November 12, 2024

This entry is part 43 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 58 minutes.


Forest Hills: Living Room

“What a wonderful blessing,” Audrey said, smiling down at the photo of a tired, but smiling Bobbie holding a newborn in her arms. “And for Carly to come through it so well—”

“She’s still weak, but all things considered, we’ve been lucky.” Bobbie pressed the photo to her chest. “I wish I could wrap her in cotton and send her to the island with Michael today, but she and Morgan can’t leave the hospital just yet.”

Audrey made a face, then went to the window overlooking the circular drive and the guardhouse by the wrought-iron gates. “You said last night that they want me to go as well. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. If it isn’t safe for me, then perhaps Elizabeth ought to go with me as well.”

“She needs to be here with her doctors,” Bobbie said. “And I think Jason might worry more with her out of his sight. This man—whether he be Lorenzo or Luis—isn’t predictable, and we’re just trying to keep everyone safe. You’re important to Elizabeth.”

“I—” Audrey glanced over at the sound a car rolling over the gravel. “That’s her now. I suppose she’ll be asking me to go, and I just—I thought about what you said last night. That this all started with one man’s obsession with Brenda, and the way it’s spiraled out to hurt so many people. I don’t like leaving Elizabeth when she needs me. I’ve let her down one too many times.”

“She knows you’re here for her, that you’ve been supportive. You can’t let the past push you into making mistakes. Jason and Mac think they’ve got a plan to end this.” Bobbie took Audrey’s hands. “We’ll put our trust in them, and think about something more important—a year from now, you’ll be holding your great-grandchild, and my grandbabies will be running around, driving us all crazy.”

“It’s a lovely picture you paint. All right, if Elizabeth says this is what she needs for me to do, then I’ll see it done.”

Luke’s: Main Bar

Lucy spun in a slow circle, pursing her lips. “It’s a lot to ask me to pull off in only two days,” she told Scott, then planted her hands on her hips. “A Halloween bash so well-attended that the media will cover it?”

“Hey, if you’re not up to the challenge—” Scott held up his hands. “Just say the word—”

“Ha,” Lucy muttered, shooting him a dark look. “I need a better hook to get the Sun interested, and without them, no one else will bother. This is Luke’s — is he calling in some favors? A good headliner?”

“Uh, we’re not going through Luke for this. He’s turned it over to Bobbie while he’s in London.” Scott made a face at the thought of his ex-wife’s husband. “And if you want a hook, Lucy, try this: Famous Supermodel Back from the Dead Returns Home!”

Lucy whirled a round, her eyes widening. “Scotty Baldwin! Why didn’t you tell me this was about Brenda? This is a welcome party? For Brenda Barrett? You should have led with that!” She turned back to the stage area, clasping her hands together. “Oh, I have so many ideas.”

“All the hair, just—” Scott gestured. “Stood up on  the back of my neck. Send the bills to Jason Morgan, okay? He’s picking up the tab.”

“Oh, even better!” Lucy did a little dance. “Unlimited budget and no one to tell me no? Christmas came early! You just leave this to me, Scotty. I’ll throw a Halloween party no one will ever forget.”

General Hospital: Carly’s Hospital Room

Carly leaned back, her face pale but her eyes were happy, watching Jason carefully lift Morgan from the portable crib by her bed. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

“Bobbie said his scores were perfect,” Elizabeth said, taking a seat by Carly’s bed, watching Jason with the baby. Carly wondered if she was thinking about the future, seven or eight months away. She turned her gaze to Carly. “Is there anything we can get you? Food, magazines—”

“Tell me this is almost over,” Carly said, but she was looking at Jason. Their eyes met. “I can live with Sonny not being ready to leave Rose Lawn. He’s exactly where he should be, getting the hold you and I should have pushed him to get years ago. But I want my son. I want Michael and his brother together and I want to be with them. Please tell me when the hospital says I can go home, it’ll be safe.”

“We’re…” Jason hesitated. “We’re planning something for Halloween. Two days.” He gently laid Morgan back in Carly’s arms, then took the other seat across from Elizabeth. “I’m doing everything I can, Carly.”

“I know. I know, I didn’t mean to—” Carly  bit her lip, looked down at Morgan, who was yawning, settling in for a doze. “I didn’t mean to sound like you weren’t. I know I lean on you too much, and don’t tell me you don’t mind. We both know that’s not true.”

Jason sighed, dipped his head for a moment, then lifted a gain. “You’ve always depended on me too much. You don’t trust yourself enough. I used to be better at keeping boundaries. At telling you no. I never blamed you.”

“Well, you should. You—you have your own family now,” she told him, then looked at Elizabeth who looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s so hard. When I woke up, and Mama told me everything I’d missed, and I remembered everything that happened. Sonny, Courtney, the shooting, and—oh, the horrible thought that Lorenzo Alcazar has been dead all along, and that Luis is still here—it’s too much. I think sometimes I’ve wrapped my head around it all, and then I lose it again.”

“Yeah, I—” Jason stopped when the door opened slightly and Mike stepped inside.

“Hey. I thought I’d come by, see my new grandbaby.” Mike looked back between Jason and Elizabeth, then at Carly. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m good. Come see your grandson, Morgan Stone.”

Mike gently lifted Morgan from Carly’s arms, grinning. “Morgan Stone? That’s—that’s a fine name. Two very good men.”

“The best,” Carly murmured. Her head listed to the side, and she felt fatigue sinking in. “I’m so sorry, I keep—I keep falling asleep.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason told her. He kissed her forehead. “Rest. We’ll get Morgan back to the nursery, and Bobbie will be back.”

“Thanks, Jase. For everything.” Carly forced herself to keep her eyes open. “A girl couldn’t ask for a better friend. You never let me down. Even when you should. I’m so glad you’re going to be a daddy. You deserve it more than anyone.”

She was already asleep by the time Jason reached for the call button.

Once a nurse came by to whisk Morgan back to the nursery, Jason was left standing awkwardly in the hall with Mike, Elizabeth having excused herself to use the restroom.

“I—about yesterday—” Mike began. He paused, dipping his head until his chin touched his chest. “I just—I didn’t mean to do any of that.”

Jason grimaced, slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It’s fine—”

“It’s not. None of this is. And I’m just—I’m just trying to make sense of things. And I went down the wrong road. I just—”

“It’s not me you need to apologize for.” Jason shook his head, looked away. “You get to be pissed at me for what happened, but none of this is on Elizabeth—”

“I know that—”

“Do you?” Jason looked back at Mike. “Because you sat in that bar and talked about how you didn’t feel right about casting stones. Because of the things you’ve done wrong. Tell me how you square that with what you threw in her face yesterday? Did it make you feel better to accuse her of lying?”

“N-No—” Mike flushed, dragged his hands down his face. “I just—I just lost myself and I just—I regret it—”

“What I did was wrong, Mike, and I’m sorry for it,” Jason told him roughly. “But my part in this ended before that night in Kelly’s. I ended things with Courtney because it was the right thing to do. She’s the one that chose to get revenge. Not me.”

Mike sank onto a nearby bench, pale. “I know it. I listened to myself spew all that crap at Elizabeth, and I just wanted it to be true so badly. I needed—” He closed his eyes. “I needed it to be someone else’s fault. Not my little girl. She’s gone and I don’t know how to do this, Jason. I don’t know how to handle what she did, and being gone—”

Elizabeth appeared around the corner, stopping when she saw Mike’s crumpled expression, and dejected form on the bench. She looked at Jason, a bit worried. “Is everything okay?”

Mike’s head snapped up and he was on his feet before Jason could answer. “Elizabeth. I need to apologize—”

“You don’t—”

“Yes, he does—”

“He doesn’t,” Elizabeth told Jason. “He’s hurt, and I’m not going to hold any of this against him. Not when he’s never been anything but kind to me. I told you that—” She stopped, took a deep breath, went to Mike. “Jason’s angry, and I guess I can’t tell him not to be. That’s not for me to decide.”

“I’m just sorry—”

“It hurt when you accused me of lying,” she told him gently, and he grimaced, looking away. “But I understood it. I had chances last year to see the truth. Jason tried to tell me. Courtney. Carly. Sonny. But I was so angry, so hurt, so broken that I let it blind me. I made a choice to trust a terrible man, and I don’t know how much of that choice led us here. I don’t know if what Jason and I chose to do started a domino effect that was always going to end up here. I don’t like thinking that an impulsive personal choice I made could hurt so many people.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“And it’s not yours. I know it’s hard to think Courtney did something so awful in her final days. I hate that it’s the last thing she did. But she made a mistake, Mike. She was hurt and she was broken, and she did something terrible. Just like me. It’s not fair that I get a second chance to fix what I broke, and that she doesn’t. It’s all right to resent me. I understand, and if it gives you any peace of mind, that’s okay.”

“You’re a good kid.” Mike took her hand, patted it. “You’ve always been good to me, even when I didn’t deserve it. She was a good person. The sweetest smile, kindest little girl. I couldn’t be the man she thought I was, so I ran, and I’ll never get that time back. Don’t end up like me, swimming in regrets. You made a mistake with Ric, and I never should have thrown that in your face. I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, and I hope you’ll accept mine. And that you and Jason won’t let this stain your relationship.” Elizabeth looked at Jason who had remained silent throughout the conversation. “Please. We’ve lost so much.”

“I don’t want to be angry with you, Mike,” Jason said finally. “I never wanted that.”

“I don’t want it either. I want—I want to help. To be part of whatever stops this. To make it over.”

Jason opened open his mouth, but then reached into his pocket to dig out his ringing phone. “Yeah?” He listened to the voice on the other end, then looked at Elizabeth and Mike. “She’s here. At the penthouse.”

“Who is?” Mike asked, helping Elizabeth to her feet. “Who is it?”

“Brenda,” Jason told Mike. “And she didn’t come alone.”

November 10, 2024

This entry is part 42 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 61 minutes.


Morgan Penthouse: Kitchen

Jason winced at the empty interior of his fridge, then closed the silver door revealing Elizabeth leaning against the counter cradling a bag of pretzels between her brace and chest and digging with the other hand to the bottom of the bag. “Sorry. We should probably order something or I can send someone for Kelly’s—”

“Mmm, chili or pizza?” Elizabeth closed her eyes, considered the choice. “Oh, they both sound good. But that’s not helpful. And don’t feel bad. It’s not like you were expecting an overnight guest.” She wandered over to the other side of the kitchen to dispose of the now empty bag, leaving Jason to frown after her. Overnight guest? The wording didn’t entirely sit right with him, but the vibration of the cell phone put distracted him.

He tugged it from his back pocket, moving towards the living room and the junk drawer where he kept a stack of takeout menus. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Francis—”

Jason stilled, halfway to the living room. He saw Elizabeth poking through some of the other cabinets, finding them nearly as empty as the fridge. Francis was the guard sitting outside Audrey’s house.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not sure, but the same car has circled the block three times in the last hour. The first time was just before you stopped by, then twenty minutes ago. And just now. I didn’t know if you wanted us to wait on a fourth go to catch the driver, or—”

“You ran the plates?”

“Yeah, Stan did. It’s a rental, and he can’t get into their database to see who picked it up. What do you want us to do?”

Could mean anything, really. Could be someone who was lost and looking for a house, but the even intervals made that unlikely. Had someone seen him leave the house earlier with the bag? Did they know Audrey was alone? Or were they waiting to get a chance at Elizabeth?

Jason rubbed his temple. A wrong move here could be catastrophic, and he didn’t know how many more mistakes he’d be able to come back from. He opened his mouth, then hesitated when he saw Elizabeth in the doorway, clutching her injured shoulder.

“I want you to sit on the house and not to do anything. If they’ve come around that many times, they could be looking at all the cars, checking who owns what. If you or me come back to the house, they might think they’ve been made. I don’t want that.”

Elizabeth came closer, her eyes wide, but she remained silent.

“Okay, and Mrs. Hardy?”

“I’m going to call Mac Scorpio. Have him send a uniform or someone to pick up Mrs. Hardy. Take her to the hospital. He’ll be able to reassure her better than the rest of us. Then you stay on the house the rest of the night and report back.”

