August 14, 2025

Whether I’m gonna curse you out or
Take you back to my house, I
Haven’t decided yet

Jason pressed his lips together, then nodded. “You think me not broadcasting to Carly that we were together is me pushing you away? How about you using it as an excuse?” He bent down, snatching his shirt from the floor and shook it out before pulling it over his head.

“I’m not doing that—”

“Your date is out there. So is mine. Ric works for Carly. Courtney’s her best friend. What did you think Carly would do with that information?” Jason demanded, and some of the color slid from Elizabeth’s cheeks. “She was giving us a chance to get our stories straight. But you jumped straight ahead to the one that makes me the bad guy. And gives you an excuse to keep running.”

But I’m gonna get you back

Elizabeth folded her arms, a chill slithering down her spine as his words slapped into her. It might have been less painful if he’d used his hand rather than the cold truth.

“And when I asked you what you wanted, you can’t answer. Because you don’t know. You don’t know if you want to start trouble with Sonny or Carly to tell them about me. Just like you didn’t want to start trouble by telling me Sonny was alive.” She shook her head. “You didn’t even think of telling me in secret — to tell me, to give me that level of respect after everything I put on that line for you time and time again — when it came down to it, you chose them. And you’re choosing them right now. So you’re right. We’re both using it as an excuse to keep running.”

She reached for the lock, twisted it, and yanked the door open. She found her tiny clutch bag in the hallway, scooped it up, and headed for the back exit.

This time, she didn’t look back. And he didn’t follow.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes
I’ll make you wanna think twice

Left alone in the supply closet, the door swinging back and forth lightly, Jason stared at the opening for longer than he should have.

Then he found his suit jacket and slipped into it, and made sure to pick up Elizabeth’s discarded panties, left in a small pile of lace. He crumpled them in his hand, then shoved him in the trash can.

He waited until he was sure that she’d had time to clear the back exit before following, leaving Courtney a voicemail that something had come up with work, and he’d talk to her in the morning.

He needed to get out, to get away.

You’ll find that you were never not mine

The next morning, Elizabeth turned in her resignation to the diner and a notice to her landlord. She left Ric a voicemail breaking things off, then blocked his phone number. Within a few weeks, she’d signed a new lease across town and taken a different job.

Jason went home that night, packed a few things in a duffel, changed, then got on his bike. By the time the sun set the next night, he was at the Canadian border, then heading towards the coast, as far away from Port Charles as he could get.

I’m gonna get you back

Whether I’m gonna curse you out or
Take you back to my house, I
Haven’t decided yet

Jason swallowed the angry retort that came to his lips, the type that he’d been throwing at her all night. It would be easy to turn it around — to do as she’d said — shift the responsibility back to her.

She was right, of course. She’d asked him time and time again to be vulnerable, and he’d given her more questions in return.

“I didn’t confirm what Carly already knew because I thought there was a chance she’d make a scene.” Jason approached Elizabeth slowly,  reaching for the arm she had over her middle, finding her hand. “I think we’ve made everything complicated enough without adding her into it, don’t you?”

“I—” Elizabeth closed her eyes, nodded, biting down on her bottom lip, letting him draw her back into his arms, everything inside him easing. “It’s just…you’re right, I know you’re right, and it’s stupid, but it just felt like before, when you chose her, when you chose Sonny—”

“We’ve both made mistakes, haven’t we?” he asked, tucking a piece of her disheveled hair behind her ear. “We can keep going round and round, blaming each other, or we could try something new.”

But I’m gonna get you back

Elizabeth tilted her head up, warmth spreading throughout her body.  “Something new?”

“Yeah.” His mouth brushed her forehead. “We could get dressed, go out the back, and ignore everyone else. And get as far away from all of them as possible.”

“You mean we could run away from our problems?” Elizabeth arched a brow. “For how long?”

“As long as we want. For the rest of the night. For the weekend. The month. It doesn’t matter.” Jason framed her face. “But I don’t want you to go back out there to him. I’ll have to kill him.”

“And I don’t want you to go back to her. Or I’ll have to rip out every strand of blonde hair.”

He laughed lightly, kissed her briefly. “Fair enough. Let’s get out of here.”

“The sweetest words you’ve ever spoken to me.”

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes
I’ll make you wanna think twice

He found his shirt and jacket, and then nearly changed both their minds when he watched her shimmy back into her panties, sliding them over her hips before tugging her skirt back down.

But instead, he kissed the inside of her palm, opened the door, did a quick look to see if anyone was watching, then they made their escape,  Elizabeth stopping to scoop up the clutch with her studio key — no wonder Carly had known she was in there, she laughed when they reached the back parking lot. He’d brought his bike, of course, and she pulled the helmet over her tumbled curls, hiked her dress up so that she could slide on behind him, wrapping her arms around him, splaying her hands on his chest.

“Don’t forget to take the turns extra fast,” she murmured in his ear. He grinned, then switched on the ignition.

You’ll find that you were never not mine

They stopped by her studio long enough for her to change into something more suitable for the bike, though he’d be sorry to see the dress go. She exchanged her clutch for a sturdier purse with her wallet, then hopped on the bike behind him.

They hit the city limits ten minutes later, and kept driving.

And never looked back.

I’m gonna get you back

 Inspiration

I don’t think you can walk away from this song with anything other than the thought — there’s a thin line between love and hate. The passion you feel for someone has to go somewhere. It either fades or it builds into a different kind intensity — rage. I think of the way Jason and Elizabeth interacted for most of 2003, after they’d spent most of the fall of 2002 ignoring each other. It seemed to take a different tack once they were in new relationships — the anger Liz had when she learned he was dating Courtney, and the baffled fury when Elizabeth refused to believe Jason about Ric — I always read it as jealousy from both of them underlying it (initially — then Jason really does have a right to be ticked at Liz because GIRL).

So I thought — well, let’s just see what happens when you start to argue in an enclosed space and there’s nowhere to go.

WAYS TO LISTEN: YouTube | Spotify | Apple Music

From the Eras Tour: imgonnagetyouback x dress mashup

Rated NC-17

                                                     

February 2003

It was the last place he wanted to be. A crowded, dark room with dim lighting, smoke-filled air dominated by music he didn’t care for and conversations he wasn’t interested in.

This was Jason Morgan’s idea of hell.

But it was opening night, and he’d made a promise to his best friend who would never let him hear the end of it if he ducked out on her tonight.

Carly set down a bottle of Rolling Rock, the top already popped off, her scarlet lips curved into a knowing smile. “I can’t believe you actually came.”

Jason picked up the bottle, brought it to his mouth. “I said I would,” he muttered.

Delighted, she leaned over the bar, folding her arms. “You did it for me, and I love you. But tell me the truth, Jase, you’re already counting down to when you can leave.”

He looked at her, made a face, then took a long pull from the bottle. “No comment.” He turned slightly on the bar stool, sweeping his eyes over the dark room, though he could barely make out anyone’s faces.  He was absolutely counting down — and couldn’t even start until Courtney arrived — or he really would never hear the end of it.

He turned back to ask Carly if he’d heard from her sister-in-law just in time for Carly to scowl. “I can’t believe it. The absolute nerve.”

He turned, expecting to see Faith Roscoe or maybe even Brenda who took great joy in aggravating Carly.  He looked at the entrance, then stilled, his hand tightening around the bottle.

Lilac short skirt
The one that fits me like skin

She was maybe thirty feet away, her back turned to him, but he’d know her anywhere. The chestnut hair, curled and bouncing around the face he couldn’t yet see — the slim hands reaching towards the hostess stand, with the long fingers and red nails.

The slender body in a shimmering dark-red dress, the glitter catching even the dimmest of lights with every slight move she had. He’d only touched her once — only been able to slide his fingers over curves and dips, but he’d memorized every bit of it. He’d waited so long to touch her, to feel her soft skin, to hear the way she breathed when he kissed her—

Did your research
You knew the price goin’ in

.She turned, and though he’d known it all along, he could see her face for the first time. Her full lips, curved in a smile, painted the same red as her dress. Her eyes, so wide and blue and deep, darkened with some smoky makeup the way it had been that night in her studio, when she’d looked at him, when for just a moment, everything in his world was perfect.

He couldn’t see what she was saying, but she was glowing, radiating happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked like that — not with him. His chest was tight, and it hurt to even remember those final moments, when she’d looked furious, shattered, devastated—

When she’d left him. When she’d confronted him at Kelly’s, and he’d realized there had been another chance with her, she just hadn’t told him until it was too late and he’d drowned some of that loneliness in someone else.

“I can’t believe she has the nerve to show up here,” Carly continued. “I thought he had a better sense of character than that.”

Her voice drew Jason back, and he looked at his friend in confusion at first—then back at the entrance, realizing only now that Elizabeth wasn’t alone.

She’d arrived with someone else, and it was him she was smiling at. Him that she was touching, her hand against his chest, sliding up slightly —

She was here with Ric Lansing.

And I’ll tell you one thing, honey
I can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean

Someone was watching her.

She was used to that feeling — that prickling on her neck, the shiver that would roll down her spine, the certainty that someone she couldn’t see was focused on her, thinking about her, judging her. It had been baked into her skin during those long terrible months after her rape, and it had taken even longer to shed that awareness.

And she knew it was wrong — that what she was feeling was her own self-consciousness, her own insecurities attacking from within, trying to destroy the fragile confidence she’d fought to rebuild. But every once in a while —

She would turn, and she would know it was true.

Like tonight.

Standing in the entrance to The Cellar nightclub on its grand opening night, Elizabeth felt that telltale prickling, and shifted just slightly so that she could see the inside of the room, all the way to the bar. And out of the corner of her eye, just at the edge—

She saw a familiar figure through the smoke and dim light — that long, lean, muscular body poured into black pants, black jacket and — she was almost sure of it — black shirt beneath it. Was it a smooth, black linen shirt the way it had been at Sonny’s fraudulent service? Or a black buttoned shirt with the top collar undone, revealing his throat—

Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips, chasing away the sensation of thirst. Of hunger. She’d only touched him once with the intent to explore, to feel the soft skin stretched over the steel muscles—

She forced herself to focus higher, not to linger on all the lines of a body she’d dreamed about but never experienced—holding her head at this angle was awkward, and all she’d confirmed was that Jason Morgan was in the room which might have been enough for her senses to go on high alert. It didn’t mean he was watching her—

Until she’d reached his face, the chiseled lines and slash of his mouth pressed together in an unhappy line, the hard glint of his eyes—

Focused directly on her. She jerked her head all the way around, cutting herself off from even her peripheral vision.

