Written in 58 minutes.

Harborview Towers: Parking Garage

The reality of what he’d done didn’t really hit Jason until he’d driven the bike into his normal spot at the Towers, switched off the ignition, and climbed off. Then he looked towards the elevators and realized he had to go upstairs.

Upstairs where Courtney was waiting. The woman he’d asked to marry him less than four months earlier. If not for Carly’s kidnapping and the chaos that had ensued in its wake, he and Courtney would already be married.

And he’d spent the night in bed with another woman. With Elizabeth. Not just once, or twice. Not just three times.

Jason stood there for another moment because he just couldn’t get on the elevator. He’d told Elizabeth that he’d leave Courtney. He’d meant it. Standing in front of her door — in front of the door he had installed because men had broken in a year ago and kidnapped her. Because she was Elizabeth, and he’d been in love with her for years.  He’d put it away, Jason thought, but last night—last night, he’d thrown away a year of progress. A year of finally moving on, of putting her behind him after all they’d been through.

He stared down at the keys in his hand, hearing the echo of Elizabeth’s keys in his head. They’d dropped from her hand when he’d kissed her that last time — the promise they’d come back and they could finally be together. It had seemed so simple, so straightforward.

But now Jason had to face the woman he’d asked to spend the rest of her life with him, the woman who had stood by him through murder trials and kidnappings and crazed half-brothers bent on revenge. She’d done nothing to deserve any of this. In fact, he knew she was hurting, that the loss of the baby he’d never known existed or the loss of any possible future children weighed heavily.

He dragged a hand across his mouth. He’d cheated on her. He’d slept with someone else after making those promises, and Courtney couldn’t understand that it hadn’t felt wrong when he’d done it. That somehow it didn’t even feel wrong now. How was he supposed to start that conversation? My sister’s going to live. I slept with Elizabeth. Over and over again. I could have stopped, but I chose not to. And I can’t regret it. I wouldn’t change it.

He wasn’t going to solve the problem by standing here, Jason thought, and finally he could move forward. He jabbed the button to get on the elevator and hoped like hell by the time he was upstairs, he would have the words he needed.

But they remained elusive, and Jason still had nothing when he slid the key in the lock, pushed it open, and found Courtney waiting for him.

She’d slept downstairs, he realized, seeing her sit up, toss aside a blanket. She rose to her feet, clad in the red and gray sweats he’d last seen her in the night before. Had she waited for him all night? She hadn’t called, but—

“You’re home,” Courtney said. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, and there was a red line from the crease of the pillow she’d rested her cheek on. She rubbed it. “I—I fell asleep, I guess.”

“I should have called,” Jason said, and there—a fact that wasn’t painful to say. He absolutely should have called, but the moment Elizabeth had sat next to him in the chapel everything else had ceased to exist.  He carefully set the keys on the table, kept his distance. Would his shirt smell like Jake’s? Did it—would she able to tell somehow that he’d been with someone else? And why would that matter if he was going to tell her? He’d come up home to end it, hadn’t he?

But now, staring at Courtney, at the woman he cared—loved, he corrected quickly. He loved her. He’d told her that, hadn’t he? Assured her over and over again that he didn’t love Elizabeth. It was a hell of a thing, Jason thought as he looked at Courtney, at his fiancee, to realize that he’d been lying with every word he’d spoken. To her and to himself.

“I—Monica called here. A little while ago. She gave me the good news, but I told her to call your cell because you weren’t home.” Courtney’s blue eyes studied him, remaining somewhat unreadable. Careful, maybe, might be a better description of the emotion he could sense. “I didn’t call you.”

“I—” Had realized that fact when he’d looked at his phone in the parking garage. He hadn’t consciously thought about not hearing from Courtney — only that there’d been no interruptions and being grateful. How many times had he been with Elizabeth, only to let himself be dragged away by something else?  “I know.”

“I think I was afraid what would happen,” Courtney said. The corner of her lips curled up, almost in a smile, but her eyes remained sober. Cautious. “If you’d ignore the call, send it to voicemail, or if you’d pick up and I’d hear her.”

Everything inside him stilled, and he realized that he absolutely did not want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to hurt Courtney by telling her he’d been with Elizabeth, and he didn’t want Elizabeth to deal with those consequences either. Jason swallowed hard. “Her,” he repeated, thinking maybe he was imagining this. Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe he could somehow avoid all of this. Because he’d done this before, hadn’t he? He’d had to tell Robin about Carly, and the pain in her voice, the hurt in her eyes — he’d never forgotten and he’d tried so hard to be a better man.

But here he was and it was worse, oh, so much worse. Because he’d made promises to Courtney, and he’d broken them.

And he wasn’t sorry. Sorry to have hurt her, but not sorry to have done it.

