Written in 58 minutes.

I changed the way Zander was arrested, so just go with whatever I say in this story, lol.

Tuesday, October 16, 2000

Port Charles Municipal Building: Dara Jensen’s Office

Emily hesitated at the entrance to Dara’s office, finding the assistant district attorney behind her desk, a phone to her ear. Dara made eye contact with her, and held up one finger, before switching the phone to the crook of her neck, reaching for a pen on her desk. “Okay. Okay. No, I don’t exactly have the time for—I don’t make the calendar, Steve. I need that report done. Don’t give me excuses. Get it done.” She slapped the phone back on the base, her pretty features creased in irritation. “I’m sorry. I had to finish that call.” She gestured for Emily to come forward. “I know you said you had a packed morning.”

“No, it’s okay—” Emily came forward, wrapping her arms around her middle, the strap of her purse sliding down her shoulder, falling to her elbow. She reached for it. “My professor—he gets it. And you said it was important.”

“Take a seat.” Dara sat at the round conference table near the entrance, flicked open a folder. When Emily was settled, Dara leaned forward, resting her folded arms on the table. “The reason I asked you to come in today is to review your statement and talk about a few loose ends. The defense attorney is filing for a preliminary hearing—”

“A preliminary—” Emily drew her brows together, tilted her head. “I don’t understand. Don’t we just go to trial?”

“Normally, we would do a grand jury indictment and go from there, but a preliminary hearing — it’s nothing to worry about—”

“Is that when they think there’s not enough evidence? Like that it’s so clear that a judge can dismiss it without a jury? That feels like something to worry about.”

Dara sighed, rubbed the side of her face. “Emily—”

“Dara. You and I—this isn’t our first time, right? You handled…you prosecuted Tom Baker. I’ve been through this. And if it wasn’t something I needed to worry about, I wouldn’t be here. I can handle whatever you throw at me—”

“Smith’s attorney is filing to dismiss the murder charge, and there’s a chance that goes through,” Dara told her. “The only evidence tying Zander Smith to Ted Wilson’s murder is that the body was in his car.” She lifted her brows. “He says you and your friends put it there. Now, I’m not—” she held up a hand when Emily tensed. “I’m not saying I believe him. Or that a judge will. But I can’t tie him to the crime. Possession—it won’t be—it won’t be enough.”

“But it’s why he took me hostage—he kidnapped me—”

“Which is why it works at trial,” Dara told her. “When it’s connected to your case. But if the murder charge is thrown out—then all we have is your word—”

“He did it in front of witnesses!”

“Your friends. And one cop. Who happens to be related to one of the witnesses,” Dara told her gently. “I know it happened the way you said. I know you were kidnapped, Emily. But a jury might not believe you. Especially if you…” She hesitated. “When you were rescued, you…gave the appearance of being on his side. That he’d convinced you that he was scared and just trying to get away.”

Her eyes burned, and Emily shook her head, staring hard at her nails. “I was scared, and I was trying—he seemed like he was telling the truth, and I…I started to doubt myself. I started to—” God, she couldn’t explain it. Not without completely torpedoing the case and throwing everyone under the bus. She’d thought Zander was telling the truth about not killing Ted because well — he wasn’t the one who put the body in his car, was he?

Emily took a deep breath, looked at Dara. “You’re trying to tell me that the attorney is going to put me on the stand, and try to make it sound like I wasn’t in danger. Maybe Zander wasn’t going to hurt me. I d-don’t know. I don’t. Only he knows that. But he did put a gun to my head. He did force me to drive towards the border, Dara. And he did only release me at gunpoint. So what if he told me a sob story I sort of believed? I was terrified, Dara. It’s not…” She stared hard at the table. “It was like before. With Tom Baker. Holding me and Elizabeth in that studio. Not knowing what would happen. Tom seemed like a good guy, too, you know. But he wasn’t. He was a liar. And a rapist. And a blackmailer. And Zander Smith? He’s a liar, too. He killed Ted Wilson. He was a drug dealer working those raves. And he kidnapped me to try to escape.”

“All right,” Dara said after a long beat. “You testify like that, Emily, and a judge will believe you. I believe you,” she repeated. “But a jury? They’re not predictable. They’re just not. And there’s—I think there’s a strong chance that the attorney is going to bring your brother into it.”

“What?” Emily blinked, shook her head. “I don’t—Jason—he was barely here. He tried to find me, to rescue me, but—”

“Zander Smith works for Joseph Sorel. There’s no chance that you got caught up in a territory—Emily—”

Emily shoved her chair back, the wood scraping against the hard wood. “I’m not talking about my brother. He isn’t part of this,” she repeated. “I’ll testify to what happened to me. But I won’t answer questions about my brother. If you don’t like it, Dara, then drop my case and just go after him for the murder.”

Dara rose to her feet. “I am just demonstrating that the defense attorney can and will use your brother against you, Emily. It can’t be a surprise to you that Smith’s lawyers are going this way—”

No. Not when Emily had told Zander that her brother meant so much to her. She’d trusted him.

“No, it’s not. But I expected you to be a better attorney than that. Jason has zero to do with this case. That’s not me protecting him, that’s me stating the facts. You want to go after Sorel and Sonny? Go for it. I think they’re both garbage. But you try to go after Jason, if you try to use what happened to me to go after him, believe me, you’ll be sorry.”

Emily didn’t wait for Dara’s reaction or response. She whirled and fled the office, her heart pounding so hard she almost couldn’t hear the sound of her own ragged breathing.

Chloe Morgan Designs: Executive Offices

Chloe’s smile was warm and bright when Elizabeth stepped off the elevator. She stretched out her hands, grasping Elizabeth’s. “I’m so glad that you can start so quickly! I’ll have to thank Tammy when I stop at Kelly’s next—”

Elizabeth winced, following Chloe into the foyer of her office suite. “I wouldn’t do that. We didn’t—she wasn’t exactly happy.”

“Oh—Oh, she must be irritated I’m stealing one of her best waitresses—”

“Not—” Elizabeth shook her head. “No. It just—it wasn’t exactly amicable. I just—she’s unhappy with me, and I wouldn’t have said so but I didn’t want you to get caught in the middle—”

Chloe waved a hand. “No, of course not. I’ll just avoid the diner. It’s easy now that we’ve moved into our new headquarters. Opened just this month—” She gestured to the room they were in. “What do you think?”

Elizabeth looked around, took in the pair of desks outside a larger door, likely Chloe’s personal office. One desk had a lived in look with photos and files and fabric samples, and the other was empty. “You’ve come a long way from the space you were sharing with Ned.”

“I know. He was so kind to loan it to us, but I really needed more room. Especially if I truly want to make this my home away from home.” Chloe gestured at the empty desk. “This is for you. And—” her smile brightened when another woman joined them. Elizabeth had seen her around L&B a few times. She was a taller woman, someone who could have walked the runways of the fashion world, with long legs, a mass of raven curls tumbling down her back, just a shade darker than her skin and warm eyes.

She was also enormously pregnant, and had one hand on her belly, the other at the small of her back.

“Lottie, amazing timing.” Chloe gestured at Elizabeth. “This is Elizabeth. You must have met her this summer, didn’t you?”