Standing at the bar like something’s funny, bubbly
Once you fix your face, I’m goin’ in

She forced herself to focus, to remember why she was here — and who she was with. She lifted her hand to touch Ric’s upper shoulder, and he turned to look at her, flashing that warm smile, the appreciation clear in his dark eyes. It wasn’t his fault she was picturing another set of eyes, icy blue that only softened when he felt safe.

When was the last time he’d looked at her like that? And what right did he have to look at her at all? He’d been the one to leave. The one who’d forgotten his promise to try, to respect her —

To tell the truth.

He’d been the one not to come home all those long nights, watching Courtney strip or babysitting Brenda or keeping Carly of all people in the loop. Carly who had never kept a secret in her damn life. Carly who had turned Sonny in to the FBI.

Bitterness swelled, dousing the heat that had built thinking about Jason. Gorgeous body, sure. But he was a lying asshole who had watched his sister-in-law strip, then slept with her before her husband had even cleared his things from the apartment.

Not like Ric, who had showered Elizabeth with attention from the beginning, singling her out and making her feel important. So what if she didn’t quite feel that same tug, that same please fuck me tonight feeling she’d known before.

She’d take honesty and respect over lust and attraction any day of the week.

Whether I’m gonna be your wife or
Gonna smash up your bike, I
Haven’t decided yet

And just so Jason would know — just so the world would know, Elizabeth slid her hand from Ric’s shoulder to the lapel of his suit jacket, then continued the slide, towards Ric’s waist until her fingers ran out of fabric to stroke. He looked at her, his eyes darkened, his smile curving in a new way.

“We should sit down and get some drinks,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head in a way to ensure her hair slid down over her shoulder, left bare by her strapless dress. “And you can show off everything else you’ve done to get this place ready.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” He leaned down, brushed his mouth across her cheekbone, and she tried to force the tingles and shivers, the flutters that had always flooded her body when Jason had even come within a foot of her.

What was wrong with her?  Why couldn’t she feel the right things for the right guy?

Ric put his hand at the curve of her waist, turning her slightly, and Elizabeth allowed herself to be guided into the main area of the club, facing the bar —

Letting her gaze find Jason, still watching her, and their eyes meeting. She held the contact as she sauntered into the room next to Ric, next to a man who made time for her and called when he said he would, and didn’t run out of the room when someone else snapped their fingers.

But I’m gonna get you back

If she thought Jason would be flustered or even embarrassed to be caught watching her, she was wrong. He didn’t look away, or pretend to be watching anything or anyone else. He held her gaze in the short walk towards the table Ric had reserved for a long beat, then his eyes swept down to the ground, slowly rising, so that it was even more obvious that he was looking at her from head to toe, then met her eyes again.

She let one corner of her mouth curve up in a knowing smirk. She hoped he’d choke on it — everything she’d handed him on a silver platter and he’d thrown away for a cheap blonde with no loyalty, brains or common sense.

She took the seat that kept her in full view of the bar, breaking her stare with Jason, to deepen her smile at Ric and lean towards him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blonde in question approach Jason from the back of the club, maybe the staff entrance. And relished the way he didn’t look at Courtney right away — not until she pulled on his sleeve. Only then did Jason turn around, with his back to the rest of the room.

Let him enjoy that hollow-brained Barbie. She was going to have a good time with a man who wanted to be with her.

Whether I’m gonna curse you out or
Take you back to my house, I
Haven’t decided yet

He was still looking at her.

Courtney tapped her fingers restlessly on the bar, her jaw clenched, staring directly at Jason — at the back of his head as he’d swiveled around on the stool again, pretending to watch Carly walk around the room, his focus sharpening like a laser when Carly had paused for a moment at Elizabeth and Ric’s table — Carly had directed her attention to the lawyer — and Jason’s glare had only intensified when Ric had said something that must have hurried Carly on her way while reaching for Elizabeth’s hands, kissing her finger tips.

She brought her hand down hard, causing the glass on the bar to rattle, and Jason turned, looked at the bar then at her — and she forced herself to smile. Had he forgotten she was there? Asshole. “Sorry,” she said sweetly. “My hand slipped. I know you hate being here. Why don’t we head out?” She danced her fingers along the sleeve of his jacket. “We can head to my place and be alone.”

“What? Sure.” Jason lifted his beer, finished it, and set it back on the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

“But we were just—” Courtney didn’t even bother to finish her statement — she was speaking to air. Jason had slid off the stool and was halfway down the hallway leading to the restrooms. Whatever. If he had to pee, he could have said that. She returned to her martini — then hesitated, twisting in her seat.

Carly had returned to Ric’s table — and was now sitting across from him, having a conversation — sitting in Elizabeth’s seat. The brunette was gone.

Courtney pressed her lips together, took a deep breath. She had three choices. Ignore and wait for Jason to return — and never ask any questions. Charge off to find him and catch him in the act of whatever he was doing.

Or leave.

She picked up her drink, and considered her options.

But I’m gonna get you back

Carly had refurbished the existing speakeasy that had existed beneath Kelly’s almost a century earlier — the main club floor and then a few hidden back rooms that had likely once held the liquor. Some of the rooms had been converted to washrooms, another for her office, and then two other closed doors lined the small, narrow hallway that led back into the club proper.

Elizabeth was in one of those washrooms, contemplating her entire existence.

She patted her hands dry with the paper towel, then crumpled and tossed it in the bin next to the door. She looked back at the mirror, then fished in her purse to find her lipstick to reapply it.

It was exhausting, being on display. Putting on a show. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the tip of the dark red lipstick hovering just over her mouth. She looked angry, tired. Not sleek and sexy.

She looked how she felt.

She shouldn’t have to force feelings. Shouldn’t have to pretend. What was she going to do? Go home with Ric? Let him touch her, let him—

She dropped the lipstick in the sequined clutch that fit neatly in the palm of her hand. Whatever she was going to do, she’d need Ric for the ride home — nothing more than her studio key had fit in this stupid little thing. Lipstick, a twenty, and a key. All a girl on a date needed.

With a heavy sigh, Elizabeth reached for the door handle, already planning the excuses in her head.

When she exited the bathroom, she turned towards the main bar—and stopped dead.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes
I’ll make you wanna think twice

Jason was leaning against the wall, blocking her escape. Almost casually posing, his upper back and shoulders pressed against the wall, slouching just enough so that he’d needed to arch out his lower back and legs, shove his feet resting flat against the floor almost halfway across the hallway, his hands tucked in the pockets of his black pants.

Almost casual except for the way he was looking at her. The burning in his eyes that might have been anger. Or something else. Something she’d never seen in his ways — not quite this hot or insistent. There’d been a hint of it that night at the studio.

She hesitated, unsure what exactly to do. She’d stoked this fire, hadn’t she? She knew what she’d been doing — and realized now she’d thought he’d go away silently. That he wouldn’t say anything.  What he’d always done.

And even now — what was he going to do? What did he ever do?

Elizabeth lifted her chin, sauntered towards him, closing the few feet that had separated them. When she could go no further unless she climbed over his legs, she stopped, and planted one fist on her hip.

“Are you going to move?”

You’ll find that you were never not mine
You’re mine

Locking eyes with her, never breaking contact, Jason straightened, rising to his full height which wasn’t that tall — except when you were five foot two. Her heels had added another four inches, but he still loomed over her, forcing her to raise her chin even higher to maintain the contact.

Now he stood directly in the middle of the hallway, leaving a sliver of space on either side. Limiting her options even further.

What was his game?

She took another step towards him, the space between their bodies more theoretical than physical when she finally stopped. “That’s not what I meant,” she murmured.

The corner of his mouth curved just slightly. “I’m sorry. You should have been more clear.”

“Is that the problem?” One eyebrow arched, even as her pulse skittered madly, her heart racing so fast she could feel the change in her breathing. “Clarity?”

“I understand if that’s difficult for you. You’ve never been that good at it.”

Elizabeth inhaled sharply, and something burned differently in her throat. Shame, regret, anger all swirled together, rising until she turned away and headed down the hallway. There had to be a back exit. Screw this. Screw all of this.

Small talk, big love
Act like I don’t care what you did

He didn’t know why he’d followed her into the back of the club, why he’d waited outside the bathroom door — it had been nothing but pure instinct guiding every step of his feet, and he’d leaned into it because well—she’d kept matching him. Word for word, action for action.

Until he’d said something stupid that broke the spell. When the words had hit her, and he could almost see her flinch. He hadn’t been aiming for that, but it’d been a direct hit all the same. Her eyes had widened, her nostrils flared, and there’d been a hint of something in her eyes that had him wanting to drag the words back.

Then she’d turned and walked away, and his temper had snapped.

After all the games, all the back and forth with Zander, the way she’d walked out on him, refused to talk to him, thrown tantrums over Courtney, constantly casting him as the villain in her story, never once seeing that she had played the same role in his. He’d kept his composure through all of it. For six months as she’d played hot and cold, never sending the same signals twice, and he’d never lost his temper.

But tonight? Tonight she had started it and he was tired of watching her play just long enough to pull him in, and then walk away like he was nothing.

“Does he know?” he called after her, and Elizabeth halted nearly ten feet down the hall. Didn’t turn back. “Does he know you’re thinking about me?”

Elizabeth slowly turned around, facing him again. He couldn’t see her expression clearly, but that arch of her brow was unmistakable. “Does she know?”

I’m an Aston Martin
That you steered straight into the ditch
Then ran and hid

There was silence after she tossed his barb right back at him. It hung between them, lingering as if neither of them had intended the turn in their interaction.

They’d never spoken to each other like this, so sharply, so angrily, with each word a jagged shard of glass flying through the air, leaving thousands of shallow cuts, each drawing blood that threatened to drown them both.