“I saw you last night.” Courtney folded her arms. “After—after everything. I saw you go into the chapel. I was going to come and sit with you, but then—then she came in, and I saw you.  I saw you leave with her.” Her eyes were on his, and they never changed. No hurt, no anger. Just truth. “And then you never came home. And you never called.”

He exhaled slowly. “Courtney—”

“It’s good news about Emily,” she cut in, and he stopped. Furrowed his brow. “I know you weren’t expecting that. I know it was basically—that it was a matter of time. I know that, Jason. And I know how much you love her. What she means to you. And I know it’s the same for…Elizabeth,” she said, finally speaking the name. “I know that. I’m—I can understand if, facing that horrible thought of losing her, you and Elizabeth—” Her voice trembled slightly. “If you found comfort in each other.”

Had it started that way? Jason thought. Yes. In the chapel. At Vista Point. But something had changed when they’d gone to Jake’s. They’d stepped out of time, somehow, and none of it had felt real. Except when he’d touched her, when he’d held her. But all of that sounded terrible, and Jason didn’t have the first clue what to do next. He hadn’t known Courtney had seen them, hadn’t realized she’d been waiting up for this conversation.

She’d all that time to prepare, and he hadn’t given her a single thought until he’d arrived in the parking garage. She’d been something standing between him and Elizabeth — an obstacle he had to clear. Not a real person who meant something to him.

“Courtney—”

“I can understand that,” Courtney repeated. She forced herself to smile. “But you came home, and—and you look so tired. You should go…you should get some sleep. It’s still early, and Sonny won’t be up for hours. He was up late, too,” she added. “They had another fight.”

Jason grimaced — all Sonny and Carly had done since her return from Venezuela was fight. They’d fought over her health, Lorenzo Alcazar, Ric Lansing’s continued survival, Michael, the new baby, the color of the carpet—anything could and would trigger a scene. “Right. I—”

Sleep sounded good, he decided. A shower and some real rest. When he woke up, he’d figure it out. He’d know what to do. He’d have the words he’d need to make this all come out right.

“I’ll do that,” he said, making his way to the stairs, careful to keep his distance from her.

Upstairs, in the master bathroom, Jason removed his clothes, tossing them into the hamper by the door. He switched on the spray—and then out of the corner of his eye, caught himself in the reflection of the mirror that hung over the bathroom sink. On his shoulder blades, there were scratches. Fingernails, he thought, and then he had one of his rare memory flashes, of Elizabeth beneath him, her neck arched back, the digging of her nails as he—

Jason shoved his head beneath the spray of the shower, twisting the knob to the right. He needed a cold shower if he was going to get through this.

Kelly’s: Dining Room

It was just unfortunate timing, Elizabeth thought, for her first day back at Kelly’s to be the lunch shift that Mike always worked.

Mike Corbin, Courtney’s father.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” Mike’s kind blue eyes twinkled when she approached the counter. “I heard the good news about Emily. Ain’t that something? Always been a fighter that one.”

“It’s definitely amazing.” Elizabeth followed him into the kitchen, stowed her purse in one of the employee lockers. “Thanks again, Mike, for, you know, just taking me back like this. I—” Hadn’t had a lot of options after she’d left the hospital, moved back into her studio. Her savings were basically gone, and the last thing she wanted to do was throw herself on her grandmother’s mercy.

Gram, who still didn’t quite understand why the marriage to Ric Lansing had fallen apart. How did Elizabeth explain the panic room to her when Ric was now working for Scott Baldwin at the DA’s office? Gram wouldn’t be able to wrap her head around it, and maybe it was just easier if they all pretended it never happened.

“You’ll always have a place here.” Mike squeezed Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Plus, school’s starting, so one of our summer girls headed back to classes. I’m just glad you’re away from that scumbag.”

“Me, too.” Elizabeth tied on her apron. “Good riddance.”

“Here’s hoping Michael handles his business the way he ought to. I don’t care if the bastard does have Adela’s eyes,” Mike muttered, and that was definitely a sentiment Elizabeth shared. She headed out to begin her shift, and to hopefully not think too much about what Jason might be doing right now.

Was he telling Courtney now? Would he tell her about last night? Or would he keep that to himself?

Or was he telling her nothing? Was he thinking, like she was, that it was all too crazy, and that something that seemed like a good idea after shots of tequila, a long night, and almost no sleep was actually a terrible one?

Did Elizabeth really think Jason was going to go home, tell Courtney it was over, and what—come back to her? It was ridiculous now that Elizabeth thought about it, but it had seemed so—oh, it had seemed so right when they’d stood in her doorway, and he’d looked at her with those eyes the way he always did, and he’d held her, and  kissed her—

She took her orders in almost a daze, on auto, completing a job she could mostly do in her sleep. There was a comfort in the rush of the lunch crowd, the dock workers flocking for their burgers, bowls of chili, BLTs, and sides of fries. She refilled countless ketchup bottles, sidestepped all the usual flirtations, avoided pinches, and pocketed the tips left.

