The days rolled past, blurring together without much difference. There were the work shifts — usually together, but sometimes Jason found himself on the closing shift while Elizabeth worked the opening or happy hour. There were the bike rides which were his favorite way to end the day. No matter how late they finished at work or how late he came home from closing, she was always up to head up to the cliff roads overlooking the lake.

Jason didn’t just spend time with Elizabeth or work at the bar. He took her suggestion to ask Sonny about the gym he ran downtime, and he found himself learning how to box, taking a few rounds in the ring with some of the guys.

And she was still working her way down a list of hobbies for them to try — he was hoping to get her to add bungee jumping or sky diving. They both looked fun, but so far Elizabeth didn’t seem so interested, and Sonny had just snorted and walked away. Maybe that could be something he’d do on his own.

It was almost a week before he thought about the court case again, and only because Justus came in during the lull between happy hour and the later drinkers. Jason grimaced at the sight of his lawyer—he mostly wanted to ignore that whole other side of his life. The Quartermaines had backed off on Elizabeth’s eviction papers, and he hadn’t been thrown out of his place of work or living in almost a month.

But Justus was there to remind him that there was still a battle be waged.

“Hey.” Justus set the briefcase on the bar, shot him an easy smile as he slid onto the bar stool. “Elizabeth around?”

“In the back with Mike. You want me to get her?”

“No, that’s okay. We got a hearing set in probate court next month — Elizabeth and I will have to get together to handle her petition to be appointed co-conservator—I hate it, too,” he said when Jason just scowled. “But if we win, she can turn around and ask the court to dismiss the whole thing. It’s the cleanest way out of this—unless we can get the Quartermaines to back down another way.”

“Do you have a way?” Jason wanted to know. “Because if you do—”

“Outside blowing this up in the press, no. But I get it, Elizabeth doesn’t want that. And after the hearing in family court, I don’t blame her. The judge might not care about your intentions before the accident, but I just imagine the tabloids sinking their teeth into it.” Justus paused. “On that topic—”

“I don’t care what the truth is,” Jason cut in. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever stupid thing I was going to do or not do, it didn’t happen. And I don’t remember, so just drop it—”

“For what it’s worth, I talked to Ned. You were closer to him than anyone else in the family at the time,” Justus added. “And he categorically denied that you would have ever planned something like that. And if you had, Monica wouldn’t be the first person you’d go to. He thinks he would have known.”

“I said it doesn’t matter—”

“To you. And that’s fine. But maybe it does to Elizabeth. She put a lot on the line to fight the divorce, Jason. I think she deserves to know if her husband was willing to fight that hard for her—”

“Even if he wasn’t, I am. So, like I said—”

“Is it really that simple for you?” Justus asked, cocking his head. “That’s not your life, so nothing about it matters. No one and nothing that existed before you woke up, it’s just—” He made a gesture with his hand. “It just—poofs! Like Magic. Disappears?”

Jason frowned. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Nothing, I just—” Justus shook his head, backed away from the bar. “Tell Elizabeth to give me a call. We need to get together on the presentation to the judge—”

“You think it matters to Elizabeth what he was planning?” Jason said. Justus hesitated. “That’s what you’re saying. It matters to her. Because she doesn’t see us as different people.”

“You’re not different,” Justus said simply. “Physically, you’re the same. Maybe it helps you to think of the man you used to be as a separate person, and I can sort of understand that. But that doesn’t obligate everyone around you to accept that. The Quartermaines are what they are — a ruthless, take no mercy family that drove AJ to drink, you to overachieve, and your sister to run as far away as she could get. Not wanting to be part of that? I respect it. I don’t always know that I want to be part of that legacy either. But you weren’t a bad guy, Jason. There’s no reason to throw everything you used to be away. No, I don’t think Elizabeth has entirely accepted that you aren’t the same. Maybe she wants to. Maybe you need her to. But she’s not the kind of woman who throws that kind of relationship away so easily.”

Long after Justus had left, Jason was considering what his parting words. Did it ultimately matter what had happened before the accident? Was Justus right? Was Elizabeth owed some sort of closure?

And what did it mean for Jason to have rejected so many pieces of who he’d been before, but to have ended up mostly living the same life in a lot of ways. He lived in the same apartment with the same woman. He carried the same name. And the Quartermaines were still controlling his life.

“I hate tax season,” Sonny muttered, emerging from the back offices. “I need a bourbon. Top shelf.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Next year, Luke’s going to tell at the accountants.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else messing with your money.” Jason set the tumbler of dark liquid in front of Sonny. “Isn’t that what you said?”

“I hate that you listen.” Sonny drank half the glass in one quick gulp. “Slow night. Elizabeth in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. Something about menus and drink specials.” Jason grimaced, glancing towards the back of the bar, where a pair of doors led to the kitchen. “You know about the divorce hearing, right? Elizabeth tells Luke everything, and he—”

“Tells me. Yeah. The Quartermaines launched another one of their sneak attacks. Lousy bastards. You might have been a wussy mama’s boy, Jason, but you weren’t the kind of the guy who files for divorce without telling your wife.” Sonny sipped the bourbon. “Why?”

Jason considered his next words, unsure how to articulate what was bothering him. “Do you think the truth matters?”

“The truth?” Sonny echoed. He squinted. “Depends on who you ask. Sure, the truth matters. They’re using this asinine story to get their way in court. You disprove it, you make them look worse. Hard to do, all things considered. But it might be interesting to embarrass them in court.”

He hadn’t thought of that angle—that might be enough of a reason to look into it. “What about Elizabeth?” he asked. “She says it doesn’t—” He paused. “No. She said it shouldn’t matter.” Which meant that it did. She wanted to know the truth. Why? “I think sometimes I made a mistake coming to work here,” he said, saying the words before he’d even considered them.

Sonny set the tumbler down, his dark eyes curious. “Because you hate the job? Or everything that happened because of it? Because maybe if you leave town, the Quartermaines keep moving forward. They strip Elizabeth of everything she cared about. Her home. Her marriage. Hell, her name. They weren’t going to let her keep that, even though it’s on her daughter’s headstone.” Sonny leaned back, lifted his brows. “But you know, Alan and Edward probably don’t care so much about you then. You could have left. Gotten a job. Started over for real.”