Could he see from this distance, in this lighting that she was trembling from head to toe? Her heart was racing, her pulse skittering with nerves that couldn’t be contained, and something was burning beneath her skin, boiling past the point of no return. And if he turned and walked away from her now, she might just disappear, melting into the cheap, thin carpet beneath their feet, never to be seen again?

Instead of walking away, he kept his eyes on hers, walked towards her. Slowly. Giving her the chance to run. To flee for the back exit.

She remained glued to the spot, waiting with a mixture of terror, nerves, and hope, wondering what he’d do when he reached her.

Jason stopped inches away, saying nothing. He lifted his hand to her face, cupping her jaw in his palm, his thumb sweeping across her bottom lip, and she bit back the protest when he stopped touching her and held up his thumb, the smear of her maroon lipstick across his skin. “You put this on for him.”

It wasn’t what she’d expected, and some of her flutters dissipated as her brows drew together, bewildered. “What?”

“The makeup. You wear it like this when you’re hiding. So that they look at your face and not your eyes.” He brought his thumb together with his forefinger, smearing the lipstick. “What don’t you want him to see?”

And I’ll tell you one thing, honey

Her beautiful eyes shimmered with a hint of tears, and she dropped her gaze, looking away, drawing that bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard. Another direct hit.

Only this time he’d been aiming.

Would she hit back? Or would she give up whatever game they were playing?

Elizabeth’s breathing hitched and the muscles beneath her pale skin tightened, as she swallowed hard. When she looked at him again, the tears were still there, but the hurt had slid into irritation, and her lips curved into the smirk that drove him insane. “You’re in the back hallway with me and not out front with your friends. What are you hiding?”

He would have flinched from the accuracy, but he’d gotten there a step before her — after all, she’d come here with a purpose — he’d been the one following her. He already knew where he didn’t want to be. Now he felt his own lips twitch. “Is that the best you can do?”

“You never wanted to see what I could do.” Elizabeth stepped to one side, as if she planned to slide past him,  return to the club, but he wasn’t going to let her go that easy. He’d done that once before. A thousand times.

His arm whipped out, flattening his hand against the wall, and she huffed. “I’m tired of this game—”

“That’s right. A game,” Jason said, and she looked at him, with the nerve to look confused. “I’m not the one who started it. You are.”

“Am I?” Elizabeth lifted a hand to his suit jacket, delicately holding it between her fingers, sliding up and down the fabric, slowly. “I turned around and you were looking at me. All I did was give you something to watch. And since you followed me back here…I’d say you not only started it, but changed the rules.” Something darkened in her eye. “You like to do that. Change the rules when I don’t even know we’re playing.”

I can take the upper hand and touch your body

His mouth tightened. “Something else you started.” She stiffened, but he continued, “Or maybe you don’t remember Zander.”

“Maybe you don’t remember answering your phone,” she retorted back. “Tell me, Jason.” She leaned in, her voice going low, almost breathy. “What did Carly need that day? What was so important that you had to leave right away, never mind the fact that I’d asked you to come over. Never mind the fact that you’d nearly kissed me, but forgot I existed the second that phone rang.” She tapped his shirt twice, then left her finger on his chest. “I made you no promises that were broken that night. I didn’t and don’t belong to you.”

She lifted her hand, placed it over his forearm, gently tugging it down to let her pass. He let it slide down just an inch, then stopped it, tensing the muscles so that she couldn’t get past him. “I never wanted you to belong to me. I didn’t want to own you. If that’s what you’re looking for—” Now he let his arm fall, then stepped away, turning so that his back faced the wall. “Go. I won’t stop you.”

Elizabeth stood there, frozen, her fingers curled into fists at her side, then turned just her neck so that their eyes met. “You never wanted me at all. Thanks for making that clear.”

He snagged her wrist as she started to pass — not tightly, not harshly, but just encircled her wrist in a loose grip that she could have broken if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t.  “That’s a lie. You stopped us that night in your studio—”

“And you spent weeks running from me as fast as you could,” she breathed. “You made me think I hadn’t….that there was still something. You kissed me until I couldn’t breathe, and you walked away. And then never touched me again.” Her voice wobbled. “You told me you’d try, and then you never came home. And you lied and you lied and you lied. Then told me I didn’t matter. Who’s playing games now?”

Flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party

He inhaled sharply, tightened his grip when she started to pull away. “I didn’t—” Jason swallowed hard, because now they’d come down to the root of it all, hadn’t they? The mixed signals, missed opportunities — it all came back to the choice he’d made. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t tell you Sonny—I never said it—”

“A loophole, I’m sure you’d hope I’d notice.” She dipped her head down. “No, but you let  me believe it. You let me worry for you. Let me feel sorry for Carly who must have enjoyed watching me try to look after her, take her food, clean up the penthouse—” She closed her eyes, shook her head. “You made me feel so stupid. You both did. I just didn’t expect better from her.” She looked at him, and the tears shimmering in her eyes. “Was it revenge? Did it feel good to make me feel that way after last summer, after Lucky? Did you get a little thrill when I thought you were—” She stopped.

Jason swallowed. “I didn’t want to lie to you. Didn’t want you to think I—” He stopped. What was the point? “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

She pressed her lips together,  nodded. “I know. You said that, too. That it didn’t matter. That it wasn’t about me. And I felt even more stupid, selfish for worrying about myself, and you were right, of course. I didn’t factor into the decision at all. You probably didn’t even remember I was there most of the time. Hours I waited that night, hours while you went to the hospital to talk to Alexis, while you walked Courtney home — then when you finally bothered to come back to the penthouse, you stumbled over my suitcase and seemed to be surprised I was even still there. Did you think I’d be gone already? Was I supposed to know Alcazar’s shooting was my eviction notice—”

“Stop. Stop—” Jason tugged on her hand, gently but firmly and she came forward a few steps until he could touch her, until he could lift her chin to look at her eyes. “I couldn’t come back there, I couldn’t look at you and know I was lying. I couldn’t stand it. I knew you’d leave. I knew you’d never forgive me—”

“You never—you never even tried — you just let me walk away and I told myself that’s proof, that’s how you know — you always argued o-over Lucky and Zander, but this? You just walked away and you married Brenda and you slept with Courtney, a-and I didn’t matter at all—”

“You did—”

“And I tried to be okay with it, I t-tried—and Ric, you know—he calls and he tells me I’m beautiful and he makes time for me, he doesn’t make me guess all the time and I hate that all I can think about is you—I hate you for looking at me, for making me think—but this is just your sick, twisted game, isn’t it? To make me so crazy that I throw away a perfectly good date and you’ll go out there with her and have a laugh about how you led me on again—”

He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t listen to her anymore. He cupped her jaw, dragged her against him, and kissed her.

Or I might just love you ’til the end

It was wrong. All of it. Watching her all night, following her to the back hallway — from the moment Jason had become aware of Elizabeth’s presence, he’d done nothing but follow his baser impulses—

And she’d met him at every step, firing back, calling his bluff, and even now—maybe she’d meant to push him away, but her fingers curled into his shirt instead, and she opened her mouth, arched against him, panting when he backed against the wall, ran one hand down the side of her body to her thigh, lifting her leg at his waist so that he could press against her more firmly.

She gasped, when he pulled away slightly, her eyes glazed, slightly unfocused, her lipstick smudged.  Her lips started to round, but he didn’t want to hear her tell him to stop so he kissed her again, taking her neck in his hand so his thumb brushed over her pulse point, beating rapidly.

“N-Not—” She moaned when his other hand skirted beneath the hem of her dress, touching her soft skin. “Anyone could—” Elizabeth brought her hands to his jaw and gently tugged so that he was forced to look at her, and he braced himself for her to bring them back to their senses. To reality.

“Not here,” she murmured, sweeping her thumb across his bottom lip. “Anyone could see us.”

Whether I’m gonna be your wife or

She hadn’t wanted to say anything at all, hadn’t wanted to stop him, to give him to think, to turn on that magnificent mind that always weighed out the risks before he acted. But—

Jason kissed her again, briefly with his hands tangling in her hair, before reaching down, lacing their fingers together. “Come on.”

She didn’t know where he would take her. Out back? In the alley? Carly’s office—

But he opened a door just a few feet away — a supply closet with two racks half-filled. She only had a moment to take in the room, illuminated by a single swinging light bulb from the middle of the room. Then Jason closed the door, and kissed her, tugging her to the corner of the room, where there was a small table with a few empty boxes. With the sweep of his hand, he shoved them to the floor, sending them skittering across the room.

“Oh—” She gasped when he wrapped both hands around her rib cage and lifted her like she weighed nothing more than a feather, then set her on the edge of the table, parting her legs and kissing her again — he’d maneuvered them into the room in less than thirty seconds, and her head was spinning from it all.

But she wasn’t complaining. She sank her hands back in his hair,  losing herself in the way he tasted, in the weight of his body against hers, hard and heavy, and warm. She could kiss him for hours, slight bitterness from the beer he’d been nursing all evening, the sweet wine she’d been sipping, all mixing together into something so intoxicating she felt like she was floating, drifting along, outside of time and place.

Gonna smash up your bike, I

It was madness. All of it. But he’d always known if she gave him the slightest hint, the smallest signal, he’d dive in, headfirst, without a care for anything that came after. He hadn’t thought about the woman he’d left sitting at the bar, and if she walked in right now, he might not even recognize her.

He’d gone back in time, maybe, to a period when he’d only cared about what he wanted, what felt good, and not giving a damn about anyone—except the woman in his arms. He needed her to know, needed her to believe that none of what she thought was real, that it had always been her for him, and that if she just gave him a chance to show her, Jason would never let her regret.

Haven’t decided yet

Her quick hands had slid underneath his suit jacket, sliding it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He traced the line of her leg, from thigh to her calf, letting his fingertips slide up and down the sensitive skin. She broke their kiss, her head falling back against the wall, her neck arching when he slid his fingers all the way up, flirting with the edge of her panties, underneath, then back again just quickly, teasing.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, dragging him back to kiss her, and her nails bit in hard when the thrust of his tongue matched those of her fingers, sliding in and out, stroking the fire that had been simmering for hours, ignited when she’d felt his eyes on her—

“I c-can’t—” She squirmed slightly, and Jason cupped her jaw, sweeping his thumb over her lower lip.

