Elizabeth blearily rubbed her eyes and could barely focus her vision as Ric helped her into her thick black overcoat and buttoned it over her bulging pregnancy. “Who is doing this?” she asked again.
“Elizabeth–”

“I don’t feel right about this,” she protested. “I don’t feel right about slinking out of town–running from this.”

“Look–if you weren’t pregnant, we could discuss a way to end this legally,” Ric told her.” Pleading it out–asking for probation. But you’re having a baby, Elizabeth. And after the miscarriage…” he trailed off and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her face towards him and gently kissing her forehead. “I just don’t want anything to happen.”

“Okay but I want to know what’s going on. Who did you go to, Ric?” Elizabeth demanded.

She heard a car pull up in their driveway and she moved a sheer curtain out of the way to see it. In the early morning hours with little light, she could only make out a dark car.

But the figure that emerged from the driver’s side–he was unforgettable and unmistakable.

His head was down and his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His boots–he always wore motorcycle boots whether he was in a car, limo or on his bike–were silent as he crossed the grass rather than walking up their stone-lined walkway.

Elizabeth let the curtain float back into place as she turned with wide eyes to her husband. “You asked Jason for help,” she stated.

“Who else would help without questions?” Ric asked. He shifted. “Does it worry me it didn’t take much convincing for him to help you? Sure. Am I desperate enough to ask anyway? Yes.”

Jason’s brisk knock interrupted further conversation and Ric pulled it open. Jason had no greetings–only stepped inside and kept out of sight of the windows. “We only have a few minutes,” he told Elizabeth. “I want to get out of here before the sun really gets up and people can see.”

“How exactly is this working?” she demanded. “Where am I going? And furthermore,” she glared at Ric now, “I don’t appreciate you making all these decisions for me. I barely agreed to leave and then you refuse to tell me anything that’s going on–”

“You didn’t tell her you were asking me?” Jason demanded. He narrowed his eyes. “Did he tell you that you’re leaving this morning?”

“No,” Elizabeth said, irritated. “He just woke me up and made me get dressed.” She crossed her arms. “Now I’m not taking another step until I find out what’s going on.”

“I’m getting you out of the country,” Jason informed her. “Once we’re out of the house, I’ll tell you where. No one else can know–not even Ric. And until you can come home, the only way you’ll stay in contact with people in town is through me.”

Ric expected her to argue, expected her to throw up another argument. He’d agreed to it yesterday because he thought Elizabeth would throw up a fuss and demand that at least her husband should know.

But instead Elizabeth just nodded and finished buttoning her coat. Jason gestured towards the suitcase, a duffle bag and a cardboard box which Elizabeth had packed the night before. “Is this it?”

“I only took what I’d thought I’d need. Clothing–maternity and normal. And the box is just…things to keep me from getting bored. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone and there are just some things that I can’t get anywhere.” She swung the duffle bag over her shoulder and moved to get the suitcase.

“No, let me get that,” Ric volunteered.

“No, it’d be better if you didn’t leave the house right now,” Jason told him. “When people ask where she went, tell them that her father got sick and she flew to Europe to see him.”

“Your parents live in Europe?” Ric asked, surprised.

“They have for years,” Elizabeth offered absently.

Jason frowned a little but shook it off. He picked up the box and then shifted it to one hand before grabbing her suitcase. “We’d better go.”

Ric pulled open the door and Jason left immediately. Ric tried to pull his wife close for a kiss goodbye but she just kissed him on the cheek before following Jason to the car.

Jason had her things in the trunk by the time she reached him and once her duffle bag was in there and she was in the passenger seat, he started the car and they pulled away from the house.

Elizabeth clasped her hands nervously in her lap, unable to remember the last time she had been alone with Jason in such a confined space. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t expect this to happen so fast,” she confessed softly.

He glanced at her. “How long did Ric know before he came up with this idea?”

“About ten minutes. I no sooner told him than he decided I couldn’t turn myself in.”

“Were you going to?”

“I thought about it,” she admitted. “I feel just…” she exhaled a rush of air and looked out the window. “Like something’s choking me from the inside out. I killed him, Jason. I hit him over the head and left him to die.”

Tears stung her eyes and she slid her eyelids down in an effort to stave the endless flood that seemed to plague her. “Zander. I killed Zander Smith. Emily’s first love, the f-father of my–” her voice broke. “How could I do something like that?” she asked thickly.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel–his grip so rigid his knuckles were white. He did it in an effort not to pull over and draw her into his arms–offer her the comfort that Jason could feel she so desperately needed. But touching her was out of the question.

‘”You didn’t mean to do it,” Jason offered in an effort to make her feel better. Idly, he wondered if Ric had taken the time to really assure her that she wasn’t the person at fault here. Yes, she’d delivered the fatal blow but he’d known Zander. Knew that while Zander would never purposely hurt Elizabeth, that desperate men were capable of desperate things. Elizabeth must have been terrified to lash out in violence like she’d had.