And never known about Elizabeth. Or Cady. That sat wrong with him. He didn’t want to be told things about his life before — that still didn’t sit well with him, but it was getting easier. Maybe because Jason had more to call his own, and everything in his head wasn’t knowledge planted by someone else.

And maybe it’d  be okay if he’d never known about Elizabeth. Maybe.

But to never know about a child that belonged to him? One that he’d loved and mourned—that didn’t feel right.

“Or maybe you think coming to work here and getting to know Elizabeth is a mistake.” Sonny waited for Jason to look at him. “You having second thoughts about going forward with that?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Jason hesitated. “Most of the time, no.”

“Well, then, that’s a good answer. If you’re only thinking it’s a mistake when your lawyer is around reminding you of the awful family you’re from, then that’s fine. Eventually, you’ll be done with the Quartermaines. And you and Elizabeth will either figure things out or move on. Luke thinks it was all a mistake, by the way,” Sonny said, and Jason frowned. “He’s protective of her, you know that. He thinks you’re going to break Elizabeth’s heart again.”

“I—” Jason furrowed his brow. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Sonny said carefully, “that Elizabeth’s an adult, and so are you. And no one gets out of this life without a few scars. There’s a reason you found each other again. And if you’re thinking it’s wrapped up in the fact you were her husband and she loved you before, that only explains her choices. What about yours? You could have gone after any woman. You picked her. Doesn’t that matter?”

And he’d had a chance to walk away from her, Jason remembered. She’d asked him to leave her alone, to stay away. And he hadn’t done it. He’d pushed his way back in. Sonny was right. There was a reason for that.

“You’re right. Thanks.”

“Just be honest with her, that’s all I ask. And be honest with yourself. That’s all you owe anyone.” Sonny slid the tumbler across the bar. “Now. Pour me another one and why don’t you and I discuss some ideas for making the Quartermaines miserable for what they’ve been putting you through.”

—

Elizabeth slid the schedule across the bar to Luke. “Here’s next week. Lemme know if you have any problems with it—” She walked away from him to take the order from a regular at the end of the bar, got busy with a few others.

By the time she came back to Luke, Jason had joined him, filling a tray of beer orders for one of the floor waitresses.

“Schedule looks good, but, uh, I see you put both of you on there for April 15.” Luke lifted his brows. “You planning to work on your anniversary?”

Jason frowned. “What?”

“April 15,” Elizabeth said, shooting Luke an irritated look. “That’s, um, one year. Since…that’s the day—”

“Your wedding anniversary,” Luke finished, lighting his cigar, then puffing a few times to get it started. “You not doing a date night?”

“It’s not—” She pursed her lips. “It’s in the middle of the week for one thing, and for another—” She glanced at Jason who was just looking at her. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really feel like an anniversary. Besides, I put us on for the closing shift—”

“Yeah, well, I’m taking you off.” Luke reached for a marker they kept behind the bar, drew lines through their names. “How’s it gonna look in court if you don’t do something on your anniversary?”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I don’t really want to do anything just for the court, Luke. It’s stupid. And I had a reason for the closing shift…” She looked at Jason. “I was  going to talk to you after work. Um, I was thinking maybe we could…” Her voice trembled just a bit, but she was able to finish her sentence. “I was thinking that it was time to clean out the second bedroom.”

Luke lowered the cigar to the ashtray on the bar, his blue eyes suddenly sober. “You don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to.”

“We don’t have to—” Jason said at the same time, and the two men traded looks, and she knew Jason was thinking of the day he’d come to the apartment a month earlier and she hadn’t even been able to look inside.

“I know. I just…I think it’s time. To try,” Elizabeth added. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. But I…haven’t gone in her room since…” The last time Cady had woke from her nap. Elizabeth had changed her daughter, tucked her in a car seat, and left. “It’s been five months—”

“I don’t care if it takes five years—”

Elizabeth covered Luke’s hand. “I’m ready. And Jason asked a few weeks ago to see more of her pictures. If you still want to—” she said, looking back to him. “Maybe you don’t.”

“I do,” Jason said, “but I told you that I didn’t want to put you though that.”

“I think it’s time. There’s…there’s things we could donate, you know? And maybe some things I’d like to pack away. And her pictures. Maybe I could put them back in the rest of the apartment.” Maybe. Elizabeth smiled, though it felt forced. “So I thought, well, that day is as good as any other.”

“Yeah, all right. But you take the whole day, honey. You might need it.”

“Yeah, okay.” She disappeared down the other end of the bar, leaving Luke to watch over her pensively.

“You keep an eye on her,” Luke told Jason. “I don’t know if she said anything about all of that, but when she says she hasn’t gone in the room—”

“She never even looks at the door,” Jason finished quietly. “I know. There’s not a trace of Cady in the rest of the apartment. It’s all in there. I’ll be there. But if she thinks she’s ready, I’m not going to tell her differently.”

“Yeah, all right. Maybe she is. But I don’t know how you ever get ready for a damn thing like that.” Luke rubbed the side of his face, reached for his cigar. “Sometimes I blame you,” he murmured, and Jason jerked his head to look at the bar owner. “You don’t call that night, she doesn’t leave that minute. She’s five minutes later, and that car never hits her. And maybe it all goes differently. Sometimes I blame you,” Luke repeated. “Because I need somewhere to put it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

“It’s the kind of thing that makes you stop believing in a higher power,” Luke muttered, sliding off the stool. “What kind of God does that to a family? Any of this?”

And Jason didn’t have answer for that.

+29

Written in 61 minutes.

As soon as the judge had cleared the room, Elizabeth leapt to her feet, nearly tripping over Justus and Jason in her haste to the other side of the aisle.

“What did you mean?” she demanded. “What does that mean about Jason wanting a divorce?”

“Ma’am, I really think you should let your attorney handle everything—” Barber said, looking down his long thin nose at her. “This isn’t proper—”

“No! No! Tell me what that means!” Elizabeth cut in.

“Elizabeth, hey, don’t let them rile you up—” Justus put a hand on her shoulder, and Jason stood just behind him, his brow creased in confusion.