“Not by name, but I recognize your face,” Lottie said, extending a hand, her voice cool and posh, the British accent keeping her words slightly clipped. But her smile was friendly and genuine. “And I’m relieved Chloe found someone she likes to look after her while I’m gone.”

“And we’ve got her full-time,” Chloe told her assistant. “Even better.” She looked back at Elizabeth. “I know I told you that we’d be doing international travel in January, but it would be amazing if you could do a bit more of that sooner. I know it’s a lot to ask, but Lottie really shouldn’t be going back and forth to New York—”

“I was all right with next week’s trip, but it would have been the last,” Lottie said. “Do you have your passport yet?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth made a face. “No. Not yet. I’m so sorry — my grandmother never got a copy from my parents when I moved here, and I just sent the form to Colorado yesterday. I’m hoping to have it by the end of the month. I know that’s an issue—”

“No worries. Whenever you have your passport application ready, I’ll just have Edward make a call and get it fast-tracked. I don’t use my connections often, but I’ll do it for a good cause.” Chloe patted Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You’ll be Lottie’s shadow for the next few weeks. I’m so excited you could come on board. She did such lovely design work for the Nurse’s Ball, Lottie. I told you then we needed to steal her for ourselves. I’ll leave the two of you to get to work because I have that call with New York.” She headed for her office, and Elizabeth was on her own.

“Chloe isn’t lying,” Lottie said as Elizabeth set her purse down on the empty desk. “She really did have you on a short list for some time, but I think she was waiting for the right moment. She wasn’t sure if you’d leave your current jobs. She said you were extremely loyal, and would need a good reason.”

“I…” It was a little insane to think she’d been on anyone’s shortlist. She almost couldn’t process it. “It  came at the right time. I needed a change. And I…” She paused. “I can’t wait to get started.”

Luke’s: Office

“Well, I don’t know what you want from me, Laura.” Luke lifted his brows. “The boy isn’t returning my phone calls—”

“He hasn’t been back to the diner,” Laura said, pacing the length of her husband’s office. “And he hasn’t come home. Not that he would,” she added on a mutter. “I just—I can’t imagine it happened the way Tammy said it did—Lucky would never hurt Elizabeth.”

“No. He wouldn’t.” Luke hesitated. “But Tammy said it seemed like it was an accident. They were fighting.”

“And that’s another thing—why would they be fighting? They just got back together. They should be at their happiest!” Laura folded her arms. “Has he told you anything? About them?”

“Am I supposed to tell you every little thing he says to me, Laura?” Irritated with the conversation, he walked out of the office, hoping Laura would drop the topic entirely. But she was on a roll and followed after him, still going.

“We just figured out why he was acting so strange! We’ve broken Helena’s hold on him! Elizabeth should be happy! Not picking fights or quitting her job over it. Tammy said she just picked up and left—not that I believe her. She must be wrong—”

“Laura—” Luke stopped when he reached the main bar and saw Jason on a stool, a beer in front of him. He looked back at his estranged wife. “Listen—”

“Tammy said you were there,” Laura said charging forward, stabbing a finger at Jason who turned slightly on his stool so that he was looking at her. “Said you took Elizabeth home—”

“Emily took her home,” Jason interrupted. “I stayed in the courtyard to make sure Lucky didn’t follow them to the car.”

“I—” Laura stopped. “You’re saying this actually happened? That Lucky pushed Elizabeth down the stairs. I just—I don’t believe it—Did he push her?” Laura demanded.

Jason looked pained, but answered. “No. But he grabbed her bag, pulled her back, and she lost her balance. Not much of a difference to me. We need to talk—” he said, looking past Laura, but she’d turned away from him and was glaring at Luke.

“I told you. Lucky would never—”

“I didn’t said he would. Don’t go putting words in my mouth—”

“You hired that hooker to run your aunt’s diner and now she’s lying about our family, Luke. I expect you take care of this. Fire Tammy so Elizabeth get her job back and this can get sorted out.”

Laura didn’t wait for Luke’s agreement before storming away, back through the offices. Luke scrubbed his hands down his face, then looked at Jason. “What actually happened? And how bad is it?”

+22

Written in 58 minutes.

Monday, October 15, 2000

Kelly’s: Stairwell

Elizabeth just wanted to get out, to get away from the conversation, away from the nightmare of her relationship with Lucky — a week ago, she’d been so blissful, so sure that her life was back on track, that she and Lucky were about to start the life that had been destroyed by Helena’s machinations —

She wanted to run down the steps, to fly out the door, and hole up in her grandmother’s house until she could start working with Chloe, but the heft of her suitcase weighed her down so that instead of rushing down the steps, she’d had to slow down enough for Lucky to catch up—

Her body was still moving forward, her feet still intent on completing the mission, but then her shoulder was yanked backwards, twisting her torso to the side, the weight of her suitcase pulling her in the opposite direction—she barely had a chance to process what was happening — only the sight of Lucky’s stricken face, one strap of her tote bag in her hand, the sensation of being weightless, of falling backward—

But then she was caught, a pair of strong arms winding around her middle, stopping her descent — one of her arms were caught around a neck, and she was being lifted in the air again, moving downward again, but this time, controlled. Her heart racing, thudding in her ears, her chest heaving, her throat burning from the rush of breathing, she squeezed her eyes closed, and clung with both arms to the solid force that had plucked her out of the air—

“You’re okay—”

“What the hell—”

“Oh my God—”

“Did he push her—”

The rush of voices came from all sides, at all levels, none of them really breaking through the sound of her own breathing, the swirling of her own thoughts—

“You’re okay—” and this time, she could register those words, the timber of the voice—it was Jason. Where had he come from? What was happening?

“Stay away from her—” she knew that voice, too. Emily?

Elizabeth finally opened her eyes, lifted her head, and realized that Jason was holding her, that they were standing at the bottom of the steps, her fists clutched in the fabric of Jason’s blue t-shirt, his hands at her hips. She locked eyes with him, started by the mixture of fury and worry in the blue reflected back at her. “What—w-hat—” She looked around, blinking, then up the stairs—

Lucky still stood there, a few steps down from where she’d last seen him, still clutching her tote bag by one strap—it had spilled open, makeup and jewelry spread across the steps, her wallet laying two steps below, her sunglasses—

Her suitcase was at the bottom of the steps — it had busted open, the faulty clasp had failed and her clothing was everywhere—jeans and shirts and—

Her face flaming, her cheeks on fire, Elizabeth shoved Jason back and frantically knelt, clutching at every bra or pair of panties she could spy, and Emily appeared at her side, helping until her clothing had been stowed away—

When the suitcase was closed, she laid her palms on top, her hands were still shaking—she turned to look at Lucky.

He still hadn’t moved, his face still pale beneath his blond hair. “I—I’m sorry—” He swallowed hard as Jason climbed a few steps. Lucky said nothing more when Jason grabbed the tote from his hand and started shoving Elizabeth’s things back inside.

“I—I can—” Elizabeth got to her feet, then took in the rest of the scene — everyone who had abandoned their tables and were listening, watching — watching her life on display — even Tammy who stood just behind the counter, her lips curved into half a smirk.