The crowd started to ebb around two, and Elizabeth kept watching the door, though she hardly thought Jason would show up like this. He probably didn’t even know she was there, right? She’d never told him she was coming back to work. And he wouldn’t come to Kelly’s — not when Courtney’s father worked there.

And hell, if Mike found out what Elizabeth had done to his daughter, would he still look at her with those kind, compassionate eyes? The world — what would they think? The roller coaster of her year from Lucky to Zander to Jason to Ric then back to Jason? It was overwhelming — she couldn’t quite understand all her steps and choices over the last eighteen months. How could anyone else? Would anyone even bother?

Or would she been seen like Carly had back in the beginning, just a home wrecking slut who’d broken up a marriage—an engagement. They weren’t married yet. Though that didn’t matter. It shouldn’t.

Then, around three, Courtney came in. Elizabeth didn’t realize at first. She had taken a tub of dirty dishes to the kitchen to be washed, and the blonde was just there at the counter, holding a menu in front of her face even though she’d worked there for almost a year and likely had it memorized.

Her pulse skittering, Elizabeth approached Courtney like she was a ticking time bomb. Had Jason talked to her? Maybe Courtney had been asleep, and he’d probably gone to sleep, too—there’d been so little—no, don’t go down that road.

Courtney put the menu down, and looked at her, and Elizabeth swallowed.

Because it was there in the other woman’s blue eyes — lighter than Elizabeth’s, but not as light as Jason’s. In the cold set of her mouth, the stillness of Courtney’s body.

She knew.

“Dad told me you were coming back,” Courtney said finally. “Can I get a coffee?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Um, decaf?” Elizabeth went to the hot plates. What if she just wasn’t going to say anything—maybe Courtney wouldn’t—

“No, regular. I didn’t get much sleep last night. And neither did you, from what I hear.”

Elizabeth bobbled the carafe, but caught it with her other hand, wincing when her hand brushed the hot glass. She turned back to Courtney, flipped over one of the white ceramic cups, and began to pour. “No,” she said after a long pause. “No, I didn’t.”

“It’s great about Emily. It really is. I don’t know her well, but she means the world to Jason. I know that. And I know you feel the same way. About Emily,” Courtney added. She reached for the cream and sugar, fixed her coffee, and then stirred. “I can understand what happened last night.”

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the carafe. “What?”

“Don’t—” Courtney’s eyes met hers. “Don’t do that. Jason and I talked. I know what happened. Not the details. I don’t want those. I’ll never—” And her hand shook slightly, belying her own nerves, and somehow that soothed Elizabeth. Neither of them really wanted to be having this conversation.

Because for all that Elizabeth didn’t regret last night, she knew that Courtney being here — she knew what it meant. Jason hadn’t ended anything.

And she realized that she’d been expecting it, because her heart didn’t break. Her brain didn’t freeze. There was no rush of hurt, no waves of despair.

She’d known that even as Jason said he couldn’t just go back to how things were — that it wouldn’t that simple.

“I’ll never want those. But I respect that you and Jason have a history. I knew that last year, and I know that Jason and I—that it meant you and I would never be friends again.” Their eyes connected again. “I made that choice, Elizabeth. I chose Jason. You never could.”

And oh that did hurt. Direct hit. “It wasn’t—that’s true. From one point of view—”

“From the only one that matters. His.” Courtney took a deep breath. “He chose me, too, Elizabeth. Last year. He chose me over and over again. He asked me to marry him. And this morning, he didn’t ask me to leave.” She lay her hand flat against the counter. The diamond on her left ring finger winked.

Elizabeth felt like an idiot, standing there with a coffee spot in her hands, her cheeks hot with humiliation. Because Courtney had every right to be furious with her. To scream at her. To denounce Elizabeth.

But she wasn’t doing any of those things, and somehow it hurt worse. It made it all so much more painful. Because Courtney was being fair. Fairer than she or Jason had a right to expect.

Because she could. Courtney had all the power. The ring, the promises, the life. The one Elizabeth had walked out on and never tried very hard to get back.

“So I just thought we should have this moment, this conversation. Jason didn’t send me. He wouldn’t do that. This is just between you and me.” Courtney paused. “If and when he does get in touch with you—”

Elizabeth closed her eyes at the word if because, oh, it was very much a possibility Jason might just…let it all coast. The old Jason wouldn’t, but the one Elizabeth had repeatedly hurt and walked away from? Whose kindness and love she’d thrown in his face over and over again? He definitely might have had second thoughts when he’d stopped to think what he was giving up.

“You can tell him we talked. I won’t deny it. I haven’t said anything here I haven’t or wouldn’t say to him. But this is the only free pass either of you get,” Courtney said, her eyes fierce now. “You understand that, right? If Emily’s on her deathbed again, I expect you and him to keep your hands to yourself. As long as I’m in the picture. And I am very much in the picture, Elizabeth. I’m not going anywhere without a fight.”

