Written in 55 minutes.

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Late June 2000

Jason laid back in the bed, one hand beneath his head, his ears cocked for the sound of Elizabeth’s return though he wouldn’t be able to hear the soft fall of her bare feet over the dull roar of the waves outside the window. They were louder tonight, and he remembered now that a storm had been forecast. He’d have to make sure the terrace doors were all closed and check the windows.

He sat up, swung his leg over the side of the mattress, wincing when the healing wound low on his abdomen protested. Maybe today’s activities hadn’t been exactly the best idea, Jason thought, pushing himself to his feet, but he had no regrets.

He could rest tomorrow.

There was a crack and roll of thunder. Jason leaned over to find his jeans. He was just fastening his jeans when he heard another crack—but this one was followed by the flash of lightning illuminating the room, and Jason realized that the first sound hadn’t been thunder after all. It had sounded closer—

He jerked open the drawer on the dresser, retrieved his handgun. He checked the safety and headed for the hallway.

—

It was just like that night. A hand reaching out from the darkness, from nothing, grabbing her, snatching her backwards so fast that she’d lost her breath—

One arm wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her side, the hand digging into her upper bicep. The other hand on her arm, clamping down on her lips and nose that she couldn’t breathe.

She twisted, tried to bite the hand, wriggled, but it didn’t stop, she couldn’t think, couldn’t process what was happening—the ocean waves mixed in with her memories, and maybe it wasn’t the water, but the wind roaring in her ears, and her legs felt so cold, they’d been dragged across the snowy ground, rocks and dirt shredding her panty hose—

Her feet were bare. She couldn’t find her shoes.

No, no, no no no not again not again please not again

—

Luke paced the small office of the airport. “How long does it take to get a plane ready? Just turn the key and start the damn thing—”

Sonny sent him a dirty look, then turned back to the phone. “Look, Marco, I don’t care. There are other people who can prepare for a storm—it’s not even a hurricane—I need you to go to the house and check the phone lines. Did they pick up Dario?”

Luke glanced over when he heard Sonny set the phone down, the dull plastic receiving clacking down hard on the base. “Well?”

“Marco has three guys out looking in Dario’s usual places, but there’s a tropical storm that’s in the area. The island’s only supposed to get the back edge of it, but it’s complicating everything. We can’t even get a flight plan.” Sonny dragged his hands down his face. “How the hell did I forget about this guy?”

“That’s a damn good question. Some guy goes after her, Jason humiliates him in front of his buddies, and you don’t think he goes at the top of the damn list? You and Jason, you always think no one else has any enemies,” Luke muttered. “You never look past your own faces.”

Sonny started to challenge him, but the phone rang again. He snatched it up. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t care. Get the flight plan filed. We’ll stop in Miami and wait out the storm if we have to. Get it done.”

—

There was no sound in the house, no Elizabeth in the kitchen, and Jason’s pulse picked up, his heart thudding in his ears. But his hands remained steady, his steps quiet and measured as he crept down the hall, his eyes sweeping the darkness at the closed doors. He couldn’t remember now if any of had been open before.

He hadn’t done a sweep of the house when they’d returned, Jason realized with a thud. Securing the house with the open windows and terrace was a pain in the ass, but they didn’t need that kind of security, he thought. They controlled all ways onto the island. Which meant this was someone on the island.

And that left only one person who might be inside the house. One person who had a damn good reason for wanting to hurt Elizabeth.

Jason stopped outside her door. He listened, and he couldn’t hear anything, not over the wind and waves outside. The rain had started, and was pelting the roof, the walls. He didn’t know what room Elizabeth had been dragged into, and he didn’t just want to kick a door in —

He couldn’t think about what might be happening while he debated. Couldn’t think about how scared Elizabeth might be or—couldn’t do it. He only had one chance, one opportunity, and he wasn’t going to screw it up.

—

Classes. She’d taken all those self-defense classes, but no one ever taught you how to think when your brain was frozen, how did you stop it, how did get back into your body, how did you make it all go away, to stop swirling and screaming and—

Thunder crackled and lightning flashed, and the room around them was illuminated — Elizabeth saw her surroundings. And it was enough. It snapped her back, and she knew where she was.