“Look at me,” he murmured. “I want to see, I want to see you.”

But I’m gonna get you back

Her breathing came faster and faster, her heart pounding so furiously she could feel it throbbing everywhere, in her throat, in her ears, everything clenching tighter and tighter until she broke, arching against him, her legs clenched around his waist.

“It’s not enough,” she managed, dodging his mouth when he tried to kiss her again. “Not enough—” Her hands went to the buckle at his belt, fumbling to unclasp it, and he let go over long enough to help, sliding the belt free, and then she was already sliding down his zipper, pushing his pants down. It was a fast furious scramble to shed enough clothes quickly, as if they both knew if they took a single moment to breathe, to think —

They might stop.

And the moment would be lost.

Whether I’m gonna flip you off or
Pull you into the closet

He slid in hard, shocking the breath out of her at the movement, and she arched her neck, the cascading sparks and shivers strangling another gasp when Jason’s hand slid under her knee, lifting her leg higher.

Oh this was insane, but it was intoxicating, addictive, and Elizabeth never wanted it to stop, never wanted it to be over, could have lived the rest of her days in this room. All the almost kisses and brushes and touches over the years had driven her mad — there was no other reason for where she found herself.

I haven’t decided yet
But I’m gonna get you back

He wasn’t a man who dreamed in pictures or sensations or color, not the way she did, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about this moment — what it would be like if he finally was able to touch her, to hold her, to consume her the way he’d wanted to for years—

And none of those thoughts came close to reality, to how good it felt to bury himself inside her, to dip his mouth in the crook of her neck, her body pressed hard against him, her arms and legs clinging like a vine desperate to get closer.

He wanted it to last forever, to postpone the inevitable after but he was a starving man feasting after a famine, and now all that mattered was dragging her over the edge with him.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes
I’ll make you wanna think twice

It began like a pinprick of light in the dark, twirling and spiraling faster and louder with every spin until it consumed everything in its wake like a supernova engulfing the universe, shattering everything that had come before so that nothing would ever be the same again—

She bit down hard to hold in her cries, tasting the metallic bitterness of her own blood, her nails digging into him so hard that she had to have broken the skin, but he showed no signs of pain, just burying his head down in her shoulder, his body shuddering when it was over, hers trembling, the shivers sliding from head to toe to her fingertips.

You’ll find that you were never not mine
You’re mine

He didn’t know how long they stood there, curled around each other, hiding from the outside world. But the fever had receded, and when he raised his head to find her gaze, to get some sense of what she was thinking, he saw his own uncertainty reflected back.

What the hell had just happened?

I can feel it comin’, hummin’ in the way you move
Push the reset button, we’re becoming something new

Jason cupped her jaw with both hands, his thumb sweeping over her swollen lips, her dark lipstick long gone—and when she mirrored his movement, touching his mouth, he wondered if he was wearing some of that maroon red.

Her legs slipped slightly, bonelessly, dangling towards the ground, her hands sliding down his chest, slightly glistening with sweat.

Say you got somebody, I’ll say, “I got someone too”
Even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you

Jason slid his arm around her waist, straightening and bringing her with him so that she didn’t slide off the table—neither of them breaking eye contact, watching each other warily. Waiting for the other to make the first move, to set the tone for whatever happened next.

Bygones will be bygone, eras fadin’ into gray (fadin’ into gray)

She swallowed hard, then licked her lips, and he nearly kissed her again, nearly started the insanity once more. But they couldn’t—for so many reasons —

But the most important were the footsteps rapidly approaching down the hallway.

His hand lashed out, flipping the door lock just moments before it twisted and someone tried to open it. Jason and Elizabeth both stared at the rattling knob, then at each other.

“Jason? Are you in there?”

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game (oh)

When neither of them answered right away, the only sound in the room the mixture of their breathing, she spoke again, more annoyed. “I have a key, you know. So answer or I’m coming in—”

“Yes.” Jason stepped away from Elizabeth, his hands sweeping down from her shoulders with some regret, before he stooped to reach for his pants and briefs. “Yeah, Carly. I’m in here.”

There was a pause. “Are you alone?”

Told my friends, “I hate you but I love you just the same”

Jason looked to Elizabeth again, her hands now gripping the edge of the table, the hem of her skirt still shoved to her waist, but she’d pressed her legs together, the flush fading from her upper body, her eyes dropping to the floor.

What was he supposed to say?

“You didn’t answer me, so I’m going to assume it’s no. I already knew that, so thanks for not lying. Look, you got about five minutes, maybe, before someone who isn’t me comes back here. In case you forgot, you both came here with other people. So whatever you’re doing, knock it off and get out of there.  Don’t do anything stupid.” There was another pause. “Unless it’s too late for that. Jason?” The doorknob rattled again.

Pick your poison, babe
I’m poison either way

“I heard you, Carly,” Jason said when Elizabeth remained silent. “Go away.”

“I’m going. I hope you know what you’re doing. Idiot.”

Her footsteps moved away from the door, fading into silence.

Elizabeth slid off the table, and he came forward when she wobbled slightly, her knees buckling briefly until she could get her bearings. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice oddly flat. She held on to the table with one hand, and dragged her skirt down with her other.

She still didn’t look at him, staring straight ahead. “I-I can’t go b-back out there. But you can.”

His chest tightened, and he forced himself to speak. “Is that what you want? For me to go away like this didn’t happen?”

Whether I’m gonna be your wife or
Gonna smash up your bike, I
Haven’t decided yet

She looked at him finally, one arm wrapped around her midriff, the other still tugging at the hem. “I don’t know.  Is that you what you want?”

“I asked you first—”

“And I did what you always do.” Elizabeth lifted her chin, even as her mouth still trembled. “Turned it around and made it your burden to carry, your responsibility. Refused to tell you how I feel, what I want, what I’m thinking.”

He exhaled on a harsh breath. Right back to where they’d begun. “I guess that answers my question.”

She pressed her lips together, even as they curved into a humorless smile. “You would say that.”

But I’m gonna get you back

“Is this how it’s going to be?” he demanded, taking a step towards her. “Is this really what you want? Every time we come near each other, we argue—and now—” Now, could there be any going back? Could he ever see her, and not remember this, remembering how it had felt to hold, to touch her —

“No. I don’t want it this way,” Elizabeth managed. “I just—I don’t know if there are any other choices. Because Carly asked you if you were alone, and you didn’t answer.”

“What?” Jason straightened, his focus sharpening. “What are you talking about?”

“She knew you weren’t. We both knew she knew I was in here. And you said nothing. You didn’t want her to know.” Her eyes glimmered with tears again. “You answered her calls and you left, and you told her where you were, and she always knew what was going on. You trust her. You want to keep her in your life. But me? You pull away. You avoid questions. You walk away. You tell me to leave. You marry another woman. You sleep with someone. After you’ve told me you’d try,” she added, when he opened his mouth. “I know I haven’t always been fair, but every time I try to push my way into your world, you close the door. ”

“I—That’s not—”

“No? You kissed me at Vista Point, then walked away and wanted me to pretend that never happened.” She shook her head. “You grab me tonight, you kiss me, you drag me in here, and you make love to me like the world will end if you don’t — and she knocks on the door, and it all goes away. So I ask you again, what other choice do we have but for you to go back to your world, and for me to get out of yours for good?”

Choose Your Ending
Happy  | Tragic
*cackles*

August 13, 2025

Update Link: You’re Not Sorry – Part 22

Another day of Swiftie Zooommmiessssss!

First, something HYSTERICAL happened on yesterday’s episode of GH. I didn’t watch yet, but Danny took Scout of camp without telling Drew and THEN DREW WANTED DANNY TO BE ARRESTED

YOU GUYS WHAT

To my fan from the GH writer’s room, I will ABSOLUTELY quit my job and come write for me. Call me.

(i wrote drew getting danny arrested in dear reader back in june absolutely wiiiilllld)

Anyway — all jokes aside, it’s just funny. I write a ton of soap opera fanfiction, and I specialize in the ensemble umbrella stories, so it’s not the first time I’ve seen something I wrote reflected on the show. We work from the same source material so it’s just bound to happen. Back when I was writing Damaged in 2014-2015, I wrote Jason’s twin brother as a con artist who was working for Victor Cassadine to pretend to Jason Morgan — and he was Franco’s semi-adopted brother as a child that Franco was searching for all his life. My jaw dropped in 2017 when they decided to make Franco Drew’s semi-brother that Franco starts to have dreams about and search for. And I know there’s other stuff, lol.

I finished another story in the Black Dog collection, yay! This one was a quick short piece. 3 down, 5 to go!

AND TONIGHT I FIND OUT THE COVER AND RELEASE DATE FOR TS12 LETS GOOOOOOOOO

Swiftie Zoomies starting again because what do you MEAAAN I get a whole EPISODE with Blondie????? EEEEEEEEE

*coughs* uh, see you tomorrow.

This entry is part 22 of 34 in the Flash: You're Not Sorry

Please note: I always write every piece of word once the timer starts. In this specific case, because I did a toooonnnn of legal research for federal cases, I did prewrite some legal arguments based on that research because if I’d messed anything up in my haste to do everything I wanted today, I’d be sooo mad at myself.

Thank you for your understanding 😛

Written in 55 minutes.


Wednesday, September 10, 2024

Miller & Davis: Office

Alexis stopped in the doorway of the office, her brows lifted. “Shouldn’t you already be on the road to Syracuse?”

“I’m leaving in five minutes,” Diane muttered, marking notes with her red pen. “I left my brief here last night. I knew I should have just slept on the sofa—” She scowled when Alexis plucked the pen from her grasp. “Excuse me—”

“You have this figured out backwards and forwards.” Alexis slid the cap on the pen. “You know this argument. You were probably talking in your sleep last night with it.”