She pushed aside her untouched coffee, dropped a twenty next to it. She smirked. “Because unlike you, I know Jason’s worth fighting for.”

+40

Written in 62 minutes.

Jake’s: Upstairs Hall

Before Jake had sold the bar, she’d rented the rooms above to any one who passed her own personal background check. But with Coleman’s purchase of the property, he hadn’t wanted the headache of being a landlord, so they’d gone unused.

Which was good because any tenants would have definitely been disturbed by the time Jason   managed to get up the stairs to the second floor, distracted when Elizabeth’s busy hands had found the button on his jeans, popping it open, and sliding her fingers down.

He stumbled, resting one hand flat against the wall, and the other firmly underneath her bottom, trying to keep them both upright. Jason let her legs fall to the floor, then reached for her hands, pinning them above her head. Elizabeth tossed her hair back, looked at him with a smoky, sultry gaze that he’d only glimpsed once before— that night in her studio over a year ago.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, their chests brushing against other, breathing heavy — if ever there would be a moment for them to turn back, to stop this, for common sense and reality to wash over them — this would be it. Before the point of no return.

Elizabeth’s tongue swept over her bottom lip. “I’m going to need those back eventually,” she murmured.

“Maybe,” he murmured against her mouth, then kissed her again, swallowing the smirk that was already spreading across her beautiful face. “But maybe you should behave yourself when stairs are involved.”

“Do you want me to behave myself?” she panted, when his mouth cruised a trail down her jawline to her neck, nipping at the soft skin behind her ear, his hands gliding up and underneath her dress, cupping her bottom. She arched her neck, wrapping a leg around his waist.

He didn’t answer her, couldn’t have formed a coherent word when their eyes met again, and he saw everything he felt reflected back.

“Tell me you have a key,” Elizabeth said, tugging his shirt up and sliding her hands up the planes of his back, her nails lightly scratching.

“If they didn’t change the locks—” Jason shoved a hand in his pocket, found his eyes, and with shaking fingers, found the old key for the room he always stayed in, then wrapped his other hand around her wrist, afraid that if either of them were separated for too long, they’d remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea.

But right now, impulse and lust and desire were in control, and everything else was taking a very distant back seat. Elizabeth must have felt the same way, because she shimmied in front of him as he tried to unlock the door, kissing his neck, collarbone, jawline, any skin she could reach.

The locks hadn’t been changed, and Jason had one moment to be grateful Coleman was a lazy son of a bitch. Then the door opened and they almost fell through. Jason gripped Elizabeth around the waist, lifted her clear of the door, then threw it closed, throwing the deadbolt across.

She dragged the shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere before attacking his jeans again, this time tugging the zipper down—before he could even take a full breath, she’d stripped him of most of his clothes, and was shoving him towards the bed. He fumbled for the zipper of her dress, locating it under her arm, dragging it down so that the bodice gaped.

“Your boots—” Elizabeth pushed him down on the bed into a sitting position, then knelt at his feet with a wicked smile. She made quick work of unlacing his boots, tossing them side, before dragging the jeans all the way down his legs, and they went flying. “I could just…stay down here,” she said with an arch of her brow, her hands on both of his thighs, sliding up towards the edge of his black briefs.

He’d never survive that, Jason thought, leaning forward, to capture her mouth, then drag her over him. Enough playing around, enough teasing, enough waiting. He’d waited too long to be here, to touch her, to feel every inch, and he wasn’t going to wait another damn minute—

Jason swiftly rolled them so that she was underneath him, then dragged the bodice of her dress until it was at her waist. She shimmied and wiggled, which he thought was another one of her teasing tricks, but then a piece of fabric went flying, and her hands at her briefs again.

“I need you now,” she panted against his neck. “Now, please—” She gasped when he slid inside, her legs wrapping around his waist, her nails digging into his back. It was hard and fast, and nothing like what he might have wanted for their first time—but Elizabeth was already breaking apart, her neck arching, and then everything exploded until there was nothing left but them, clinging to each other and the wreckage of the lives they’d just burned to the ground.

—

It should have been awkward, Elizabeth thought, a bit lazily, some time later. She wasn’t sure exactly how long. After that first, hurried, insane round, Jason had dragged them both up towards the headboard, though she’d been no help in that, her bones mostly limp. He’d started kissing her again, and then—then they made love. Long, sweet, reverent, looking at each other — maybe that first time could be a mistake — but not the second, she thought.

She lay across his chest, listening to the soft rainfall outside, the plink of the drops as they hit the roof, dripped down the window. The clock on the night stand had red digital letters informing her that it was crawling towards five in the morning. Dawn wasn’t far away now.

Jason had risen after that second time, gone to find his phone and checked it. Nothing from the hospital, he’d said. If there were other messages he was ignoring, he didn’t say, and she wouldn’t ask. All of that was outside of this moment somehow, and they were inside their little bubble, just like always.