“Intent doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth protested. “I never should have gone into that room. I should have just let it alone.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, angry at herself for breaking down in front of Jason. After all the times she’d taken comfort from him, she wouldn’t do it again. She cleared her throat. “Thank you–thank for you for helping. I wouldn’t–I wouldn’t have thought to ask you.”

“Why?” Jason asked, even though he knew the answer to that question. Because they were on opposite sides. They always had been even though it’d taken a lot of pain to see that. Because she hated asking for help and only her psychotic husband would have thought of this. Instead of taking the time and effort of getting her acquitted–which he knew she would be–he was herding his pregnant wife out of town. Taking the easy way out.

Not that Jason could blame him. Elizabeth was pregnant and no child deserved to be born behind bars and no pregnant woman deserved to go through a lengthy trial and the stress that could cause.

“Because…” Elizabeth hesitated. “Ric hates you,” she offered lamely. “I can’t imagine what made him ask you in the first place,” she admitted.

“Who else could he have asked?” Jason asked. He removed a hand from the steering wheel and rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t slept in almost two days. He’d left Ric on the docks and gone to his penthouse, intent on making all the arrangements for Elizabeth to leave town as quietly and efficiently as possible.

But Carly and Sonny had been arguing in the hallway, with Michael pleading with them to stop and Courtney desperately trying to referee. He’d convinced Courtney to take Carly back home and Sonny to go into his penthouse but Michael was like a leech–refused to leave his side. Normally, Jason relished spending time with his honorary nephew but he just wanted to get these arrangements made and to take a nap before having to tell Sonny he was going out of town for a few days.

But Michael was going through a difficult time–none of which was his fault so he let him tag along and set him up in his penthouse. Michael watched cartoons all afternoon while Jason was on the phone. And only when Michael fell sleep on the couch, did Jason go across the hall.

Telling Sonny had been difficult. First–they’d fought. Sonny thought Jason was trying to steal Michael from him and the next Jason knew, Sonny had told him to go ahead and take the boy–Michael loved him more anyway. Thinking that Sonny was just upset, Jason decided Michael would just stay at his place for the night.

He’d returned to his penthouse to find Courtney waiting and all she’d wanted to do was talking about them–about why they weren’t working, why they never could.

As if she already hadn’t explained it in painstaking detail a thousand times.

And when she’d opened the door to leave, they found two suitcases filled with Michael’s clothes.

Sonny had snapped. And Jason wasn’t going to trust Michael in that home until Sonny had returned to his senses.

Jason cleared his throat and looked in the rearview mirror. Michael had always been a deep sleeper and he was still curled up in the backseat, a small blanket over his body, his head resting on a pillow and his arms clutching the old giraffe that he’d never gotten rid of.

“Michael’s coming with us,” Jason finally told Elizabeth. Her eyes widened and she followed his gaze in the mirror. “Sonny–and Carly–they’re not…” he took a deep breath and tried to keep the anger and disappointment out of his voice. “Sonny’s upset because Michael came to my place yesterday but it’s only because Sonny and Carly are always arguing–not because he wants to live with me or anything,” He tried to explain–more to assure himself than to tell her. “I talked to Carly and when I told her I was leaving town for a few days and offered to take Michael, she agreed.”

“Poor little guy,” she sighed. “I can’t imagine what it’s like. Is he okay?” she asked him.

“Yeah…but I think he could use some time away from it all. You don’t mind, right?”

“No…but isn’t he going to wonder…” Elizabeth shook her head. “Where are we going?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Spain for right now,” Jason told her. “I rented a little place on the coast. It’s isolated but well stocked.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She sighed. “I wish I could have at least told Emily I was leaving. She’s been going through such a tough time with Nikolas.” The acid started churning in her stomach again. “God I hope the charges get dropped.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” Jason promised.

Elizabeth sighed. “God…this is so unfair for you. You don’t need to be doing this. You have your own life–”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t help you,” Jason argued. He glanced at her. “And I get to decide what’s fair to me.”

---

Michael had to be woken when they arrived at the airport and he was very fuzzy on the details seeing as how Jason had practically had to carry him down to the car in the first place.

He remembered Elizabeth from Kelly’s and from various other things and when Jason just explained he was making sure she got to her vacation house okay, he understood. After all–his mother had been pregnant and he understood that pregnant women needed to be taken care of extra special.

By the time they were in the air, Michael was awake and alert. Jason had used Sonny’s private plane, not wanting people to remember Elizabeth on a commercial flight should this whole ordeal become an issue with the law.

“So how many months ’til your baby’s born?” Michael asked, sipping the orange juice he’d been working on since breakfast.

“Three months,” Elizabeth answered.