“It means exactly what we said, young lady,” Edward said, pushing past his attorney. “So sign the papers and walk away. My grandson wanted you out of his life—”

“Father—” Alan touched his arm. “This really isn’t necessary, and that—”

“No, he didn’t. He never said—” She shook her head. “No. It’s a lie. It’s all a lie.” She looked to Jason. “It’s a lie—”

“He can’t tell you anything—he doesn’t remember, and you’re taking advantage of him, just like you always did!” Edward cut in sharply. He wagged a finger at her. “Using his injuries against him, pulling him into all of this—your grandfather would be ashamed—”

“Watch it, old man—” Jason swept Elizabeth behind him and Edward took a step back, closing his mouth. “You’re not going to talk to her like that. Answer the damn question or don’t, but you’re not going to insult her one more time.”

Edward pressed his lips together. “I have nothing to say.” He stalked out of the courtroom, followed by his attorney.

Alan, however, hovered by the front of the courtroom. “I’m sorry it’s come out like this. All of it,” he added. “I wanted you to know when you were living with us—about the conservatorship, about—” He flicked his eyes to Elizabeth. “About all of it. But we worried you weren’t ready—”

“How do you get ready to find out you have no legal freedom, Alan?” Justus asked. “And thank you, by the way, for confirming that Jason never knew any of this. There never was any lawyer assigned to him, was there?”

“Father handled all of it. I couldn’t say—” He looked at Elizabeth again. “We’ve handled things so…poorly. From top to bottom. But we’re not lying, Elizabeth.”

“It has to be—” Elizabeth raised her gaze to him, her eyes burning. “Jason would have said something. He wouldn’t—he loved me.”

“I never spoke to him,” Alan said, surprising Jason when his tone was gentle. “Monica did. The day of the accident. He came to tell her what he’d decided. AJ came in. There was some arguing about his drinking, and Jason went after him. I’m sure he was thinking of you and Cady. I don’t—” He paused. “I don’t know if he would have gone through with it. But he told his mother what he wanted.”

“No.” But now Elizabeth seemed less sure. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” Alan said again, now to Jason. “I’ll talk to Father. There’s no reason this has to get any worse—”

He left then, hurrying away. Justus grimaced, then turned his attention back to Jason and Elizabeth. “That went as well as it could have,” he said carefully. “Whatever Jason’s intentions were before the accident, they don’t matter now—”

Jason frowned. “You believe them?”

“I believe Alan believes it,” Justus said. “Let me look into this story. But we’ve got a foot in the door. Alan might even be an ally in the probate hearings. Elizabeth—” He hesitated. “Are you sure there’s nothing you haven’t told me?”

“What?” she looked at him, blinking away the tears. “What does that mean?”

“You and Jason. Before the accident. I know things were hard after Cady—”

“He never told me—” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “He never said—”

“But were there arguments? Could Jason have been thinking about it—”

“What does it matter?” Jason demanded, not sure whether he was insulted or relieved that it seemed like they were talking about an entirely different Jason. “I’m here today, and I don’t care about it.”

“I think Elizabeth cares,” Justus said, and now Jason looked at her. “Because if he’d wanted a divorce before this, that would have changed things, wouldn’t it?”

“I—” Elizabeth shook her head and fled the court room.

Jason started after her, but Justus caught his arm. “What’s your problem? She’s upset—”

“And she’s clearly keeping secrets. Because if things were fine,” Justus began, “she’d say that—”

“It doesn’t matter, and I never asked you to do any of that. I never asked you to do anything about my marriage,” Jason bit out. “I asked you to get me out of this conservatorship. You’re the one that told me Elizabeth was the key. Did anything you heard today change that?”

“No, but—”

“Then that’s it. I’m the client, right? I tell you what I want. The judge says no divorce until probate is dealt with. So that’s the end of it. Go deal with probate, Justus. Or do I have to get another lawyer?”

“No, I’ll handle it. I’m sorry, Jase. I didn’t mean—” Justus cleared his throat. “It seems awfully convenient, don’t you think? The Quartermaines didn’t make this story up today. Maybe it’s the first time Elizabeth heard it, but it’s not the first time the judge did. So where did it come from? And does it explain why they’re doing this?”

“I don’t care why. I just want it over with. I want them out of my life, and I want them to leave Elizabeth alone. Can you do that?”

“Yes. I can.”

“Good, then do it. And stay out of the rest of it.”

—

Elizabeth hadn’t gone far by the time Jason caught up with her — they’d driven together, after all. She stood by the car, leaning against it.

Jason stepped up to her, already tugging at his tie. “Elizabeth—”

“No. I—” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please. Can we…” She reached up, slid the end of the tie through a loop and then released the loose ends to rest against his jacket. “Not yet, okay? I just want to go home.”

“Yeah, all right.” He reached past her, unlocked the door, and pulled it open. “I’ll drive.”

“Thanks.”

—

“How did it go?” Monica surged to her feet as soon as Edward and Alan came into the parlor. Alan closed the double parlor doors while Edward headed for the minibar.

“The judge granted the injunction,” Alan said. He dragged a hand down his face. “We’re going to have issues in probate court, Father. Jason was never assigned a lawyer, was he?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” Edward muttered. He poured a whiskey.

“A lawyer?” Monica echoed. “What does that mean?”

“A conservatee is given legal representation separate from the conservators. To guard his interests. And Jason can prove that was never happened. The whole thing is never going to get far enough to worry about Elizabeth given any power. The judge is going to invalidate it.”

“Which means Jason gets control of everything again,” Monica said. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“The judge isn’t even interested in hearing that Jason wanted the divorce,” Edward said. “If only we had some kind of proof—” He focused on his daughter-in-law. “Tell me again. From the top what Jason said that day.”

“Why do we need to go through it again—”

“Because Elizabeth looked like she’d been sucker punched,” Alan said, and she looked at him. “She didn’t know. Never had a clue. Did Jason say he’d talked to her?”

“Well, no, he didn’t. I don’t think he had. I thought he was worried she’d talk him out of it. You know she was always able to explain everything away — but I could testify—”

“Hearsay,” Edward muttered. “We need proof. Witnesses aren’t enough.”