She’d meant to stop Jason, to take on the task of gathering her things, but she was frozen, still kneeling on the floor, her hands on her suitcase. Everyone was watching her. Laughing at her. Judging her.

“Take this—” Jason handed the tote to Emily who looped it over her own shoulder, gripping it tightly, still glaring at Lucky. Then he lowered himself down, squatting next to Elizabeth, still frozen, gripping her suitcase. “I’ll take that out to the car,” he told her gently. “It looks broken.”

“I—” She looked at him, then back at the dull brown case. It had come with her from Colorado. Her father had given it to her so that she could pack for the Johnsons. The house will still be there, Lizzie. You can get more later if you want. But she’d only ever had this one suitcase, and had fled the state with this, her purse, and a nasty attitude. Selfish, obsessed, brat.

“Come on, Liz.” Emily reached out her hand, and Elizabeth took it, letting her friend pull her up to her feet. Jason picked up the suitcase, holding it flat and horizontal from the bottom. “Are you—did you bring a car or—”

“I—I came on the bus,” Elizabeth managed. Everything was still racing, she couldn’t quite make it slow down, couldn’t find a thread to hold on to.

“Okay, I brought mine. Let’s go.” She threw another look at Lucky, and Elizabeth followed her gaze. Her boyfriend came come down a few more steps.

“Elizabeth, wait—”

“Back off. Right now,” Emily bit off. “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, but you could have killed her. And the only reason you’re still standing right now is there are too many witnesses.” She turned away from him, her oldest friend, with a flick of her hair. “Let’s get out of here, Liz.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth said, but she still didn’t move. Felt glued to the ground—then Emily wrapped her hand around Elizabeth’s bicep, gently tugged and it was enough to get her moving.

Kelly’s: Parking Lot

Emily’s heart was still pounding after she slammed the passenger door closed, and turned to her brother waiting at the trunk, Elizabeth’s broken suitcase in his hands. With Elizabeth in the car, his expression had shifted — only slightly, the anger was still visible, but the worry had vanished.

“You can’t kill him,” Emily said, shoving her key in the lock of the trunk, and throwing it open. “It was an accident. And you know, witnesses.”

Jason set the suitcase inside, carefully — taking a good look at the clasp that had busted when it had hit the ground during the fall, then straightened to look at his sister. “I don’t care—”

“He didn’t push her. He didn’t want her to fall. And I’m saying it to myself as much as I’m saying it to you,” she said when he scowled. “He should have just let her go, shouldn’t have grabbed her. He never—” She paused, swallowed hard. “He used to be so careful with her. I—” The adrenaline had faded, and it was her hands shaking now. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this.” She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “He didn’t mean to hurt her—”

“And if we hadn’t been there, she’d have hit the ground the way the suitcase did,” Jason interrupted, and she looked at him. “He was angry and he grabbed her without thinking about her safety. That’s the beginning and the end, Emily.”

“I know. I know.” She exhaled slowly, wrung out her hands. “I need a minute. I did okay in there because I was going on impulse, and now it’s over, and my brain is screaming. I’m just trying to get this out, to stop freaking out in my head, because she doesn’t need me to do that. She needs me to keep it together, like you did, because I know your first instinct was to kill—not literally—never mind.” She scrubbed both hands down her face. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And I know he’s your friend, too, Emily. But this is what you were worried about on Saturday, wasn’t it? Being both their friends, not choosing.” Jason closed the trunk. “She needs someone who is her friend right now. If you can’t do that, then you need to take her home, tell Audrey what happened, and let Audrey be the person who puts her first.”

“You could—”

“I’m too angry,” he interrupted, and he looked back towards the diner, his expression darkening when he saw Lucky in the courtyard. “And he looks like he’s going to come over here. That’s the last thing she needs.” He looked back at his sister. “Make a choice, Emily. Make the right one.”

And then he strode away.

Kelly’s: Courtyard

Lucky braced himself as Jason approached, fisting his hands at his side, ready to take whatever punch Jason would throw. He’d let him throw the first fist, Lucky told himself. That was fair game. But—

Instead of shoving his head through the brick wall the way Lucky expected, Jason stopped a few feet from him, his expression as cold as stone. The way he looked when he was in front of Taggert or another cop.

Or someone else he hated.

“You’re going to leave her alone. You’re not going to talk to her unless she makes contact first,” Jason said, and Lucky bristled.

He’d screwed up, but Jason had no right to order him around like that — “Who the hell do you think you are—”

But then Jason took a step forward and Lucky scrambled back, his heart racing. When Jason just stopped, lifted a brow, Lucky’s face flushed, and heat flooded his veins. Shame was everywhere. “Fuck off. You don’t own her and you can’t touch me—”

“If you go near her before she wants you to, I’ll know,” Jason said, his voice remaining even, even calm. “And you’ll regret it.”

“You can’t—”

“I can and I will. Emily’s trying to remind herself that you’re her friend, too. And telling herself you didn’t mean for Elizabeth to fall or get hurt—”

“I didn’t—”

“You were angry and you put your hands on her,” Jason said, and Lucky closed his mouth. “A man who does that can’t be trusted. You put your hands on her and she nearly fell down the stairs. There won’t be a next time, Lucky.”

“Why don’t you let Elizabeth decide what she wants?” Lucky bit out, throwing back the words that had started the fight at Jake’s the other night. “Isn’t that your thing? Isn’t that how you—”

“And if she wants to talk to you, she will. Stay away until and if she does. This is the only warning,” Jason told him — then turned his back and walked away. A few minutes later, Lucky heard the roar of engine, and then the motorcycle leaving the parking lot.

Lucky exhaled slowly, then dragged his hands down his face, through his hair. How the hell had this gone so wrong?

Hardy House: Driveway

Emily switched off the engine, and silence engulfed the car. Neither one of them had spoken since they’d left the diner.

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to even begin. “I never thought I’d be that kind of girl,” she said softly.

Emily looked at her, frowned. “What?”

“To freeze. To cower. To run.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she swiped at them angrily. “To let you and Jason pick me up like a baby—”

“Elizabeth—”

“That’s not who I am—” She squeezed her eyes closed, let her head fall against the headrest. “It’s not who I want to be.”

“I want you to give yourself a break. No, really, Liz. Listen to me. You were leaving, you were walking down the stairs, and the next thing you know, you’re flying through the air — you get to absorb that. You had the wind knocked out of you, and then all those people—” Emily gripped the wheel. “I know he didn’t mean to hurt you, but Jason’s right. He grabbed you. When he was angry. And he didn’t just grab, he pulled. He yanked. This time, it was your bag. It could—what’s he grabbing next time? Your arm? Your hair?”

“Lucky wouldn’t—” Elizabeth stopped looked out the window, at her mother’s front yard, at herself being reflected back. “I guess I can’t really say that anymore, can I? Because I don’t know what he’ll do.”

She fisted her hands in her lap, stared hard at her fingers. “I’m taking the job. With Chloe.”

“Good. I was trying to find you and tell you the same thing. You should. This is an amazing opportunity, and you’d kick yourself if you let it get away.”