Jason set the phone on the nightstand, climbed back in bed, then they made love for a third time. She’d slid into a dreamless sleep — perhaps because she was already in one. What was left to dream about?  She didn’t know if Jason had slept. She hoped so — he looked so tired, and worn out at the hospital.

His fingers trailed up and down her spine, tracing patterns with his fingertips. She lay draped across his chest, one of her legs hooked over his, the thin blanket pulled over them both.

“Tell me about somewhere you went when you weren’t in Port Charles,” Elizabeth said. She looked up, resting her chin on his chest.

Jason furrowed his brow for a long moment. “Egypt,” he said finally. “I wanted to see the pyramids. I went to Cairo, saw Giza. You see pictures and you can read measurements. But none of that does them justice.”

“They’re older than most written history,” Elizabeth murmured. She laid her head back down, closed her eyes. “It puts it into perspective, sometimes. How small and insignificant our lives are. The world was here long before us, and will still be here when we’re bones and dust.”

His phone rang then, and they both looked at it. Elizabeth sat up, flattening one of her hands against the mattress, the blanket falling to her waist. Was it the hospital—

Or was it someone else? She bit her lip, forced the possibility away. That wasn’t part of this. It couldn’t be. After this night, they’d go back to their own lives, maybe never having a reason to talk again.

But until then, Jason was hers and she wasn’t going to let go until she had to.

Jason reluctantly reached for the cell, looked at the screen and his body tensed. “It’s Monica,” he said. He sat up, dragged a hand down his face. Elizabeth leaned her face against his shoulder. It was the call they’d both dreaded. Jason waited just one more moment, then flipped it open.  “Hey. No, I’m still awake—” He tensed, then looked at her, his eyes bright. “What? What? When? How—” His voice shook. “No. I’ll—I’ll tell her. Yeah. Yeah, no, tell her it—” Jason took a deep breath. “Tell her I love her.”

“Jason?” Elizabeth prompted when he closed the phone, closed his fist around it. “What—what happened? Tell—”

“She—the infection—her fever broke.” Jason looked at her again, and there were tears in his eyes. “The doctors—she made it.”

“She—” Elizabeth clutched her hands against her mouth. “Oh! Oh! She’s alive? She made it? She’s going to be okay?”

“I don’t—Monica didn’t have a lot of—” He cleared his throat. “They don’t know if she’s fully in the clear, but this is a good sign. Her body is starting to fight back. But she—she’s alive. She made it through the night.”

Elizabeth had never let herself hope for such a miracle. She started to laugh, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. Jason reached for her, and she could feel the joy in his, the smile in his kiss.

Jason lowered her to the bed, his kiss turning searching and hungry. This was it, she thought, the last time. After this—they’d open the door and go back to reality. But until then, she’d hold on tight and savor every moment so she’d always remember this night and this man.

—

After all this time, they still somehow understood each other with few words. After making love for a fourth time, they left the bed. They silent dressed, donning the clothes they’d ripped from each other only hours before.  Jason stripped the sheets and other linen, and went to change them, knowing where Jake had kept such things.

Then they went down stairs, Jason pausing to relock the door. In the bar, Elizabeth tidied up the pool table, while Jason disposed of the bottles and took the glasses to clean them. He left cash on the bar, and they headed for the door.

The sun was just breaking over Port Charles when they left Jake’s. The morning held a slight chill, and Elizabeth shivered. Still — they said nothing. He handed her the helmet, and she climbed on the bike, holding him close.

At the studio, he walked her upstairs, and then finally when they reached her doorway, and she’d pulled out her keys, she looked at him. “So I guess…I guess this is…” Then her words failed her and she looked down at the silver keys. “Do we talk about it?” she asked, her voice hushed.

Jason swallowed hard. “I—”

“I mean, do we—do we go back to—” She glanced at him, and she bit her lip. “Do we go back to how it was, like this didn’t…”

Jason exhaled slowly, looked over her head, at the door he’d put on the studio a year earlier to make her safer. Did they pretend this happen? Just an insane night outside of all the others—did they go back to their lives?

Elizabeth picking up the pieces after her disastrous marriage, and Jason to…return home to another woman. To marry her and create a life with her.

That would be easiest, Jason thought. Simplest. Agree that this was one-time thing and never talk about it again. But could he do it? Could he pack all the things he’d felt before, and all the new feelings — could he put them into a box like he usually did and lock them away?

“I don’t think I can,” Jason finally admitted, and she looked at him, surprised, her eyes widening. “Can you?”

“N-no. No, but—”

He kissed her again, backing her against the door, and her arms slid around his neck, the keys in her hand, falling to the ground with a clink of metal against concrete. They broke apart, one of her hands sliding down to rest against his chest, their eyes meeting.