“Got it.”

Jason ended the call and was already dialing the number for the commissioner’s direct line, and was once again grateful when Elizabeth said nothing, just watched and listen.

“Jason, hey, we’ve got an update on the event—”

“Mac, there’s a car circling Audrey Hardy’s house and we don’t know who it belongs to,” Jason interrupted. “I need you to send someone to convince her to go to the hospital.”

Mac waited a beat. “Okay, I’ll ask an obvious question. Why aren’t your guys grabbing her right now?”

“Because she might not go with someone she doesn’t know, and if someone’s watching the house, they might think something’s up. I’m going to take a chance that no one expects me to be in contact with you. Mac—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll run by myself. Audrey and I have a history, I can convince her faster. Jason, once she’s at the hospital—”

“I’ll handle it from there and get you the license plate number. You can get the information faster than me. Thanks.”

“I’ll call once we’re in the car.”

Jason flipped the phone shut, then looked at Elizabeth whose pallor had faded until it was stark white. “I know you have a lot of questions—”

“She needs to go to the hospital and not here because you don’t want anyone to know you caught them. You don’t want them to dump the car when you might be able to trace it. But right now you need to call Bobbie because she’s at the hospital, and we—we—can’t go there. So someone has to talk to my grandmother.”

“And with Bobbie’s help, I can get your grandmother out to the Forest Hills house. It’s got security at the gate,” Jason said, pressing the speed dial for Carly’s mother. “I should have moved her earlier, but—”

“It’s okay, just call her. And we’ll—we’ll wait for Mac to tell us that he was able to talk to my grandmother.” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “She’ll go with Mac. That was smart. She’ll go with Mac,” she repeated, more as a mantra than as a statement of fact, as if she said it enough it would make it true.

And if it was the last thing Jason did, he’d make sure it would be.

Hardy House: Front Porch

Audrey peered through the peep hole, then slid the deadbolt open, flipped the other set of locks, tugging the door towards her. “Mac? What on Earth?”

“Hey, Audrey. I’m gonna come in, all right?” Mac said, but then didn’t wait for an answer. He came forward, and Audrey stepped back automatically crinkling her brows.

“What’s going on—”

“There’s a car circling the block,” Mac told her and Audrey closed her mouth. “One of Jason’s guards has been timing it. Every twenty minutes. They don’t know anything else, and I’m tracking it down, but we needed to move you somewhere safe in a way that doesn’t let anyone know we caught their car.”

Audrey exhaled slowly, pressed a fist to her chest. “Jason just picked up some things for Elizabeth. She called and said she needed to be somewhere safer. Has something happened? Is someone else hurt? Oh, please don’t tell me someone else has died—”

“To the best of my knowledge,” Mac said, “everyone is fine. Jason sounded fine, and I don’t think he would if Elizabeth were hurt, all right? We’re together, Audrey. Jason’s cooperating with the PCPD, so this is above board. We think we’re starting to narrow down on the who and the what, and we’re working out a plan to prove it. But it’s important that we keep everyone safe while not tipping them off.”

“All right, all right. I won’t—” Audrey picked up her purse. “If you’re here, then it is obviously important. But I will be wanting some answers when I get where I’m going. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

The moment the cell phone rang, Jason snatched it up and flipped it open, answering it and pressing the speaker button. “Mac?”

“We’re in the car on our way to the hospital,” Mac said. “And no one following that I can tell. There’s a squad car sitting at the hospital that’s going to trace any car that drives by after I pull into the parking lot.”

“Gram?” Elizabeth said, stepping towards the speaker. “I’m so sorry about all of this.”

“Just tell me you’re all right, darling.”

“I’m okay. I’m better now that I know you’re safe. Thank you, thank you for going with Mac.”

“When this is done, Elizabeth, you and I are going to have to have a conversation,” Audrey said with a tone Jason recognized, but Elizabeth didn’t look bothered.

“I’m looking forward to arguing with you, Gram. I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jason closed the phone, then looked at her. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t—don’t apologize—” Elizabeth went into his arms, and he pressed his lips to her temple. “Gram’s okay. I don’t care if I argue with her for the rest of my life. This is going to be over soon. Brenda’s coming home, and if this is about her, Lorenzo Alcazar or whoever he is won’t be able to resist the chance to get his hands on her. Obsession or revenge, it’s the same sickness and it’s going to be his undoing.”

Yacht: Dining Room

Luis strode through the double door entrance, and Ric sighed, sliding his plate away from him. From the expression on the crime lord’s face, it was clear he was in a rotten mood and he had a habit of sweeping dishes from tables when he was like that.

“Lost a kitten?” Ric asked, and Luis looked at him, glowered. “Sorry, I was trying to lighten the mood.”

“Morgan,” Luis muttered, and on that subject, Ric could commiserate. Jason Morgan had a way of making you feel insane. He paced across the room, then back to the table. He laid his hands on the surface, flattening them. “You know him. Why would he wait until today to start herding the chicks into the coop? Why not immediately after I made you disappear and disposed of that twit blonde?”

Ric frowned, tipped his head. “What does that mean?”

“Elizabeth Webber left her grandmother’s house this morning with just her guard in tow. Just like any other day since her release from the hospital.” Luis scowled. “She hasn’t returned. Nearly an hour ago, Morgan picked up a duffel bag. I assumed the woman was spending the night.”

Ric fought to keep his mouth twitching into a matching scowl, but he obviously failed since Luis’s expression slid into a sly smile. “Don’t like that, do you?”

“She’s still legally married to me,” Ric muttered, “not that you know it.”

“No, not with her two months gone with Morgan’s bastard. In any case, it was unfortunate but nothing that tripped my suspicion. But the commissioner of the PCPD just picked Audrey Hardy up and left with her.”

Ric opened his mouth, then closed it. “You think that’s connected to Morgan?”

“You don’t?”

“I—I don’t know. That’s—” Ric shifted, wincing at the soreness in his back. “Audrey Hardy loathes Jason Morgan. She kept saying that she was glad Elizabeth was away with him. And Elizabeth never tells her anything about her life. She never spoke a word of any of my…shortcomings,” he concluded. “I find it extremely difficult to believe that Mac and Jason and Audrey would be working together on anything. Didn’t Mac arrest Jason?”

Luis straightened, his features easing. “That’s true. He dropped the charges when Corinthos was committed, and well, that case was never that strong.” He folded his arms. “Perhaps an actual emergency at the hospital?”

“Carly’s still there. Bobbie and Audrey are old friends. Could be anything, Luis. Were you planning to grab the old woman? How does that get Sonny and Elizabeth into a room together?”

“It doesn’t. I wanted to figure out if Morgan had any cars on the house, but my people didn’t finish getting a full list of parked cars.” Luis tapped his chin. “All right, we’ll see how this plays out. In any case, it doesn’t affect my plan very much. I can make adjustments.”

“Like what?” Ric asked suspiciously. “How are you planning to get Sonny and Elizabeth alone in a room together?”

Luis smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he called over his shoulder, sauntering towards the door.”

“Yes, actually!” Ric called after him. “I thought I made that perfectly clear.” He sighed, then picked up his fork and began eating.

General Hospital: Hallway

Bobbie stepped out of Carly’s room pulling it closed, then embraced Audrey in a tight hug. “I’m so relieved to see you.  My heart’s been pounding since I spoke with Jason.” She reached over, squeezed Mac’s hand. “Thank you.”

“We’re running those plates now, and if we can get the shell company Alcazar’s using, I think it’s going to give us a fresh lead. I’ll keep Jason in the loop,” Mac told them.

When he was gone, Audrey shook her head. “I am trying to be understanding about all of this, Bobbie, and I think I’ve been very supportive, but since the moment Elizabeth was shot, all hell has broken loose, and my granddaughter seems to be no safer than she was that day—”

Bobbie pressed a finger to her lips, then pulled Audrey inside the hospital room where Carly was resting. “Keep your voice down. And don’t tell me you’re blaming Jason for that—”

“Who else—”

“Lorenzo Alcazar. Or Luis Alcazar. We think he faked his brother’s death so that he could drop out of sight and get his hands on Brenda. But Jason’s had her in hiding for months.”

Audrey blinked, took a step back. “What? What?”

“All of this goes back to Brenda Barrett. If it’s Luis, then it’s a sick, twisted obsession for a woman who doesn’t want him. He’s nothing better than a stalker, and he’s stolen years of Brenda’s life. If he’s Lorenzo, he’s a twisted bastard looking for revenge against a woman who escaped her stalker. The only thing Jason is guilty of is hiding a terrified woman, protecting her. What would you have him do, Audrey? Feed Brenda to the wolves?”

“No, no, of course not.” Audrey swallowed hard. “I hadn’t thought of it that way—”

“Well, once you stop looking at Jason like the enemy, it gets easier to see the rest of the world. Is he a perfect man? No. Does he live his life entirely on the right side of the law? No. Do you think I was happy when my daughter married Sonny? Or kept Michael in that life? Of course not, Audrey. But none of this happened because of the life they chose. It’s because Sonny’s untreated mental illness was exploited by a twisted man who thinks he has the right to kidnap and terrorize women.”

Audrey closed her eyes. “It’s so much, Bobbie. I’m so scared for Elizabeth, for that child—”

“The safest place she can be right now is at the Towers with Jason. You were here that night. Can you tell me he’s going to let anyone near her again?”

“No, no.” Audrey pressed two fingers to her lips. “All right. All right. Whatever I need to do, I’ll do it. I just want my granddaughter and that precious baby safe, Bobbie. That’s all.”

“That’s—” Bobbie broke off when the monitor began to beep wildly. She turned around and by the time she got to the bed, Carly was awake, clutching her hands to her belly. “Carly?”

“Oh, God, I think I’m in labor!”

November 8, 2024

This entry is part 41 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 58 minutes.


Morgan Penthouse: Master Bedroom

Jason set down the duffel bag by the closet, then crossed to the window overlooking the harbor where Elizabeth stood, massaging her injured hand, as if willing the feeling and full control to return.

“My grandmother didn’t argue when you picked up my things, did she?” Elizabeth asked. “She promised she understood when I called why I wasn’t there. I just wish she’d have let you move her to a safehouse.”

Jason dropped his hands on her shoulders, his chest easing when she leaned back against him. “The guards are staying at your grandmother’s even if you aren’t,” he told her. “You were there long enough, and well—”

“If Ric is with Alcazar—whichever brother he is—he’ll know about my grandmother.” Elizabeth sighed, her body shuddering slightly. “How sure is Scott that the Alcazar brothers are involved with Ric? Or were?”

“Involved enough that Luis threw him in jail for stealing.” Jason hesitated. “The guards are staying, and if you want, we can talk to her again tomorrow about a safe house. Or the island. Leticia’s taking Michael tomorrow—”

“That poor little boy,” she murmured. She pulled out of his arms, wandered over to the dresser, the top left completely bare. “I’ll talk to Gram, but she won’t go. The security system is enough. I never should have gone to stay with her—”

“We didn’t know,” Jason said, but the tightness was back in his chest. It all came back to his life, and the danger it held. Michael had been through so much in the few months. Moving back and forth to the island as the danger rose and fell, terrified at losing his mother, listening to his parents arguing—

And Elizabeth’s grandmother who had put aside so much of her distrust and worry to be support Elizabeth through all of this being confronted with the realities of Elizabeth’s choice to stay with him. He swallowed hard, slid his hands in his pockets.

She turned to look at him, a ghost of a smile flitting across her face. “That’s not me rethinking any of this. Just regret. I wish we’d known sooner that there was something bigger going on, but there really wasn’t a way to know. Not until…”

Until Courtney’s murder. Jason dragged a hand down his face, feeling the growth of stubble beneath his fingers. “The guys will stay there. The security is good. The system is top of the line.”

“That was Gramps. He always told Gram to spare no expense. Money was no object when it came to protecting the most precious person in his life.” She trailed her fingers over the dresser. Then looked back at him. “Tomorrow, if there’s time, you should tell Mike what’s going on.”