Elizabeth looked at her, confused. “But you said—”

“I was wrong. I wasn’t—I mean, I wasn’t. Yes, a job that’s demanding with a lot of travel, it’s time away from Lucky. And he’s not wrong to point that out. But I was wrong for acting like that’s the only thing that matters. I was wrong,” Emily told her. “You should absolutely put yourself first. Is—is that why he was so angry today?”

“He—” Elizabeth licked her lips, looked out the window again. “Yesterday. I tried to tell him. I tried to tell him it was something I liked before…before,” she repeated, her voice a little more quiet. “Fashion and clothes—and that I wanted to get that back. He didn’t know. He didn’t know I used to—” She forced herself to continue. “He doesn’t know anything about me before that night, Em. Because it wasn’t worth knowing. I’m better now,” she said softly. She looked at Emily. “That’s what he told me. That I’m a better person now.” The tears spilled down her cheeks. “Before, I didn’t matter. I matter now. Because I was raped. I’m worth knowing. Because I was raped.”

Emily stared at her for a long moment, then pursed her lips, looked out the windshield. “Okay, so I was wrong. I should have let Jason kill him.”

+39

Written in 55 minutes.

Monday, October 15, 2000

Kelly’s: Kitchen

Tammy fisted a hand at her hip and sighed. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, folded her arms. “I’m sorry, Tammy, but this opportunity is—”

“You know I already lost the college kids — which was the only reason I could cut your hours so you could go work at that record company, and maybe you think dating Luke’s son means you can—”

Elizabeth made a face. “Excuse me? You’re acting like it’s a felony for me to quit a job. A job, by the way, that I’ve been doing longer than you.” When Tammy scowled, Elizabeth arched her brows. “Maybe you think knowing Luke means you can treat the rest of us like crap, but I can and will quit whenever I want. The two weeks is a courtesy to you. Chloe says I can start tomorrow.”

“You know what? I’d hate to hold you back.” Tammy lifted her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll cover your shifts myself. You can be done now. At least now your customers will actually get what they ask for.”

Irritation and impatience was bubbling, and for the first time in years, Elizabeth said what was on the tip of her tongue. “Well, if anyone knows about servicing a client, Tammy, I guess that would be you.” Without waiting to see how the jab hit, she headed for the stairs.

Kelly’s: Courtyard

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Emily practically crashed into Jason, the momentum of sprinting from the parking lot still carrying her. “I woke up late, and then I hit all the lights—”

Jason steadied his sister with his hands on hers shoulders. “You’re fine, Emily. I just got here.”

“Oh. Good. Good.” She let out an exasperated huff, then dragged a hand through her hair. “I have the worst schedule this semester. I thought giving myself off on Mondays was a good idea, but ugh. I just feel like I’m rushing everywhere, and then Dara Jensen calls and she wants me to come in and go over my statement?”

“Dara? What does the ADA want with you? Didn’t you already do that?” Jason demanded.

Emily wrinkled her nose. “Twice, but mostly to Taggert. Dara says Zander Smith’s lawyer is trying to get the motion dismissed or something. I don’t know. Why?”

Because Zander Smith could do a lot of damage to Sorel, but it wasn’t something Jason was going to discuss with his little sister. “It’s nothing. Let’s just—”

“Oh. Lucky—” Emily waved at something over Jason’s shoulder and he turned to see the other man striding towards them, his hands shoved in his pockets. He glared at Jason as he came closer, the bruise on his face beginning to fade but still visible.

“Can’t talk,” Lucky said, throwing the words to Emily as he passed them, more like a grunt than an articulated response.

Emily pressed her lips together, stared after him, then looked back at Jason. “What was that about?” she demanded. “Aren’t you guys friends?”

“No. And it’s a long story,” he added when Emily opened her mouth.

Kelly’s: Elizabeth’s Room

She closed the top of her suitcase, clicking it shut, then set it on the floor. She looked back at the dresser in question, pursing her lips. Was there enough space in the tote bag she’d brought for the jumble of cosmetics, jewelry, and hygiene products? She really didn’t want to come back.

Elizabeth started to pack her essentials first — a tube of lipstick that had been discontinued, eye makeup she wore almost every day, then her favorite pieces of jewelry — anything she’d spent more than ten bucks to buy.

Just as she was finishing her task, the door behind her swung open. “What the hell are you doing?”

Elizabeth went still, her fingers wrapped around a tube of facial moisturizer, then slowly turned around to find Lucky standing at the threshold, his face flushed, his jaw clenched. “I’m packing,” she said simply. “I’m going to stay at my grandmother’s.”

“Without even talking to me?”

Yes. That had been the dream. A little more distance, a little more time to think about what to do. Elizabeth folded her arms, so tightly that she was nearly hugging herself. “I don’t think we’re ready to have a conversation. Or I’m not.” She paused. “And I don’t have to run my living situation by you.”

Lucky grimaced, dragged a hand through his hair. “Tammy told me you quit and called her a whore. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Well, one of those things happened. I gave two weeks notice, Tammy protested, then basically fired me. And when she decided to criticize the way I did my job, I suggested maybe her history made her a better for a customer service.” She arched a brow. “I never said the word whore.”

“You just implied it,” Lucky retorted with a roll of his eyes. “I expected better from you. Tammy’s been good to my family—”

“I don’t think your mother would agree that your father’s friendship with a prostitute would fit that description, but Tammy’s the one that threw a tantrum about my two week notice.”

“I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to take this job. That it wasn’t good for us—”

“No, you said it wasn’t good for you. It turns out it’s great for me.” Elizabeth looped the straps of her tote over her shoulder. “I told you, Lucky, we’re not having this conversation right now. I’m—” Angry, frustrated. Disappointed in herself. In him. “I’m not doing it.”

She lifted her suitcase and took a few steps towards him — but he wasn’t moving from the threshold. “Lucky, please get out of the way—”

“You were begging me for months to get back together, and now that we are, you’re just running because we had an argument—”

“An argument? I’m sorry, Lucky, you said I was a better person after I got raped. That’s hardly an argument.” She took a deep breath. “I told you, I don’t want to do this right now. I think we both need some space.”

“You’ve had nothing but space for eighteen months,” Lucky bit out. “Now you want more? What happened? I refuse to believe that something stupid I said yesterday means we have to throw everything away—”

Frustrated at the angry tears stinging her eyes, Elizabeth shook her head. “I didn’t say that. I’m not saying that. I’m telling that I need some space, okay?”

“You quit your job, Elizabeth. And Tammy told me you’re taking Chloe’s offer. The one that takes you out of town for months—the one we agreed wasn’t a good idea right now—”

“I tried to explain this to you, Lucky. I tried to make you understand why this matters—”

“Because you read some fashion magazines a million years ago? That means you’d make a good assistant now? You’re barely organized enough to get to work on time, and you live above the diner.” Lucky’s tone gentled. “Look, I—I didn’t handle yesterday well, and maybe I was wrong to dismiss this job thing so quick. I just thought—I thought we’d both agreed we’d spent enough time apart. That we deserved this time together.” He came towards her, his expression kinder, the tone soothing.

Like she was a child.

“I am asking you to move,” Elizabeth said, and he stopped a few feet from her. “I told you — I’m upset, and I’m not trying to do this with you right now.