“Especially since our witnesses are you and AJ,” Alan said gently. “Justus would just point out how many times you’ve expressed a dislike for Elizabeth. Father, maybe it’s time we just…we could negotiate with Jason. He might be willing to let this go away—”

“I’m not giving him or that shrew one red cent. You see, Monica? That girl got to him today with her tears. Well, not me. We’ll come up with something. We always do.”

—

“Hey.” Ned stepped back to let Justus inside. “What’s up? How did it go in court?”

“Are we alone?” Justus wanted to know, looking around the room. “Where’s Lois?”

“At L&B, what’s going? Did court go that badly?”

“No. We won, and the judge wasn’t interested in doing Edward any favors, so that’s worth something.” Justus set the briefcase down on the desk. “Before the accident. How often would you say you talked to Jason?”

“Uh, not much.” Ned slid his hands in his pockets, frowned as he considered the question. “He came here every Sunday with the baby, but then the accident — I was there. I helped him out with some paperwork. You know, Liz being in a coma, there were arrangements. I’m not sure how he kept moving, especially those first few days when we didn’t think she’d pull through either.”

“Okay. That gives me something.” Justus leaned against the desk. “Monica told Alan and Edward that Jason was here the day of the accident to talk about filing for divorce.”

Ned said nothing for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Not possible. She dreamed it. Or hallucinated. No way Jason goes in the first week of November from looking like a dead man walking to divorcing his wife seven weeks later. It doesn’t compute for me.”

“Not even if he started to blame or resent her?”

“No!” Ned slided his hand through the air. “And he never did. Hell, Justus, Jason was blaming himself. Kept saying if he hadn’t called her at Luke’s, she would have stayed longer and never been on the road when that drunk asshole got behind the wheel. What the hell is this about. Justus? You don’t believe Monica—”

“I think Alan believes it. I think it’s a big thing to lie about, especially when they’re going on the record.” Justus considered it. “Could Jason have been thinking about the family feud? Thinking Liz was better off without his family?”

“Oh, I have no doubt Jason was coming to that conclusion by then,” Ned said almost sourly. “But he wouldn’t have left her. He’d have walked away from the family. What does it matter?”

“It probably doesn’t. I just—I owe it to Jason for him to have the full story. The right story,” Justus added. “Because if Elizabeth knows Jason wants a divorce, maybe she never fights anything—the power of attorney. Maybe she takes the first offer, which was the most generous.”

“So? She didn’t know—”

“Jason moved back into the apartment.” Justus looked almost grim. “I didn’t think about it much after that, but today when they came in—I think maybe something’s going on. I think they’re sleeping together.”

“I—” Ned closed his mouth. “So what—” He stopped. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to swallow the bullshit this family has been spewing about Elizabeth manipulating people. Don’t you think it’s just more likely that they’re two attractive people—”

“I didn’t say I think she’s using the situation. I pushed it,” Justus said. “She had to be convinced, almost kicking and screaming. But she wanted space. Distance. And I shoved her right back in the middle. And I feel guilty. Because whatever happens next—I don’t know. I didn’t expect it.”

“It’s not your job to worry about any of it. They’re adults. Jason wasn’t going to leave Elizabeth before the accident, so I’m not that mad it looks like he’s not leaving her now. I don’t care what the family says. They’re lying or mistaken or—I don’t know if there’s a third option.” Ned shook his head. “Jason loved her. Maybe he sucked at taking her side, but the way they acted after that little baby died — it was killing him. Something was going to give, Justus, but we’ll never know what he would have chosen. All we can do is make sure he gets the choice now.”

—

Elizabeth kicked off her shoes as soon as she entered the apartment. Behind her, Jason tossed his suit jacket on the sofa, and was rolling up his sleeves.

“They never said anything like that before,” Elizabeth said. He frowned at her. “Saying Jason wanted to—” She couldn’t even say it again. “They only said that they had Jason’s best interests in mind. That’s all. If—if this was true, why wouldn’t they have said something before?”

“I don’t know.” Jason tipped his head. “Does it matter?”

“I—” She exhaled slowly. “It shouldn’t. Does it matter to you?”

“No. I don’t remember any of it. And we haven’t known each other that long, but I don’t see you putting yourself through any of this if you’d had an out. Justus is right, isn’t he? You would have taken the first settlement if you thought it was already over.”

“I don’t…maybe.” She bit her lip. “But the conservatorship—I mean, I knew you didn’t remember.” She leaned against the back of the sofa. “I knew we wouldn’t be married anymore, so sometimes I thought about taking the agreement. But I couldn’t stand knowing they were in control. I couldn’t walk away like that.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I just…I wish I could know for sure. And I hate that they did this. That they put this thought in my head so that I’ll keep going over the last weeks again and again—”

“Don’t give them the satisfaction.” Jason folded his arms. “As far as you knew, things were hard but you were still married. Nothing they said today should change that. And if he was dumb enough to leave you, well, that’s his problem. It has nothing to do with us.” He threw those last words out almost like a challenge, and she had to smile.

“Nothing to do with us except we’re technically talking about you, and I’m still wearing this—” She flexed her fingers, the rings glinting.

“We talked about this, didn’t we?” he asked her. He reached for the hand she held out, tugged her up, towards him until she fell into his arms. “We agreed not to complicate it. That—all of it—it’s out there.” He tipped his head towards the window. “This is just us.”

She wished she had his certainty, wished she could believe he’d always feel this way. But she wanted to believe it. “Okay. Then it’s just us.” She slid her fingertips down the placket of buttons fastening his dress shirt. “What do you think we should do until we have to go to work?”

His smile was quick. “I can think of a few things.”

+29

Written in 57 minutes.

“Why does anyone wear this crap?” Jason demanded, striding through the open bedroom door as Elizabeth stepped back from the closet, smoothing nervous hands down the skirt of her dark blue dress.  Jason was partially dressed in the suit Sonny had brought to the bar the night before, his dress shirt still unbuttoned down to his collarbone, and a silk tie in his hands.

Elizabeth managed a smile, crossed the room to her. “Because someone a long time ago decided that men needed to wear something around their neck to be considered properly dressed.” She took the tie and wound it around his neck, pausing to fasten the last few buttons.

