Written in 66 minutes.

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Elizabeth felt a thousand years older by the time she returned to the table where Justus was sitting, a few documents strewn around him. Luke was scowling off to the side, and Jason trailed behind her.

“I’m sorry for running out like that,” she said, standing stiffly in front of the table, her arms crossed. “I don’t want this to be about me. It’s not. What happened — it’s over. It was almost six months ago.”

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I didn’t realize how much the press had bothered you.” Justus rose to his feet, buttoned his suit jacket. “I just thought because you’d been fighting so hard in family court, you’d want to take the most efficient way to ending this—”

“If I’d wanted an efficient end to any of this, I would have taken their first offer and ran,” Elizabeth said. “Family court records are sealed. And so are the records in probate court. The press has no idea any of this is happening, and that’s the way I want to keep it.”

Justus flicked his eyes to Jason, then back to Elizabeth. “All right. Then let’s talk about the other options. We’ll need to focus on the judge then. Getting him to see your point of view. Forgive me if I say you have a sympathetic story. I’d like permission to play that up—”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “You mean talk about Cady.”

“Yes. And the injuries you suffered. The fact that Jason’s accident was only, what, six weeks later? It’ll go a long way to making you into the victim. And then the judge will hopefully see that Jason is perfectly capable of making his own decisions, which include staying or ending his own marriage.”

“All right.” Elizabeth pulled a chair out, then sat down, perching at the edge of the chair. Jason sat as well, this time taking the seat next to her. “You’ll file the injunction then.”

“Yes. If you’re adamant about not using public opinion,” Justus said, “then we need to make sure the judge takes this seriously. Jason’s working, holding down a job and I’d like an affidavit from Luke as to his ability to do so.”

“Yeah, sure,” Luke said with a shrug. “Kid does just fine.”

“And the two of you need to show a united front,” Justus continued, looking between Jason and Elizabeth. “The whole point of stopping the divorce and making the judge think twice about denying my motion is if the two of you are serious about making the marriage work.”

“I—” Elizabeth clenched her hands in her lap. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Jason should probably move back into the apartment,” Justus said.

“No,” Jason said before Elizabeth could, and she blinked at him. “No. That’s not an option. Why can’t we just tell the judge we’re taking our time to figure out what we want to do—”

“We could do that. But ultimately, the goal is to get our foot in the door in probate court. If I can get your marriage sanctioned by the court, then Elizabeth can file as an interested party in probate.” Justus paused. “And I can make an argument that she, not Alan, should be conservator of the person.”

“I don’t want to be anything—the whole point is to make this over—” Elizabeth closed her mouth. “Wait. If I were a co-conservator—”

“Then you have the power to request it be dissolved. That’s the back up plan to using public opinion,” Justus said. “Jason?”

“Can’t I just go to the mansion and punch the old man?” Jason muttered, slouched in the chair. “That feels like it would be faster and more satisfying.”

“I honestly think Edward and Alan will back down before it gets that far,” Justus said. “I think letting the rest of the family in on what’s going on will do us a lot of good. I mean, Elizabeth, if you’d brought this to me months ago—”

“Really? You think Lila and Monica can stop this?” Elizabeth leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her chin on her clasped hands. “Tell me, Justus, where were you when Edward froze Jason’s trust fund last May because I didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement, and he had to hire a lawyer to get the money moving again. Monica knew that happened. She was in the conference room when Edward finally admitted defeat. She wanted Edward to go to court. She was so sure that freezing Jason out of his money would keep him from staying with me.”

Justus took a deep breath. “All right, then—”

“And Lila. She’s a very sweet woman, you know. But where was she when Edward threw me off the estate two months ago?” Elizabeth wanted to know. “In the foyer, telling me that we should just give Jason a few weeks. It would all be okay if we were patient. And then Edward called security.” She leaned back, one brow arched. “Should I go on, Justus?”

“No,” Justus muttered. “I know the family wasn’t welcoming to you—”

“I’m not going to hold my breath that anyone from the family will be able to talk Edward or Alan down,” Jason said. “So there’s no point in going over this again and again. Elizabeth didn’t tell them about it because she didn’t see the point. And I agree with her. So you need us to look married so that she’s the best choice for a conservator. That’s the bottom line.”