What was there to know…brat…shallow…obsessed with me…

She exhaled slowly, then met his eyes. “You told me that the person I was before the night Tom Baker raped me wasn’t worth knowing. Which means the only reason I’m worthy of your love now is because of what he did.”

“That’s—” He swallowed hard, put up a hand. “I understand that’s how you took it—”

“It’s what you said. You didn’t want to know me then. And you only came around after the rape because you felt guilty for breaking the date in the first place. I was a project for you,” Elizabeth retorted. “And you liked the idea of saving me, that I practically worshiped you.” She shook her head. “You don’t like me. You don’t care about what’s important to me.”

“That is not true—”

“Get out of my way—” Elizabeth came forward, used her suitcase to knock him back a step, off balance enough so she could get past him. She couldn’t do this for another minute. Not for a single second more.

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Emily’s eyes tracked Tammy as the harried blonde moved through the room, scrutinizing her. “Tammy doesn’t usually work the floor.”

Jason glanced up from the menu, frowned slightly. “Elizabeth usually works the breakfast shift, doesn’t she?” When Emily lifted her brows, he shrugged. “She said something about it last week.”

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of her since I saw her the other day. I’m so annoyed by that,” Emily said with a roll of her eyes. She skimmed the menu, though it hadn’t changed in years. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the mood for the French Toast. “Here I am, all ready to be supportive and girl power, and now I can’t get her on the phone. I feel stood up. And irrationally angry.”

“Well, at least you know it’s irrational.” Jason frowned, straightening. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“It sounded like—” Jason didn’t finish, but stood up and started to move towards the stairwell. Then Emily could hear it, too. Voices. Angry.

“Get out of my way, I’m tired of saying it—”

“Just let me have five minutes. Damn it, you owe me that—”

Emily had just caught up with Jason at the bottom of the stairs when Lucky and Elizabeth appeared at the top of the stairs, Elizabeth wearing a tote over one shoulder and a suitcase in the other hand.

“I don’t owe anyone anything, not after what you said to me. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“You’re acting like a child, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Don’t you mean, I’m acting like a brat? I guess I’m just the same girl I always was.” She started down the stairs, but then Lucky reached for her—grabbing the handle of her tote, which jerked Elizabeth back—causing her to slip, her feet to go out from under her—

And then she was tumbling down the stairs.

+35

Written in 53 minutes.

Sunday, October 15, 2000

Luke’s: Main Bar

Jason slid into the chair across from Sonny, then angled himself slightly so that he could at least see the entrance from his position. He’d always understood why Sonny liked this area of the club — on his side, against the wall, there was a bench-type seating that stretched across the entire section, with a half wall and then a wooden lattice that stretched up the ceiling. It was just to the right of the entrance, and Sonny could see the entire bar — and also keep an eye on who was walking into the bar while his own presence was shielded until that person was all the way inside.

But anyone meeting with Sonny would be vulnerable to the room, and Jason had always done his best to avoid sitting in it when the club was open.

Unfortunately, the night was in full swing — the band was playing, the dance floor was filled, and the bar was packed with regulars.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” Sonny asked, tapping the edge of his cigar in the ashtray. “Remember when we were here almost every night?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” A lifetime ago, Jason thought. Before Sonny had abandoned Brenda at the altar, Luke’s had been his primary meeting place, especially when Luke was out of town on one adventure or another. When Luke and Sonny had been partners in friendship as well as business.

That part of their lives had ended more than a year ago, when the garage had been burnt to ashes, Lucky one of the casualties of Sonny’s war to take back the territory.

“Sorel’s been sniffing around here,” Sonny told Jason. “Here, the Oasis, and a few other places. Most of them on the border, like Luke’s. But a few of his guys have been to Kelly’s.” Which was most definitely not a border property.

Jason exhaled slowly. “You think he’s going to try some thing?”

“I think Sorel is under the impression that I’ve pulled back from this part of the business. You know, since we opened the warehouse, and I’ve been stabilizing the international routes.” Sonny tipped his head. “Haven’t been thinking about the clubs. The bread and butter. I got the contacts for that side of it, but you know these players better than I do.”

And they hated Jason more for selling out to Moreno, but sure, that meant Jason knew the players. “Okay, so—”

“So I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. About how we gotta figure out how we’re going to make this work with you sticking around longer. And I think this is how we do it. Divide and conquer. You take the point here,” Sonny said, nodding towards the bar where Luke was visible through the crowds. “And the other places. I’ll call Tommy. He’ll get you set up. Maybe Luke will let you work out of here like we did in the old days.”

It was a solution of sorts, and Jason knew that Sonny meant it as an olive branch. “Have you talked to Luke about this?”

“Luke knows I’m planning to stick close.”

“That you’re planning to,” Jason said. He paused. “He might not want me around. There was—he just might not me sticking so close.”

“Sorel’s got his eye on these places, Jase. And we both agreed that Sorel might be dumb enough to think certain people are back on the table with you around. I figure you’d want to take the lead on this. Since Elizabeth is involved.”

Which was  the exact reason Jason might be the worst person for the job. Elizabeth might not have an issue with the bar fight at Jake’s, but Lucky certainly did, and Luke tended to follow his kid. Or might take exception to the bruised jaw Jason had left Lucky with.

“Look, if you’re not sure—” Sonny held up his hands. “Run it by Luke. If he vetoes it, we’ll figure something else out.”

Hardy House: Kitchen

Elizabeth slid into the chair, smiling wanly when her grandmother set down the bowl of clam chowder. “You really didn’t have to go to the trouble—”

“I’ve never become comfortable with cooking only for myself,” Audrey said, taking another chair at the small table in the corner of their kitchen. “I looked after your grandfather for so many years, and then Tommy stayed here for a while after we…” Her smile faded slightly. “After we lost Steve. And then you and Sarah—you’re doing me a favor, dear.”

“Maybe.” Elizabeth dipped her spoon into the bowl, then swirled it around. “I know you probably want to know why I came here today. Or sat upstairs the whole time.”

“I do. But only if you want to tell me.”

“I…” Elizabeth sighed. Hours she’d spent alone in her teenaged bedroom, planning the words in her head — what she would say to Lucky, to Chloe, to her grandmother, to Emily—to anyone who might not understand. And the moment she’d opened her mouth, all of that careful preparation had fled. “I really was a brat when I moved here, wasn’t I?”

Audrey folded her arms on the table, and Elizabeth looked away, uncomfortable with her grandmother’s penetrating stare. “A brat,” she repeated. “You know, I find that I don’t quite like that word. I don’t find it to be a useful description of anyone, particularly not you. You were rebellious. Resistant. And a little brittle.”

“Brittle,” Elizabeth repeated, squinting. “I don’t think anyone’s used that one before.”

“Brittle bones are easily broken. Fragile,” Audrey added. “One look, one brush, and they might crumble. You were rebellious, yes, my darling. But it was a mask. A disguise you wore to hide who you really were. And it took some time before you trusted me to see that person.”

“Rebellious and brittle. Selfish, too, right?” Elizabeth asked, picking up the spoon. “Shallow?”