“I just—” Diane exhaled slowly, sat back in the chair. “It’s the first time I know, without a shadow of doubt, that I’m responsible for an innocent life. With Jason, you know—” She shook her head. “It was always about finding the right argument, but if you lost — well—” She got to her feet. “Jake came home from school on Monday, and he just—” She made a gesture with her hand. “Fell apart. Begged his father to tell the police something so his mother could come home. Anything. He’s seventeen-years-old, Alexis. Have you ever seen a boy cry at his age?”

“Diane—”

“Elizabeth is innocent. And so is Jason. Neither one of them know anything about this case. And if I can’t make this happen, Alexis, if I’m wrong, and that woman stays in jail one more day—”

“She won’t.” Alexis picked up Diane’s notes, slid them in a folder, then put them in Diane’s bag. “You won’t fail. Stop being mean to my best friend.”

Diane’s smile was slight. “I better get going. And in a few weeks, when you’re the one in here crumbling over a federal case, I’ll be the one giving a pep talk.”

“I look forward to it.”

James M. Hanley Federal Building: Courtroom

They’d run into Laura and Kevin in the parking garage, then found Joss, Michael, and Carly waiting outside the court room. Michael hugged Jason, while Joss caught up with the boys, checking in on Cameron’s plans for that weekend.

“I still think it’s ridiculous that they’re not bringing Elizabeth to the court house,” Carly grumbled as they entered the court room and filed into the two rows behind Diane’s table. The lawyer was already set up with her laptop screen flipped up and a web conference meeting already logged into.

Diane smiled thinly at them, then gestured that the screen by the jury box. “Elizabeth will be visible there so that the judge can see her, but she’ll only be able to see the kind of screens I have—” she indicated her laptop screen. “Four boxes. She won’t be able to see much but if you sit right behind the screen—”

“At least we’ll be able to see her,” Aiden said. “I just wish she had a better view of us. I wish she were here.”

“She’ll be home tonight,” Jake said, and his brother just looked at him. “You don’t believe me?”

“I want to. I just—I thought we’d get to see her on Saturday, and then no. I wanted to call her on Sunday, but no again.” Aiden’s expression was grim. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“I know, but — ” Jake looked at his father, coming over to them from a conversation with Laura and Carly. “Dad, you’ll still tell me if you get the signal you were talking about, right? Where you think you’ve won?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Jason focused on Aiden, must have seen something in his expression. “I’m as sure as I can be in this kind of situation that we’re going to win today,” he said. “I’ve done everything I can to make it happen. Legally,” he added. “But at the end of the day—”

“It’s not up to you,” Aiden finished, and Jason reluctantly nodded. “Okay. Okay. Well, you’ve  been in jail before, so I guess you’d know what the chances are.” He hesitated. “I mean—”

“It’s okay—” Jason held up a hand, indicating that he wasn’t offended. “I do have some experience. Not just with the legal system. But with the guys who run these investigations. They always have an angle.” He stepped closer, keeping his voice down. “They  think your mom and I are lying. Whether I’m covering for her, or the other way around. They don’t have enough to convict her. They are going to want her out so they can catch us doing something to help them.”

“But since you’re both innocent—” Jake started.

“They’re going to get nothing,” Jason finished. “They probably know more about what happened that day than either one of us. So trust me, I think we have a better chance than most people in your mother’s position.”

Jamesville Correctional Facility

“And I just—” Elizabeth gestured at the small laptop screen. “I just sit here?”

“You’re not required to speak, no.” The facility’s legal coordinator nodded to the guard, who locked her shackles to the table. “Just listen to the arguments and stay quiet. When it’s over, you go back to your cell.”

“Even—” she bit her lip. “Even if I win—”

“You go back there until the order is transmitted. It’s starting, so—”

Elizabeth focused on the screen, and the little screens began to populate — the judge’s table, empty for now a man she didn’t know with the label “Reynolds” then Diane—and, oh—

She leaned in, and could just barely make out Jake and Aiden sitting behind her lawyer. Aiden gave her a tiny wave, and she exhaled in a rush of relief. Her boys. She could see them. Even if they were tiny dots on the screen.

Please. Please let this be over today.

James M. Hanley Federal Building: Courtroom

“All rise, for the Honorable James M. McAvoy—”

Jake tensed, jolting to his feet, watching as an older man entered, clad in the black robes he’d never seen in real life.

He sat down behind the judge’s desk, slid on a pair of reading glasses. When he’d settled, the bailiff gave them the instruction to sit, and then called his mother’s case.

The judge opened a file. “I have reviewed the Pretrial Services report in this matter. The defendant, Ms. Webber, is a resident of Port Charles, and has been since she was fifteen years old. She owns her own home, enjoys full-time employment as the head nurse at General Hospital. She has three children, two of whom are minors residing with her retaining primary residential custody of both. She has no prior criminal convictions and no history of violence.”

Some of Jake’s tension eased as this recitation of his mother’s background. All of that sounded good.

The judge continued, “Pretrial services notes the statutory presumption of detention for the offense charged, but indicates should the Court consider release, it could be under home confinement with surveillance, GPS monitoring, and a third-party custodian.” He lifted his head now.

“The defense has proposed Mr. Jason Morgan for this custodial duty.”

Jake looked at his father, confused by that. What did it mean?

“He has a 2010 Class D felony conviction for racketeering that was later overturned, with no subsequent criminal convictions, though, uh, more than a few arrests. While Pretrial services has indicated some concern regarding his suitability, the government has indicated it does not object to his appointment in light of the restrictive conditions proposed.”

Jason slid Jake a glance, nodded slightly, and Jake elbowed his brother. That was it. The sign his dad had wanted. The government wasn’t going to object to his dad being named the custodian or something. Whatever that was. He didn’t care if meant his mom was coming home.

“With that,” the judge said, setting the file aside, “I will hear argument from the government on the question of detention or release.”

The man behind the other table got to his feet, buttoned his suit jacket.

“Thank you, Your Honor. Noah Reynolds, Assistant United States Attorney. The defendant is charged with the deliberate killing of Special Agent John Cates, an FBI agent acting in the course of his official duties. Under federal law, this charge alone triggers a statutory presumption of detention.”

Jake bumped his dad, but Jason gave him a quick shake.

“The evidence against Ms. Webber includes forensic ballistics tying the recovered weapon to the fatal round, eyewitness accounts placing her at the scene, and motive evidence based on Agent Cates’ role in keeping the father of her middle son, Jacob, from them for over two years.”

“Idiots,” Jake muttered under his breath.

“This is a crime of violence punishable by life imprisonment or death—”

Aiden made a little sound that might have been a whimper and Jake reached for his hand, looking at him quickly. His little brother was pale. “It’s okay,” he breathed.

“That fact alone gives her every incentive to flee. The government also maintains she poses a danger to the community and to the integrity of the judicial process. Release, even under the strictest conditions, cannot mitigate that danger. The defendant has every reason to obstruct justice, whether by coordinating with accomplices or intimidating witnesses — many of whom are members of law enforcement. Given the nature of the charge, the presumption of detention applies, and Ms. Webber has not met the heavy burden required to overcome it. The government requests she be held without bail pending trial.”

Reynolds took his seat, and the judge simply shifted his focus to Diane. “And the defense?”

“Diane Miller, Your Honor. My client is, as you noted in your opening, a longterm resident with deep ties to her community. Her sons are her entire world, and they have deep ties to their community. She is a beloved nurse with shining evaluations and no criminal history.

“Furthermore, the government’s case rests on circumstantial evidence, and the assumption that because she was present on the scene, she must be guilty. I’d like to remind the court and my honorable colleague across the aisle—” Diane flicked her gaze to Reynolds. “That the only reason they can put my client at the scene is because she told them. They have no direct evidence that Ms. Webber knew about the gun recovered in her trunk, let alone fired it at a federal agent with intent to kill. The so-called ‘forensics match’ is preliminary and unconfirmed. In fact, several pieces of exculpatory evidence — including eyewitnesses who contradict the government timeline — have yet to be processed.”

Diane took a deep breath, spread her hands out at her side. “Your Honor, this case is not what it appears on paper. It is a pretext prosecution being rushed forward without full forensic analysis of the gun, of the so-called tip that led them to the recovery of the gun, and my client is the collateral damage of an investigation targeting others.” She paused for effect, letting her words linger.

“We propose the strictest conditions imaginable: home confinement at her longtime residence under the supervision of a third-party custodian approved by Pretrial Services, GPS ankle monitoring, daily check-ins, surrender of all passports, a prohibition on possessing firearms, and a no-contact order with all law enforcement witnesses. My client will post a secured bond backed by real property from her family and friends.

Ms. Webber has no history of violence, no history of flight, and she is willing to comply with any restriction this Court imposes. We respectfully submit that she has rebutted the presumption of detention and that these conditions will assure her appearance and the safety of the community. She is innocent in every sense of the word and looks forward to proving that to the court.”

Diane took her seat, took a moment to offer Elizabeth a smile. Her client smiled back nervously, barely a lift of the corners of her mouth.

The judge slid his reading glasses back on. “I have a few questions for the government based on the available evidence. Mr. Reynolds?”

“Yes, Your Honor?” Reynolds got to his feet. “The government is ready and willing to answer whatever the court asks.”

“Suckup,” Aiden muttered, and Jake elbowed him.

“I read the file. Is it true that the 911 report came from Ms. Webber’s alibi?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Reynolds hesitated. “Mr. Michael Corinthos called 911 to report the shooting.”

“And his statement says that they were in the gardens and heard the gunshots. Are we suggesting this statement is false?”

Reynolds hesitated, and Diane frowned at him. Had he not prepared for that question? “We are still investigating the holes in his statement, yes. We have only his and Ms. Webber’s word. Mr. Corinthos has a reason to lie. His cousin is Ms. Webber’s son, and she’s been a close family friend his entire life.”

“And we’re suggesting the murderer shot him and then sat by while her son’s cousin called 911 while she pretended to save her victim’s life?” Judge McAvoy asked, skeptically.

“Again, there are only five witnesses that claim to have heard the gunshots. We have no way to confirm—”

“Only five? Five isn’t a small number, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Perhaps not, but every member is related to Ms. Webber in some way, with a reason to protect her. Jacob Webber and Daniel Morgan, her son and his half-brother. Jason Morgan, a former lover—”

Jake wrinkled his nose despite himself. Ew.