“Yes,” Justus said, wincing. “Elizabeth—”

“How long would that take?” she asked softly. “How long, I mean, would we have to—” She licked her lips.

“I don’t know. It depends on the injunction holding. I’ll file that, and hope it gets put on the calendar within a week or so. If the judge doesn’t deny it, if he dismisses the divorce petition, then I can file in probate. This is the best plan. Outside of calling the papers.”

“Then okay. If Jason is okay with it, we’ll do it this way. Um, the apartment—” Her chest felt tight. “There’s a second—there’s another room. We could—”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Jason said, and she closed her eyes. “That’s good enough for me. We’re not touching her room until you’re ready.”

Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Is there anything else?” Jason wanted to know.

“No, I’ll get started on the paperwork, and I’ll be in touch.” Justus packed the paperwork into his briefcase.

“I’ll walk you to the door. Make sure you get out,” Luke said, following Justus.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, staring down at her hands. “For…for saying that. About the room. But maybe—”

“It’s fine. I’ve slept under the docks,” Jason said, standing up. “The sofa can’t be any worse.” He held out his hand.

But she couldn’t take it. She didn’t want to touch him, to look at him. It was too much. It was always too much, and she was exhausted. “I need to wash my face before my shift starts. We’ll…talk about the specifics later.”

Jason watched her disappear towards the bathroom as Luke rejoined them. “The press,” he asked, looking at the bar owner. “It was worse than she probably made it out to be, wasn’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know what she told you, but, yeah, it was bad. Sonny took care of it. He made a few calls to WKPC, made sure they knew where their bread was buttered. And the papers — well, you start threatening defamation and libel lawsuits, they start shutting up.” Luke was grim. “And you punched a reporter.”

“Good,” Jason said flatly. “That’s the first thing I’ve heard about myself that makes sense.”

“Your first arrest. We were very proud of you,” Luke said, almost fondly. He headed for the bar. “Until then, to be honest, couldn’t really understand why Lizzie put up with you. But the human heart is a mystery. And your family was making your life miserable, too.” He poured himself a shot of whiskey. “But you stuck, so I guess there’s something to it. Would have been easier for both of you to toss in the towel, but what are you going do? Two stupid kids.” He tossed back the whiskey. “What they’re still doing to you? It’s a goddamn crime, and they’re gonna get off light because she doesn’t have the heart to roast them in the media.”

“There’s gotta be another way to make this go faster,” Jason said. He hesitated. “You said Sonny made calls. That he has some power. I’ve heard rumors.”

Luke swirled the whiskey in his glass, cocked his head. “Ah, you looking for the kind of revenge that doesn’t come from the courts?”

“I wouldn’t mind making them miserable, so yeah. Maybe. This court stuff — I get why it’s necessary, but I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me who runs my life. I do.”

“That piece of paper is gonna make it easier for other people to accept it, so you might as well get it. But, yeah, the old man and your parents, it might be time for them to get a little taste of some justice.”

—

They worked the happy hour shift together, but Jason didn’t say anything to Elizabeth more than trading orders back and forth. She’d looked tired even before the meeting with Justus, and he wasn’t about to make her feel even worse.

For the last few months, all Jason had really thought about was himself. Which was fair, he told himself. He hadn’t had anything else to worry about. Or maybe he hadn’t let himself think about anything or anyone deeply enough to matter. He’d lived in that house with all the people who called themselves his family, and he had liked some of them.

But none of them had ever really felt like his or people that he would have sought out if they were standing in front of him, claiming to already belong to him. Or that he belonged to them. He didn’t want to belong to anyone but himself. He’d left the house, tired of hearing about Jason the person son, the perfect medical student, the perfect brother—it wasn’t who he was, or knew how to be—and it wasn’t even who he wanted to be. He didn’t know what he wanted, only to stop hearing their voices all the damn time. As soon as they’d started talking about sending him away, that he was damaged after all, well, he’d had to get out.