“So what now?” Elizabeth asked, her lips swollen, rosy, still damp from his mouth. He pressed his thumb against her lip, sweeping across. “I mean—you’re…you’re—” Her voice faltered.

“Engaged,” he finished. “I know. I’ll—I think of something to tell her. To end it.” Though now that reality was filtering back in, he remembered all the reasons why it wouldn’t just be a simple conversation. “But I will.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth smiled tremulously. “If you’re sure. I—I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do—”

“I want to,” Jason said. He kissed her again, lingering, before stepping back. “I’ll call you,” he said. “As soon as I can.” He handed her the keys she’d dropped, then waited until she was safely inside.

All he had to do was go home and tell his fiancee, who had recently suffered a miscarriage and learned that she couldn’t have any more children, that he didn’t want to marry her anymore.

What could go wrong?

+54

Written in  61  minutes. I do not reread for typos, and they always drive me crazy later. I suck, lol.

This scene might be useful. This story picks up on this day. Song is Cry Me A River (Justin Timberlake)

September 2, 2003

General Hospital: Chapel

Less than three months earlier, Jason had broken into the house where Elizabeth lived with Ric, looking for clues to locate Carly. Elizabeth had caught him and pulled out a gun. The anger and animosity had lingered between them for months before that night and had continued even after Ric’s crimes had been revealed.

But it all felt so far away tonight, as if they had happened to other people, in another lifetime.

All Jason knew now was that Emily, the one person they both loved more than themselves, was fading away—and that knowing Elizabeth was in pain still hurt as much as it did the first time he’d made her cry, that long ago day standing outside of Kelly’s, when he’d told her they couldn’t see each other again.

“Why is this happening?” she’d said, her voice broken, her shoulders shaking. A question without an answer, of course, but Jason couldn’t leave it there. He slid just a little closer, put his arm around her shoulders, and Elizabeth leaned into his embrace, crying against his shoulder, her tears damp against the black cotton.

He didn’t know how long they’d sat that there, the candles on the altar slowly burning themselves down to their tapers, his hand on her bare shoulder, his thumb circling her soft skin, the smell of her shampoo and the tickle of her hair against his jaw.

How had he gone nearly a year without touching her, without the feel of her body against his? It was a thought that slid in and out of his consciousness so quickly that Jason barely registered, but he was familiar with it — the longing to be near her, to touch her, to breathe her in — he’d put it away in a box, and locked it away for good, this time.

But it hadn’t been for good, Jason thought, but only because the option hadn’t been available. If he’d touched her once in the last ten months, it all would have come flooding back—

“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth sat up, and Jason knew he should pull his arm back, but he left it still loosely around her shoulders, his thumb still brushing the top of her shoulder. He was like an addict getting his first taste of alcohol after a long period of sobriety, and he didn’t like it. But he didn’t know how to stop it either.

Elizabeth brushed at her tears and looked at him, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, she’s your family.”

“She’s yours, too,” Jason told her. And he’d meant that. Elizabeth had risked her life over and over again for Emily, had always been right there every time his sister had needed her. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I just—I know that I’m going to get that call.” She stared down at her hands. “I’m going to find out she’s gone, and I don’t—how can you stand it—how can you know this awful thing is going to happen and just sit—” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I can’t stop thinking, and I want it to go away. I want it to stop.”

“I can—” He swallowed hard when she looked at him, the tears clinging to her lashes, her blue eyes shattered. “I can help. I think.” He finally moved his arm, then stood and held out his hand. “Will you come with me?”

—

Elizabeth placed her hand in his Jason, and let him pull her to her feet. She stumbled slightly, the heel of her shoe catching the edge of the chapel carpet. Jason’s hand went to steady her, resting at the small of her back and she bit her lip, wishing she could just fold himself into his arms, absorb all the warmth he was radiating. She’d be safe there—

But she’d walked away from that a long time ago and this night — this night wasn’t part of that. It existed outside of time and space. Tomorrow, when the world came back and daylight broke, Emily would be gone and she and Jason wouldn’t have a reason to ever speak again.

It was an unbearably sad realization, so if Jason wanted to take her somewhere, to stretch out the time that was left to all of them — then she wouldn’t stop herself.

Jason led her out of the chapel, down the short hallway to the elevators. He jabbed the button, and they stepped into the car. Neither of them saw the blonde standing a few feet away, lurking in a door way, her mouth pinched and her blue eyes narrowed.

Elizabeth furrowed her brow when Jason hit the button for the parking garage level, and looked at him quizzically. “Where—” Her breath caught. The parking garage. Oh. Oh, she knew exactly where he was taking her.

It was same motorcycle he’d driven out of town four years ago, after he’d sat on a park bench and broken her heart with a kiss to the forehead, trying to say goodbye to her. Maybe they both would have been better off if she’d let him say it. But she’d insisted it was always see you later.