Jason nodded, then folded his arms. “I’ll have Mac or Scott—”

“If you think that’s best. But I don’t want you to be angry with him because of what happened today. I mean, I’m not telling you how to feel — it’s just—I’m not angry with him. How can I be? So much of what he said was true—”

“It wasn’t—”

“It was,” she insisted. She came over to him, once again cradling her injured arm against her chest. “You warned me over and over again about Ric. Courtney warned me. Sonny. Even Carly. All of you. And I chose to ignore you. Deliberately chose to ignore everything you told me. I was so hurt and so angry about what had happened between us that I told myself it was lies. Mike knows all of that, why wouldn’t he doubt me now? He lost his daughter, Jason, and he’s trying to make sense of this awful thing she did before she died. Please. You don’t have to forgive him, but tell him what’s going on. Give him a chance to fix this. If he doesn’t want it, then okay. But I know his friendship was important to you. Don’t let it go over this.”

Jason exhaled slowly, then rubbed his temple. “I know everything you’re saying is true,” he said finally. “And Mike was taking everything that happened…he was taking it better than I had a right to expect. He knew about the baby, knew what that meant, and he still stood by me. I just—” He paused. “I can’t stand looking at him, knowing that while he was at the courthouse supporting me, his daughter was being murdered. If he’d been angry with me like any other father would have been, maybe he’d have been with Courtney. How do we get past that?”

“If he’d been with Courtney that day, he’d be dead, too,” Elizabeth told him, and Jason nodded, accepting that truth. “I just know that Mike never had a harsh word for me, not until today, and I just can’t find it in my heart to be angry. Maybe with a little space, he’ll want to turn the page. But even if he doesn’t, Courtney was his daughter. And Sonny’s still his son. Alcazar — whichever one he is — is the reason for all this pain. Mike should get to know what’s happening.”

General Hospital: Carly’s Room

Carly licked her cracked lips, then took a deep breath. “I’m going—you need to tell me again. What?”

Her mother sighed, folded her hands in her lap. “I know it’s a lot to take in, and maybe I shouldn’t be telling you anything with your recovery still so fragile—”

“Mama.”

Bobbie made a face, then nodded. “Scott turned up some things in Ric’s background check that suggests he knew Luis Alcazar before everything went down last fall. And that there’s some question that Luis and Lorenzo are—well, that the man you knew as Lorenzo Alcazar  is actually Luis. It seems Lorenzo, the real one, went off the radar last year prior to his brother’s fall. And didn’t pop up again until a few months ago.”

“I—” Carly closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the pillow. “I don’t understand. I don’t—”

“I don’t know what role Ric’s playing in all of this either, honey. If he and Luis planned this all along, though I can’t believe that. It seems to be that if Luis did fake his death, he didn’t clue Ric in until he had to.”

“How did…how did it all happen—how did Sonny’s brother end up—” Carly had opened her eyes just in enough time to see Bobbie wince. “Mama? Do you know something?”

“I—nothing I want to say for sure. Not until some tests come back. Nothing I want to put in front of Jason,” Bobbie added when Carly’s eyes widened. “But Scott found some medical records — and Ric’s blood type, honey, there just doesn’t seem to be a way for him to be related to Sonny. We’re running the marker test to be sure, but I just—”

Carly exhaled in a rush, tears pricking her eyes. “It was a lie. Oh, God, it was all a lie. Sonny thinks he hurt his pregnant mother, and it was a lie. Ric told it on purpose?”

“We don’t know—”

“Why he kept blaming Sonny for Elizabeth’s miscarriage—he knew—oh, God, he knew—and Lorenzo—” Carly’s breathing picked up. “He tried to hurt Sonny on purpose. Why? Why?”

“Honey, honey—” Bobbie rose to her feet, grimacing, and looking to the monitors as the heart rate began to pick up. “I need you to calm down—”

“It’s all a lie—”

“Maybe, yes. We don’t know.” Bobbie took Carly’s hand. “Look at me, baby. Can you look at me?”

Carly forced her eyes open, forced herself to focus on her mother. “Mama.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, and I’m sorry for that. Jason doesn’t know yet. I knew if he found out, I’d have to tell Elizabeth, and I just—I know how much she’s blaming herself. I shouldn’t have said anything without knowing.”

“He came here to hurt Sonny for fun?” Carly asked, tears sliding down her face. “Or no—he came here for Luis. Luis told him to destroy Sonny. And he did. They did. Look at what Sonny did to me. To Elizabeth. He broke us, Mama. Why did he do that? Why did he want to hurt us?”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Mac strode into the office, flipping his cell phone closed. “Just got off the phone with Jason,” he said to Scott, the district attorney seated at the conference table. “Brenda’s coming home.”

“Okay. Okay.” Scott rubbed his chest. “I feel like I got heartburn,” he muttered. “And he’s in on the plan? Now that Brenda’s on board?”

“I got that sense yeah. We just got to find the right place to dangle Brenda like a carrot. I suggested the funeral, but—” Mac shook his head. “Jason vetoed it.”

“Oh, good—”

“What do you mean, good? That was your idea!”

“Right, so you took the hit on looking like a ghoul for suggesting it. Hey,” Scott said when Mac just scowled, “it had to be put out there. I do it, and I’m the bad guy. Morgan still sort of trusts you. For whatever that’s worth.”

“The only reason we’re in hot water with Jason Morgan is you dragging him out of that hospital room in cuffs,” Mac reminded him darkly. “The last time I let you tell me how to execute a search warrant.”

“Yeah, yeah. Funeral’s out. Do we have any other big, splashy events where Brenda can make a splash?”

“Why are you asking me? Do I look like the kind of guy who knows that sort of thing?” Mac demanded.

Scott rolled his eyes, went over to the desk and yanked Mac’s phone from the hook. “I’ll call Lucy. She’ll have something or worse, she’ll offer to throw a party just to be involved.”

Maple Avenue

The cigarette lighter popped out of the dashboard with a clink, and the guard lifted it to the tip of his cigarette. “You know, when I watched the Godfather, I don’t remember the mistress’s grandmother getting a guard—ow!” He scowled, clapping his hand to the back of his head. “What was that for?” He glowered at the man sitting in the driver’s seat.

“You say that about Miss Webber again, you’ll get my foot up your ass. Or if Jason finds out, you won’t have to worry about that new cigarette tax you were bitching about, you’ll be too dead to pay it.”

The guard rolled his eyes, then looked back to the street. “Whatever. Maybe the guy will go for Granny, and I’ll finally get some action. This is the most boring crime I’ve ever committed—” He paused, then squinted. “Hey, you got that list of license plates handy?”

“A new one to add to the list?” The driver handed the notepad over.

“No—no—” The guard grimaced, made a tick next to one of the plate numbers. The third tick. “Worse. This car has circled the block three times in the last hour.”

“Oh.” The driver winced. “That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not. Call the boss.”

November 2, 2024

This entry is part 7 of 12 in the Flash Fiction: Masquerade

Written in 60 minutes


If Mary Mae learned that Jason had attempted to facilitate a marriage between the Houses of Nevoie and Cassadine, she would never forgive him. It would hardly matter to her that Jason hadn’t set out to do any such thing, that he’d not known Elizabeth’s identity when he had accepted the job.

She would merely tell him that accepting tasks from Valentin Cassadine, scourge of the kingdom, meant accepting that the risk that Jason would be enabling Valentin’s quest for power. The disappointment she already felt would only deepen, and Jason was dreading the inevitable look in her eyes.

Perhaps that was how he found himself on the road to Wymoor and not Tonderah — the knowledge if that if Mary Mae had to learn about any of this, it would be with the promise that he would attempt to set it right. Though what he would do when Valentin learned of this perfidy—

That was yet another task to be dreaded.

“Who is this person you’re taking me to?” Elizabeth wanted to know. She urged her horse forward until she’d pulled even with his own. “How can you be so sure that she’ll know how to find this woman you’ve told me about?”

“It was her pub where we met,” Jason replied. “And even if it were not, Mary Mae knows everything. Or knows who to ask.” He hesitated, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on the reigns. “She does not know who my father is. You should not mention it.”

“I had no plans to betray that confidence. What reason would I have?” she added when he just looked at her. “You’ve not forced me to travel to the capital. I suppose you could still be leading me there and not telling me—” She fell silent, then looked at him again.

He grimaced, faced forward. He had no way to reassure her — from her own words, she knew little of the southern part of the island—Nevoie was to the north of Rhigwyn, and she’d spent most of the last decade in Shadwell. “I suppose you’ll have to trust me.

She pressed her lips together, then also looked to the road ahead of them. “I don’t suppose I have any choice in the matter. If and when we reach your Mary Mae, I’ll say nothing of what you’ve told me.”

The road stretched ahead of them, a long dirt track bordered on both sides of thick, heavy trees that obscured any signs of civilization. Or landscapes that could offer some idea where they were in relation to the coast. If she recalled her lessons correctly or the maps she’d studied, Tonderah and Shadwell were near the eastern coast, and Wymoor a port in the west.

If they were traveling away from the coast, then surely that would be an encouraging sign?

But once the idea had been planted that he’d only pretended to gain her trust and cooperation, Elizabeth couldn’t quite let it go. What would she do if he was taking her to Valentin? She’d promised herself if she were ever in the presence of that man again, one of them would not leave the room alive. She would never let herself be taken captive again.

Had she walked herself straight into a trap?

The daylight was short, the sun dipping down beyond the tree line, and there had been no break in those lines of trees, no turns leading into a village or a town.

“Where do we break for the night?” she asked almost hesitant. She cast uncertain eyes towards the sliver of moon visible behind the clouds. In no more than an hour, it would be difficult to see anything with so little moonlight to guide their way.

“We don’t. You want to find the woman claiming to be your sister, and I want to stay as far ahead of Valentin as I can. He’s expecting you in the capital. I don’t know if he’s watching the roads, but if he is, and we don’t appear the next set of crossroads, there’s no telling how much time he’ll allow to lapse before he takes action.”

“We’ll travel all night? I—” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down. “I don’t know I am able to—”

“It’s too late to go back, Miss Barrett—”

She exhaled in a sigh. “You might have warned me—”

Jason drew back hard on his reins, his head whipping back to look behind them. Elizabeth’s horse traveled a few feet more before she realized he’d stopped. “Are you going to—”

“Quiet,” he ordered, but he did not look at her, his gaze trained on the rapidly difficult to see road that they’d already traveled. “Quickly in the trees—” He was already off his horse before he’d finish speaking and had come to her, reaching up.

Elizabeth started to slide slowly, intending to use his hand only for an assist, and she jolted when instead his hands wrapped around her waist and nearly yanked her out of the saddle, setting her on the ground with a thud. “What—”

“Quiet,” he repeated, urging her off the road. “Get back in the brush, and stay quiet.”

She closed her mouth, obeyed and hurried past the first thicket of trees, until she found a bush to crouch behind, her heart pounding. Was this is a trick to convince her that she could trust him? Had Valentin already caught up with them?

There were sounds finally, in the distance, the rhythmic pounding of horses racing towards them, galloping at top speed—

She clasped her fingers tightly around the branches of the bush, terrified of what would happen next.

And of what the number of riders would do if they were an enemy?

Jason would be outnumbered.

Jason might be surprised that their thoughts had traveled identical paths. He heard the riders before he saw them, and calculated it was more than four, but not more than eight. Between five and seven riders, likely men, were racing towards him..

He reached for the reins on Elizabeth’s mare, urging both skittish horses to calm. He gathered both sets of reins in one hair, and rested the other on the hilt of his sword, moving them towards the side of the road.

The riders finally appeared, and it was only five. Not an ideal number, he decided, but it could have been worse. He hoped Elizabeth had managed to get well-hidden, and that she would stay hidden no matter what happened next.

At best, these were men hurrying to the next village on some urgent task. At worst, Valentin had sent men trailing them who hadn’t realized they’d left the inn at first light that morning and were only now catching up them.