“Stupid,” Jason muttered, but tipped his chin back so that she could finish looping the tie through, creating a perfect Windsor knot. “You did that fast. Did you always have to do this for me?”

“No. You never wore suits. That’s why there’s none here. Maybe you had them at the mansion.” Elizabeth smoothed the line of his shirt, then left her hands rest on his chest, pretending to adjust the buttons. “My father taught me. It was something I used to do for him when I was younger whenever he wore a suit. Glad I could do it. It’s been a while since he and my mother went abroad for Doctors Without Borders.” She patted his chest, stepped back. “All you need is your jacket and shoes.”

“Yeah, they’re out in the living room.” Jason watched as she went over to her dresser, sifted through her jewelry. When she reached for the ID bracelet she’d removed before            bed the night before, he went to her. “I’ll help with the clasp.”

“Thanks. I always have a hard time, and my fingers are shaking. I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” she admitted. “But it’s the first time I’ve seen any of the Quartermaines since, um, well, since you came to Luke’s.”

“First time I’ve seen them, too,” Jason muttered. “Justus told me I couldn’t go to the mansion and punch anyone, especially not the old man. I wasn’t going to, but once he said I couldn’t—” He paused. “The sooner today is over, the sooner we can get on to the next step.” And the sooner he’d be free to think about making Edward and Alan pay for what they’d done to him — to Elizabeth. “I don’t want them to be a part of my life.”

“Me either. Let’s hope Justus is as good as he says he is.”

—

The family court room wasn’t as as large as one used for criminal or civil court, but it was still an intimidating sight, Elizabeth thought, as she trailed in behind Jason and Justus. Edward and Alan were already at one table with their lawyer, and Edward sneered at Elizabeth when he saw her.

Alan made brief eye contact before looking at Jason, then down at the table. Elizabeth had always thought of all the Quartermaines, she’d had the best chance of getting Alan on his side. He always seemed slightly pained that he and Jason were at odds, but every time he’d wavered, Edward or Monica had said something that would tip him back the other way. He’d always struck her as a well-meaning but generally clueless father who had taken one too many steps back as Jason had grown up and didn’t know how to connect with anyone not in medicine.

“Don’t look at them,” Justus murmured as they took their seats. “Keep your attention on the judge. I’ll make my case, they’ll make theirs. The judge might have some questions for one or the both of you. With any luck, we’ll walk out of here with our injunction.”

Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly in her lap, managed a short nod, then looked at Jason, wondering what he was thinking.

Jason had avoided looking at Edward or Alan, not entirely trusting his impulse control. He’d had trouble with that since waking up, and this would be the wrong time to lose that fight. The judge needed to see Jason as completely in control—he had to question the use of a conservatorship.

The bailiff called the court to order, and a man in dark robes took a seat behind the high bench. He slid his glasses on. “Please be seated. Call the case.”

“Quartermaine vs. Quartermaine,” the clerk said handing up a file.

“Justus Ward for the respondent, on behalf of Elizabeth Quartermaine and Jason Quartermaine.”

“Your Honor, we object—”

“I’m just taking appearances,”  the judge said, interrupting the other lawyer as he leapt to his feet. “There’s no jury to impress.”

“Lionel Barber, representing the conservators of Jason Quartermaine’s estate, Edward and Alan Quartermaine. Mr. Ward has no standing to appear on Jason’s behalf—”

“Well, why doesn’t Jason’s lawyer in the probate case appear?” Justus asked, and Barber glared at him. “You know, the one that is legally required to be assigned to my client. He should be here to make sure Jason’s interests are being represented—”

“That’s what I’m for—”

“That’s an excellent suggestion, Mr. Ward. Mr. Barber, who is the attorney assigned to Jason Quartermaine in the probate court?” The judge lifted his brows. “Surely you know that you cannot represent both the conservatorship and the conservatee.”

“Your Honor, that’s a matter for probate court—”

“Well, since you declined to bring Mr. Quartermaine’s attorney, I see no reason why I can’t at least entertain Mr. Ward. After all, if I’m not mistaken—” The judge looked over at their table, and Jason straightened, feeling the other man’s eyes on him. “And I wouldn’t be since I’ve known you since you were a small boy—you walked in on your own free will. Did you hire Mr. Ward?”

Jason cleared his throat, not prepared to be directly questioned already. “”Uh, yes. Sir,” he added. “I hired Mr. Ward.”

“And you can speak in full sentences, so that seems to be good enough for me. At least for the purposes of this hearing. And Mr. Barber, I’ll be expecting the name of Mr. Quartermaine’s probate attorney by end of business,” the judge said, switching his attention back to the other the table. “That shouldn’t be an issue?”

“Well—” Barber hesitated. “I don’t know—”

“It might be a small problem, Your Honor,” Justus said. He rose. “If I may? It’s part of my argument.”

“Might as well. You’re asking for an injunction?”

“Yes. If there is an attorney representing my client in probate, he’s doing so without Jason’s knowledge or participation. You see, Your Honor, my client was in complete ignorance about a number of facts up until a few weeks ago. Indeed, his entire family was, save for the men at the table over there. He did not know he was in a conservatorship, and he did not know he was married, much less that a divorce and eviction was being pursued on his behalf.”

The judge tipped his head. “What about the wife? She never said anything to this court about that—”

“While Elizabeth suspected Jason was in complete ignorance on this fact, she did not have access to him until after he’d left the Quartermaine estate.” Justus held up a folder. “I have affidavits from several members of the Quartermaine staff and family that Mrs. Quartermaine was denied access to her husband on at least two occasions. And I also have a copy of the power of attorney that Dr. Alan Quartermaine used to keep Elizabeth out of the ICU prior to her husband’s discharge. In short, your Honor, Jason did not know she existed or that he, legally speaking, under the control of his grandfather and father.”

“Hard to agree to a divorce if you don’t know there’s a wife,” the judge said. He looked at the other side. “What do you have to say to all that, Mr. Barber?”