Audrey was quiet for a long moment, her brow furrowed. “I suppose I could have used those words. You certainly resented any attention Sarah received, and at first, I assumed it was because you wanted it for yourself. After all, look at what you did to capture my notice. You ran away from the Johnsons, used my credit cards to order pizzas, got caught smoking, used my car without a license—” Audrey tipped her head. “You pulled some…stunts with your sister, trying to embarrass her. Yes, there were some elements of selfishness in all of those things, I think. And I was…at a loss to understand how to help you. Until I realized who I was really seeing when I looked at you and your sister.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I had an older sister, you know that. Lucille. The golden daughter who could never do anything wrong. Who chose the safe, expected life. She became a nurse, went to work, and while she never married, she remained respectable and above reproach.” Audrey smiled. “My parents worshiped her, and I was often frustrated because I never seemed to measure up. I tried. I went into nursing just to show her she wasn’t so special. And then I became a stewardess so I could pretend that I was so much better than she was, jetsetting around the world, never having to answer to anyone.”

“Until you met Gramps.”

“I never intended to stay in Port Charles. To build a life. But I was glad that I did. That the twists and turns of my life gave me Steve, my Tommy—” Audrey reached out, covered Elizabeth’s hand. “You and your sister. And of course, your brother. Once I realized that you were me, and Sarah was your Lucille, I tried to use that. I think we were…I think we were making progress, don’t you? You seemed…happier. More settled. Until…”

“Until I was raped.” Elizabeth’s stomach turned over, and she pushed the bowl away. “I keep thinking of who I used to be. Who I am now. And how much of is it because of the rape.”

Audrey flinched the first time Elizabeth had used the word, but she did better the second time. “Is that an important question for you to answer?”

“I didn’t used to think so. I didn’t…” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Do you remember when we went shopping for that dress? For the dance? How many I tried on?”

“Yes, you were kept specific. You wanted a certain color, and a certain style. You knew what flattered you, and you were correct. You looked so lovely that night. I hope that’s all right to say.”

“It’s—yes. Yes,” Elizabeth repeated, and the second time, she knew she meant it. “I was so miserable,  so unhappy with myself for lying to Lucky. For not  being able to shake off his rejection. Because for a little while, I’d felt so beautiful and ready for anything. I was so sure…” She looked down at the table, picked at a seam in the Formica. “I was so sure that Lucky would take one look at me and fall in love.”

“Elizabeth.”

“It’s okay. It is. Um, my point is—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “That used to be something I cared about. My colors, and the type of clothing that flattered me. I’m…I’m short, but I have long legs for my height. A-and I’ll never fill out a shirt the way Pamela Anderson does, but I know how to make the most of what I have. I just…” She met her grandmother’s eyes. “And I don’t just know that for me. I know it for you, for Emily — and for everyone. I’m good at that kind of thing.”

“You have an artistic eye,” Audrey said. She lifted her brows. “But, yes, a flair for fashion. Is this your way of telling me that you’ve decided to take the job?”

“Yes. I-I don’t know if it’s something I’ll want forever, but Chloe’s offering me an opportunity to do something I only dreamed of when I was younger. I—” Elizabeth brushed a tear from her cheek, sniffled. “I used to think that those things — being selfish and shallow a-and rebellious — that it was the reason Tom Baker hurt me. Because if I hadn’t been those things, I-I wouldn’t have been in the park that n-night. So I put them in a box and I put them away. I became someone else. Someone that people liked and respected. Loved,” she said softly, looking back at her hands. “I don’t know if the people in my life would be here if I were still that girl.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I don’t know if Lucky can love me the way I am now. The way I think I want to be. But I don’t know if I love him the way he is now, either. So I guess what I’m saying is…I need to find out. And Chloe’s giving me a chance to do that. I need to take it. I have to do this.”

Luke’s: Bar

“Don’t usually see you in here,” Luke said when Jason slid onto an empty stool. “Not with people around.”

Jason made a face. “I’m here on business. Sonny told you about Sorel, didn’t he?”

Luke popped the top from a green bottle of Rolling Rock, then set it down in front of him. “That he’s nibbling at the edges of Sonny’s fledgling empire? Yeah. He mentioned that.”

“He wants me to handle it. The clubs. You, Kelly’s, the other places.”

“He wants you to deal with the anklebiters while he handles the big fish.” Luke smirked, folded his arms and leaned against the bar back. “Not the first time he’s trying to get you to clean up his mess.”

“This is…actually my mess,” Jason admitted. “I sold out to Moreno. Everything that’s happened since comes back to that.”

“Maybe. Or maybe Sonny hasn’t been focused on the big picture. He likes to think he’s Don Corleone, you know—” Luke nodded over to Sonny’s booth. “Sitting there, granting favors like it’s his daughter’s wedding day. But he’s just like his namesake. Hot-headed to the core and probably gonna end up shot up at a toll booth.” At Jason’s mystified look, Luke scowled. “Oh come on, tell me you’ve seen the Godfather.”

“The movie?”

“No culture, none of you.” Luke made a face. “Okay. So Sonny’s leaving this to you. What’re you telling me for?”

Jason lifted his brows. “I didn’t think you’d want me around.” He paused. “Unless you don’t know that I knocked your kid unconscious at Jake’s the other night.”

Luke pursed his lips, tilted his head. “Cowboy had some bruises when he came by earlier today. Didn’t mention you. You have a good reason to slug him?”

Jason considered the answer. “I wanted to hit someone and his face was there.”

“That is…” Luke considered. “That’s a fair answer. Look, if you’re half as observant as you used to be, then I guess you know Cowboy and Lizzie are having their issues. You planning to get in the way of that?”

“In the way?” Jason echoed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, it means that last year Sorel thought Lizzie was a great way to get to you. Put a bomb in her studio to take you out, and didn’t much care she would get blown up with you. He’s got a long memory, guys in this business always do. You left town, I heard, in part, to make her safe. Now you’re back. And the only way to keep her safe is to stay away.” Luke paused. “Which is easy since she’s in a relationship with my kid. So I’ll ask again — you planning to get in the way of my kid and put Liz back on the board for Sorel to screw with?”

Jason picked up his beer, considered his answer for a long moment. “I’m planning to let Elizabeth decide what she wants to do,” he said finally. He got to his feet. “And yeah, Sorel thought she was a way to get to me. He’d be right. Is that a problem for you?”

“Only if the next bomb ends up in my bar or hurting that girl. I’ll leave the rest of it up to you. And her. And Lucky.”

“Then we don’t have any problems. I’ll see you around, Luke.”

+33

Written in 56 minutes.

Sunday, October 15, 2000

Hardy House: Living Room

“Oh, this is a lovely surprise.” Audrey was beaming when she saw her granddaughter step inside the front door, pause on the landing, but the brightness of her smile dimmed when she saw Elizabeth’s expression, the way her eyes refused to lift in greeting, the way Elizabeth held her bag, almost protectively in front of herself. “What’s happened?”

“I—” Elizabeth glanced up, then looked away quickly. “I just wanted to know if I could…I don’t know. Sit in my old room for a while. I just—” She stepped back when Audrey came forward. “I just need somewhere to sit. Where no one can find me.”

“All right.” Audrey folded her arms, worried she might rush forward to hug Elizabeth and send her granddaughter fleeing. “Well, your room is just as you left it. And my darling, you know that you never have to ask, don’t you? It’s your room. And this will always be your home.”