And somewhere between those two points was the most likely occurrence — they were highwaymen looking for any hint of coin. Two horses could and should be enough to quell them if it came to that, Jason decided, though he’d be sorry to see the stallion go. But if he fought them and lost, where would that leave Elizabeth?

He’d brought her to this road, far between points of civilization, with no idea of where she was or going. He could not take any risk that she’d be abandoned here—

Or discovered. Perhaps taken.

The lead rider drew up on his reigns hard, the horse’s gait slowing to a walk as they approach. “What do we have here?” the man bit out in a hard accent, the vowels clipped and suggesting to Jason he was not native to this part of the island. “Where’s the other rider?”

“There is no other rider,” Jason said calmly, cursing the other observant man. He’d not had much time to prepare, and it had taken the man no time at all to discern there were two people. Still, he had do his best to avert disaster.  He lifted his chin. “I’m a horse trader en route to the market in Wymoor.”

“Two fully saddled horses?” The leader sniffed, then dismounted. He scowled as he closed the distance between then. “A stallion and a mare?” He nodded towards Elizabeth’s horse. “If look through those saddlebags, what would I find?”

“Nothing but my own belongings. There is no one else.”

“Who is she? Where is she?” The man started to head for the tree lines.

“There’s no need for this. If the price for you to be leave me be is the horses, it’s one I’ll meet—”

“No man gives up two horses in prime condition without something more precious to protect. Bring her out or I’ll find her myself.”

Jason grimaced. He’d hoped to avoid confrontation, but it looked as if it would be impossible. “Just give me a moment.” He released the reins, started towards towards the same tree line as if he were giving in, but just as he passed the man, he reached for his sword.

The man barely had time to realize what Jason had done before the sword was buried in his gut nearly to the hilt. Jason shoved him back, draw back his blade, turning to face the quartet of furious, angry men behind him.

And spared only one more thought for Elizabeth behind him, desperately hoping she knew to stay back.

October 31, 2024

This entry is part 40 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 61 minutes.


Jason closed the door behind Mac and Scott, but he didn’t turn around right away. He stood there another moment, both hands flat against the door, his head bowed for a long moment, absorbing everything the commissioner and district attorney had thrown at him, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

It was too much, too convoluted, to horrifying to be true, and everything inside of him was rejecting the idea that Luis and Lorenzo Alcazar had switched places a year earlier because a vengeful brother was something Jason could almost understand, but a psychotic obsessed lunatic was harder to grasp—

And the last thing he wanted to do was turn around and listen to Elizabeth ask him to take her back to her grandmother’s, to watch her walk away. Again.

So he stood there, his back to the rest of the room for just another moment, hoping that somehow, with the extra time, he’d find the words that he’d never found before.

How to make her stay.

She hadn’t the day in the park, when he’d all but begged her to see what was in front of them or a year earlier when he’d mishandled everything about Sonny’s fake death—

And it didn’t seem as if he was going to find those words again today. He had nothing left to give. Not after seeing Sonny, the confrontation with Mike, the awful scene with Elizabeth before Scott and Mac had dumped more on his shoulders.

He’d just have to take her to Audrey’s and hope the next time—

Jason jolted when her slim arm curled around his waist and he felt her lean against his back. He reached for her hand, then slowly turned, drawing his brows together. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” She lifted her eyes to his, and he was relieved to see that swirl of anxiety and panic had faded, though the shadows beneath them seemed to have deepened. “You’re so steady, so certain, and I take it for granted. That you’ll always be that way. No matter what gets thrown at you.”

Mystified, he looked down at the hand he held, and then at the one resting at her side, still out of the brace. He lifted it, placing it on top of her other hand, then clasped both his hands around them. “I don’t understand.”

“I think I lost sight of just how awful things were before this happened. You were so unhappy, Jason. So worried about everyone, and then this happens, and it all gets so much worse. I didn’t even think it was possible,” she managed, her throat tight. “But all of those things happened to you, too. And if I’m pushed to the edge of my sanity, it’s not fair to expect you to hold on to my crazy and keep yourself together, too.”

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not. It’s really not.” Tears clung to her lashes, but they didn’t fall. Her lips curved up at the corners, but there was no humor in her features. “Sonny’s like your brother, and I know how much Mike means to you. A-nd Scott and Mac think Luis Alcazar is back? Brenda must be terrified—”

“She doesn’t—” Jason furrowed his brow, considering now if part of Brenda had worried. “She didn’t know that. She thought—thinks—it’s Lorenzo Alcazar. And we still don’t know.”

“No. Just one more awful question. Too many of those and not nearly enough answers.” Elizabeth exhaled in a long, slow, but shaky breath. “I’m okay now. I think maybe I just needed to flip out and let all that awfulness out. I came in here, and God, it looks like the night I left, and I think I broke a little inside. Because what if I hadn’t left? What if I’d stayed?”

Jason looked up, looked around, and really took in the stark surroundings. “I—Mike wanted to get Courtney’s things. I told him there was no hurry. I asked—I asked the guys who’d helped her last spring when she moved in. I don’t know if—maybe they thought I wanted to get rid of everything.”

“It’s fine—”

“It’s—I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. We can’t do that.”

“And that wasn’t fair of me to say.” She started to move backwards, and her hands fell from his grasp. She turned in a slow circle, her eyes drinking in the emptiness, the way their voices bounced off the walls. “It’s me, you know. That wishes it hadn’t happened. Listening to Mike—”

“He was wrong—”

“Was he? About Courtney, yeah. I don’t blame him. It’s an awful thing to face, and if it gives him comfort to think it’s a mistake, that I’m a villain, I can live with it. But he wasn’t wrong about the way I took Ric’s side. Over and over again.” Her eyes found his again. “I wish I could say I did it because I truly loved him. Or believed him.  I told myself I did, but I think deep down I didn’t. And because I didn’t, I dug in harder. Just like I did with Lucky. I ignored everything that didn’t fit in my fantasy, and when it all blew up anyway, the fall was so much harder. Because if I hadn’t been so scared, so stupid, none of this would be happening.”

“I know it upsets you to think of that,” Jason said carefully, and she just sighed. “And I was angry with you. For a long time. Especially when you married Ric even after everything you knew. When Sonny told me, I thought—” He grimaced, looked away.

“What?” she asked softly. “What did you think?”

“That I wasn’t going to waste my breath talking you out of it. That I’d done it over and over again, and there was no point. Whatever happened next would be your fault, not mine.”

He didn’t know what reaction he expected, but then she smiled, a full one, with a crinkling of her eyes. “Oh, no. How terrible. What a jerk. How can I even look at you now?”

Jason tipped his head. “That doesn’t make you mad?”

“It’s actually—” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s actually a relief, which sounds insane. I’ve been over here, wracking myself with guilt because of the things I said to you, and you’d never given up on me. But you did. Even if I didn’t know it. I don’t know why that comforts me.” She leaned against the arm of the sofa. “Jason, you had every right to be angry with me. And if you’d held that against me for the rest of our lives, I’d never be able to blame you.”

“What’s the point of doing that?” He came closer, feeling oddly reassured. Maybe they really should have talked about all of this before. And maybe they would have — if there’d been time. If the world hadn’t crashed down around them. “Do you think I felt any pleasure in being right? That he hurt you and that you ended up regretting it? I don’t.”

“I know.” She bit her lip. “When we found out I was pregnant, the original plan was to keep things quiet and let things happen. To let things cool off with you and Courtney. To give you time and space to figure out Sonny and Carly so you’d be able to worry less about Michael. To give us space. Because we can’t just jump into what happens next. I’ve spent too much of this last year lurching wildly from point to point, and just never taking the time to breathe.”

Jason made a face, looked away. “I know. And that was a good plan, but—”

“But it’s not on the table anymore. I don’t know how we fix this. I don’t know what to do except keep moving forward. Doing what feels right in the moment, and just being honest. I’m scared, Jason. Not of Alcazar. Because you’re going to tell me what to do and I’m going to do it. If that means being locked up here in the penthouse until you have answers, then we’ll do that.”

“It—it might,” Jason admitted with a grimace. “If Alcazar doesn’t scare you—”

“That we’re going to mess this up. That I’m going to get too freaked out and run or that you’ll shut down, and I just—don’t know. I lost it today. I mean, I really lost my entire mind, and if Scott and Mac hadn’t shown up—” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I would have made you take me home, and that would have been the end of it.”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to be here because of that. Because all of that will be going on whether you’re here or not,” Jason told her. “If you feel sorry for me—”

“I don’t feel sorry—oh, that came out all wrong, but it’s how I made it sound, didn’t it? No. No.” She straightened, standing up. “No,” she said for a third time. “It’s not that I felt sorry for everything you’ve got on your shoulders. I just got some perspective, that’s all. And a reminder that it’s not fair to look at you for the answers. Too many people do that, Jason, and I refuse to be one more person you have to take care of. I don’t know what tomorrow looks like, what we look like, but I want to be with you. Mac and Scott just dropped this enormous problem on your lap.” She lifted her chin. “What do we next?”

Vannes, France

The brunette had taken the cottage near the harbor some months ago, but mostly kept to herself. There were whispers that she looked familiar, but no one could quite place her. Her accent, the few times she’d ventured out, was obviously American though her French wasn’t too terrible. Boarding school French, to be sure.

If anyone in Vannes suspected that the mysterious woman was the former supermodel Brenda Barrett, whose mysterious return from the death remained cloaked in rumors and scandal, no one breathed a whisper of it. They might gossip around their own, but anyone who had one fake death on their resume had enough trouble without adding to it.

So she lived her life, wondering if this was the day he found her. If this was the last day of her life — or if she’d ever really get her own life back.

The answer came late one night, just after ten. The phone rang in the kitchen and she stared at it for a long time, letting it ring once. Twice. Then a third time. She nearly didn’t pick it up.

But she had her own promises to keep. “Has he found me?”

“No, but it’s time to come home.”

“It’s—” She closed her eyes, tears pricking the corners of her throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve run long enough, Brenda. We’re going to deal with this, once and for all. I promised you that I’d keep your safe. But I need your help to do it. Will you come?”

“I—” No. No. The words screamed in her head, but the louder the voices grew, the angrier she became.

How many years was she going to let that man steal? How many more nights would she wake, listening to the dark, waiting for him to emerge from the shadows?

“I’ll come.”

General Hospital: Hallway

Bobbie saw Scott coming down the hallway, narrowed her eyes and turned her back on the irritating man. “I don’t have time for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m scum of the Earth, you can get back to hating me when I’m done.” Scott took her elbow, gently pulled her back to face him. “I need to talk to Carly. We need to find out everything she knows about Lorenzo Alcazar. About Venezuela. And the panic room.”

Bobbie scowled. “You think I’m going to let you talk to her after you threw away her case—” Scott handed her a file and she closed her mouth. “What’s this?”

“When we went to Morgan, we told him our theory. Elizabeth was there and told us Alcazar was there at her house the night Ric brought Carly there.”

“What? What does that mean?” Bobbie frowned. “We knew Alcazar knew about the panic room—”

“We thought Alcazar was looking for Elizabeth. Because Jason’s hiding Brenda. I’ll come back to that—but maybe we had it backwards. Maybe there’s something none of us knows. Because I have some questions about Ric Lansing.”

Bobbie opened the file, frowned. “This police report, it’s in Spanish, and—is this his medical file?”

“That police report is for Ricardo Lansing who was thrown in a Caracas jail about a year ago. For stealing from Luis Alcazar.”

Bobbie opened her mouth, then closed it. Looked at the medical report again. “And this?”

“Look at that blood type, Bobbie. Do you happen to know Sonny’s blood type?”

“That’s—that’s not—” Bobbie lifted her stunned eyes to his. “He and Sonny aren’t related. They’re not brothers.”

October 26, 2024

This entry is part 6 of 12 in the Flash Fiction: Masquerade

Written in 65 minutes.


Jason did not turn back before he was inside his room, stoking the fire he’d left burning in his room. But he knew that she followed. Not right away — there had been a slight hesitation. He was halfway up the stairs before he had heard the back door creaking, and at the door to his room before he heard her light footfall.