It wasn’t the Port Charles Park on Valentine’s Day. And this wasn’t the man who had raped her. It wasn’t happening again. It wasn’t cold, and those weren’t rocks digging into her feet, but the cold tiled floor.

It was now, and Elizabeth was never going to let someone make her a victim again. She’d worked too hard—

She forced herself to go limp, making her body dead weight. Her attacker grunted, but his grip slipped just enough for Elizabeth to clamp down hard on the hand in her arm. He yelped, but his hand fell away, and she screamed.

——

“What if we’re in the air and something happens?” Sonny demanded, watching as the jet in the hangar was prepared for the trip. “What do we do then?”

“I don’t know,” Luke retorted. “What are we going to do if something happens and we’re on our asses here in Port Charles?”

He dragged a hand through his hair, stalked over to the window that looked out over the hangar. “I don’t like any of this,” he muttered. “Storm coming, you can’t reach the house. Maybe an island in the middle of nowhere was a bad idea.”

He turned back to find Sonny on the phone again, but his expression had shifted. Luke’s heartbeat picked up. “What? What happened?”

“We—we can’t get a flight to the island.” Sonny looked at him. “Not until the morning. The storm is shifting its path. It’s going to hit the island head on in about an hour. And it’s being upgraded to a category one hurricane.”

Luke exhaled on a long breath. “Okay. We’ll get to Miami, and you’ll charter a motherfucking boat. I’ll drive it myself.”

“Luke—look—”

“Don’t tell me that’s suicide, and don’t tell me Jason can handle it. The phones are out, Corinthos. That’s before the storm ever hits them. Your guy can’t find this Dario person in any of his usual places. That’s why he hasn’t picked him up yet. It’s already happening, and I’ll be damned if we’re going to twiddle our thumbs a thousand miles away—I can’t do nothing—”

“Marco said he’d go up to the house—” Sonny’s face was gray. “There’s nothing we can do, Luke.”

“Get us to Miami. At least get us closer.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see if I can manage that.” Sonny picked up the phone again.

—

Elizabeth’s scream ripped through the air, just behind her bedroom door, and whatever caution Jason had been holding on to disappeared. He hit the door with his shoulder, breaking it off the hinges, sending flying into the room, splinters falling to the floor.

He had the gun raised and pointed before he could even take in the scene — near the terrace doors, thrown wide open, drapery whipped around by the rain and wind swirling into the room, he saw Elizabeth being held by a dark figure, an arm around her neck and the other at her waist.

“Let her go!” Jason roared, but he couldn’t get a good shot, not with the darkness in the room, the way Elizabeth’s head was moving back and forth. She twisted, and then her leg was in the air, her foot came down hard—Jason saw the flash of her elbow—She planted both blows at the same time, leading her attacker to grunt and lose his grip.

Elizabeth twisted out of his grasp, whirling around to bring her knee directly into his groin before flying across the room. Jason caught her with his other arm, dragging her against his side, only barely registering the pain.

The lightning flashed again, casting light on Dario Colon’s grim expression as he got to his feet. Thunder cracked and rolled, the sounds were on top of each other. He saluted them with two fingers at his temple, then darted backwards.

Jason shot twice after him but knew he hadn’t been able to hit his mark as Dario flew over the terrace wall. By the time Jason got out there, he couldn’t find the other man in the dark, the pelting his skin as he stood there, trying to find him.

“Damn it, damn it—” Jason engaged the safety, set the gun on the dresser and came towards Elizabeth, dragging her back into his arms. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“N-No, no, I’m okay. But he got away—he’ll come back—” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Jason—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll get out of here. We’ll go into town. I’ll get you somewhere safe,” Jason said. He went to the lamp on the side table of her bed, flicked the switch. Nothing.  Damn it. Damn it.

“Jason?”

“The power’s out.” Which meant the phone was out, and neither of their cell phones worked here. And if Dario had been in the house before they got home from dinner, he might have had time to screw with the car.

Jason picked up the gun. “Get dressed. Fast. We need to get out of here.”

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