“Thank you. I’ll—I’ll just go up then.”

She practically fled up the stairs, and Audrey remained rooted to the floor until she heard the soft click of the door upstairs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Elizabeth look that way, sound that way —

Not for months. Years.

What had happened?

Luke’s: Office

Luke sifted through the ledger, grimacing when another stack of invoices and papers cascaded from the pages. He hated doing quarterly taxes — hated even more that he didn’t trust anyone to handle his money. Certainly not anyone working for him right now.

“Luke.”

“I’m busy,” Luke grumbled, looking through the mess from the remains of his cigar. “Come back next year.”

“Luke.”

He lifted his gaze to the door, frowning when he saw his bar manager. “Claude, can’t you do anything?”

“Your kid came in, grabbed a bottle of Hennessy and went to sit at a table in the corner. Figured you’d want to know.”

“Hennessy?” Luke repeated. “Christ. A whole damn bottle? You didn’t want to give him any the rotgut that costs us pennies?” He didn’t wait for Claude’s answer, hurrying out to the main room of the bar. There were only a handful of patrons this time of day, most had come to listen to that night’s band warm-up and run their set. A few had no where else to be —

And there was his boy, slouched over one of the tables in the back corners, table that Sonny or his ilk usually commandeered when they came to the club because you could get a good look at the rest of the bar — and the entrance.

“I didn’t ask you to sit down,” Lucky muttered when Luke pulled out the chair across from him. He took another long pull from the bottle, scowling when Luke tugged it from his grasp. “Hey—”

“You wanna get drunk in solitude, you go somewhere people don’t know you, but I’m guessing you came here because you can’t afford this on your own dime, so you decided to rip me off.”

Lucky pressed his lips together, sat back with a sullen expression. “You gonna charge me? Since when did you turn into a penny pincher?”

“Since I saw my tax bill.” Luke paused. “Drinking in the middle of the day? Only one thing makes a guy crazy enough to do that, and it’s a girl. You and Liz have a fight?”

“A fight?” Lucky repeated. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. We were talking and then it took a nose dive, and all of sudden, she’s running away from me, and crying—” he stopped, shook his head. “Yeah, okay, we had a fight.”

Luke got up, put the brandy bottle back where it belonged, then poured two tumblers of a cheaper, but decent whiskey. He returned to the table, set one in front of Lucky. “It happens that way. You say something, and she hears something something else. Before you know it, you’re yelling. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Well, Elizabeth thinks I only fell in love with because she got raped, so—” Lucky tossed back the entire content of the tumbler, grimacing as he swallowed the liquor. “You tell me.”

Luke tipped his eyed, squinted. “That’s a pretty big left turn, Cowboy. How’d she get on that road in the first place? I thought she put that away a long time.”

“Yeah, because that’s the kind of thing that you just turn the page on, right, Dad?” Lucky demanded his eyes hot. Reminiscent of the angry teenager he’d been. “File away in a folder, and forget.”

Luke counted to ten, then took a deep breath. “I just meant that I thought she was past the worst of it. She seemed like her old self again, most of the time.”

“Her old self.” Lucky rolled his eyes. “You never met her old self, Dad. You don’t even know what we’re talking about here.”

“Well, I know she was a kid when she rolled in here. Angry, resentful. Lashing out, and looking for attention.” Luke lifted his brows. “Barbara told me that she was working for Ruby because she’d used all her money coming here on a first class plane ticket. That she had a piss-poor attitude and a chip on her shoulder. Ruby liked her.”

“She’d be one of the few,” Lucky muttered, staring into the empty tumbler, twisting it back and forth in his hands. “Lizzie had two goals — ruin Sarah’s life and impress me. And she failed most of the time. At both.”

Luke exhaled slowly. “Lizzie,” he repeated. “You, ah, don’t call her that much anymore. But it’s how you introduced us. At Kelly’s. Lizzie Webber. When you’d stop doing that?”

“I—” Lucky squinted, looked at him. “What?”

“You’re describing someone you don’t like very much,” Luke said.”You called her Lizzie. You don’t do that. You call her Elizabeth. Always. Just thought it was interesting. You talk about them like they’re two different people.”

“Lizzie and Elizabeth,” Lucky echoed. He scrubbed a hand down his face, closed his eyes, kept them closed as he continued to speak. “She was trying to tell me about this job offer. From Chloe Morgan. To be her assistant. She’d have to travel a lot. She’d never be around. And she was telling me she used to like fashion. Used to follow all that stuff. I didn’t know that.” He looked at his father. “I didn’t know that. But I should have, I guess. She got all girly over meeting Brenda, you know? Desperate to get into the wedding, and stole Ruby’s invitation. I figured it was…you know, for me. But maybe it was Brenda.”

“And now she has a chance to get back into that?” Luke pressed. “Is that why you were fighting?”

“It’s how it started. And—no, I didn’t know that. Why would I have known that?” Lucky told him. “We weren’t friends or anything. She was just around all the time, and she was at the diner, and around Sarah. Why would I have known what she was into? We were friendly, Dad, not friends.”

“Because you didn’t like her.”

“No. That doesn’t make me an asshole, Dad—”

“No. It doesn’t. But it means that there’s some truth in what Liz said, isn’t there? You didn’t like before she was raped. Now you’re in love. So—”

Lucky winced. “I might have said something about how she’s better now,” he muttered.

“Starting to see how you got here, aren’t we, Cowboy?” Luke pushed his untouched whiskey towards his son. “Look, no one is saying that you fell in love with because she was raped. Or I’m not saying that,” he added when Lucky glared at him. “I’m saying you didn’t give her much of a chance before that. And then, after, you got to know her better. You fell in love with her.”

“She doesn’t see it that way—”

“Well, give her a break, Cowboy. If you used the actual words better now then you’re probably lucky she didn’t run you into a fence with the car.” When Lucky frowned at him, Luke shrugged. “Your mom has a wicked temper when you cross her. I’d be careful. At any rate, maybe you give her some space and come back to this when she’s had a chance to calm down.”

Hardy House: Elizabeth’s Bedroom

Elizabeth slid her fingertips across her walls, still adorned with the posters she’d put up when she’d first moved up — pinups ripped from Bop and Tiger Beat of boy bands and soap opera hunks. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the remnants of her old life. The pieces she’d never pulled down. She hadn’t wanted to let her grandmother know anything was that awful, and then she didn’t have the time, she was so rarely here.

And after the fire, she hadn’t had the energy for any of it. Then she’d moved out—and they’d sat here. Evidence of the carefree girl she’d been once.

You were a brat, and you’d be the first to say so. You were shallow and obsessed with how you looked and getting me to look at you. To get anyone to look at you. That’s not who you are now. You’re a better person.

“Better person,” Elizabeth murmured. She stared at her finger tips, at chipped nail polish she hadn’t had time to remove and repaint, then looked over at the closet. Did she still have any here?

She folded back the door, and bent down, rooting through the shoebox full of old makeup, trying to find a bottle that wasn’t hopelessly dried out. Suddenly, redoing her nails was all she could think about.

