Written in 60 minutes.

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Why does it matter to you? It was my money. You don’t even know me. So what are you doing here?

Jason didn’t know how to answer that question. There were so many questions he didn’t know how to answer these days — it would be more surprising if he could tell Elizabeth why he’d come over tonight, why he’d pushed her one the one subject that wasn’t really that important. He’d meant to ask her about the eviction notice — that was clearly more urgent and something that was being done now.

But he’d lived in the Quartermaine mansion for almost two months, and he knew the way they used their money. It had been the first carrot Edward had dangled in front of Jason to control him — do what I want and you can have whatever you want. Cross me, and you get nothing. When Jason hadn’t been willing to control his temper or stop asking questions of his own or pointing out how badly that so-called family treated one another — the money had been yanked away from him.

He didn’t care about it. He hadn’t earned it, and he could go out and find his own. He’d done just that, even if he now knew Edward and Alan had been sabotaging him at every opportunity. After getting kicked from Jake’s, Jason had planned to head out of Port Charles and trying something else. Then Luke had come to him, promised there’d be no Quartermaines to push him around, and Jason had stayed because it was easier to stay where he was for now.

But he didn’t like the idea that they were stealing from someone else. And they were using Jason to do it. They were doing it in his name, if he understood what a conservatorship meant. He didn’t want to be used. He didn’t want to be part of it.

Jason opened his mouth, maybe to explain this to her, but she just rolled her eyes and flounced away from him, because he’d taken too long to answer. He’d stood in front of her like a block of concrete — Lois had told him that once. Jason had to think about some things for a while to make it come out right, but it was always just a little too long and no one ever had patience for it —

“Never mind,” Elizabeth said. She went over towards the kitchen, jerked open the fridge door. “Was that all you wanted or—”

“Why do you ask questions if you don’t want the answer?” Jason demanded, and she looked at him, her hand resting on the top of the door, the bright, unnatural light of the fridge casting a strange shine to her face. “You ask and you get mad because I don’t have the words you want.”

“That’s not—” Elizabeth bit her lip, closed the door. “I’m not looking for words—”

“Then what are you looking for? It’s not an easy question with a yes or no or a fact answer,” he cut in again, feeling that old familiar rage rising because no one ever gave him a chance. They all thought he was too stupid to understand anything anymore. “I can’t just reach inside my brain and explain everything the way you want me to! I have to think!”

“I’m sorry. I’m—” Elizabeth retraced the few steps that separated the kitchen from the living area, and stopped behind the sofa, her fingers picking at the fringe on the throw blanket she’d folded over the top. “Okay. Do you want to answer my question then or do you want more time?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like an idiot, either. I’m not,” he said, his teeth clenched, his heart thudding so hard it pounded in his ears. “You’re just like them, and I thought you’d be different.”

Elizabeth rubbed her face, dragging both hands down her cheeks, then left them covering the skin. “No good answer here, then. Okay. Fine. Go. Leave. Or don’t. I’m too tired to do this.”

She dropped into the armchair, drew her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m just so tired, you know? It never seems to be good enough for anyone. I’m never  good enough. I never say the right things, or wear the right clothes, or go to the right schools—and that’s not me trying to make to you feel bad for being mad at me. You’re right. I got frustrated when you didn’t immediately answer because I’m embarrassed. I’m humiliated by the whole damn thing.” Her voice broke and she dropped her forehead against her knees. “I didn’t even know it was my money they took. I thought it was yours, and I figured, oh well. So what? And I took it. I always take it from them. I don’t know how to stop.”

Some of the pulsing anger faded, though he remained irritated. “I don’t like they used me to steal from you,” he said, his tone clipped, and she lifted her head to look at him, the tear stains on her cheeks making his stomach feel strange. “I don’t know you. Not the way you want me to. But you’re a person and you were nice to me. You didn’t lie to me when I asked you questions. And you tried to help me. I don’t like that they’re using me to hurt you.” He paused, sat down carefully on the edge of the sofa. “They’re evicting you. You never said that.”

Elizabeth exhaled, her breath shaky. “Because that’s about me. Not you. You don’t live here anymore. You’re not paying the rent. It’s my home, and they’re taking it from me to make me leave town. They want me to go away. It’s what they’ve always wanted. I didn’t tell you because it’s not about you. Your name is on the lease, but you don’t remember signing it. You don’t know me,” she repeated gently. “You said it yourself. So why bother you with that? I told you about the bank account because it was how I found out about the conservatorship. Because you need to know that they control everything. Not because I ever thought it was my money they took.”

There was a logic to that and he could appreciate it. She’d put everything in a pile that was about him and kept what was hers. “Yes. Okay. I understand that. Because they’re using my name to do it.”

“Yes. They are.” Elizabeth sighed, dropped her legs back to the ground. “I should have told Lila as soon as it happened, you know? Or Emily. The minute I got those divorce papers and I realized how far they’d gone. Monica wouldn’t have believed me, but maybe…but I didn’t.” She looked at him, her dark blue eyes still shining with tears she hadn’t yet shed. “I’m tired of being the reason Emily fights with her family, and for all that Lila’s taken my side, nothing would change. All it would do is cause them pain. Edward and Alan would just do whatever they want. Just like always.”

She scrubbed at her face, pushed herself up. “Okay, well that’s enough of all that. I don’t need that money. I didn’t earn it anyway. I wasn’t working.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “You talked to Justus. And he saw the papers, so he believes me. That’s good. He hasn’t been a Quartermaine long enough to be as ruthless as Alan and Edward.” When Jason frowned at her, Elizabeth clarified, “He didn’t know his father was Edward’s son until a few years ago. It was kept quiet mostly because Justus’s father died like twenty years ago, and they found his body—never mind. It’s not relevant. But he’s a great attorney. He’ll know how to help you. If there’s anything my divorce attorney can do for you, if there’s papers or anything, I don’t know, I’ll do it.”

