The final part of this story! I’ll be editing it and distributing it later this week on all the platforms.

Written in 61 minutes. No time for spellcheck.

---

Friday, March 24, 2001

 Port Charles Park

Elizabeth watched Carly walk out of the park, almost wishing the acerbic blonde had stuck around a little longer. She wasn’t entirely ready to face Jason — not alone.

“Elizabeth?”

She sighed, then met his concerned eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked him again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my mind—he had a knife—” Elizabeth looked down at the switchblade where Jason had kicked it uder a bench.

“I’m fine,” Jason told her. He touched her elbow. “I—”

“And then he tried to make it seem like you’d attacked him!” Elizabeth dragged her hands through her hair, walked away a few steps, trying to settle her thoughts. Would she have believed Lucky if she hadn’t seen it?

Would she have believed Jason had thrown the first punch?

Or would she have known the truth?

“Elizabeth—”

“I think if I hadn’t seen it,” she said slowly, squeezing her eyes shut, “I think maybe I would have taken his side. I don’t know what—” She turned back to him, meeting his eyes, seeing the hurt and confusion.

“You think I’d do that—”

“No, I don’t.” She sighed. “But I think I feel guilty enough about all of this that I might have taken his side to make it stop. To stop him from being angry.”

And what did that say about her?

She wandered over to the bench and sat down. “I was really selfish when I was younger,” she told him. “I hurt people. I didn’t care what anyone else wanted—I just took what I thought I deserved—”

Elizabeth laughed lightly as he sat on the other end of the bench. “I wasn’t much better than Carly.”

“I find that hard to believe—” He was smiling now, and she was relieved to see that.

“Everything changed after the rape. I couldn’t think past the minute, past the next breath—I couldn’t plan or scheme. I just wanted to survive the day.” She stared at her hands. “All the people in my life—they’re in my life because of the rape.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Lucky didn’t like me before it happened. And I always knew he felt guilty about it. He’d changed his mind about the dance at the last minute, and I lied to save face. And Emily—she didn’t like me either. Nikolas—” Tears stung her eyes. “They didn’t like who I was. And so I wasn’t her anymore.”

“Hey—”

“But it’s so hard to be someone you’re not all the time. To always swallow what you’re thinking, to try so hard to keep people in your life—and why—” Elizabeth swiped her hand roughly against her cheek. “Why can’t I ever be enough? Just the way I am?”

“You are enough—”

Elizabeth looked at him, smiling wistfully. He’d slid closer to her, his eyes intent on hers. “You’re the only one who’s ever thought so. Nikolas came to Kelly’s to yell at me for quitting, and Emily’s first thought was for Lucky — no one even asked me why.”

She drew in a ragged breath. “Nikolas told Gia I was raped. And she was the only one who seemed to think it wasn’t a great idea for me to be a model, to be around photographers, in the same studio where Tom Baker—” She stopped. “She used that information to hurt me, but she wasn’t wrong. And it almost feels like she’s the only one who could see it. Nikolas told her about the worst thing that ever happened to me, and when I realized that—”

Jason reached over to take one of her hands—she hadn’t even realized how badly it was shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said tightly.

“It’s my truth to tell. Not his. And I never even told him, you know? He saw me coming out of a support group a few months after it happened, and—he threw it in my face.” She bit her lip. “Do you remember that Nurse’s Ball? You and Robin were still together. You broke up a fight between Lucky and Nikolas?”

Jason squinted, then nodded. “Yeah, I—” He drew back a bit “It was that night?”

“I was angry at him for hurting my sister, breaking up with her the way he had. And I copped an attitude. The first time I’ve felt like myself,” she admitted. “I let Lizzie Webber out to play—and he slapped me with it.” Elizabeth pushed her hair behind her ear with her free hand. “He told Lucky he didn’t care what his little girlfriend had been through—”

Jason’s mouth tightened. “And Lucky punched him—”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t breathe—I couldn’t even think. I was so scared people would find out—and what they’d say if they did—and Nikolas—I mean, he apologized later. But I think I pushed Lizzie away again. I buried her deep, and I didn’t need her. I told myself she was before. And Lizzie was why we were in the park in the first place—”

“Lizzie,” Jason repeated. “I don’t—”

“I blamed myself for the rape—who I was. I blamed the voice in my head that impulsive and angry—and I told myself that was the Lizzie part. The part of me no one liked, so she had to go away.”