Jason handed the helmet, and Elizabeth took it, holding it against her middle, biting her lip, looking at the bike.

“We don’t have—”

“No, I was just thinking about my dress,” Elizabeth said, “but I can do it. I can—” She’d do anything if meant Jason would take her for a ride, if she could climb on the bike behind him, and get to hold on to him, just one more time. They’d never managed a ride since he’d returned the year before.

It was fitting, she thought. It would all end the way it had begun.

Jason unset the kickstand holding the bike upright, then straddled it. Elizabeth fastened the helmet, swung one leg over the bike and sat down, tucking the dress around her legs, then slid she slid forward, nestling her body just behind Jason’s, sliding her arms around his waist, holding tight the way she’d never dared to in the beginning. Then Jason turned the key in the ignition, the bike roared to life, and they were off.

Vista Point: Parking Lot

Elizabeth stumbled off the bike, tugging the helmet from her hair, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my God! I forgot how loud it was! And you still take those turns like a mad man—the last one, I thought for sure were going to crash—” The road had seemed so close her heart had stopped for just a beat, then he’d pulled out of it, the bike was upright, and the world was normal again.

“And I think you might have busted an eardrum—” Jason rubbed his ear, and Elizabeth laughed, slapped him playfully. Then her smile faded, and she looked away, tears stinging her eyes.

“I forgot,” she said softly. “For just a minute. I forgot.” She cleared her throat. Looked back. “Did—did they call?”

Jason removed his phone from his pocket. “No. Monica said—” His mouth was tight. “She said she’d call. Or have someone—” His hand tightened around the phone. “We could keep going,” he said, almost to himself.

“Eventually we’d have to stop,” Elizabeth said wistfully. “And the phone would always be there, waiting.” She rubbed her arms, looked around at their surroundings. The night was a cloudy one — the stars barely visible. “I haven’t been up here in months.” Not since she’d come here with Lucky and run into Jason and Courtney.

Her stomach lurched, and she dropped her eyes to the gravel beneath her feet. Courtney. Jason’s fiancee. The woman who was probably waiting on him to come home.

“Me, either,” Jason said. He tipped his head towards the observatory deck. “Come on. Let’s see if we can see Spoon Island.”

If he didn’t want to think about who was waiting for him, then why should she? Elizabeth pushed it aside, followed him.

“Sometimes I wish I were Dorothy,” Elizabeth murmured, leaning over the guardrail, trying to see the pitched roof of Wyndemere in the clouds. “You know? From the Wizard of Oz?”

“Robin made me watch it once. She was the one with the shoes, right? She wanted to go home?”

“Yeah. She thought she had to go on a quest, but the answer was right in front of her the whole time. She just had to click her heels three times and say there was no place like home.”

“Why do you wish you were here? You can go home. I could take you there—you’re—you’re in the studio, right?”

“It’s not home. There’s no where that’s home,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe not home. Maybe go back in time to when Emily came back. I could tell something wasn’t right, but I was so wrapped up in my own horror show—I could have forced her to tell me what was wrong. And if she didn’t listen to me, I’d—” She looked at him. “I’d have told you, and we’d have made her see sense.”

She folded her arms tightly, looked back out over the water. “But there’s no going back. No correcting mistakes. Just learning to live with them. You’d think I’d know that by now and make better choices.”

“I wish I’d spent more time with her,” Jason said, his voice low, a bit rough. “You weren’t the only one distracted. And if she hadn’t listened to me, I’d have gone to you.” He straightened, one hand curled around the guardrail. “I could take you home—”

“So I could sleep? Go to bed and wake up in a world without Emily? No thanks. But if you need to go—” Elizabeth chanced a look at him, but didn’t speak the name. “You can drop me off—”

“So you can sit up all night?” Jason asked gently. “Wait for the phone to ring?”

“Like you’re going to do any differently?”

“No, I guess not. Well, if we’re both going to wait for a phone call, then—” Jason stepped towards the parking lot. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Me either.” She took his hand again, and they returned to the bike. He handed her the helmet. “Could you maybe, um, take more of the turns like that last one? Or is that too danger?”

“Let me see what I can do.”

Jake’s: Bar

Jason twisted the key in the lock, then stepped inside, waiting for Elizabeth to follow. “It just closed a little while ago, but I have the same, uh, arrangement with Coleman that I had with Jake.”

“I miss her, you know.” Elizabeth wandered over to the juke box, flipped through the choices. “Why she’d have to sell the place?”

“It’s not the same as it used to be, but…” Jason went around the bar, looked through the cooler. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Hmm, yeah. Whatever you’re having,” she said absently. “You know, I haven’t been here since you left two years ago.” The opening chords of a song he didn’t know (not that he knew many) filled the empty space.

“No?” Jason came over to her, handed her a green glass bottle already uncapped. He had an identical one in his hand.