“Jason Morgan—” The judge paused. “The third-party custodian you have no objection to? We’re saying he’s lying about his statement?”

Reynolds paused, then cleared his throat. “Your Honor, these are questions better suited to a preliminary hearing with testimony—”

“Or a hearing on a motion to dismiss,” the judge said wryly. “Of course. This is just a bail hearing when I should determine if Ms. Webber stays in federal custody or goes home today to her sons and, uh, all the liars she’s surrounded herself with. She lives with one of the primary witnesses, Miss Miller? And the third-party custodian?”

Diane got to her feet. “Your Honor, the five witnesses gave their statements to the responding officers the night of the crime. Their stories have not, and will not change. Simply because they are the truth. I can assure you, allowing Ms. Webber her freedom will not affect the facts of this case. And I should think if their stories did change—” She fluttered her lashes at Reynolds who pressed his lips together. “Mr. Reynolds and Agent Caldwell would just jump for joy, wouldn’t they?”

Judge McAcoy’s smile was a bit then. “I suppose we’ll find out. Mr. Reynolds, I’m not impressed by the evidence in this case. It’s thin at best, and at worst, looks like prosecutorial overreach designed to put Ms. Webber in federal custody. I look forward to your reply to Ms. Miller’s motion to dismiss. As for bail—” He shifted, looked down at his laptop. “Ms. Webber, it is extremely rare for a defendant charged with murdering a federal agent to gain her conditional release. If you step one foot out of line, I will revoke bail—”

He lifted his eyes to Diane. “Let’s discuss the conditions for Ms. Webber’s release.”

On the television screen, Jake watched his mother press hands to her mouth, tears in her eyes. He looked at his father — and knew he saw his own relief reflected back in Jason’s expression.

“She’s coming home?” he asked, because he just needed to hear it again, keeping his voice.

“We won?” Aiden hissed.

“Yes.” Jason exhaled slowly. “We won. She’s coming home.”

August 12, 2025

Update: You’re Not Sorry – Part 21

YOU GUYSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!! I AM DOING SWIFTIE ZOOMIESSS!!!

I’m a little tired this morning since your girl stayed up until almost 1am for the Taylor Swift midnight announcement (12:12 AM) and then had to sit in a queue to get my preorder. I am READY to schedule that first personal day, and expect an update on that night so I can stay up late. EEEEEEEEEEE

Serious talk — I am determined to get The Black Dog collection up before she drops another freaking album. It was never supposed to take this long, but life got away from me last year. I have two of the eight stories done (you’ve read the title track, and I just finished imgonnagetyouback on Monday). But I won’t make promises until I know the release date, which hasn’t, uh, released yet. My September is going to be stupid with the back to school and bathroom remodel (I’m not paying for it, so I won’t argue with my father’s scheduling decisions). I’m not going to make things worse, lol.

See you tomorrow!

This entry is part 21 of 34 in the Flash: You're Not Sorry

Written in 60 minutes.


Tuesday, September 9, 2024

Webber House: Living Room

Jason stepped back, allowed Diane inside the house. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here—we could have talked about the interview on the phone.”

“No, no, I wanted to nail down some final details before tomorrow.” Diane set her briefcase on the chair, looked around the downstairs. “Everything back to the way it was before the search warrant?”

“As best as the boys could remember.” Jason picked up a pillow that had fallen off the sofa that morning. “Diane, we’ve both made them some pretty big promises—” He faced his lawyer. “What if we’re wrong? What if they don’t let her out?”

“It’s kept me up at night,” Diane admitted. She laid a hand on the top of the armchair. “But that’s one of the reasons we gambled with naming you the third party custodian. I really don’t think the feds will be able to resist the opportunity.”

“I still really don’t understand what I’m supposed to do,” Jason said, folding his arms. “The guy on the phone just asked me a bunch of questions about my background and employment. I’ve never even heard of this thing before.”

“It’s unique to federal investigations, which, thank God, you’ve never gotten this far on federal charges. It’s not that different from posting bail for someone,” Diane said. “You’re just guaranteeing Elizabeth will meet her bail conditions. The AUSA will have complete access to the both of you. Monitoring who comes and goes while she’s house arrest, probably wiretapping the landline, showing up unannounced — they think you’re both in a conspiracy, Jason. They’re going to want to catch you conspiring.”

“I guess. But the guy on the phone asked me about the felony charges from 2010,” Jason said. “I told you that would be an issue — it was with Sam’s parole officer—”

“And that’s how we’ll know if we’re going to win,” Diane replied. She raised a finger. “If they object to you, then they’ll probably fight tooth and nail to keep her inside and pressure you to turn yourself in. But if they let it go—” She lifted a shoulder. “Then we’re golden.” She hesitated. “But it is a risk, Jason. You have to keep yourself out of trouble right now. No suspicious activity, no shipments in the warehouse—”

“I told you. I’m clean. I gave up enough for Sonny, and for Carly,” Jason added. “I’m out. And I’m staying out. There’s no risk, Diane. Elizabeth and I are innocent. We don’t know what happened that night, other than what we told the cops already. There’s nothing to catch us on.”

Diane nodded. “And it does give me more tools to play with, so I appreciate that. Well, if the interview went well, and we’re all set there — ” She sighed. “I do have some bad news, and I think that Jake and Aiden would probably prefer to hear it from you.”

PC High: Cafeteria

“I don’t think he’ll agree,” Danny said with a shake of his head. “We came too close to getting caught the last time we asked—”

Rocco cracked open his carton of milk. “Aunt Liz is like my dad when it comes to Aiden. She never asks question — the only reason we nearly got nailed was you forgetting to turn off your phone and leaking our location. But we’ve got a plan for that.”

“Still—with everything going on at his house—” Danny paused when Aiden dropped his tray next to them and climbed over the bench to sit. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Aiden looked from his cousin to Danny, then back again. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No. No. We’re trying to get to Frankie’s party this weekend, and we know you can’t go,” Rocco added. “Cam’s supposed to be here, right?”

“Yeah. He’s coming on Friday. And the last time we went to Frankie’s, I got sick.” Aiden made a face. “I think I gotta build up to that much vodka.”

Danny snorted, and Aiden threw a fry at him. “When this is all done with your mom, we’ll have to work on that. But I’ve got to get away from my mom or I’m gonna lose it.”

“And you need me to be part of the cover story?” Aiden asked. “I don’t know—”

“That’s what I said. Your mom’s coming home tomorrow — I hope so — and Cam being here — you’ll be too busy. And Dante might not believe we’d stay the night with that going on,” Danny told Rocco.

“You’re not thinking of it the right way—” Rocco pointed a carrot piece at him. “Cam’s coming home. That’s my cousin, man. And he’s going to my dream school. I gotta start thinking about college, and it’d be good for Aunt Liz, you know. Distraction. Plus, Danny — he needs to be there for his big brother.”

“I’m very worried,” Danny added.

Aiden wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t the FBI, like, tailing you? I mean they weren’t here today, but Rocco said something happened in the park—”

“Ow—” Rocco grimaced, then kicked Danny back. “Hey. It’s not a secret, dickhead.”

Danny pushed his tray away a little, some of his good mood fading. “They’re not gonna bother me again. That guy believes me now.”

“Yeah, only because now he thinks your dad was using you guys.” Rocco bit into his carrot with relish. “Still, that puts pressure back on him, right?”

Aiden frowned. “Wait. The FBI thinks Jason made it so that you guys saw him right after the gunshots? Like they still think he’s involved? But that would mean he knows something, and Jake says he doesn’t.”

“Well, yeah, but Jake’s dad also pretended to be dead for a while, so…” Rocco shrugged, popped the last of the carrot in his mouth. “Anyway, you can see why our boy needs a night away from all of this. If we could get you out, we would.” He leaned in. “And listen, if we get caught, we’ll just say we dropped our phones in your backpack without you knowing. We’ll take the heat. We just need somewhere to leave them so our locations look solid.”

“And you know your mom would believe that. Her sweet baby can’t do anything wrong.” Danny leaned over to pinch Aiden’s cheek, who swatted his hand.

“Shut up, asshole. Fine. I’ll cover for you, but you’re gonna owe me. Big time.”

Jamesville Correctional Facility: Protective Custody

The guard shoved the plastic tray through the slot in Elizabeth’s cell door, and almost as soon as she had a grip on it, he slid it closed, shutting off even a window to the outside world.

She’d had one hour of exercise yesterday — but it had been alone, in a separate yard from the other inmates. Other than the guards who walked her to and from, her ankles and wrists clanging from the shackles and cuffs she wore everywhere — she hadn’t seen anyone other than Diane on Sunday.

Elizabeth set her tray on the cot, then sat down, crossed legged, leaning back against the wall. Twenty-four hours from now, she’d know if bail were being granted. She’d be home before midnight tomorrow. She’d made it this far — just a little while longer.

She looked down at the tray, her stomach rolling at the plain mashed potatoes and the mush that was supposed to be some kind of stew. Her appetite had vanished in the last four days, and this wasn’t reactivating it. She reached for the small bottle of water, then noticed something sticking out beneath the plate of stew — some kind of paper—

Elizabeth picked it up and jolted — it was a photograph of the boys, taken the day Cameron had gone back to school in August, barely two weeks old. She flipped it over and pressed her hand to her lips at the familar handwriting. I’m sorry it took so long. It was unsigned — likely to avoid trouble if it had been intercepted.

She didn’t know how he’d done it, but Jason had found a way to make this terrible situation at least sort of bearable. She traced her boys’ face, so beloved, so grown up — she’d see them tomorrow. She’d be home tomorrow.

She kissed her boys’ faces, wishing it were them. Please, let this almost be over. Please.

Webber House: Living Room

“One silver lining—” Jake dropped his bag on the floor by the door. “I get to skip the first calculus test tomorrow—”

“How do you already have tests?” Aiden flopped onto the sofa, kicking off his sneakers. “Man, I am never taking those college classes. You want to be an artist, what are you doing in Calculus?”

