled tremulously. “But it might be okay. If I can just keep my secret, maybe—maybe I could have a chance. I’d like a family. Children. He’s a laird. He’ll want children. Sons.”

“That’s true enough.” Steven pulled her up from the ground, steadying her. He shook his head at her cheek. “‘Tis a shame you only have the visions, sister. If you could heal this before tomorrow, we’d be safer. If you’re under the Morgan’s protection—under the king’s protection—”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said. “I really did try—”

“I know you did.” Steven put an arm around her shoulder to lead her from the room. “You’ll have to try harder in the Highlands.”

—

Johnny scowled, slamming his mug of whiskey down hard on the plank table in the tavern. “Some Lowland wench? That is who you’ll have to breed with?”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the way Johnny had phrased the insult, but unable to deny the truth of it. The Highlands were not for the weak or timid and he could not imagine a lass from Dumfries could deliver strong sons — she might not even last her first winter.

“And a service to the crown?” Francis said with a sneer. “Mark my words, Albany will have you taking sides yet—”

“I have no desire for court intrigue,” Jason snapped, “and Albany knows this. I’ll marry the girl, we’ll go home, and that will be the end of it.”

“I can’t decide if he really believes that,” Johnny said to Francis thoughtfully, “or if he’s lost his mind.”

“A service to the crown,” Francis repeated. “Details of which you are not allowed to inquire about. Will your new wife tell you?”

“Albany might not want to say so, but I cannot see how I could trust any wife of mine to be loyal if she keeps a secret that might put my clan in danger,” Jason said slowly. “I will make this clear to her. It is possible that the service is done, and she’s simply being rewarded—”

“Listen to himself with the high opinion—”

“She’s the youngest daughter with an unmarried elder sister,” Jason retorted, cutting off Johnny taunt. “Any marriage before the sister marries is a reward. Particularly with a father such as hers.”

And he worried slightly over his future wife being sent home with a father who thought nothing of mistreating his child in the presence of the others. Unsettled, Jason picked up his whiskey and drank.

—

When Elizabeth had pictured the day she married, she had thought it be in her own village kirk at Annan even if the priest stationed there had always looked at her with suspicion and dismay.

She had never thought to wed in the chapel of St. Giles—kings and queens were crowned in these walls, royalty and nobility were christened, married, and consecrated—

“Ah, my dear Elizabeth—” The Duke of Albany swept inside the small chamber where Elizabeth and her family were awaiting the start of the ceremony. He stopped, stared at her face.

“You have been injured,” he said softly. He looked at Elizabeth’s father. “How tragic to have your beauty marred on this day.”

“I was very clumsy, Your Grace,” Elizabeth said quickly. “I tripped as we returned to the inn last eve.”

“Yes.” Albany pursed his lips, looked at Sarah and Steven. “Leave,” he said to them, sharply. Steven hesitated, but Sarah grabbed his sleeve and dragged him out.

“Your Grace,” Jeffrey began.

“Tell me, Baron,” Albany said, “did you know of your daughter’s gift?”

Jeffrey lifted his chin. “Nay, Your Grace. Perhaps my late wife did, but I—”

“Is this true, Elizabeth?” Albany looked at her. “Did your father have no previous knowledge of your abilities?”

“I—” Elizabeth cleared her throat, prepared to lie and protect her father, but the regent was staring at her, and she had the curious thought that he had known.

He hadn’t questioned her harshly yesterday—had never suspected her of treason or poisoning the cup herself—

And if he knew—if she lied—would he punish her? Would he take away this chance to leave her father? To have a new life?

“Yes,” Elizabeth confessed.

“You ungrateful—” Jeffrey hissed, nearly stepping forward.

“I thought as much.” Albany turned to her father. “I surmised that you might not have come to court prepared for a wedding in St. Giles, so I have brought the bride a gift. As another token of my gratitude.” He stepped aside, opened the door, and swept a few women, one of whom came with an elaborate court gown of blue velvet.

“Baron, let us leave the women to their preparations.” Albany clamped a hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder as he pushed him out of the room.

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, and with wide eyes, turned to the women who were to dress her for her wedding.

—

Jason tugged at the collar of shirt, disliking intensely every item of clothing he was wearing and longing to shed it in favor of the kilts and looser knits of home.

“Why does everything have lace?” Francis muttered to Johnny.

“‘Tis the French,” Johnny said with a sober nod. “They’re born wearing it.”