“Your Honor, I’m not prepared to stipulate to Jason Quartermaine’s knowledge, or lack thereof, on any of these matters. At least until we can have a doctor to examine him to be sure—”

“Why don’t we put your clients on the stand and ask them if, as the conservators of this young man, they ever told him that? And asked if he wanted a divorce from his wife?” The judge leaned forward. “They can testify to that, can they not?”

“Your Honor—” Barber just grimaced. “I once again have to remind you that Mr. Ward has no right to speak on Mr. Quartermaine’s behalf. Whether Mr. Quartermaine hired him or not is not material — he is not legally able to agree to any such contract—”

“Oh, did you think because we’ve golfed together a time or to, Edward, that I’d ignore your grandson sitting over there, perfectly hale and whole?”

Edward scowled, opened his mouth but his lawyer held out a hand. “Your Honor, the law is clear—”

“Isn’t it funny how probate law and family law are two different branches with completely different rules legislating procedure?” The judge dismissed the other man, looked at Justus. “Why don’t we cut to the chase? Mr. Quartermaine, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Why don’t you come on up and take the oath, and we’ll get this settled?”

Jason reluctantly rose, and crossed the courtroom to sit in the witness stand, holding his hand up to swear to tell the truth. And then he was sitting down, facing the rest of the courtroom. Facing the men who had dragged him in here.

Who had been dragging Elizabeth through this mess for months. He turned away from them, focused on the judge.

“How are you feeling these days, Jason?”

“Uh, good?” Jason said, uncertainly. “Do you mean since the accident?”

“Sure. It was a bad one, I read in the papers they filed. But you look recovered well enough. Any lasting problems?”

“Uh, other than not remembering anything, no—” Jason winced. “I have a type of aphasia,” he said reluctantly. “Do you—should I explain it?”

“If you could, yes.”

Jason almost squirmed at the thought of talking about himself where people could see him, but he needed to get this over with. “The doctors said I had trouble with processing some types of visuals. Photographs aren’t too bad, but movies, television. Anything that moves—it’s hard. I have to focus and concentrate. There’s some types of letters—the really—” Jason made a gesture with his hand like a swirl. “Sometimes they’re difficult. But it’s better than it used to be.”

“Good. Good. Glad to see you’re doing well, and all things considered, it could have been much worse. So, your lawyer tells me you didn’t know about the conservatorship. Or about your wife. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Jason glanced over at Elizabeth but she was staring down at the table. He looked at Edward and Alan, displeased to see the older man glaring in her direction. “Yes. I didn’t know about it until she—Elizabeth—told me.”

“When did she do that? Your lawyer says she was denied all access.”

“I…left. The mansion. Over a month ago. At first, I got a room at Kelly’s, but then Ruby Anderson said the Quartermaines told her I had to go. I stayed at Jake’s for a little while, but the owner said I couldn’t anymore. There were some warehouse jobs that stopped putting me on the schedule.” Jason flexed his hands in his lap, trying not to fist them, just thinking of how humiliating it had been to show up at the warehouse that last time only to be told he wasn’t wanted anymore. Or the way Ruby Anderson had avoided looking at him when she’d turned him out.

“Then Luke Spencer told me he had a job I could do. That the Quartermaines wouldn’t stop him from hiring him—”

“Objection—”

The judge waved off the lawyer’s words. “So you went to work at Luke’s. That’s the bar where your wife works?”

“Yes.” Jason shifted slightly. “His partner, Sonny, said I could have a room over the bar. I stayed there the first week. I met Elizabeth first night.”

“Did she tell you then?”

“No. Not that first day. She didn’t know I was going to be there. Luke and Sonny did that without telling her. It was the first time we’d seen each other.”

“But she did tell you eventually?”

“The next day. She told me that we’d…that we were married. That…we’d had a daughter. And when I asked why no one had told me and where’d she been, she brought me all the legal paperwork that explained it.”

“So you never met with a lawyer about your choices?” the judge asked. “No one told you that you couldn’t enter into a rooming contract or take a job without the permission of Edward Quartermaine?”

Jason clenched his jaw. “No. No one said anything. I thought I was losing all of that because they were making threats. But until Elizabeth told me, I never knew the court said they could do that.”

“Your lawyer has filed an injunction to stop the divorce from going ahead,” the judge continued. “If I deny his motion, do you know what happens?”

Jason furrowed his brow. “No, what?”

“I dismiss Mrs. Quartermaine’s objection to the divorce. You’re in a contested divorce, Mr. Quartermaine. Your wife has refused any property settlement, generous and not so generous ones. I’m unaware of an eviction,” the judge said, looking over at the Quartermaines’ table with narrowed eyes. “But I imagine if I went looked at the landlord tenant docket, I might find something.”

“I saw the paperwork for that,” Jason said. “So, yeah, that’s happening.”

“If I deny this motion and dismiss the objection, I set a date for divorce to be finalized in thirty days. Now, despite what your family might want, I think Mrs. Quartermaine is owed some financial settlement, something exceeding what was on the table. So I can set this divorce to be finalized, and she won’t walk away empty-handed. But your lawyer says you don’t want that. Their lawyer—” The judge gestured towards them. “Says you do.”

“How would they know?” Jason said, almost darkly. “No one ever asked me.”

“Mr. Barber?” The judge straightened. “Care to comment on that?”

“Your Honor, as we’ve stated more than once, this divorce is not only desired by the conservators, but it was the intention of Jason Quartermaine prior to his tragic accident.”

Jason frowned, jerked his attention back to Justus who looked bewildered. Elizabeth had raised her head, her eyes wide.

“What? What does that mean?” Elizabeth demanded. “Justus—” Their lawyer held up a hand.

The judge didn’t look like it was news he’d heard before either. “I suppose you have paperwork or something to back that statement up—”

“A conversation that Mr. Quartermaine had with his mother prior to the accident—”

“Hearsay,” Justus snapped. “And not material to this proceeding. Whether Jason wanted a divorce then or not, he’s saying differently today.”

“But—” Elizabeth’s lips were parted. “He didn’t—”

“I see that this is news to Mrs. Quartermaine, too. And Mr. Quartermaine hasn’t told me differently yet.” The judge looked at him expectantly. “Well? Does it change your mind that it’s a possibility that you wanted a divorce before you lost your memory?”