She met his eyes. “And she did. I didn’t need her because I had Lucky, and I thought he loved me. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because I’m always going to be Lizzie. And he never wanted her.”

On a shaky breath, Elizabeth smiled. “But I needed Lizzie to stand up to Carly that December. To protect you, I need her again. And I got angry. And I was mean. And I was snarky. And impulsive—” She grinned at him. “When I told Nikolas we were lovers—”

Jason smiled at the memory. “I remember.”

“I like that part of me. I don’t want to shut it out anymore.”

“I like that part of you, too,” he said, his fingers moving lightly back and forth over the palm of her hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone take care of me the way you did.”

They sat there for a long moment in a comfortable silence, as Elizabeth just watched the way he touched her hand, the light brush of their skin against each other.

“I’m just so tired,” she admitted. “Of this place. Of these people. Of constantly pretending to be happy. To be someone I’m not. I need a minute to breathe.” Their eyes met. “I care about you. You know that.”

“I care about you, too,” he said softly. “But you need more time.”

“I need to be sure,” she said with a nod. “I don’t expect you to wait around or—”

“Where am I going?” Jason tipped his head.

“Nowhere, I guess, but I think I need to. I was thinking—my parents keep telling me I can come see them in Europe. They’re in, um, Croatia now, I think. I don’t really want to see them or deal with them. But I also think I need to get away. To have space.”

“If you don’t want to see your parents,” Jason said slowly, “then maybe you’d be okay with the island. The one Sonny has in the Caribbean?”

“I—” Elizabeth blinked. “I don’t know—”

“I wouldn’t be there,” he added quickly. “I just—” Jason shook his head. “Never mind. I want you to be comfortable. To have that space—”

“No, I—I really don’t want to go to Europe. I mean, not to Croatia, I’d rather see Italy.” She bit her lip. “But I’m not ready for that.”

“I know.”

Elizabeth looked away, looked straight head, pressing her lips together as she considered it. She wanted a break. She thought she might even deserve it —

“Yeah. Yeah. That actually sounds—that sounds great. Um, I can’t afford it, but—” She wrinkled her nose when Jason just stared at her. “I’m not a charity case—”

“No, but you never let me pay for anything when I stayed at the studio,” he reminded her. “The way I see it, I owe six weeks of rent so why don’t you take a villa at the hotel for as long as you want it and we’ll call it even.”

“A luxury villa in a Carribbean resort is not even with a one-room studio with no heat during a New York winter.” She rolled her eyes.

“I needed a place, and you gave it to me.” Jason pulled her to her feet. “It’s exactly the same.”

“It’s really not,” she argued even as he walked her out of the park, knowing she was going to lose this fight — but enjoying it all the same.

May 2001

West Plana Cays: Airport

“Did you call her?” Sonny Corinthos asked as he put on a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes from the bright, nearly blinding Caribbean sunshine.

“No,” Jason muttered as he watched their bags be taken off the plane. “She came down here to be alone. And she hasn’t called.”

Which told him everything he needed to know. Elizabeth had come down to the island a few days after their conversation in the parks nearly two months ago, and she hadn’t come home.

She’d stayed in the villa for a few weeks, but then she’d moved somewhere else on the island, and Jason wasn’t sure where.

Elizabeth had been right to ask for space, he’d finally realized the week before. She’d been unsure if the way she felt about him was due to unhappiness — and well, of course—

“Hey, these are new—” Sonny reached over to a counter and picked up a postcard with a watercolor painting on the front. “I thought I recognized the brush strokes—”

“What?” Jason frowned at him. Brush strokes? What the—

“Elizabeth,” Sonny said, handing him the post card. “She had this art thing I went to while you were gone. You know, to show my support. She’d moved out of oils and into watercolors at that point. This is hers.”