The door closed behind him, and now, finally, he turned to face her, once again marveling that he ever mistook her for a meek, docile puppet that would follow him to the capital without protest. Her cheeks were flush, her eyes still glinting with the same temper that had her chin lifted slightly as if that movement alone could put them at an equal height. The waves of chestnut hair that had been neatly tied back tumbled around her shoulders, her hands fisted at her side.

“You hide well,” he told her, and her expression flickered, confusion clouding those eyes now.

“I don’t understand.”

Jason went to sit at the square table tucked under a window, the edges rough, suggesting it had been constructed quickly by an less than skilled craftsman. He laid his sword in his lap, reached for the whetstone he kept in his bag, and began to sharpen it in long, slow strokes. “Had you looked at me like that in Shadwell, I would have known you at once as someone of noble blood line. I wouldn’t have spent so long wondering why Valentin had chosen you.”

“This is the conversation you choose to have right now?” she demanded, but the words held little heat, only bewilderment. She came a few steps closer but did not sit across from him.

Or unfurl her fists.

“It matters, doesn’t it? You say Valentin kept you captive all these years just to force you into marriage.” Jason finished the exercise, tucked the stone away, and slid the sword back into the sheath. He focused on her. “Were you planning to kill him all along or only if I managed to get you to Tonderah?”

Elizabeth hesitated at that question, perhaps not expecting it. Her brows drew together, her expression pinched. “Vengeance was a dream, but not nearly as strong as freedom. He promised me that, and so I went with him to Shadwell. He told me it would be safe there, a quiet place where I could build a life.” Her lips twitched, though there no humor in her eyes. “He excels at wrapping a lie in a truth, doesn’t he?”

“He does.” Jason waited a moment, but she added nothing. “You said you were bound. To the village or to the cottage itself?”

“The village. I was able to go maybe a few feet beyond the traditional borders, but any further and my head—” She touched the side of her head, her fingers lingering near her temple. “It would scream in agony. And if I went too much further—”

“You would fall to your feet unconscious,” Jason said.

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “You have some experience with this?”

“Some.” But that was not a story for this night or any other. “He gave me a leather pouch with coins for your expenses on the return trip.” Jason rose to his feet, crossed the room where he’d left his cloak. She stepped away from him, almost scurrying in her haste to keep distance between them. He frowned. “I thought we’d reached an accord. I have no interest in harming you.”

“Not with my daggers, but you have weapons of your own that could do easily enough. I don’t care to learn what form your lies take.”

There was little point in defending his honor. She wouldn’t believe the words, and he couldn’t prove himself any other way at the moment. Instead, he ignored the insult, and returned to his task. From one of the folds of the cloak he drew out the pouch, and she looked at it with some curiosity.

“A charm of bondage can be broken by the person who cast it. Or—”

“Or if the oath that created the bound is fulfilled. I claimed myself as his betrothed and promised to leave with you. I suppose that was enough.”

“It was. He used this, I suppose, to pass the charm to me.” Strong magic, stronger than Valentin was thought to possess. Had he delved into something deeper and darker, or did he have someone else to perform those deeds?

Neither was a pleasing thought.

Jason held out the pouch. “Take it. The coins are meant for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said vengeance was not your goal. Freedom is. You were escaping tonight. If you’d wanted to kill Valentin, you’d have gone with me and remained the meek and mild betrothed. You chose flight. Valentin owes you at least the cost of the trip.”

Elizabeth’s eyes dropped to the pouch again, and she took an unsteady breath. “You would really allow me to leave? Without an argument?”

“You answered my questions. And you know who I am now—”

“I know you are a Quartermaine who works for Valentin Cassadin. How do I know this isn’t a trick? One last lie from Valentin to let me think I’d finally broken free? You’ll let me go, then track me down again—”

“I don’t lie. If you want to go, you can go.” He reached for one of those fists now, gently tugging the fingers loose until he could wrap them around the bag. “I still intend to finish what I started. Vengeance might not be your goal, Miss Barrett. But it is mine.”

Elizabeth licked her lips, raising her head from the money he’d put in her palm before lifting her gaze back to his steady, calm eyes.

“You take his coin.”

“He trusts me. He sent me to fetch you. He didn’t think I’d recognize your name or anything else about you. And I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t tried to escape.”

If she hadn’t used the daggers that screamed her heritage from the tops of the trees. Her fingers curled more tightly around the bag, the ridged edges of the coins digging into her skin. “How did Valentin come to hire a Quartermaine bastard?”

His mouth tightened, and his gaze skittered away for just a heartbeat. The word bothered him, she realized, though he’d used to it first. Perhaps he thought if he wielded the slur, it would lose its power.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say that—”

Jason’s eyes returned to hers, and she closed her mouth. “You said earlier that you owed me no answers, and that was true. If you intend to take that money and go, then you have no interest or use for me. I can take you to the nearest port, help you find transportation, and we can part ways.”

No questions or answers on either side, she realized, and for a long moment, she wanted to say yes. He was offering her the freedom she’d craved for so long, the freedom she’d nearly believed was already hers.

But he’d spoken of woman with another set of daggers, hadn’t he? Could it be, was it even possible that her sister had survived?

Oh, could Brenda be out there, looking for her?

“And if I stay,” Elizabeth said, “what then?”

Jason considered her for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nothing. If you are from Nevoie, if the story you’ve told me and the one I’d already heard, if it’s even a fraction of the truth, then you have already given enough. Vengeance does not have to be your goal—”

“But the woman—the other dagger—do you know how to find her? Can you—can you take me to her?”

Jason looked away, then walked back towards the fire to build it even higher, hiding his expression. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You said you’d promised her vengeance—”

“I told her—” Jason turned, then grimaced. “I told her I intended to carry out the deed on my own, and that I had even before she’d come to find me. And the word would spread throughout the kingdom so there was no need to send further word.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, absorbed the blow to the small sparkle of hope that begun to bloom. Lost to her again, so quickly. Anyone could have found the daggers in the wreckage that had been left behind, she thought. Anyone could have posed as her sister—

“But I could find her. I know who to ask,” Jason said, and Elizabeth looked back, their eyes meeting. “But it leaves us with a problem to resolve. Valentin is expecting you in the capital in three weeks time. I don’t know if he’s having the roads watched, but if he is and thinks I’ve betrayed him, taken you somewhere else—”

“Oh.” Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her free hand around her middle, still looking at the coins in her hand. A wave of weariness swept over her, and suddenly it all seemed impossible. “Three weeks,” she repeated softly. “Is there a way to learn if the roads are being watched?”

“Not reliably.”

“All right. Then I ask you to give me the name of this person you would ask, and you can go ahead to the capital. Tell him that I have refused to marry him, and that he’ll have to deal with me himself.” Elizabeth nodded, firm in her plan. She rose to her feet. “You’ll have fulfilled your end of the bargain, and with any luck, by the time Valentin goes to Shadwell and learns I’ve managed to leave, I’ll have my answers.”

“And what then?” Jason challenged. “He’ll know I lied—”

“Then you tell him the truth. I escaped. I was already in the forest before you caught up with me,” she reminded him. Elizabeth set the coins back on the table. “You’ll return that to him as proof I did not travel with you. Leave out all that’s happened since we left each other at the door earlier tonight, and we’ll both be satisfied.”

“And what of you? You’ll be no better off than I found you—”

“I’ll be free. And perhaps on my way to reuniting with the last of my family. It’s an improvement,” Elizabeth told him. She lifted her chin, met his eyes head on. “You gave me a choice, remember. To stay or go. I have chosen to go. I only ask that you let me leave with the name of the person who can help me on the next step.”

——

He had no argument for her, none that he could articulate properly at the moment, so Jason retreated. He told her that he would give her the direction in the morning, after they’d had some sleep and something to eat.

And he hoped in the morning, he’d find a way to deal with the complication he’d been presented. A simple job that was meant to cement him more firmly in Valentin’s trust now threatened to destroy his carefully laid plans.

He could go around her, Jason supposed. Send word to Valentin where she was going so that he was taken out of it. He could go to the capital and tell Valentin the truth — all that Elizabeth had shared and that short of forcing her to come with him, he’d been left with no choice. Valentin hadn’t properly prepared him for the task.

But that wasn’t a real option, and Jason knew that even as the plan was formulating. If Elizabeth’s story was true, and there was no reason to doubt her, not with everything else he knew on the matter, then she deserved the freedom she’d asked for.

To be reunited with the woman who might be her sister—though—

The lady of Nevoie had perished with her daughter — and there had no mention of another girl.

That realization was his first thought upon waking the next morning, when the weak gray morning light shined through the window.

The lady of Nevoie had been a widow with one daughter, aged sixteen, when the sickness had swept through the land. But there was no mistaking the fact that Elizabeth had a set of daggers, and the training that she’d only have been given if she were a member of the family.

But perhaps she was like Jason — after all, hadn’t Alan Quartermaine educated and trained his bastard son for a time? Given him some of the privileges of the birth he hadn’t earned?

Bastard or not, if Elizabeth carried the blood line of Nevoie with ties to an ancient royal house, the same bloodline that had married into Rhigwyn’s monarchy, making Elizabeth cousin to the recently deceased king—

She’d have been a very interesting piece of leverage in Valentin’s plot to seize the throne of Rhigwyn.

Jason couldn’t let Valentin find her, take her captive again.

She was waiting in the common room the next morning, sitting impatiently at a table, her foot tapping. When he appeared, she rose to her feet expectantly. “You said you’d give me the name today—”

“I’ll do better than that,” Jason said. With a reluctant sigh, he continued, “I’ll escort you there myself.”

Elizabeth blinked. “But you said he was watching the roads—”

“Maybe. And maybe he’s not. Valentin doesn’t have nearly as many friends as he thinks he does. There are those who take his coin and lie anyway. In any case, you’ll find it easier to find your relative if I am there.”

“Why? Will your friend not help me?”

“She’ll help you. But I’ll have to stop her from getting too involved.” Jason paused, thinking of the woman who had raised him. “She has a habit of speaking truth to power, and she hates Valentin Cassadine nearly as much as I do. If you tell her about your past, there’s no telling what she’ll do.”

October 24, 2024

This entry is part 39 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

General Hospital: Carly’s Room

It was difficult to keep her eyes open, to force herself to stop drifting, not to give in to the fatigue pulling at every muscle, but Carly was determined to find out what was going on.

Because something was going on—something that was somehow more terrible than the prospect that Sonny was part of what had happened to her. Had he shot her, thinking to protect her from Ric? It was too awful to be true, and yet—

Her mother returned from the hallway, after another phone call she’d left the room to take, that fake smile stretched across her face. “Are you up for some dinner? I thought maybe Leticia could come by and bring Michael—”

“I want that, yes, but—” Carly stopped, searching for the right question, the right turn of phrase, the magical words that would keep her mother from shutting down, from telling her there was time for that later, after she’d rested, after she’d recovered—

Bobbie straightened the sheets at the bottom of the bed, flicked at some imaginary lint. “He’s such a resilient little boy, you know. Rolls with the punches.”

“That’s…Jason’s…influence.” Carly pressed her lips together. “He hasn’t been to see me.”

Bobbie stopped, looked at her with wide eyes. “Oh. But he has. He just keeps missing you with tests and, oh, he’s had so much on his plate, Carly, you can’t begin to understand—”

“Let…me try. Elizabeth…she was there that. She was hurt, wasn’t she?”

“Y-yes,” Bobbie said, a bit hesitantly. She sat in the chair next to the bed, perched on the edge as if ready to take flight. “But not as badly. A bullet to the shoulder. She was released a few days ago.”

“I—I know about them. Jason and Elizabeth. You don’t have…to protect…me. I know. Jason—Jason told me. I mean, he…” She heard the word slur and squeezed her eyes shut. No. No, have to stay awake. Have to know. “He didn’t have…a choice. I…heard. I heard her. And Ric. I know. I know that. You…don’t…have to protect…me.”