“Why would I care about something I don’t remember?” Jason wanted to know. “All the Quartermaines have done is lie since I woke up. No, I don’t want a divorce. That should be enough.”

“Indeed. Thank you, Mr. Quartermaine. You can have a seat.”

Jason returned to the table, sat next to Elizabeth and reached for her hand. It was shaking, and he wondered what she was thinking, if she had any idea why the Quartermaine lawyer would have said such a thing.

“Your Honor,” Barber began.

“I know, Mr. Ward has no standing, and so on, but I think that there’s enough here to warrant an injunction. I will delay ruling on the finalization of the divorce pending the outcome of the petition that Mr. Ward has filed in probate court. Figure this out, folks, because a probate judge isn’t going to be amused by this story any more than I was.”

The gavel dropped then, echoing in the room like a gunshot.

+34

Written in 60 minutes.

Sometimes he thought about who he’d been before he’d awakened in January. Not about who he’d known or where’d he’d lived, or what he did all day, but little things. Had he always disliked people so much? Did he like peppermint? He didn’t now, and it was a strange thing to have such an intense dislike for.

And had it always been so easy for him to wake up? To open his eyes and simple be fully alert?

He’d seen some drunks at Jake’s who’d slept off the booze upstairs, then slunk out the next morning with a hangover, their eyes bloodshot and red. At Kelly’s, there’d been a waitress who slept across the hall who was always rubbing her eyes when they’d bumped into each other on the way to the shared bathroom—

But Jason just opened his eyes, and was simply awake. And sometimes, he just closed his eyes and could drop into sleep within a minute or two. Was that new? Or had he always been like that?

The thoughts raced through his head briefly when he woke up in the time it took his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room. There wasn’t any light, only the stinging moonlight filtering through the bedroom’s single window on the other side of the room. It was a small room — he hadn’t noticed that the first time he’d been in here. It fit a dresser, a double bed with a single nightstand and an armchair shoved beneath that one window. There was barely a foot of space separating it from the bed.

And Elizabeth was curled up in it, looking out the window, the moonlight washing over her face. She’d pulled on his t-shirt, and it swallowed her petite frame. He frowned, glanced at the empty space next to him. He spread his hand out—it was cold. How long had she’d been awake? And why?

She must have heard the sheets rustling as he sat up, because she turned, her face sliding back into the shadows, the moonlight on her hair now. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No. What time is it?”

“A little after three.” She drew one knee up, tucked her other leg beneath it, then wrapped her arms around the knee. “Couldn’t sleep.”

The silence stretched between them for a long moment, and she sighed. “It’s because of my family.”

Jason furrowed his brow. “Why you can’t sleep?”

“No. I mean, probably. But…you asked me earlier. Why I take it.” Her breath was shaky now, and Jason leaned over to switch on the small lamp on the night table. It didn’t offer much light, but it was better than nothing. “And it’s because of my family.”

“Your family,” Jason repeated, not seeing or understanding the connection. “Why?”

“I told you, I think, in the beginning that the Quartermaines thought I was the wrong Webber sister. I wasn’t exaggerating. Monica asked you that.” Her lips were thin, pressed into an unhappy line. “You brought me to the Christmas party, and it was the first time they knew we’d been dating. She looked at me and then at you, and said, ‘Why couldn’t it have been Sarah?'”

Jason didn’t like that at all. “Did I defend you?”

“You would have probably,” Elizabeth murmured. She looked away again, out the window. “But he didn’t. Not the way you would have. He was used to his mother not liking anyone he dated. She hadn’t liked Keisha either. Or Karen. Not good enough for her son. No one would have been. But especially not me.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to talk about it like you’re different people. But you are in a lot of ways.”

“I think about it that way most of the time,” Jason admitted. “Or I did until I met you.”

“I’m sorry about that, you know. That coming to Luke’s made you spend so much time in a life you were trying to run away from.”

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

“Still. Anyway. I grew up hearing that. Why wasn’t I more like Steven and Sarah? The perfect children with the perfect grades, the right friends, the good behaviors, the bright future. My family wasn’t wealthy — no where near the position in Port Charles society that the Quartermaines are. Or the Barringtons, or any of the snobs that live on Harborview Drive. But we were respected. My parents were doctors. They worked with Alan and Monica. Monica was actually my dad’s first wife.”

“I—I didn’t know that.”

“It was a brief marriage. Barely worth mentioning. But it’s part of it, I guess. I was the kind of Webber you talk about in hushed tones. The black sheep. The way they talk about AJ. Except I didn’t drink and give them a reason to ship me away.” She shrugged. “I daydreamed too much, barely made it out of high school, and just generally lived down to their poor expectations. By the time I came to that Christmas party, I was used to people looking at me and being disappointed. I take it, Jason, because it’s what I’m used to.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Jason sat, his knees slightly bent and apart with his hands clasped loosely on top. “That’s what they did. After the accident. Looked at me like I was…” His mouth tightened. “They said in the hospital I was damaged. The brain injury would never fully heal. Not just my memories. Other things.”

Elizabeth looked at him, tipped her head. “Other than the aphasia?”

“Frontal lobe damage,” Jason told her. “I looked it up when I got out. That controls the way you think, how you remember things, how you interact with people. That one doctor said I wouldn’t be able to function all the way. Problem solving. I might end up like a third grader. Or worse.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Elizabeth said. “Was that Tony? Dr. Jones?”

“Yeah. He seemed interested in studying me.” Jason shook his head. “They wanted me to agree. To keep coming in and being interviewed. To let doctors follow me around and chart my progress—like a lab rat,” he muttered. “I told them no. But they never stopped asking.” He cleared his throat. “Alan put the medical book in front of me because I wanted to be a doctor and he thought some part of me would still be interested. I was a medical mystery,” Jason bit out, “and I owed it to the world. I could never practice on people. But maybe I could go into research. So people could study me.”

Elizabeth rose from the chair, returned to the bed and sat on the end of the bed, facing him, her legs crossed. “So you threw the book out the window.”

“Yeah.” A half smile curved on his lips as Jason remembered. “The sound it made crashing through the glass, the way Alan looked, that felt good. But then they talked about sending me away. I left the next day.”