“I thought the Dutch were known for their lace—”

“Will the two of you—” Jason turned to snarl at him just as the doors at back of the chapel opened and the baron stepped into view. He held out a hand—

And the girl from yesterday—the woman—took his hand and Jason saw his future wife dressed in an elaborate gown of blue that nearly swamped her petite form. As she drew closer to the altar, Jason’s blood began to boil.

Her skin had been pale and unmarked the day before, but today—today there was a hideous bruise climbing up her cheek, with a red, angry cut just beneath her eye.

Jason stared at her for a long time before looking down at her father’s hands. At the ring he wore on his finger.

He stepped forward to take Elizabeth’s hand from the baron, met her father’s eyes. “If you ever touch her again,” he said in a low, dangerous tone, “I will disembowel you.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she looked at her father who swallowed hard and stepped back from the taller, broader, and younger man.

“My lord—”

“Jason,” he told her in a soft tone that no one but she could hear. “Are you all right?”

Her dark blue eyes fastened on his, and he felt a strange tingling down the base of his spine as she searched his eyes for a long moment. Then she nodded.

“Yes, I believe I will be,” she murmured. He turned and they looked to the priest who stepped down to begin the ceremony.

September 9, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 18 in the Flash Fiction: Shot in the Dark

Written in 48 minutes. Basic spell check not did not read for typos.

Kelly’s: Diner

“First,” Laura said with a sigh as the waitress set down her iced tea and Elizabeth’s soda, “let me apologize.”

“Laura—”

“No.” Laura shook her head and held up her hand. “Absolutely not. You’re going to start apologizing to me again about what happened two years ago and I’m not interested. It’s not my business. This current situation is not about that.”

“Isn’t it?” Elizabeth sighed. “Lucky left town and ignores the boys. Nikolas left—”

“Having issues with the mother of his children does not give my son the excuse to say the things Spencer overheard. And I’m sorry—” Laura lifted her brows. “What exactly does Nikolas have to complain about?”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together. “I—I don’t know—”

“You made a mistake,” Laura said gently. She tilted her head. “You made some poor choices a few years ago when you were hurting, you were confused, and neither of my sons acted well. Before or after any of it. I’m sorry you were all hurt, but at the end of the day, Elizabeth, maybe it was for the best.”

Elizabeth slowly blinked, then focused on her former mother-in-law. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

“If I had known—if I had been here when Lucky had the drug addiction—” Laura sighed. “If I had been here to see how he treated you—you never would have married him again. Because I would have killed him—”

“Laura—”

“No! I spent too many years of my life thinking that I had to sacrifice everything to be Luke’s wife. I won’t watch you apologize over and over again—” Her voice trembled slightly. “You’ve been through enough, Elizabeth. And I’m angry that my sons continue to put you through this. Spencer and I had a very long discussion about what he’s said about Cameron.”

“Cameron is trying not to be angry or hurt,” Elizabeth told Laura. “Jason talked to him last night, and Cameron remembered what I’d told him about Spencer having a tough time and taking it out on him. Not that it makes it right or—”

“But it’s a good lesson for Cameron to learn some empathy,” Laura nodded. “And I’m so glad Jason was there for him. I’m so glad to see you happy again. Jason clearly loves you, and he adores the boys. If my son can’t step up and by a good father—” She tightened her mouth. “Either of them—well, then I don’t want to know them.”

“I’m just surprised Nikolas dropped Spencer on you like that last fall,” Elizabeth said. “He loved Spencer. Loves him. I can almost understand Lucky—almost—” she added when Laura narrowed her eyes. “But Nikolas—”

“He said he was in the middle of something and he wanted Spencer to be with family. He refused to give me more details. And he rarely calls either of us.” Laura grimaced. “I’m worried about him, but short of going to Greece myself and dragging him home—I don’t know what else to do.”

“I wanted to run something by you that Jason suggested,” Elizabeth said. “Um, a few years ago—Jason and I were—we were thinking about getting married. That—that fell through obviously. But he’d planned to…” Her voice tightened. “We were going to raise the boys. Lucky was already spending less time with them, and he wanted to adopt Cameron then.”

“I thought you told me you didn’t think you’d get married again,” Laura said.

“I—I don’t know. Um, Jason knows how I feel about that. We…” Elizabeth sighed, pushed her salad around with her fork. “We argued about it. I know he’d say we didn’t. But we did. He’s…he’s still trying to prove that he’s staying, and I don’t need proof. I just need him to do it. But I don’t think marriage is in the cards for me. I’m—I’m not good at it. But—I could—he was wondering if maybe adopting Cameron was something we could do.”

Laura pursed her lips. “And you’re not sure?”