Elizabeth walked towards the door, and Jason realized she was sending him away. Politely, but it didn’t change that she wanted to him to leave.

And he wasn’t ready to go. Not yet. There were still things that had to be said, weren’t they? Jason searched for a reason to stay, to ask her another question.

“Are there more pictures?” he said, and Elizabeth stopped, her hand falling away from the doorknob. She turned back, met his eyes with her brows drawn together quizzically. “You only brought two when you came to the club today.”

“I brought what I thought I needed — to prove what I was showing you.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “There are pictures, yeah. What do you want to see? I can—” Her voice tightened, and she looked away. “No. No, I can’t. I can’t show them to you. Um—” She pressed a fist to her heart. “Why do you want to see them? You said you didn’t know me. And you told everyone for months that you aren’t Jason Quartermaine anymore. That’s not who you are. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes,” Jason said warily. “But—”

“But you don’t get to have it both ways. I will tell you anything you want to know, okay? And I’ll show you whatever you want to make those facts real. Or explain anything you want. But I don’t look at those pictures anymore. I carried that one around with me, and I never looked at it. I can’t.” Her voice faltered, and she sucked in another deep breath. “They’re from a life that doesn’t exist anymore. You don’t remember it, and I wish I could forget it.”

“I—” He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “You gave me her book. There were pictures in there.”

“I don’t look at that anymore. I won’t. You can keep it. You can burn in it. I don’t—” Elizabeth shook her head. Exhaled in a rush of breath that sounded ragged, though she wasn’t crying anymore. “You want to see it? Fine. Come with me.”

She spun on her heel, stalked across the living space to one of the doors tucked by the window. She threw it open, flicked on a light, but didn’t go inside. Kept her back to the door. Her eyes were empty now, the colors had faded from her cheeks, leaving her skin a stark white. “After I came home from the hospital, when they released me, I refused to come into the apartment because she was everywhere and I told you if you made me come in here, I’d throw myself out the window. You don’t remember that day. I do. It was a terrible, awful thing I said to you, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t see you. See anything past what was happening to me. So you took me to Luke’s, and said you’d handle it. You put everything in this room. I don’t go in here anymore. I pretend it’s not here. It’s easier that that way.”

She stepped aside, leaving the path to room open. Her back was to him, her face staring out the window.

Jason was frozen on the other side of the living room. Such a small space that felt impossibly huge. And he had a flash of empathy, of understanding of what he was doing by asking these questions. By pushing her to talk about this — to look at pictures —

He went to the door, turned off the light, and gently pulled the door shut. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped, and she slowly turned back to face him, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. “If you want to look at it—”

“I won’t ever remember her,” Jason said, and she closed her eyes. “I think I want to, but the doctors say it’s not possible. It’s not amnesia. I won’t ever remember her. It’s not fair to put you through this just so I can maybe one day feel a connection to her. To Cady,” he said, the name feeling strange on his lips and that was a sad fact, he thought. He didn’t know anything about being a father, but a child’s name should be a familiar sound. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, the movement slow and jerky. “It’s, um, a very weird situation we’re in, and I get it. There’s, um, legal stuff that still ties us together and I know that has to be handled. I know it. And you’re very kind to even…” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “You’ve been very kind to show any interest in what happened before your accident outside of what Alan and Edward are doing. But this is really hard for me.” She lifted her eyes to him, and while he wasn’t always very good at understanding what someone was feeling, the pain in her gaze felt like a punch to his gut. “You’re not my husband anymore. He died that night in December. I loved him very much. You have his face, his DNA, his voice, and maybe some of his personality, time will tell. But you don’t love me anymore.”

“No,” Jason said, though it didn’t require a response.

Elizabeth swiped at her tears. “This is why Luke made you come to the club. He knew I had to face it. I don’t—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I knew what the doctors said. I knew what Emily had told me — I knew you didn’t remember me. But until you were standing in front of me the other day, I didn’t know I didn’t believe it. I thought I was special, somehow. That I could transcend medicine — that what we had, who we were to each other —” She shook her head, her low laughter almost derisive. “I thought you’d know me even when you didn’t know anyone else. I was holding on to that silly thought, and Luke knew it. And I didn’t. I didn’t know I was clutching that dream so tight so that I wasn’t breathing. I wasn’t living.”

Elizabeth abruptly turned, went to the kitchen, and switched on the faucet. She splashed water on her face a few times, then reached for a towel to dry it. Jason remained where he was, standing by the closed door.

“You should still work at Luke’s. It’s a good job, and Luke’s a really good boss. But I’m going to ask him to schedule you for Claude’s shifts. I’m sorry,” she added. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you get out of the conservatorship. We’ll sign the divorce papers. And you can be free to be whoever you want. But I can’t work with you. It’s not fair to you—”

“I decide what’s fair to me,” Jason cut in, unsure why the thought of not seeing her at the club, of knowing that she was going to cut herself out of his life all over again. He’d only known her for a handful of days, but it seemed wrong to go back to not knowing her.

“It’s not fair to me,” Elizabeth said, and he had nothing to say to that. “Because I still love you. And I don’t know how to stop. So, I’ll let my attorney know he can talk to Justus, and I’ll do whatever you want,” she repeated. “But I think maybe I need to keep my distance. For my own sanity. I need to move on, I need to know if I even can. So if you could just go, and not argue with me, I’d appreciate it.”

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