“You should have thrown him out the window,” Elizabeth said, and now his smile was wider. “No, that’s just awful. He’s your father! How could he—” She stopped. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Just now, when I said Alan was your father, you made this face.” She mimicked it, wrinkling her nose with a look of distaste in her eyes. “You don’t consider him your father at all, do you? Even a bad one?”

“I—” Jason considered how to put it into words without making it sound crazy. Or stupid. “Logically, I know that Alan is…there’s a biological connection. He’s the father. Monica’s the mother through adoption. It’s legal. It’s science. I know that. All of them, I understand that’s how it works. But I don’t want to…claim them. I need to separate it. I don’t…I don’t know why really. Why it matters. But it does.”

“I think it’s probably a healthy way to consider the whole thing. It was probably overwhelming for you to wake up and have all these people tell you those things about a life you didn’t remember. That’s…that’s why you didn’t want me to tell you…” Elizabeth fingered the bracelet around her wrist. “Why you wanted to see her name for herself.”

“I didn’t know it until then either,” Jason told her. “Every thing I know about who I used to be, it’s something I was told. You’re our son, you’re going to be a doctor—” His lips tightened again. “All those people. Telling me that they were my cousin, or my grandfather, or my brother, my sister—I didn’t know what any of it meant. Or what to do with it. I didn’t know who I was and all these people were telling me who I was supposed to be and how to feel about them.”

He looked at her. “But that didn’t happen with you. I saw that envelope and it had our name on it. Together. Jason and Elizabeth Quartermaine. I think I knew what you were going to tell me even before you said it, and I could…I could accept it. Because it wasn’t just you. It was something real in the world. And then you gave me that photo…” Jason leaned over the bed, dug around for the jeans he’d kicked off and tugged out his wallet.

“I feel so bad shoving that at you now that I know they’re hard for you—”

“I didn’t know there was a point in trying,” Jason said. He looked at it — every piece of it familiar to him now. He no longer had to struggle to make out the lines and curves and colors. He knew the images that the shapes formed. “I didn’t know you could see facts in a photo. That you could…know them. I didn’t know until then why it was so hard with the Quartermaines. They kept showing me trophies and certificates telling me what they meant. But you didn’t do that. You gave me the photo and you let me figure it out.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I just…I was angry you thought I was lying. I wanted you to see the proof.”

“I did.” He touched the photo, traced the small piece that had been his daughter. His. “I don’t remember her. Or being this man. Or who we were together. But I can see that it meant something. That it was real. To the people in this photo. I didn’t…until I knew about her, I didn’t care that I didn’t remember. But now I wish I did.”

“I wish you did, too.” Elizabeth smiled wistfully. She reached for the photo. “Not so we can have this life back. It was over even before your accident. But she was such a sweet baby, and she liked you better than me. I know the books said babies don’t really know the difference that early, but she knew. She liked your voice.” She exhaled slowly, handed him the photo. “I don’t want you to be him.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“I mean, it’s weird. And it’s complicated. And it’s why I didn’t want…” She looked around the room, then directly at him. “It’s why I wanted to wait. Or really think about what this was. Because physically, biologically, you’re the same man you were before the accident. But you’re not who you were. And you deserve someone who understands that. Who cares about you. And I wasn’t sure that was…or could be me.”

Jason frowned, not sure he liked where she was going with that. “But you kissed me tonight,” he said slowly. “And then we came in here. And it wasn’t just once—”

Her cheeks flushed, and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “No, I know. We took a break for the pizza, but—I don’t know. You stood in the kitchen and you asked me why I didn’t get mad. Luke’s asked me that before, and I always told him I didn’t have the energy, and that’s still true. But I also didn’t…” She bit her lip. “I let the Quartermaines treat me that way because of my family. Because it’s just how I’m built. But I also…I think I was afraid that if I ever really pushed it, maybe…he’d change his mind. I never wanted him to feel like there had to be a choice. Because I wasn’t sure I’d win.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Jason said. “Not you,” he added when she blinked.  “Him for making you feel that way. I don’t know what it feels like to be married. What it means, I guess. But I think it should start with standing up to your parents. You’re making a new family when you get married, right? Why would you do that and let the old one make the new one unhappy?”

Her mouth parted slightly. “I wasn’t…unhappy—”

“Were you happy?” he asked bluntly, and she looked away. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have to protect an idiot husband anymore. It was a choice, and he made the wrong one. I’m not gonna do that.”

“Yeah, but…” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “What if we win on Wednesday? What if the judge says, no you can’t go forward with the divorce. We’re still legally married. I know you said we could date, and I…I’ve liked that. But isn’t it ignoring the whole—” She wiggled her fingers and he saw the rings. He looked down at his hands—bare, some scars that hadn’t faded from the accident. Had he worn a ring?

“If it bothers you, we could get a divorce later,” Jason told her, and she bit her lip. “It doesn’t matter to me. I told you, I don’t really get why marriage matters. I mean, maybe there’s some legal stuff I don’t really remember. But if it’s a promise, then why bring the law into it? We can make it again later if you want. Or leave it alone. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“I don’t know. It just feels so complicated—” She yelped when Jason snagged her arm and yanked her forward, falling back at the same time so that she was draped over him. “Hey.” She sat up slightly, flattening her hands on either side of the mattress so that she was taking on some of her own weight, her hair hanging down, the tips brushing his chest.

“You’re complicating something that doesn’t need to be.” Jason slid his hands up underneath the shirt, his hands braced against her hips, cradling her body beneath his parted legs. “I like you. You like me. And this part is good. Does the rest of it really matter?”

She bit her lip, then slowly lowered herself down until she was laying against his chest, her head tucked under his chin, her fingers tracing a pattern against his skin. “You make it sound simple.”

“Because it is. This is what matters. You and me. It’s all I care about.” He stroked her back, then swept her hair out of her face. “They don’t matter anymore. Not to me. So stop letting them matter to you.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” Elizabeth leaned up, captured his mouth with hers, and pulled at his shoulders until they’d rolled and he was covering her. “I have a better idea of how to spend the rest of the night.”

+35