“Hers—” Jason stared down at the back of the postcard — West Plana Cays at Sunset by Elizabeth Webber, and the name of the store. “I don’t—”

“You never called her once,” Sonny said with a sigh. He looked at the ceiling. “Where did I go wrong with this boy?”

“Sonny,” Jason said tightly.

“I mean, I knew you didn’t call her to tell her we were coming on business, but did you not call her at all?”

Jason stared at him, feeling oddly defensive. “No. She came down here for space.”

“From the other idiots. Not you. Oh, man, she’s going to be pissed.” Sonny’s white teeth flashd in a grin. “This will be fun to watch—”

“Shut up and tell me what’s going on.”

Agathe’s Curiosities & Trinkets: Second Floor

Elizabeth grinned, then bounced on her feet as the owner of the store and her boss looked over her newest designs. “What do you think? Will they sell as fast as the others?”

Agathe Rolle, Elizabeth’s favorite person in the world and personal savior, smiled then nodded. “Faster,” she assured. She wagged a finger at her. “Didn’t I tell you when I saw you that day? You were going to make both of us a lot of money. I’ll take these to the printer, and we’ll get an idea how long it will take to get them in the shop.”

Elizabeth sighed happily as Agathe left and she settled back at her drafting desk, picking up a pencil to get back to work. A few minutes later, she heard footsteps on the steps.

“Did you forget something?” Elizabeth said, twisting on her stool, then stopping when she saw Jason in the doorway of her studio, not Agathe. “Jason.”

She drank in the sight of him, the first after all these weeks—he looked the same, of course, but he’d traded the jeans and long-sleeves for a loose pair of linen pants and a white t-shirt to match the island weather.

Elizabeth got to her feet, folded her arms nervously. “Um, hey. I didn’t know you were coming.” Because he hadn’t called her once since the day he’d put her on the plane in March.

“I—” Jason cleared his throat, then stepped over the threshold. “I thought you—you wanted space. I was giving it to you.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. “Oh—I thought—um—” Elizabeth smiled then, feeling the butterflies in her belly again. “Then it was just—it was a misunderstanding. I got a job. I think I kind of live here now. Or at least for right now.”

“I—” Jason held up a postcard. “I saw.”

Elizabeth walked forward, plucked it out of his hand, beaming at her name on the other side. “People are buying these so fast—the first week, I was here, I was drawing in this cafe, and Agathe said she wanted to sell them in her shop. I couldn’t beleive it—but I figured why not. And then a week later, she asked for more. Then she talked about making postcards—”

“You left the hotel,” Jason said. “I didn’t know where you were.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I should have called,” she admitted. “I think I was just scared. It all felt like a dream. She offered me this studio, and there’s a room in the back. The postcards are selling so fast we can’t keep up. They’re in the shop, at the airport, and another store wants them now—” She met his eyes. “I’m an artist, Jason. People like what I draw. What I create. And I keep thinking it’s going to stop. Or end. But it just keeps getting better.”

“I’m glad.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “That’s what I wanted for you. I mean, I didn’t expect you to move to the island,” he teased.

“Me either, but it’s so beautiful here.” She gestured out the window which overlooked the main street of the village, then out to the sparkling waters beyond it. “Every morning, I wake up, and I can’t believe how lucky I am. How happy I am. Being a model—all of that. It feels so far away.”

He said nothing, and she looked at back at him. “But I’ve had my space. More of it than I thought,” she added. Elizabeth twisted her fingers in front of her. “And I know—I know how I feel. I guess I just—I wasn’t sure if you felt the same—”

Jason stepped up to her, closing the distance between them, their eyes searching each others. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” And grabbing of a bit of that Lizzie courage, Elizabeth leaned up on the tops of her toes, rested her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. A moment later, he dragged her closer, pressing her against him.

When they parted a long time later, their breaths shallow, chests rising fast in time to one another, Elizabeth smiled at him. “Do you have a bike down here?”

Jason laughed, then took her by the hand to show her that, yes—

He did have a bike, and he’d take her anywhere.

← Flash Fiction: The Ghost in the Girl – Part 2 |