“Sweetheart—”

Carly rolled her head to the side, pressing her cheek against the pillow, looked at her mother. “Courtney. Not my friend. Maybe not ever.”

“I can’t speak to that—”

“She hasn’t been here either. She knows. That I know.”

“I—I don’t know if she did—” Bobbie closed her eyes, and the expression that crossed her mother’s face—the panic-tinged regret managed to get through the fog creeping in.

“Mama. Where…where is she? Did Ric…”

“I don’t know. We don’t know much. But, honey—” Bobbie reached for Carly’s hand, squeezed it. “She’s gone. She died.”

Carly looked up at the ceiling, swallowed hard. “Dead. Someone…Sonny? Was this him? Is what you’re trying so hard not to say? Did he hurt me? Did he hurt Courtney?”

Bobbie exhaled slowly. “We don’t know what happened to Courtney. But yes, we think this was Sonny.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

He taken Mike at his word that Courtney’s father would keep things civil, that whatever anger and resentment he had about the end of Jason’s relationship with his daughter, he’d keep it to himself for now.

But Mike had just been playing games, Jason realized, standing between the older man and Elizabeth. Playing with words. He’d held in his anger at Jason because Mike still needed access to Sonny—

But Elizabeth, apparently, was fair game.

Mike clenched a fist at his side. “Jason, I told you, I don’t want to do this with you—”

“But you’ll do it to Elizabeth,” Jason said. “You forgot to tell me that when you were reassuring me.” He turned his back, looked at her, at her stricken expression, the guilt swirling in her eyes. “Let’s go—”

“But—” she began.

“Jason—”

“I get that it would help you deal with all of this if you can find someone to blame. And that’s fine. You blame me,” Jason told him, flattening a hand against his chest. “I’m the one that proposed, I’m the one that broke his promises. And I’m the one who made sure that when it was done, Courtney hated me. Elizabeth did nothing—”

“Except let everyone think that my daughter conspired with a psychotic kidnapper. What’s more likely, Jason?” Mike challenged. “Courtney turning her back on everything she knew about that man or Elizabeth lying to cover up for him like she has for months?”

“Shut up—”

“No, no, please—” Elizabeth flew between them, holding her hand up, her fingers trembling. “Please don’t. Don’t do this. Okay? Jason, don’t.” Tears spilled down her cheeks when she turned to Mike, his face florid. “If I thought for one minute I could make this easier for you by lying, by letting you think that it was true, I’d do it, Mike. Because the truth is awful for everyone who loved her.”

“It can’t be true, okay? You misunderstood. You had to—I just need you to think, to go back and see if maybe you just didn’t understand—” Mike’s voice faltered. “You have to be wrong.”

“I wish I was. I wish—” Elizabeth closed her eyes, touched the arm still tucked into the brace. “I wish I could take it all back. To go back in time and stop it somehow. I regret every minute I ever spent with Ric Lansing. I need you to know that I don’t blame you for doubting me—”

“Elizabeth, you don’t have to do this,” Jason told her. He laid a hand on her shoulder, tried to propel her back but she shook her head. “You don’t owe him anything—”

“Don’t I? Don’t I owe a debt for the way I kept Ric in this town? I trusted him, and he broke me into pieces—” Her lips trembled, and she looked to the ground. “And I can’t ever undo that. But I left him. I wanted to be done with it. You know that, Mike. You know that Ric was bothering me. I wasn’t going to say anything, but Nikolas forced me to—”

“I—”

“He knew her schedule, Mike,” Jason said tightly, and Mike looked away. “Did you give it to him?”

“Of course not—”

“Courtney didn’t just tell me to my face. She was still working with Ric. That’s why Carly was here that night. To tell Elizabeth what she’d overheard. Carly heard her. It’s not just Elizabeth’s story. Are you telling me Carly’s lying, too?”

Mike dragged his hands down his face. “I can’t—it just can’t be the way it happened. There’s something missing. He forced her. Like before. Like this spring. Blackmail or something. She knew what he was. She knew.”

And because the horror in Mike’s voice was sincere, and because Jason had his own guilt, he swallowed his irritation. “She knew, and she hated me enough that it didn’t matter. She went to the cops and tried to frame me, Mac. Why do you think she wouldn’t hate me enough to do worse?”

“I can’t—I can’t do this. I don’t want to—” Mike turned and left the courtyard without another word.

Elizabeth turned to face Jason, tears glinting on her cheeks. “I’ll never be able to make up for  what I did, will I? For all the months I defended Ric. No wonder he hates me. I just don’t understand why you don’t hate me, too.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Scott paced from the door to the desk, then back again, waiting with little patience as Mac finished his conversation on the phone. He made a little circle in the air with his index finger, indicating it was time to wrap it up.

Mac shot him the finger and Scott just scowled at him. “Yeah, Robin, I appreciate it. Okay. I’ll take it from here. No, don’t come home. I’ll keep you in the loop, but right now, the last thing we need is someone else on the ground that we have to worry about. Keep that up, and I’ll have your mother pull strings to get your passport revoked. Stay in Paris.” He dropped the phone back on the base, then sat behind the desk with a sigh.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Brenda spent some time in Paris with Robin, and was just putting together plans to find a new agent and get back to modeling—but then Lorenzo Alcazar showed up. He found them in Paris, wanted to let Brenda know there weren’t any hard feelings.”

Scott stilled. “And no one bothered to tell you? Or anyone? What about Morgan and Corinthos?”

“Brenda called Jason. He arranged for her to get off the grid. She left Robin in early June, and Robin hasn’t had much from her since. A few phone calls, but nothing that would give us a location. I don’t know what, if anything, Sonny knows.”

“Alcazar goes to see her personally, and Brenda disappears? That might explain why Alcazar came here, focused on Sonny again. He thinks he’s hiding her—”

“Actually.” Mac tipped his head. “I think that might explain why he started with Ric. Because Jason’s hiding Brenda. Jason’s the one that married her to protect her from Luis, remember? And who do Ric and Jason have in common?”

“Ah. Well.” Scott sighed. “Well, if we’re going to ask Morgan for help again, it probably should be you. I think he might be a little mad at me.”

“A little?”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right and I was wrong. You don’t have to rub it in, okay?”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

She hadn’t been in a hurry to return to the penthouse, not after learning of Courtney’s death and being here looking at what remained of a life the woman had planned with Jason. She’d avoided the conversation of where she was going to stay, knowing that the studio was out of the question and that, security wise, her grandmother’s house wasn’t exactly ideal.

But Elizabeth almost wished she’d spoken up so that she’d have some warning for what confronted her after Jason pushed the door open and stood aside to allow her in.

It was like a time warp. Nearly every item of furniture was gone, save the pool table, a single photo of Michael, and a familiar brown leather sofa. “W-What—”

Jason blinked, looked around, then rubbed the back of his head. He dropped his keys on the desk. “I forgot. Mike said he wanted to get Courtney’s things, and I wanted—I wanted to make it easier on him, so I had some guys —”

Remove every evidence that she’d ever existed. Elizabeth braced a hand against her abdomen, almost protectively splaying her hand over the baby she couldn’t feel yet. It was all so impossible suddenly, and she didn’t really understand why the stark emptiness of the room should make her feel that way—

“This is—this is too much. I can’t do this. I can’t—” She fumbled with the clasp on the brace, dragged it over her head, then cradled her damaged, weakened arm, her shoulder aching.

Jason came forward, a hand outstretched. “Hey—careful—”

“I can’t do this. I can’t—” She stepped back from him. “It’s too much. It’s just too much. This isn’t what it’s supposed to be like. We’re not supposed to be doing this.”

“Doing what?” Jason said carefully, holding his hands up, almost as if he was trying to ward off the levels of crazy she felt sure were radiating from her trembling body.

“Any of this. All of it. It’s just so fast, and out of control, and I don’t know how to make any of it stop, I don’t know how to do this. What am I supposed to do? We’re acting like all of this never happened, like we weren’t basically at each other throat’s throats for a year, and I told you I wish you were the one who was shot—”

“Okay, maybe you need to take a breath,” Jason said, taking a step towards her, but she backed up.

“No, no. I just need to—” She let her arm fall to the side, the useless dead weight of an arm she could barely lift, much less use to create. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I need. I just know it’s not this.”

“This,” Jason repeated. He stiffened. “Me?”

“No. I mean, yes, no—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. We had that night, and then we walked away, and we were barely even scraping together an idea of what might happen in the future, and then I’m pregnant, and shot, and almost lose the baby, and Carly’s in a coma, you get arrested—and now courtney’s dead, and you just erased her like she didn’t happen, but she happened, okay? It all happened.”

Her chest was heaving when she finished, and Jason just looked at her a little wide-eyed, startled, because he hadn’t expected any of that. Neither had she. But something about seeing the penthouse look exactly as it had a year ago.

A year ago when she’d stormed out and it had all gone insane.

“Do you want me to take you to your grandmother’s?” Jason asked finally. He lowered his hands to his side. His tone was careful, his expression blank.

“I don’t know what I want, and I just—” Her head hurt, and so did everything else. She sat on the sofa, stared at the blank wall straight ahead. “I don’t know anything. I feel like I’ve been walking in a stupor since I woke up and you got arrested, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Okay—” Jason drew out the word uncertainly, but a knock at the door kept him from continuing if he even knew what to do with her insane meltdown. He looked at her again, then went to the door. He grimaced, then pulled it open. “If you’re here to arrest me again—”

Mac put a hand against the door frame, blocking Scott partially from view. “Ignore Baldwin. He’s just here because I didn’t lock the car door fast enough.”

“Look, I dropped the charges. Don’t I get credit for that?” Scott demanded.

Mac ignored him, focused on Jason. “We have a problem. You’re hiding Brenda Barrett.”

Jason blinked, thrown by the commissioner’s statement. “What?”

“Brenda. Robin said she called you when Alcazar showed up in Paris. It seems like you arranged for Brenda to go missing, and then a few weeks later Lorenzo Alcazar showed up here in Port Charles. At Ric’s, where he found Carly in a panic room. But we don’t think he was looking for her.”

Jason’s hand fell slowly from the door. “What do you mean, he was at Ric’s?”

“He was there that night.”

Jason turned, looked at Elizabeth whose expression had gone still, the whirl of emotion faded entirely. “What?”

“The night Carly was kidnapped. He called the cops when he found me passed out on the sofa. He knew Carly was in the panic room. Ric got the cops to leave, but he never knew why they were there. But it was Alcazar.” Elizabeth came forward, her eyes on Mac. “You think he came looking for me.”

“Yeah. I do. But how did you know that?”

“Ric told me when he came back from Venezuela. He was trying to make me think he was forced into kidnapping Carly, but it was a lie, and he dropped it. I would have told you. If you’d ever followed up on my original statement.”

Jason pressed his lips together, looked from Elizabeth back to Mac. “You think Lorenzo Alcazar is looking for Brenda for revenge on his brother? I didn’t understand why Brenda was afraid — she’s not the one who killed him.”

“No, but she is the reason Luis came to Port Charles, why he went after Sonny in the first place,” Mac reminded him. “You ever ask yourself, Jason, why if Lorenzo Alcazar wanted revenge, he was playing games? Kidnapping Carly, then releasing her? Hanging around to make Sonny crazy?”

“I—” Jason was missing something, and he didn’t know what to think. “I don’t know, but it sounds like you have a theory.”

“I do. I think Lorenzo Alcazar is the brother who went over the balcony, and Luis Alcazar is back in town, finishing what he started.”

October 18, 2024

This entry is part 38 of 47 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

Written in 63 minutes. Had to double check some earlier Mike scenes and it took some time.


Lake Onatario: The Deck of La Revanche

The city skyline was a pinprick in the horizon, suggesting they were closer to Canada than New York. Ric stood at the railing, watching the sun hover the cursed city, pondering the mess he’d made this last year.

Kidnapping Carly had probably been the the turning point, he thought grimly. He’d managed to get Sonny to swallow the story about their supposed paternity and bought himself some breathing room. Then Elizabeth had told him about the baby and had, for some godforsaken reason, decided to give him a second chance.

