But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss
I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs
The smell of smoke would hang around this long
‘Cause I knew everything when I was young
I knew I’d curse you for the longest time
Chasin’ shadows in the grocery line
I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired
And you’d be standin’ in my front porch light
And I knew you’d come back to me
You’d come back to me

---

November 2001

Sonny Corinthos was a man of his word.

He’d promised that no one would disturb her private paradise, tucking her in the furthest private cottage on the resort, with her own private beach and road. She cooked and cleaned for herself — her existence completely unknown to all save for Sonny. Not even Nikolas or Luke and Laura had known where Elizabeth planned to hide while they completed the final stages of the war against the Cassadines.

She’d played her role, waged enough battles, and now she had completed a strategic retreat.

The sun sank below the horizon in the distance, the pinks, peaches, and purples swirling together as the dark of night gradually merged, the sparkling diamond blue waters of the Caribbean losing its bright colors.

And still she sat on the beach, her toes squished into the sand, the wind off the ocean keeping her cool and ruffling the short ends of her dark hair, the roar of the ocean drowning out almost everything except her own thoughts.

A year ago, she’d almost been happy. Lucky was home, healthy, happy, and he loved her. They loved each other, and finally they were going to build a future together. Instead—

She closed her eyes, drew her knees up to her chest, pressed her forehead against them.

They’d stopped listening to each other. Seeing each other. When had that happened? Was there a single moment, a word, a breath they’d shared that had begun the unraveling?

No. There’d been a person.

Jason sharing her studio, looking at her with just a hint of something else in his eyes, the way he’d touched her, held her—

She’d been attracted to him. Wildly so. And instead of examining it, instead of exploring it—instead of doing anything that would actually make her happy—

She’d run away.

Everything that had made her happy had been wrong. Spending time with Jason, painting, being alone in her studio—having thoughts and opinions that weren’t the same as Lucky — she’d disappeared a little more every day, and she hadn’t wanted to see it.

Not when Jason had told her he cared about her. Not when he’d nearly kissed her. Not when he’d held out his hand and offered the world —

But when Nikolas had asked her to take poison to free Lucky from his brainwashing, to place her life in his hands — now Elizabeth could see all the ways she’d faded.

Her disappearance had mostly gone unremarked upon, Sonny had reluctantly admitted. The people who mattered knew what she’d wanted to do, so they weren’t questioning it. Her grandmother had accepted the excuse that she’d gone to visit her family.

But the world at large? Didn’t seem to notice Elizabeth Webber was gone. Because she didn’t exist outside of Lucky Spencer.

Now, three weeks after that fateful night, Elizabeth wondered if maybe she could just stay gone. Stay dead. What would the difference be? Would Lucky even notice? Would anyone really miss her?

The sun had completely slipped away, and the night was lit only by the moon rising above. She should go inside — the nights were cold this time of year, and if there were clouds, she’d never be able to find her way back to the cottage.

But then there was a strange sound — and the weight of something—someone—lowering themselves to sit next to her. Breathing.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, saw the feet first — larger than her own, the skin bare, and the toes in the sand. She dragged her gaze up the long legs encased in khaki shorts, to the the white-shirt—and the man looking back at her.

She licked her lips, dry, and tried to find her voice, but it was rusty from disuse. “Jason?”

“Typically, when someone dies, there’s a funeral.”

She hadn’t expected those words, and couldn’t find a response, her eyes still wide. His face was just barely visible in the moonlight, but every line, every crease was beloved to hers. She’d studied it when he’d slept, dreamed about it for months—

“Sonny told you?”

“He didn’t have a choice.” Jason’s knees were bent, his arms clasped loosely around them. “I came to the island on my own.” He glanced behind her towards the building. “But they told me up at the resort my usual place was booked.”

“Your—” She cleared her throat, sat up, straightening out her legs flat against the sand. Her fingers dug in, the grains scratchy against her palm. “Your place.”

“It’s the most remote,” he explained, the corner of his mouth tucked up in an odd smile. “So I called Sonny. And he told me.” His brows drew together. “Poison?”

She wrinkled her nose, looked back to the ocean. “It made sense at the time. Helena wanted me out of the way, and wanted to test Nikolas’s loyalty.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Is it wrong that I was relieved?” she asked, more to herself. “I was so tired. Every moment of my life for six months—God, longer—and it was never  going to end. But this plan? It made it over. For me. I could walk away.”

“What if it hadn’t worked? What if it was  the real poison?” Jason demanded, his voice low.

“It would still be over.” Irritated by herself, she flopped back on the sand, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, it must be insufferable listening to me. I needed poison to break an engagement? What’s the matter with me?”

There was a short period of a silence before Jason spoke again. “You broke an engagement?”

She stared into the sky, concentrating on the stars. “Does it count when your fiancé is brainwashed into not knowing who you are or remembering that you exist? These are the things Dear Abby needs to write about.” She sighed. “I still have the ring. But who knows what Lucky will remember when and if they finally break the brainwashing. Maybe I’ll mail it back when this is over.”

She hauled herself back into a sitting position, forced a smile. “But it’s probably safe enough for Sonny to move me into a room at the resort. I’ll get out of your way.” She started to stand, but Jason was quicker. He was on his feet and reaching for her hand.

“Don’t move on my account. I can take a room anywhere.” His fingers stayed laced in hers. “How long until you go back to Port Charles?”

“I don’t know. Never?” she asked, almost as suggestion. “Maybe I’ll go out to Arizona. Where Emily’s rehabbing. Have you been to see her?”

“Yeah, I went a few months ago.” They started back up to the house, but he didn’t release her hand, and she wasn’t going to argue. “She’s going to stay out there. Enroll in classes next semester.”

“Smart. Both of you,” Elizabeth added, stepping up from the beach to the wooden stairs leading to the cottage. “Getting out of Port Charles. There’s something in the air that turns you insane.”

“Insane?” Jason repeated, almost grinning now. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I just faked my death by drinking fake poison for my brainwashed back from the dead boyfriend,” Elizabeth told him. “Do you have a better word?”

He considered it, then shook his head. “No. I really don’t.”

“See, I told you. The air in Port Charles drives you crazy.” She folded her arms against the chill, looked back over the ocean. “Arizona’s landlocked isn’t it?”

“I think there’s a place on the border where the ocean is four hours away.”

“Of course you’d know that.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, maybe Arizona is good for a visit. Maybe I can go for Christmas or something. But I think I want to be on the water. I’ll have to think about it more.”

She reached for the sliding door into the cottage, but he snagged her hand. She looked back, frowning. “What?”

“You’re serious. You’re really thinking about not going home?”

“Home.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m not sure Port Charles is my home. I don’t miss it. I miss my grandmother a little,” she admitted. “But we’ve been arguing with each other for years. She’ll probably appreciate the peace. I haven’t been happy in a long time, Jason. Why should I go back to people and places that won’t change that? Isn’t that why you left?”

“Yeah, but—” His fingers gripped her arm just a little more tightly, his eyes searching hers. “I just didn’t think—you took poison for him.”

“I thought I did. But now I know I did it for me. It was the only way to escape, and I’m taking it.” She shifted, facing him more directly. “Will you go with me? To Arizona? We can go see Emily.”

“What about after that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to make any more plans. I just want to live in the moment and be happy there.” She licked her lips again. “But I understand if you don’t want to. You’ve probably got your own plans—”

“No—” Jason stopped her, then smiled—that long, slow one that she so rarely saw from him. “No, I like your idea. Let tomorrow care take of itself.”

She grinned back at him. Taking poison had been the best idea she’d ever had.

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