“Using my brain, numnuts—” Jake rapped Aiden’s head. “You wouldn’t know anything about that. If it’s not in a recipe, you can’t be bothered.”

“Hey, I’ll never go broke. People always need to eat. Pretty pictures—” Aiden snorted. “Good luck paying the bills—ow—get off—” he screeched when Jake just sat on his chest.

The door opened behind them, and they both hurried to their feet — Jake remembering a moment too late it wouldn’t be their mother coming in to catch Jake bugging his little brother.

Jason paused in the doorway, the key still in his hand. He frowned. “Why are you standing like that?”

“Uh, no reason.” Jake shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’re good for tomorrow, right? Like, I already told my teachers—”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Jason closed the door, dropped the keys on the table next to the door. “There’s just—we should talk about what to expect.”

“I’ve been to court before,” Jake said, sitting back on the sofa, Aiden falling next to him. Jason sat in the arm chair. “It’s no big deal—”

“Federal court is different.” Jason paused. “Diane tried really hard, but your mother—she’s not going to be at the hearing tomorrow.”

Aiden went still. “What? But you guys said—”

“Why the hell not?” Jake said at the same time.

“We said that she’d make bail. That’s still true. We think,” Jason added. “But your mother is in a prison about eight miles outside of Syracuse. They’re not going to transport her to the court house. She’s going to appear by computer.”

Jake scowled. “What, like on Zoom? That bullshit the school tried to make us do on snow days? Man. That’s not fair! Doesn’t she have, like, rights?”

“We might have been able to force it. But it would have delayed the hearing another day, maybe two.” Jason paused. “Diane thought, and I agreed, that it was better to have her home than to fight for the chance to sit behind in the court room.”

“But I wanted to see her,” Aiden said. He crossed his arms. “It’s not fair. They haven’t let us even talk to her on the phone—”

“They’re not going to let her out, are they? Because if they were going to let her out, they’d bring her to the hearing—” Jake said, cutting off his brother, who looked at him with wide eyes.

“That’s—that’s not how bail works,” Jason told them. “Even if she were in the room, she’d still be taken back to the jail. The judge grants the order, it goes for processing, and it’s hours.”

“We’d probably have a better view of her if we stayed home and watched it online,” Jake muttered. “Oh, wait, we can’t. The FBI took all our stupid computers.” He leaned back. “And Cam’s Playstation. And they say Mom’s the criminal.”

“I’m sorry,” his dad said again, and Jake looked at him. “I—I was hoping we’d get to see her, too. It’s been hard for me, and I know it’s worse for both of you. I promise you, if Diane thought there was a way—”

“I’d rather have her tomorrow, I guess.” Aiden heaved a heavy sigh. “And we should go to the hearing anyway. Right? Because part of the reason Mom needs to come home is for us. I mean, you’re doing fine,” he added hastily. “I’m not ungrateful or anything—”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jake said, elbowing Aiden lightly. “Dad’s not gonna take offense if we say we wish Mom were here instead of him. He’s not an idiot.”

His dad’s smile was a bit a relief. “I get it. And yes, you should both still be there. You’ll be able to see her a little bit, and she might get to see you. But then you’ll both come home while I wait to pick her up at jail. It’ll be late,” he repeated when Jake started to protest.

Jake decided not to argue that right now. He’d fight that battle tomorrow. “Okay, but—you’re like really sure they’ll let her come home? How do you know?”

“We’re going to know within the first five minutes,” Jason told them. “As soon as he says what I’m hoping to hear, I’ll let you both know. And no, I’m not telling you what it is.”

“Fair enough. I just—I really want her to be home.”

“Me, too,” Aiden said, and he leaned against Jake slightly, like he used to when they were both younger.”That makes us three of us.” Jason got to his feet. “Where do you want to order dinner tonight?”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Caldwell knocked on Anna’s open door, and she glanced up—removing her reading glasses when she realized who was there. “Agent.” She gestured at the chair in front of him. “Have a seat.”

“I don’t have a lot of time,” he said, though it was a lie. When she’d asked to meet with him, he’d dropped everything, relieved not to orchestrate a reason to set his trap.

“This won’t take long.” She got to her feet, still holding her glasses. “We’ve had some phone calls from concerned faculty and administration at the high school.” One brow winged up. “Interviewing their teachers? Their friends? Don’t you think you’re going a little hard on a couple of teenagers?”

“I have a dead agent, Commissioner—”

“And you’re spending all your time harassing two boys over an alibi that corresponds with the one Monica Quartermaine gave. She spoke with Jason just shortly before the gunshots—”

“She didn’t hear the gunshots, and she’s his mother. ”

“Oh, so everyone is lying.” Anna leaned against her desk, her arms folded. “If you believe that, then why is Elizabeth Webber in federal custody on murder charges?”

“Because it’s a conspiracy. You know, when someone helps someone get away with a crime?” Caldwell tipped his head. “You’d think you’d know what that is.”

There was just a slight narrowing of her eyes, but she didn’t bite. “Michael and Elizabeth alibi one another, and Jason’s boys alibi him. Perhaps neither of them did it—”

“Then one of them knows who did. And until they come clean—I follow the leads I have.”

“How can you be so sure?” Anna demanded. “You have no evidence of this phantom deal you claim Jason—” She stopped when Caldwell reached inside his pocket. “What are you doing—”

“Playing you a copy of our most important piece of evidence. On one condition—” He scrolled through his phone until he reached his files. “I’d prefer to have the commissioner’s cooperation for this, so I’m willing to give a little. But if this leaves this office—”

“It won’t.”

“I’ll know where it came from,” Caldwell finished. He pressed play. And Jason Morgan’s voice began to speak.

“Cates. We need to talk. Around six thirty. The boathouse on the Quartermaine estate. I’ll be there tonight…I’m ready to make the deal.”

August 11, 2025

Update Link: You’re Not Sorry – Part 20

First, thank you so much for your patience and support as I scaled back on flash fiction for the last two weeks. I was feeling really anxious about the upcoming year, especially as I’m adding a third subject to prep when we all know I didn’t exactly nail down the art of prepping two at the same time last year. I’m hopeful I’ve built some systems this summer that will keep me grounded and organized. Every year is an opportunity to learn more about what works, what doesn’t, and the best way to spend my time and prioritize what matters.

I’ve managed to fully prep the first two weeks, down to instructional slides, for French I & II. All that I have to do is make copies when I go into the classroom on August 25. French III is nearly there, and my goal for the next two weeks to focus entirely on French III since it’s the brand new subject doesn’t have any previous material to use as a base. I worked my ass off the last two weeks to get myself into that position, and I’m ready to go into my last two weeks much more confidently.

I also feel comfortable enough to do one last marathon. Beginning today, August 11 and ending on August 24, I will be updating You’re Not Sorry every single day, including weekends. That’s fourteen straight updates. Help me say goodbye to the summer 😛

This entry is part 20 of 34 in the Flash: You're Not Sorry

Written in like…60ish minutes. We had a keyboard issue. The timer was paused, and I lost track.


Tuesday, September 9, 2024

 Miller & Davis: Lobby

Kristina emerged from her mother’s office, exhausted from another marathon session preparing for the dismissal hearing in a few weeks when Kristina would have to testify on her own behalf — and for some reason, Alexis didn’t seem to think Kristina could handle it.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,”  her mother had said with that annoying tone, “it’s just that you sometimes get a little worked up, and your impulsive nature takes over. We can’t have that on the stand.”

Impulsive nature. If Alexis only knew what Kristina had pulled off these last few weeks without anyone—

“Oh, Kristina—I’m so glad I caught you.”

Kristina halted at the door, turned back to see Diane at the doorway of her own office. “Diane. Hey. I was just leaving—”

“I know, I almost missed your mother’s text letting me know. Come in for a second, would you?”

Kristina hesitated, thought about making excuses but decided if Diane had any real suspicions, she’d sound different. “All right. But I have to get to Charlie’s soon—”

“It won’t take long.”

While Kristina settled in a chair by Diane’s desk, her mother’s best friend closed the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Hard to say. I wasn’t sure if Spinelli had talked to you yet — I don’t know if he’s started the witness interviews.” Diane returned to her desk, took a seat. “I thought it might be easier if I spoke to you.”

“To me? Spinelli?” Kristina squinted. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry—sorry—” Diane shook her head slightly. “Let me back up. It’s been a little…hectic since last Friday. When I met with Elizabeth on Sunday, we finally had a chance to start talking about her movements last week — where she went, where her car was — we need to account for everything so we can pinpoint who had access and where.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a great place to start. I just don’t know how I can help.” Kristina tilted her head.

Diane frowned, checked her notes. “Well, Elizabeth said you’d stopped by last week. The day after the barbecue and murder. Sometime around noon?”

Kristina paused, wondering how to play this, how to get more information from Diane than she gave her. “Oh. Oh, right, of course.” She blew out a small breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even—I didn’t even think about it. I wasn’t there that long, I don’t think. Maybe fifteen minutes?”

“Yes, Elizabeth said she was in a hurry. Probably why she said it wasn’t exactly a pleasant conversation.” Diane lifted her brows. “She didn’t really get into the details, only that it was a short and ended unhappily.”

“That…would be a fair description. I probably shouldn’t have gone in the first place. It’s just—” Kristina lifted her hands. “Mom’s been under so much stress, you know? She always feels like she has to take care of all us girls. Molly and I are—” She fidgeted. “Well, things aren’t great there. And Sam’s been upset about that. We’re all angry about what’s happening to me, how the FBI seems to care more about nailing Dad through me than he does about a baby’s death. When I saw Sam for breakfast that morning, she was even more upset. Danny had been taken to the PCPD the night before and she was just—completely done with it. Done with Jason having any contact with Danny at all. I just—I wanted to help.”

“And you went to Elizabeth,” Diane said, drawing out the words like it was a crazy idea.

“Well, I know she and Sam haven’t always seen eye to eye on a lot of things, they’ve been pretty lock-step with keeping that from Jake and Danny. They raised them as brothers. I just—I wanted to remind Elizabeth of that. I thought we could brainstorm some solutions. I can’t—I can’t fix anything, you know? Not what’s happening me, to Molly, to my mom, but this? I don’t know. I wanted to help.” Kristina chewed on her bottom lip. “But I guess I have my sister’s gift for finding the exact wrong words to piss Elizabeth off. Like she said, it didn’t go well.”