Maybe they weren’t related, Ric mused, but he and Sonny certainly shared the same tendency to let women destroy their common senses.

“Considering a swim?”

Luis appeared at his side, but Ric said nothing, hoping the other man would take the opportunity to fill the silence. What did he want with Ric? What the hell was his plan and why had he let them all, including Ric, think he was Lorenzo all this time?

“I’m trying to stay alive,” Ric said when Luis only remained silent. “What are you going to do with me? I’m just a witness—”

“That was before Courtney’s body was discovered too soon,” Luis muttered, his hands gripping the railing. “Morgan had a solid alibi. Now, you’re not much more than a loose end.”

“Who knows a great deal about the men you’re trying to destroy,” Ric reminded him. “You hired me to destroy Sonny, remember? I’m closer than you were ever able to be—”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you have some value. It’s why you still breathe.” Luis turned to him, keeping one hand on the railing. “Sonny’s locked up in a private mental hospital, but Morgan’s still out there, the dragon at the gate as always.”

“And he hates me,” Ric said, helpfully. “I can get under his skin—”

“Hate might be too weak a word to describe the loathing.” Luis scrutinized Ric, his eyes squinting. “What might he trade for a chance to end your life personally?”

Ric pressed his lips together, looked back out over the water. Nearly anything, he thought, but said nothing. “Jason’s not one for revenge. Not when he got what he wanted. My wife. The child she promised me.”

“Ah, yes, the lovely Elizabeth Webber, our Helen of Troy. I’ve been thinking of the question I posed to you a few nights ago. How to tell Sonny what he nearly did to his own sister. I must confess, since then, I thought of little else. It’s the missing piece to my own plan. The final twist of the knife to break Sonny so badly he’ll be begging me to kill him.” Luis sighed. “But I worry she’s too well guarded to get to, and well, where’s the fun of telling Sonny if I can’t see the horror on both their faces?”

Ric arched a brow, sensing his opening. “After everything else you’ve done, are you saying you’re not up to the challenge?”

Luis just arched that brow again, then left him standing at the railing pondering just how Ric could use Luis’s obsession into gaining his own freedom. If Luis believed the lies Ric had hoped to use against Sonny without bothering to verify any of it for himself, well, then he might be desperate enough to do anything.

Which was exactly the way Ric liked it.

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Elizabeth stared at Mike for a long moment, her free hand fluttering up to her chest. “You—you startled me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Mike gestured to the diner. “Did you want to come in? I don’t—I don’t know who’s on shift. Penny’s handling that.” He moved past her, looked inside the diner, took a deep breath, then looked back at her. “I haven’t been back here since that night.”

“Neither have I.” She cleared her throat, but there were no words that followed. She didn’t know what to say to him. At the hospital, after Jason’s arrest, and in the few days that had followed, there’d been a strain, a horrible awkwardness in every interaction. They’d never spoken of her pregnancy or what it meant for Courtney.

But then Courtney had died, and Elizabeth had grappled with the terrible guilt of not really feeling guilty at all. She was sorry Courtney was dead, mostly because Mike cared about her, and he was a good man. Sorry for Michael who loved his aunt, and for Carly because that would only complicate her recovery. Sorry for Jason who had loved her once.

But there was no guilt, no sense that Elizabeth had anything to do with how Courtney’s life had ended. She’d played a role in the end of Courtney’s relationship with Jason, but those weren’t related, and not feeling guilty had only made her feel worse about all of it.

Was Mike angry at her? Was he holding back his anger with Jason because of Sonny? Would he do the same with her because of her injuries, because of the baby?

“I just wanted to stand here,” Elizabeth said finally, and their eyes met. “I hoped if I could just do that I could remember better what happened that night.”

“I, uh, thought Jason said Michael confessed.” Mike folded his arms. “Unless he’s changed his mind and thinks Lorenzo did it after all.”

“No, he, um, he  hasn’t said differently for me. Sonny remembered being here. And well, it makes the most sense, I guess. But I just—” Elizabeth turned slightly, facing the courtyard the way she had that night. “I thought if I just stood where I did that night, if maybe it might jar something.”

“Well, talk me through it. How did it happen?”

Elizabeth flicked her eyes to Mike, but his expression didn’t change, didn’t seem unfriendly. She nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Um, well, I was closing that night. I told DJ to go home. I thought Carly’s guards were out here. And—”

“And Jason was on his way,” Mike said. The words were offered without emotion, but his posture changed slightly, just a slight tensing of his muscles. “He was worried about you after the night before. Wasn’t he?”

“Y-yes.” She licked her lips. “Carly didn’t want to wait for him. She knew he’d be angry—so she came out into the courtyard, and I followed. I wanted her to wait. To come back inside, so we could lock the door. But she just wanted to go home. She was upset—”

“Why?”

“W-what?” Elizabeth blinked at him, confused. “Why what?”

“Why was she upset? What so important that she came to see you that night? Waited for you to close and be alone?”

“Mike—” Elizabeth hesitated. “I don’t—that’s not important—”

“Maybe it is. Maybe you shouldn’t decide what’s important without considering everything,” he interrupted. “Courtney said Carly was here to confront you. She was upset about you and Jason, wasn’t she?”

“I—” Her throat was tight. “No—”

“No? Courtney was her best friend—”

“That’s why she was upset,” Elizabeth said softly. “Mike. You know what happened. Why—”

“I know what Jason’s told me. But I think maybe you need to say it. To my face.” Mike lifted his chin. “Tell me that my daughter was conspiring with the psycho who went after Carly.”

“You—you don’t believe—”

“Courtney knew from the first day what Ric did. She knew what he was before you did. She tried to tell you, remember?” Mike said, and Elizabeth’s eyes burned. She looked away, her vision blurred as the hot spiral of shame swirled up into her throat. “She didn’t have to sit by and be poisoned by him, to live in the same house while Carly was trapped in the walls. You’re telling me with everything she knew about Ric and what he did to Carly, she went to him because of what you did to her. I’m supposed to believe that she was that spiteful and vindictive.” He shook his head. “No. I don’t believe it. You need her to be the villain. You need it to be that way so Jason isn’t sorry she’s dead. But there’s no proof—”

“Mike.”

They both turned back towards the back entrance, and Jason was there, coming forward and standing between them.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Mike told Jason. “This is between me and Elizabeth and the lies she wants to tell about my little girl to make herself feel better—”

“The truth that she said to my face,” Jason retorted. “Go ahead. Call me a liar, too.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

“No. No. Because this is all twisted and convoluted enough without adding another damned layer.” Scott jerked out of his side, dragged his hand through his hair leaving it standing wildly on end. He turned back to Mac. “What the hell are you trying to tell me?”

“I don’t know anything for sure,” Mac said, holding up his hands. “I just think  there’s a pretty good possibility that maybe Luis Alcazar is still alive—”

“No. I rebuke this. This was supposed to be a simple case of Sonny Corinthos going loco and shooting up a courtyard, okay?” Scott slapped his hand against his open palm. “I force Morgan to give up the ghost, and then we get our guy. And if we’re lucky, I get to make things right and take down Lansing so maybe Bobbie won’t plot my demise. That was the plan, Mac! Not whatever cockamamie twisted story you got cooking in your head—”

That plan went out the window the second Courtney turned up with a bullet in her head and Lansing went AWOL. We still don’t know if he disappeared himself or is floating somewhere.  But Lorenzo Alcazar? Carly remembers hearing his voice that night. And he’s the only one who’d want to frame Morgan for all this.”

“But it didn’t work, okay? How do you figure that—see—see—this all falls apart—maybe Lorenzo Alcazar is being framed by all of them—”

“Scott.”

Scott collapsed into the chair, his head in his hands, letting out a low moan. “I just want one normal case, Mac. Just the one. Is that too much to ask?”

“I know you think this makes it more convoluted,” Mac told him, “but it actually streamlines it.”

“Uh, how do you figure?”

“Alcazar’s got too much heat on him. He had to know his days were numbered. He calls his brother — tosses him over the balcony—”

“That was Alexis Davis—”

“Okay, so maybe Luis just set Lorenzo up to be killed, and went underground to regroup. He comes back out, and decides to pick up where he left off. Remember? He started by wanting to get rid of Sonny. But now, he’s angrier. More obsessive. He’s lost Brenda. Sonny—and now Jason—are the ones protecting her. Keeping her away. Ric’s in town, going after Sonny, so now Luis — as Lorenzo — can come in, get under Sonny’s skin. He rescues Carly, treats her well in captivity knowing it’ll send Sonny through the roof—”

“But it doesn’t just make Sonny reckless and angry—” Scott straightened, his eyes sharpening. “It makes him go actually crazy. Alcazar’s got eyes on Sonny and Carly. He’s gotta know something isn’t right. Either he’s following Carly or Sonny that night, it doesn’t matter. He sees Sonny shoot up the courtyard, and figures this is his time—”

“Except Courtney and Ric get in the way trying to frame Jason. Alcazar tries to make that work for him, but it goes south again because Sonny gets himself committed. He’s under lock and key. And Jason’s not taking the hit for Courtney because we’re his alibi.”

“Okay. Okay.” Scott got to his feet, started pacing, then he whirled around, looked at Mac. “You know what we gotta do? We gotta throw him off course. We gotta mess with him. We got leverage. He doesn’t know what we know.”

“I know exactly how to do that. What does Luis Alcazar want more than anything in the world?” Mac leaned against his desk, smirked. “I think it’s time Brenda Barrett comes home for a visit.”

October 16, 2024

This entry is part 5 of 12 in the Flash Fiction: Masquerade

Written in 6o minutes.


It had to be a trick, a lie to lure her back inside the inn, back to a miserable future—

Elizabeth took one step away from the tree, towards the man who held her daggers in his hand, the only link she had to her heritage, to the world she’d known before that terrible day.

The winter wind swirled around them, rustling through the trees. The air grew more bitter, the chill deepening, but still she stood there, a foot separating her from her captor, from her weapons.

Jason Morgan tipped his head to the sky, then brought his gaze to hers as the first snowflakes fluttered past his cheek, dancing down to the forest floor thick with leaves and foliage. His eyes were shadowed, but she could see the corner of his mouth turning up in a half smirk. “Do you think you can freeze me to death? Is that how you plan to end this?”

She drew in a sharp breath, fought the urge to deny it. This man, this puppet of Valentin Cassadine held too many secrets—but how? Why would Valentin put so much trust in an underling? Or was Jason Morgan hiding secrets of his own from the Cassadine?

Elizabeth flicked her wrist and the wind settled, the flurries fading from the sky until they fell no longer. “I could bury you in a snowdrift,” she bit out, “if I so chose. Give me a reason not to.”

Jason flipped one of the daggers in his hand, a neat little twirl that she’d never seen anyone else complete — save for the man who had taught her. Had Alan Quartermaine trained him as well? But then who was he? And why had Valentin sent him?

Pressure built behind her eyes, an itch in her throat that she forced down. All she had was her dignity, her self-respect, and she would not fall apart in front of this man, in front of any man.

“That is not a reason, and I grow weary of this conversation. Keep the daggers.” She lifted her chin and stalked across the clearing, nearly reaching the other side before his voice traveled to her on the wind.

“A few months back, in another place, a woman came to a pub. She had a pair of those daggers.”

Elizabeth stopped, but did not turn around. Another trick, another lie.

“I was there on other business, and found myself in a meeting with her and an associate who knew something of my background. He thought she was lying, trying to lead him on a wild chase or steal something from him. But then she reached into cloak just the way you did — pulling one of these from some pocket that could not be detected. A dagger from Nevoie. They are not given to all members of the line. Just the women in the line of succession.”

“There are no survivors from Nevoie,” Elizabeth said, but her voice was soft, almost inaudible. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s what I would have thought. What we’ve been told.” Jason took a step towards her, almost hesitant. “A sickness spread in the household and the village. Too fast, too deadly. No survivors. That part is no lie, is it?”

“No. There was a fire—” Her throat tightened, the acrid smell of smoke still lingering in her memories, choking her from beyond. “After. They burned the village to the ground, then the house.”