You were my sun

“No reason to. Club 101 was closer, and then I didn’t really have a lot of reasons to go out and drink or have any fun.” Her eyes flitted to him as she sipped the beer, her lips wrapping around the stem of the bottle. “You come here, though, right? Enough to have an arragement?”

You were my earth

“Sometimes I—” He grimaced. “Sometimes I need to pick a fight,” he muttered, and took long pull, nearly a quarter of the bottle.

But you didn’t know all the ways I loved you, no

“Hmmm, I know what you mean.” Elizabeth wandered over to the pool table, running her fingertips over the felt top. “I definitely feel like punching things these days.” She glanced at him. “You want to play a round?”

He remembered the last time they’d played pool — the night he’d gone out and Sonny had faked his death. He’d spent time with her, hoping she’d understand the lie he was about to tell her. The horrible thing he was doing. But it had gone so wrong. It had lasted too long, and she’d been so damn hurt—

So you took a chance

“Yeah,” Jason said. He took another drink, then set the bottle on a nearby table. He went to the wall, took down two cues, handing her one. Then he set the balls up to break. “You can go first—”

And made other plans

“Taking pity? How do you know I haven’t practiced?” Elizabeth asked. She took a drink before setting her own bottle to the side, then leaned down to line up a shot. Her form was still terrible, Jason thought idly, but she did well enough, scattering the balls across the table. Not a single one went in, and she pouted, pushing out her bottom lip.

“Your turn.”

But I bet you didn’t think that they would come crashing down, no

“I need something stronger,” he said, suddenly, setting down the cue without even taking a shot. He headed over to the back of the bar, snagged a bottle of tequila, and two sets of shot glasses. He could call someone to drive them home.

You don’t have to say, what you did

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink hard liquor,” Elizabeth said, her brows pulled together. He set one of the shot glasses in front of her.

I already know, I found out from him

He didn’t, but she’d done that thing with her mouth around the bottle, and pouting—he was only human, and maybe if he got drunk, he wouldn’t see all of that. He poured the tequila. “You don’t have to join me.”

“No—” Elizabeth set the cue down, picked up the shot glass. “No point in letting you get plastered alone. On three—one, two, three—” They both emptied their glasses.

Now there’s just no chance

They continued the round, Jason doing his best to throw the game so Elizabeth wasn’t just watching him run the table. She’d improved — but not enough to compete against him. And after they each took a turn, they drank another shot.

For you and me

Elizabeth was wobbling slightly, trying to line up a difficult shot, when she suddenly straightened and scowled, coming around to his side of the table — right in front of him. “It’s a better angle over here,” she said, leaning over, wiggling to line it up.

There’ll never be

She was right, of course, Jason thought, and the right thing to do would be to move and give her room. To not be standing directly behind her while she wiggled her butt in a dress that kept slipping and sliding across her body as she moved her cue.

And don’t it make you sad about it?

She took the shot, and missed of course. She straightened, her fist around the pool cue, sliding down from the top the middle, and Jason nearly passed out. He must have made some sort of sound.

“What?” Elizabeth turned, her eyes lit with humor. “Was my shot that bad? Come on. I’m trying—”

“To kill me,” he muttered. He dragged a hand down his face. “This was a bad idea.”

You told me you love me

Her smile faded, and she looked away, biting her lip, and he felt like a heel. She had no idea that he’d started to lose his mind the second he’d touched her in the chapel, and that his self-control had been slipping away all night, eroded every time she bit her lip or wrapped her hand around something, or he just looked at her.

Why did you leave me all alone?

The tequila had been a mistake, Jason thought. Instead of dulling his senses, all it had done was heighten him and now everything she did drove him crazy. What the hell was wrong with him? Had the whole world gone crazy?

“I should call a cab,” Elizabeth said, when he said nothing, just stared at her. She set the cue on the table, started for the door. Walking away. Just like she had a year ago.

Maybe he was Dorothy, he thought stupidly. Maybe they’d gone back in time and she was walking and he had a second chance to stop her.

Now you tell me you need me

Jason charged after her, snagged her elbow, and tugged her back, swinging her back around, her body brushing his. “Don’t go.”

When you call me on the phone

“Jason—” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and luminous. “We should—”

Girl, I refuse

He didn’t want to hear about what they should do. He was tired of doing what he was supposed to do. The expected thing. The right thing. What was good for everything else. What did he have to show for it?

You must have me confused with some other guy

“Don’t go,” he repeated, brushing his thumb over her lip. Her tongue darted out, licked him, and that was it. The last straw. His hands dove into her hair and he kissed her, hard, hot and hungrily, the way he should have a thousand times before.

The bridges were burned

Her hands fluttered around him for a moment, and then she broke, fisting them in his black cotton t-shirt, pressing herself against him. Jason’s hands slid down her to her hips, and with a quick lift, her legs were wrapped around his waist and he was stumbling towards the stairs.

Now it’s your turn, to cry
Cry me a river

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