“I am…” Elizabeth searched for the right words. “Apprehensive. I know Jason wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t mean it. But I also know—I know that legal ties should mean something. And they don’t always. I mean—I had a legal tie to Lucky twice. And well…” She jerked a shoulder. “And Jason and I have been engaged. I’ve heard these promises before.”

“I’m surprised Jason moved in when you’re still so unsure,” Laura said. “Are you sure that was the right choice?”

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth met Laura’s eyes. “But I don’t know what time was going to change. If he’s staying, then he’s staying. And I wanted him to know that I’m trying hard to trust it. Trust him. And I do most of the time. I think it’s me. He hasn’t done a single thing since—God—since September—and I can’t quite bring myself to go all in.”

“It’s hard, sweetie. I know that. When Luke and I divorced the first time, that was the right choice.” Laura paused. “We had just gone so far down the wrong path and we needed a change. If…If I hadn’t had my breakdown, I think maybe he and I could have made it. But time had changed us too much by the time I recovered. He’d changed too much. But I loved him so much, I wonder if he came to me and asked to take just one more chance—” Laura smiled wistfully. “I wonder if I’d be able to resist.”

“That’s kind of how I feel sometimes,” Elizabeth admitted. “And I start to think this is just another version of what happened with Lucky. I loved him so much for so long, and losing him broke me in so many pieces — I kept trying so hard to get it back. For ten years, Laura. With Jason—it’s—we never had a chance. Not really. We were engaged for a total of ten minutes. Ten minutes of perfection.” She swiped a tear. “Sometimes I think we’re just together because we miss Jake. We feel guilty.”

“Have you talked to Jason about this?” Laura asked softly.

“No. Because it’s…it’s fleeting. And I think it’s me. Because I’m scared so I make up reasons to explain the fear. Because this isn’t like Lucky. We’re not building old dreams — Jason’s—Jason’s all in. I know it. He’d marry me tomorrow if I agreed.”

“It doesn’t matter if Jason’s all in,” Laura told her. “It matters if you are. Do you want to be?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” She cleared her throat. “Because sometimes he looks at me, and I can see how he feels. And I want to trust it. I know that I love him. I just—I don’t know how to get over this.”

“It’s so easy to let fear run your life,” Laura said. “I remember when Nikolas first came to town—it was so difficult. I believed Stefan was his father, and it was difficult enough for Luke to accept him even though he believed he was the result of—” She cast her eyes away, and the words were unsaid. Luke believed Nikolas was the product of marital rape.

“I was terrified he’d learn that I’d have an affair with Stefan,” Laura murmured. “For years, I lived that way. And I kept myself from Nikolas. I can never have that time back.” She focused on Elizabeth. “But then Luke learned the truth — at least the truth as we believed it. And as terrible as it was — I was free. The lies were done. There’s something so liberating about telling the truth even when it destroys everything.”

“I wish I were keeping a secret,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “I wish this could be as easy as just telling the truth. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

“If you’re afraid of jumping in,” Laura replied, “then the answer is usually to dive in head first. Jason wants to adopt Cameron. He wants to have a permanent role in your son’s life. And after what Cam’s heard about Lucky, that little boy deserves it. If you’re really not ready for your relationship with Jason to change, then go for the shallow end of the pool. What does Cameron want?”

Cassadine Estate: Gardens

Nikolas scrubbed his hands over his face, stared at the missed call from his mother and the voice mails he knew were from her.

He knew he’d never be able to explain this to her — to Spencer — who might never forgive him, but Spencer was safe. He was growing up with his mother who would protect him from the darkness of his own family.

Nikolas had been fighting them his whole life only to learn there was always another battle. He could never win the war. Somehow—the Cassadines always rose from the ashes to continue the onslaught.

He forced a smile as Jake inched his way into the garden, on the hand of the nanny hired to look after him and give him a few lessons. “Uncle Nik!”

Jake let go of the nanny’s hand and hurled himself at his uncle. “I missed you! It’s been days!”

“I know, I know. I tried to get back sooner, but Grandmother keeps me busy.” He settled Jake at his side, waited for the nanny to melt away. “Have you been good for Berta?”

“Yup. Just like Mama said. Always be nice unless people mean. Then you get even.” Jake flashed his bright smile at him—sometimes he looked so much like Elizabeth Nikolas could hardly stand it.

“That sounds like your mother,” Nikolas agreed. He pulled out his phone. “I have new photos for you. From Christmas.”

“Christmas was a long time ago,” Jake said with a sad sigh. “But okay. Can I go home soon? I miss Mommy. I miss Cam. And I don’t even know Aiden.”