He hadn’t cared that maybe they’d worry. Lila and Emily, who were nice enough. They were worried. And Edward had probably been angry, barking out orders. Probably ordering Ned or Justus to find him, to drag him back home. They’d kept him on the move, kept him from planting down any roots—

Until he’d ended up at Luke’s. Now, over a week later, he had a job that he could do, even if he didn’t really like it much. And Luke was okay. Sonny didn’t seem so bad, when he was around. Mike, the guy in the kitchen, was okay, too.

And there was Elizabeth, who was supposed to be his family, too. Only she’d never tried to push herself into that role. Other than that day in his room, when she’d given him too much to think about, too much to absorb—but she’d only wanted to help him. To give him what she thought he wanted.

And then she’d told him to go away. To leave her alone. Because it hurt too much to be around him. No one had ever said that before. No one had ever really admitted that it was hard to look at him, and Jason could almost understand the family now. What would it be like for someone to wear your son’s face, to sound like him, but to never be him? If they had accepted that he wasn’t the same, if they’d just asked him for space, would it be different?

“I need six Rolling Rocks,” Elizabeth called from the other end of the bar. “And two Bud Lights.”

Jason filled orders, almost mechanically, taking the glasses, placing them under pump, and filling them to the brim the way he’d been shown. One by one, until he’d filled two drink trays and then a waitress had taken them away.

He was troubled because she’d asked him to stay away, and he’d meant to listen until Justus had told him she was the key to getting rid of that stupid piece of paper the Quartermaines held over his head, the paper that meant he’d always have to live and work at Luke’s because he was the only person in the whole damn city who wouldn’t shove Jason out on the street. He didn’t want Elizabeth to be the key to anything, he thought, because she didn’t want that either.

And now she was in the middle of it again, just the way she’d never wanted to be, and he thought that it wasn’t fair. Maybe they should still find another way to do this. Justus had to have other plans, didn’t he?

He decided he needed to tell Elizabeth that he didn’t want her help anymore, not when it made her so sad and it always seemed to make her think of losing her daughter. Their daughter, he corrected himself, wiping down the bar for the night, watching as one of the bouncers dragged the last drunk to the door and put him in one of taxi cabs.

She’d stayed past the end of her scheduled shift, until the bar had closed, and looked dead on her feet. Elizabeth reached under the bar to retrieve her purse, stifling a yawn, then looked at him, her eyes heavy. “Do you want to get your things later or now?”

“I was thinking maybe not at all,” Jason said, the words coming out in a rush that he hadn’t planned, and she frowned at him. “I was thinking it was really selfish of me to agree. To even ask you.”

“I’m too tired for this,” Elizabeth said, dragging one hand through hair. “You didn’t ask me.”

“I did—”

“Justus asked me. And I said yes. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.” She swung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door. “So you can either come home with me or stay here, but I’m too tired to keep doing this.”

Jason muttered under his breath, then followed her, reaching her just as she reached the parking lot. “Elizabeth—”

Underneath one of the lights in the lot, she stopped, whirled around, stabbed a finger in his chest. “No. Don’t argue with me, okay? If Justus thought there was another way to do this, he’d have told you. Believe me. He does a good job of pretending, but he doesn’t really like me either. There’s not a single member of that damn family who would give you options that include me if there was another way. There isn’t. So unless you want Edward and Alan to follow you around and ruin your life for another few decades, you’ll come home with me, and we’ll figure out if you even fit on my damn sofa, okay?” Elizabeth glared at him, her hands at her hips, her cheeks flushed. “I’m helping you and you can’t stop me.”

“I just…don’t want to hurt you,” Jason said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “And it seems like that’s all I’ve done since I came back into your life.”

She sighed, looked away. “You didn’t come back into my life. You don’t remember ever being here before. I can’t blame you for that. And I don’t. You’re not the one hurting me, Jason. You never were.” Elizabeth bit her lip, looked at him again. “You’re not hurting me. So can we just be done with this conversation now? I’m really tired, and I want to go home.”

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