“To stop the disease from spreading.”

“To hide their crimes.” Her fingers fisted in her skirts. “But I was captured in the woods. We ran. We ran, and we ran, and I lost her somewhere. I heard her screams. There are no survivors from Nevoie,” she repeated.

“You survived,” Jason said, taking another step towards her. “Is it so impossible that you alone could have?”

“I—” Her eyes blurred and something unfurled inside her. An emotion she could scarcely recognize. Hope. No. “She told you this. She told you that Nevoie was a massacre, and you did nothing. She showed you daggers, and you did nothing.” She swallowed hard, and her heart hardened again. “I expect nothing less from a Cassadine pawn—”

“What would you have me do? Tell the king that his aunt and her family were slaughtered like animals? She wanted no justice. Just vengeance. She came to my friend looking for revenge.”

“You still have told me nothing that convinces me that I should go inside or continue this conversation. You weave nothing but lies designed to trick me into trusting you.”

“I tell you the truth as I know it. She gave no name, and she never spoke of her relatives. She didn’t need to. The daggers—” Jason held them out to her again. “They don’t take kindly to being separated from their mistress, do they? That’s how you came to have them after all this time. Why they didn’t burn to the ground with your home or become the property of whoever kidnapped you from the woods that day.”

“How can you—” She bit back the demand, clenching her hands so tightly her nails dug into her palms. “Then you know that if you withhold them from me, they’ll only find their way home.”

“I do. So why go to that trouble when you can take them now?”

Her hands itched to take the offer, to snatch the daggers from him, but what if he were lying? What if he knew the power the weapons held, and he had a charm to bind them to him? What if she held out her hands and he grabbed her—

She was just so very tired.

With trembling hands she reached out, held out her hands, and nearly wept when Jason carefully laid the hilts in her palm, his fingers closing her hand around them so that his larger hands engulfed hers.

Their eyes met, and Elizabeth drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t understand you.”

“I’ve heard that before. From the woman in the pub who also was unhappy that I knew the origin of these, that I knew their power, and declined to tell her why.”

“And do you think it fair that you seem to know all my secrets, and I still know nothing of yours?” she demanded.

“You know the one I’ve told no other. You just haven’t put the pieces together.” Jason released her hands, then drew his sword. Elizabeth leapt back, set herself to ward off the attack—but he held the hilt towards her, as if handing her the sword.

Elizabeth furrowed her brow, lowered her hands to her side, the tips of the daggers brushing her cloak. On the base of the hilt was the same insignia burned into hers. “The Quartermaines. They do not make weapons for the common people. They’ve made our daggers, and—” Her eyes rounded. “You’re a Quartermaine?”

“By blood,” Jason said, sheathing the sword again. “Not by right or name. I was honest when I told you I was a bastard from Wymoor. I just didn’t specify whose bastard.”

The information didn’t fit in neatly with everything else that she knew. The Quartermaines looked after their own, and clearly he had been part of the family at one time. He’d been trained and outfitted by Alan Quartermaine.

And yet—

“You take coin from the blood enemy of your family?” Elizabeth asked. “You think that to be reassuring?”

“You’re betrothed to the blood enemy of yours,” Jason returned calmly and she flinched. “Does that not make us the same?”

“I don’t know,” she said, lifting her brows. “Were you held prisoner for six years, then bound to a small, remote village for another eight? Did you bargain for the false pretense of freedom by trading your future?”

“Bound,” Jason repeatedly slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“Then let me make this very clear, Master Morgan.” She stepped close to him, their faces so close that the breath she exhaled mingled with his. “I begged Valentin to release me from the   locked room that had been my whole world since the day he slaughtered my family and took me prisoner. He brought me to Shadwell, to that cottage, and once I stepped across the border of the village, he relished in telling me that I was to stay there until he had need of me, and the only way he’d ever let me leave was if I agreed to marry him. Or else I’d rot away in my isolation. And for eight years, I prayed he’d find another way, another route to the power he so desperately craved. As long as the king drew breath, there was hope. And then you came.”

Jason took a step back, confusion swirling in his eyes. “He bound you to the land, but I spoke no words to release you—”

“You did not have to. It’s an oath. When you came and you asked me if I was his betrothed, I fulfilled the contract. I agreed to leave with you. But Valentin does not respect the old ways, the magic. I agreed so that I could leave. But I will never marry him. And if you force me, if you drag me to the capital, I promise you, Valentin will not live long enough to take the throne.”

Jason looked at her for long a moment. “Good. Then we are agreed.”

“We—” She blinked, shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“You wish to see Valentin dead. But I will tell you what I told your kinswoman — if you want Valentin’s blood, we are in accord. I’d prefer to do the deed myself, but if you need to have a hand in spilling it, that can be arranged.”

October 11, 2024

This entry is part 4 of 12 in the Flash Fiction: Masquerade

Written in 60 minutes.


He scarcely had a chance to deflect the dagger before it sliced through his neck, but Jason managed to lift his arm, knocking her wrist back. He made a grab for her, but Elizabeth danced backwards, doing a roll that allowed her snatch up the first dagger, glinting on the forest floor.

“What—” Jason began but had to jump back when she swiped out again, nearly taking his intestines. Grimacing, he drew his sword. He had no taste for fighting a woman, even one who was armed—

And who had been trained well enough to dodge his attack. With the sword he kept her from another frontal attack, and held up another hand, hoping to suggest he meant her no harm.

But the meek woman he’d escorted from Shadwell and traveled alongside for the last two days had disappeared, replaced with a ball of fury. The hood had fallen back, and hair tumbled and loose around her face, only illuminated by the slice of moon visible through the gray skies.

“I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Says a man who takes the coin of a murderer,” Elizabeth spat, and he blinked at that accusation, and the rage shaking in her voice. That split second of confusion gave her an opening and she flew at him, one of her daggers slicing through his upper arm.

Jason hissed in pain, decided the time had come to end this farce. He threw the sword aside, grabbed one of her wrists, wrapping his hand around it like a manacle, tightening it. She cried out and the dagger fell to the ground.

When her other hand swung around, Jason was ready and within seconds, he’d wrapped her tiny wrists in one fist and backed her hard against the bark of a tree, holding the hands over her head, leaving a hand free.

“Let me go!” Elizabeth panted, twisting back and forth. When her knee came up towards his groin, Jason had already deflected it, curling one of his legs around hers, trapping it against his own.

Her chest was heaving, her breath a white cloud fading into the cold night, but despite having been completely disarmed and literally backed against a wall, Elizabeth’s turbulent eyes didn’t show even a hint of panic or fear.

“Let me go,” she forced out between clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise.”

“You fight well,” Jason said, not bothering to respond to her barb. “But you should have finished your training.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits, her mouth little more than a white line. “What does that mean?”

Jason arched a brow. Without taking his eyes from hers, he shifted his boot slightly, kicked it, and then reached out to retrieve the dagger she’d dropped. He held the blade near her face, the tip just beneath her chin.

And still, no fear. No panic. Just the slide curve of her lips.

If only she knew that she’d lost whatever leverage she possessed with that twitch of the mouth, she might not have smiled.

“I could slice you open here,” Jason said almost casually, the blade resting against her skin, just below the curve of her jaw. One flick of his hands and he’d have her life’s blood spouting. “You think me afraid of the Cassadine?”

Amusement flared in her eyes, and the corner of her eyebrow quirked up. “I think you very stupid. Go ahead and try it.” She tilted her head slightly, revealing more neck.

“If I value my life, it will be the last thing I do.” When her eyes came back to his, the arrogance in her eyes fading. “Or were you hoping I wouldn’t recognize the daggers from the House of Nevoie?”

She said nothing, but there was a small flare of alarm now, and his smile only grew. “These daggers are charmed to protect their mistress. They bring no harm to you. They can’t.”

Her lips parted slightly, and now, finally, there was a lick of fear in her eyes. “I know not of what you speak—”

“If I even moved this blade a hair closer, I would be on the ground, fortunate to wake up hours from now with nothing more than headaches and regrets. You think your house has fallen into memory? That no one remembers the Ladies of Nevoie?”

“I think,” she said carefully, “that you have been told stories—”

“Stories?” he scoffed, dropping the blade to his side, but not loosening his hold on Elizabeth. He had no doubt she’d be going for other discarded dagger behind him if he gave her half a chance. And while he was sure she hadn’t completed her time with Alan, there was no telling what she could still pull out from beneath that heavy cloak.

After all, the house of Nevoie was known for more than their bespelled weapons.

“Tell me why you never finished your training,” Jason said again, and she furrowed her brow, not expecting that turn of conversation.

“What makes you think I didn’t it?”

“Because Alan Quartermaine never returned a lady of Nevoie without knowing how to disarm her attacker. This,” Jason said, pressing just a bit closer, pressing her more tightly against the tree. Her chest, still rising and falling with panicked, heavy breathing, had little room to expand. “This,” he said, bringing his face a bit more close so that there was little more than a breath separating them, “was his worst fear.”

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” she said, but her voice was smaller now, almost as if she were saying the words as an affirmation, to persuade herself rather to taunt him.

Jason pressed his lips together, stepped back, releasing her so fast that she was almost spinning. By the time she came back to herself, Jason had scooped up that second dagger and sheathed his sword.

Her eyes were huge now, focused on his hands, on her weapons. She flattened her hands against the tree, her fingers digging into the bark. “Give them to me,” she said, the words bit out from behind her clenched teeth. “They are mine.”

“I have no need to take them,” Jason said, with more warmth in his tone than he’d exhibited their entire acquaintance. “They must be the last of their kind.”

“Very nearly, and—”

“After all, the house of Nevoie has been extinct these last ten years. More,” Jason murmured.  “I was young when it happened, but not a child.”

“Extinct. Is that what your master told you?”

“I have no master, save myself. And no one told me anything. You think Valentin would have let me anywhere near you if I knew who you were or what value you bring? He’d never tell someone who could use that for his own gain.”

“Oh, and you’re so noble? So honorable?” she spat. “Are you so different  that you wouldn’t steal me for yourself?”

Jason raised his brows, then bit back his instinctual response. “I have no taste for the throne,” he said, his words pitched lower. Their eyes met. “Or need to steal a woman for any other reason.”

The shadows hid her, casting her face into nothing more than gray and white. But he would have gambled any amount that she’d flushed with embarrassment.

“But I’ll forgive you that accusation,” he continued, “as we don’t know each other very well and you’ve likely seen more men of that ilk than not.”

“All men are the same.”

“Did the training end when your family died? Did they not send you for another summer because there was left to do so?”

“You would dare to speak of this to me. The audacity,” Elizabeth breathed, “to stand there with the coin of Valentin Cassadine rotting in your pocket, and speak of my family. Of my mother who he slaughtered, my sister, my only blood—”

“Slaughtered?” When she just glared at him, Jason shook his head. “There must be some mistake. The last ladies of Nevoie died in the sickness—” He stopped, looked away as awareness awakened. “A story. A lie. You say Valentin Cassadine murdered the House of Nevoie? How do you know this?”

“I owe you no more answers,” Elizabeth said, lifting her chin. “You have a choice. Return my belongings, allow me to take my mare, and I’ll cease being your concern.”

Jason looked down at the dagger in his hand, turning it to see the end of the hilt, at the small insignia burned into it. The familiar mark of his family.

“I could do that,” he said, slowly lifting his head until their eyes met, held. “But I don’t think you want to leave just yet.”

“Oh, I assure you, I do—”

“Or will it not bother you how a bastard urchin from Wymoor knows who you are? Why I know so many of your secrets?”

Her eyes burned, and if she had the power, Jason was sure, he would have been engulfed by flames on the spot.

“Valentin would have told you—”

“Would he?” Jason demanded. “He would never have risked it. He knows who I am.”

“Who are you?” Elizabeth challenged, stepping forward, then her lips parted when he lifted his brows.

“If you want the answer to that question, you can come inside. Or— ” Jason held out the daggers, and her eyes went to them. “Take these and go.”