“I know.” Nikolas handed him the phone. “This is your mother at the GH Christmas party. She’s holding your little brother. And that’s—” He paused. “That’s your dad. He’s got Cameron. They’re waiting to hear Uncle Patrick tell the story.”

“Daddy’s in a lot of the pictures now,” Jake said, furrowing his little brow. “He didn’t used to be.”

“No,” Nikolas murmured. “But he and your mother miss you so much. They talk about you often.” He didn’t know for sure, but it was an easy guess. Next month, Jake would have been gone from Port Charles two years.

Two years was a long time to keep memories alive, but the moment Nikolas had discovered Jake’s existence here — he’d been determined to bring home. To make sure Jake never forgot the mother who loved him. The brothers who needed him.

Elizabeth had sacrificed too much for him—for his family for Nikolas not to return the favor.

“She’s so pretty,” Jake said. “I miss her,” he repeated. “I wanna go home. Doesn’t Mommy want me home?”

“She thinks about nothing else,” Nikolas said fervently. “And she wants you home every day. I’m trying so hard to make it happen, kiddo. I promise. Soon. I—” When Jake rubbed his eyes and sniffled, Nikolas made a rash promise. “You’ll be with your mother by your birthday. I swear.”

“Birthday?” Jake frowned. “I’m five on May 7,” he told Nikolas. “It’s February. Nanny says that means—” He stared at his hand, then counted. “First comes January, February, March, April, May—that’s still so long! I want to go home now!” He shoved the phone at Nikolas and hurled himself off the bench. “Now! Tell Mommy I don’t wanna wait!”

“She can’t—” Nikolas swallowed hard. “She can’t do anything about it. It’s not her decision.”

“Why? Why can’t I be with my mommy? I wanna be with Daddy. My real daddy. You said my real daddy cried so hard when I left. I want my mommy!” Jake shouted.

“Calm down,” Nikolas said, casting an uneasy look over his shoulder. Last he heard, Helena was irritating Victor in Russia, but his father walked the grounds and Nikolas wasn’t sure about his loyalty on the best of days. “Jake, I told you. We have to be careful. Someone took you from Mommy to hurt her. And it worked. She’s hurting so much without you. But I have to be sure no one else gets hurt when I take you home.”

Jake sniffled, then sat on the ground. “I want my mommy,” he said again, but his voice had subsided. He focused his eyes on Nikolas, and for the first time, Nikolas saw Jason in those eyes. A hard glare. “I will hate you forever if I don’t got my mommy when I turn five.”

“Fair enough.” Nikolas held his hand out. “We should get you home—back to the cottage with Uncle Stavros,” he said grounding out the name.

“Okay.” Jake climbed to his feet. “And I can’t talk about Mommy, I know. Or Daddy or Cam. The next time you come, can you bring me her voice? I don’t remember what she sounds like anymore.”

“I—I can do that.” Nikolas handed Jake back to Berta along with the usual bribe. “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he murmured before heading back up to the main house and the emptiness of his estate without his son.

If Nikolas couldn’t bring Jake home soon, a lot of people were going to hate him forever.

Rafina, Greece: Bar

Luke Spencer slid onto a bar stool next to his son and removed the fisherman’s cap he wore over his thin hair. “Hey, Cowboy.”

“Dad.” Lucky kept himself crouched over the ouzo he was sipping. “You get eyes on him?”

“I did. First time in weeks,” Luke admitted. “But there’s a lot of guards. I don’t think we’re going to get the kid out without some big guns—”

“No,” Lucky snapped. “My enemy did this. It’s my fault. It’s your fault. We’re going to make this right.” He stared blindly at the dull, aged wood of the bar. “I can’t make it right any other way.”

“I’m the one that caused the accident, Cowboy. You said some harsh words to Elizabeth,” Luke said. “It’s not the same thing—”

“I did this. I did something that made her go to him.” Lucky tossed back the rest of his drink, called for another. “I made her so miserable she wanted to hurt me. I can fix this. I can make her love me if I bring Jake home.”

Luke pursed his lips, signaled for a whiskey. “Uh, Cowboy—”

Lucky turned to look at his father, his blue eyes unfocused and glazed from the alcohol. “I can fix this, Dad. You said you’d help. I can bring Jake home. We just have to get past the guards. And whoever’s in that cottage when Nikolas isn’t..”

He turned back to the new drink set in front of him. He picked it up, studied it. “And when I give Jake back to Elizabeth, I’ll make Nikolas regret the day he ever looked at her. And then I’ll kill him for kidnapping my son.”

+12

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.”

+13

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.”

+19

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