“Fair enough. And the content of the encouter—” Diane held up her hands. “Not really the point. I just wanted to know if you’d seen anything in the neighborhood. Did you notice Elizabeth’s car? It’s a long shot, but anything you can give me would be great.”

Had Elizabeth mentioned the key? Was Diane leaving it out to see if Kristina would supply that information? Kristina furrowed her brow, pretending to be thinking about that day. “I don’t know if I would have known what her car looked like, to be honest. Was it front of her house?”

“It was. Right out front.”

“I’m trying to remember, but I just—I really can’t. Maybe—maybe someone in the neighborhood would. I mean, some people pay attention to the cars like it’s their job. I know parking’s limited down by that area. I had to circle the clock a few times until I found something.”

“That’s on our list,” Diane said. “The FBI, I think, has beaten us to it, subpoening footage from security cameras. It’s mostly Ring cameras, which isn’t great. They have a limited view, they’re motion activated, and of course — I have to be extremely careful about access. The evidence has to be admissible.”

“Right. Otherwise, you could just turn around while Spinelli got to work.” Kristina paused. “Does Elizabeth have security footage?”

“Yes. But she couldn’t remember her password, and I can’t have Spinelli just…” Diane made a face. “Hack into it. The feds took all her computer equipment, so it won’t be saved on her browser. And worst of all, it’s just her front entrance. There’s no view of the car.”

“Oh, because of that wall—” Kristina pretended to be disappointed. “That has to be so frustrating.” And that meant the only thing Elizabeth’s security had caught would be Kristina coming and going — easy to explain away. And there was a good chance the neighbors hadn’t picked anything up. She’d done it in broad daylight, thinking that no one would pay attention. In the middle of the night would have been riskier.

“You’re not kidding. I’m not saying we won’t hit pay dirt with the neighbors, but we have aways to go before we get there. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. If you think of anything that can help—”

Kristina got to her feet, lifting her purse. “You’ll be my first call.”

PCPD: Conference Room

Reynolds stacked the files, then slid them into the box awaiting transfer to his office in Syracuse. “Diane Miller’s been busy filing motions.”

“I’m not surprised.” Caldwell closed the door, then paced to the window, peering out over  rain-soaked streets. “Motion to dismiss?”

“Yes. The judge will probably deny it, but if we go to trial with what you have—” Reynolds lifted his brow. “Diane has a great deal of reasonable doubt on her hands. We’ll be lucky to get an indictment—”

“We won’t need this to go to trial.” Caldwell turned back to him. “The rain’s supposed to let up in a few days. We’ll be back out on the Quartermaine estate to look for that fourth bullet. We scoop that up, match it to the gun, and it’s the nail in the coffin we need.”

“We still can’t tie her to th e weapon outside of h er car — which wasn’t at the house.” The attorney flipped through some papers. “Ballistics can’t match the slugs we pulled from Cates. Too much damage. The shell casings just confirm the ammunition is the same, but consistent isn’t enough. Not when she’s got a solid alibi from the 911 reporting witness. And she cooperated on scene—”

“You saw her file. It’s clean but how many times has her name been linked with Jason Morgan?” Caldwell demanded. “Bomb threats, explosions, shootings, kidnappings — it’s not the first time he’s killed someone with her on scene. And the nephew isn’t much more credible. If you can’t handle that on the stand, maybe you’re not good at your job.”

Reynolds lifted his brow. “Pretty confident, aren’t you? How’s your campaign to turn the boys against their father? Isn’t that the key to the whole thing?”

“Beginning to think they might be telling the truth,” Caldwell admitted. “Which means Morgan lured Cates there for someone else to do the shooting. That puts Webber back on the board, with the nephew there to make it look good. Don’t forget — he had a reason to want Cates dead, too. But a few more days, I think I’ll be able to know for sure. The older one — he’s tougher. I figured he’d be easier to crack. Less time with his dad since his parents never married, two years of lies, but Webber raised her kid like a good mob wife.”

“But the younger one?”

“I’m thinking he’s easier to crack. I already have him wondering if his dad set him up to be the alibi.” Caldwell gripped the back of the chair. “How does the next stage look? Did Miller do what we thought she would?”

“She suggested Jason Morgan as the third-party custodian to guarantee Webber’s release. Mentioned the felony, but thinks since it’s almost fifteen years old, it shouldn’t matter.” Reynolds closed the file he’d been reading. “He’s already staying in the home, would continue that close proximity as her son’s father, and cites a long-standing friendship going back to ’99. No mention of a current relationship, but that might be strategic.”

“Surprised she gave into the temptation. You think Morgan insisted?”

“Maybe. They’ve got Laura Collins listed as a backup. With the mayor in her corner, her clean record, I think you were right — she’ll get bail.” Reynolds hesitated. “But I could argue. She’s got an immunity deal on the record — she aided a kidnapping. I could bring that up. Having her inside longer might put more pressure on her kids. Jake Webber might be a tough kid, but he’ll be in that courtroom maybe, tomorrow. I’ll talk about going for the death penalty. Daddy can’t fix that.”

Caldwell tipped his head. “You’d know better than me what the judge will do, but I still say having her on the outside, watching her and Morgan scramble to cover their tracks, it’s better. So far, it looks like he’s willing to let her go down for it. Maybe she’s already pissed he hasn’t gotten her out by coming forward. Having her out, having him under the kind of control a third-party deal gets us— it’s worth the risk.” He paused. “And if you’re interested, I think I can get us a little payback for Pikeman.”

Reynolds went still. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. I wanna create some daylight between Anna Devane and Morgan. Right now, she’s staying neutral. I think if we show her what we have — it’ll break that dynamic. She’ll demand answers from Morgan.”

“Why would we tip our hand that we have it until I’m forced to turn it over in discovery?” Reynolds wanted to know. “Like you said — she’ll run straight to him —”

“And then I’ll have what I need to file obstruction charges against her. Because no one knows what we have. If Miller knew, she’d have used it in her motion to dismiss.” Caldwell paused. “Valentin Cassadine might be out our grasp, but I’ll settle for getting the woman who let that happen and the man that helped her do it and killed an FBI agent to get away with it.”

Miller & Davis: Office

Sam knocked on the open door, and Spinelli jolted, his hands lifting from the keyboard. “Hey. Mom said she set you up with a headquarters here.”

Spinelli clicked a few keys, and his screen went dark. She sighed. “Spinelli, I’m not here to make trouble—”

“Stone Cold made it very clear,” he said. “You’re not to be involved—”

“And I told you that he already backed down.” Sam sat on the edge of the desk. “He’s going to leave it up to Elizabeth, and I know how to convince her to let me help. So there’s no reason not let me in now—”

“Except I made a promise, and I’m keeping it. It’s not fair of you to ask me differently,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes. She flushed. “This is too big, too important—”

“Which is exactly why I need to help. There’s a lot riding on this—”

“And why I’m not beginning the job by pissing off my client,” Spinelli cut in.

Sam grimaced. “Well, the client is in jail, and we both know Jason speaks for her. So why not just let me—”

“What’s the problem with waiting a day or two?” he wanted to know. “You can wait. I won’t solve the case that fast.” He leaned forward. “And don’t try to tell me you want to help Elizabeth. We both know the two of you only get along when Stone Cold isn’t in the picture.”

Sam pursed her lips. “Danny is really angry with me. Even after I eased the restrictions. I think it would do a lot to help fix that situation if I show him I’m trying to help his brother. They love each other.”

“They do. And it’s probably why Elizabeth will say yes.” Spinelli got to his feet. “But until she does, the answer is no.”

Kelly’s: Courtyard

“Sorry I’m late.” Molly dropped her bag in a chair next to Chase, then sat across from him. “I’ve got everything ready on my side. What about you?”

“Dante and I are standing ready. And he knows not to say anything to Sam until it’s time,” Chase said. “Is Curtis going to help?”

“He’s got the editorials and news coverage ready. As soon as we get word that Elizabeth is out on bail, I’ll meet with Robert and get things rolling.” She paused as the waitress approached their table to take their orders. When they were alone again, Molly continued, “But nothing happens officially until Elizabeth is at home.”

“Curtis knows. Thursday morning. Nothing leaking before then. He’s writing the editorial himself.” Chase folded his arms on the table, leaned forward. “Are you worried Robert will say no?”

“No. Because I have it on good authority from Maxie that he got a call from Robin about what’s going on here. Apparently, the news hit Cameron over the weekend, and he and Emma took the fight to her parents. Robin was very angry that her dad didn’t fight jurisdiction. Robert’s going to say yes. Especially when he finds out how many of us are on board.” She paused. “But I am worried about Anna. She can’t stop me, but she might not be happy I’m going over her head.”

Chase exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’ve…I’ve had some doubts about her. Since we found out Valentin was Pikeman—she and Jason spent all last spring on that case — he was always in her office. But the bad guy turns out to be her former boyfriend? And he gets tipped off? After what he did to Dante, after what he’s done to everyone—I don’t really care if she’s unhappy.”

“I wondered that, too, when the case details hit the press. But let’s fight one institution at a time. First, the FBI. Then, we can talk about corruption in our own backyard.”

August 9, 2025

Update Link: You’re Not Sorry – Part 19

Getting off to a tough start today — couldn’t sleep and woke up late, but the Phillies don’t play until 7 tonight, so I should be able to make up ground. I’m hoping to add in some extra updates over the next two weeks so we can get through this part of the story a little faster; otherwise , we don’t get to the bail hearing for almost a week, lol. I promise, I have my reasons for drawing out this part of the story 😛

Because I’m not sure I’ll get These Small Hours, Book 3 out this year, I wanted to take one of my finished flash fiction series that wouldn’t need a lot of work to clean up, expand or adjust in some areas to publish (the way I did for Signs of Life). You can vote in the Patreon poll. The choices are Chain Reaction, Dear Reader, and Watch Me Burn, all of which you can check out on the Flash Fiction page.