“Does your baby kick yet?” Michael asked. He pouted. “I wasn’t with Mommy when Morgan kicked.”

“She kicks,” Elizabeth confirmed. She took one of Michael’s small hands in hers and placed it over her stomach. “Can you feel her?”

Michael nodded, excited. “Does it hurt?” he asked, intently.

“Only if she kicks the ribs.”

“So it’s a girl?”

Jason’s voice came from the other end of the cabin and it surprised her since he’d spent most of the flight on the phone, talking in a soft tone. “Yes, we found out last week,” Elizabeth told him.

“What’re you going to name her?” Michael asked. “I think it’s fun to pick out baby names. I got to suggest Morgan’s name,” he announced.

Jason frowned. “I thought your mother did,” he said, setting the phone on the receiver and shutting a file.

“I suggested it to her,” Michael corrected. “She said that names were really important, that it could mean a lot to the personality and that if you named your baby after someone, it meant that you really loved that person,” Michael said seriously.

“So you chose Morgan,” Elizabeth said with a soft smile.

“Well, yeah,” Michael said. He grinned. “Because Uncle Jason is so cool, you know?” He turned towards his uncle with complete adoration in his eyes. “I wish I were named for you,” he said with a pout.

“You’re named for your father,” Jason informed him. “And that’s just as important.”

“Yeah.” Michael sighed. “Daddy’s mad at me,” he confided in Elizabeth. “He made me leave.”

Elizabeth frowned and sat up, setting her water on the table next to her. “Made you leave?” she repeated. “What does that mean?”

“Michael, I thought I explained yesterday to you,” Jason stood and sat on the couch across from theirs.

“You’re Daddy’s friend,” Michael said patiently. “You don’t want me to be mad at him.”

Elizabeth hid a smile at how literal Michael could be. Jason might not have raised the kid, but his influence was showing.

“I heard him yelling at Uncle Jason,” Michael told Elizabeth. “I snuck out of the penthouse.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Michael–”

“I heard the stuff he said,” Michael said, a little unhappily. He raised his legs and tucked his knees under his chin. “He told Jason to take me with him since I loved him more.”

Elizabeth tried to control the horrified gasp that rose in throat. She swallowed it and studied Jason’s stricken expression. “Michael–” Jason began.

“He told Jason that he wished he’d never adopted me. That I’m just a whore’s bastard.” He frowned and looked at Elizabeth. “What does that mean?”

Jason straightened. “Michael–”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Elizabeth interrupted. She drew Michael to her side. “They’re just words adults use when they’re angry.”

“But they have to mean something,” Michael said, a little stubbornly. “What does it mean?”

“Your dad’s going through a tough time,” Jason began explaining for what felt like the hundredth time.

“But why does that have to mean I have to move out? And how come I can’t stay at home or see my mom?” Michael asked petulantly. “Just because he’s in a bad mood, it don’t mean he has to take it out on me.”

“You’re right,” Jason sighed. “And I’m sorry you had to hear those things.”

“A judge asked me who I wanted to live with,” Michael told Elizabeth. “Do you think it’s bad that I told them Uncle Jason?”

Jason stood up suddenly. “You said that?” he asked, finally understanding Sonny’s irrational behavior.

Michael nodded. “Yeah, cause…ever since you came home you never left again. Mommy’s left twice and Daddy’s never around. And you don’t yell or throw glasses and you don’t say mean things that people won’t explain because they think I’m too young. I thought I’d say Aunt Courtney but she left too and sometimes she makes me feel like I’m just a little baby.”

Even as he said this long speech, his eyes were drooping and Elizabeth could feel his body becoming more and more relaxed and belatedly, she realized she’d been stroking his hair.

“Mommy used to do that,” he sighed. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes.

When Jason knew Michael was asleep, he sat back down slowly and exhaled slowly. “I can’t believe how out of control this situation has gotten,” he said quietly.

“It doesn’t surprise me that he feels so strongly for you,” Elizabeth murmured, moving her hand to his back and rubbing in slow circles. “I know how much you love him and if I know–how could he not?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m–I’m not his father. He should have picked Sonny or Carly.”

Elizabeth wisely kept her thoughts on that matter quiet. “Well, I’m glad he feels like he can depend on you. He needs someone stable.”

Jason couldn’t help but laugh a little. “And I’m stable?” he asked.

“Out of that particular group of people, you’re pretty much Ward Cleaver,” Elizabeth replied. At his frown, she sighed. “Yeah…you are,” she settled for.

He watched her lean back against the sofa cushions and how she adjusted Michael’s body so he’d be more comfortable–all without the little boy stirring or ceasing the backrub. “You’ll make a good mother,” he said impulsively.

She smiled, not taking her eyes off the redhead sleeping at her side. “God, I hope so,” she murmured.

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