She moved to a different box, then saw one in the corner — this one was larger, a moving box left over from one the Johnsons had shipped from Colorado once Elizabeth had fled their house. They’d probably been relieved to be rid of her, Elizabeth thought wryly. So relieved they’d paid the exorbitant shipping.

Her amusement faded. You were a brat.

With her stomach rolling, Elizabeth tugged at the box, pulling it out of the closet. She sat on her carpeted floor, her legs folded in front of her, and pulled back the flaps. When she removed the third spaghetti-strap tank, she remembered now what this was, and when she’d pushed it to the back of her closet.

After the rape, when she’d worn nothing but those sweaters, flannels, and denim, she’d packed up anything that she thought was too revealing, anything that drew attention, and shoved it into the closet. Bright colors, shorts, skirts, anything that didn’t hit the knee—

She’d needed to pull some pieces out when they were trying to trap Mr. Murty into admitting he’d attacked her. Elizabeth slid her fingers over a scarlet red tube top. It had been her favorite color once. She’d bought the dress for the dance in the same shade. So sure that if Lucky could see her at her best, that he’d fall in love with her.

Because I knew you had a crush on me

He’d known, and he’d still said yes to hanging out at the dance together. Still said yes to going out with her sister. Had known and decided to break her heart in person by backing out of their plans. If he’d just called — would she had lied to him—

No. Elizabeth closed her eyes, squeezing her hands into the fabric of the tube top. No. It wasn’t his fault she’d been raped. It hadn’t been her fault. He had a right to be an asshole teenaged boy, and she’d had the right to be a girl with a broken heart.

She shoved the clothing aside. It was time to go through it — to donate what was out of style, and maybe put some of the pieces back in rotation. She hadn’t died that night in the park — there was no reason her fashion sense needed to have so much in common with her grandmother. And she’d already started to wear red again, hadn’t she?

At the bottom of the box, she found her fashion magazines — Vogue, Elle, Coutour —and her silly teenage ones — YM and Seventeen, and of course, Teen Vogue.

She’d hidden all these pieces away, the revealing clothing, the magazines, everything that made her feel like she’d made herself a target somehow. Worrying about what she wore, what people thought about her, what she looked like — everything that she thought was the reason Tom Baker had grabbed her in the park.

Maybe it was selfish and self-centered to take this job, to put herself in front of what Lucky needed, and maybe it was going back to who she’d been once. But maybe it was just what she needed, the last piece to make her whole again.

She’d take the job. And damn the consequences.

+36

Written in 55 minutes.

Sunday, October 15, 2000

Kelly’s: Dining Room

Elizabeth swirled a straw in her orange juice, and wrinkled her nose. “For the last week, I don’t think I’ve left this place for more than a few hours. But at least I’m finally done doing penance for no showing when we went to Canada.”

Across the table, she heard nothing more of a grunt in response. Lucky seemed intent on cutting his French Toast into bite size pieces that were uniform in size because he kept slicing them into smaller and smaller bits.

She cleared her throat, then played with the remnants of her straw wrapper. She knew what conversation they needed to have, and she knew what the outcome of that conversation needed to be. They need to come to an understand about their relationship, and how it would fit into the future she envisioned for herself.

This would be so much easier if she had a better handle of the future Lucky envisioned. What did he want? What were his dreams? Was there a way she could start with that? She bit her lip, then took a deep breath. “How are things with your dad?”

Lucky jerked a shoulder. “I quit.”

“Oh.” Dead end, obviously. “How was dinner last night? I haven’t seen Lulu in a while. How’s school?”

“Don’t know. I don’t know if we got into it.” Lucky finally lifted his head, squinted at her. “Are you really not going to say anything?”

“About what?” she asked. “About your sister?”

“No.” He dropped his utensils, the fork and knife clattering to the table and hitting the side of the plate with a clink of metal against crockery. “You couldn’t wait to ask me about the bruises yesterday, and now you’re pretending they’re not there.”

“I’m not pretending.” Elizabeth folded her arms in front of her. “I asked you yesterday, and you decided not to answer. Also…” She tipped her head. “I know where they came from. You and Jason got into a fight at Jake’s.”

“I knew. I knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.” Lucky scowled, sat back, almost sprawling in the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, one arm slung along the back of the chair. “He ran right over to you, didn’t?”

“No,” she drew out, “I ran into him last night on the docks. Whatever you guys have going on, it’s between the two of us. You don’t need to answer to me.” She sighed. “Lucky, I really don’t care. He said you threw the first punch, and then told me he said something to make you hit him. So you’re both at fault as far as I’m concerned, and it’s still not my problem—”

“You know he’s hanging around right?” Lucky cut in, and she made another face. “He’s not leaving. Why do you think that is?”

“I—because of Emily,” Elizabeth said. “She was just kidnapped, and that case isn’t even over—”

“He’s hanging around for you.”

Elizabeth paused, frowned at him. “What?”

“He must still think he’s got a shot with you. You told him, didn’t you, that we’re back together? He knows that you’re mine, doesn’t he?”

Now it was Elizabeth who sat back, folding her arms tightly across her chest, unsure what to say, how to continue the conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And it’s not really why I wanted to have breakfast today—”

“Why am I not surprised you want to change the subject, huh? You don’t want to talk about Jason anymore?”

“I didn’t bring him up in the first place,” Elizabeth retorted. She threw her napkin on the table, got to her feet, reaching for her purse looped over the back of the chair at the same time. “You know what, come find me when you’re in a better mood.”

She barely reached the edge of the courtyard before Lucky’s arm snatched her elbow and pulled her back to face him. Her heart racing, Elizabeth shoved him back without thinking. “Don’t grab me like that!”

Lucky put both his hands up in a mock surrender. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper. Let’s just—let’s start over.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re in a bad mood, which means this conversation is going to go nowhere.” Elizabeth folded her arms again, pressure building behind her eyes, her throat beginning to feel tight. “You’re mad at me, and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing—nothing.” Lucky let out an impatient breath, scrubbed both hands down his face. “Nothing,” he repeated, and this time his tone sounded more like the Lucky she knew. The Lucky she’d loved. “I’m just pissed at myself, okay? I went off on my dad, and quit. My mother offered me a job, and so did Nikolas, and I told them both to go to hell because it’s nothing but charity at this point. You all feel sorry for me, and I hate it.”

She softened, then bit her lip. “We’ve been through so much, Lucky. Separately, when you were gone. And since you’ve been back. And I’m a guilty as anyone else, you know. Expecting that just having you home would be like magic, that it could all go back to the way it used to be.”

“It was all I thought about while I was gone. At first,” he added. “Before they started…” Lucky cleared, his eyes shifting away. “Before I wasn’t in control anymore. I thought about you, and I kept telling myself that I needed to get back to you. It was the only thing I had to hold on to. Getting home to you.” He looked at her, and there was so much of her Lucky that she almost couldn’t breathe.

“But we can’t go back,” she forced herself to say. “Because we’re not those people anymore, Lucky. For months, I could barely function, I could barely think of anything except for you. I didn’t go to New York. I pretended to smile, I pretend to live because I didn’t want anyone to worry about me, but I just wanted you to come home—”

“And I did—” Lucky came towards her, as if to embrace her, but Elizabeth took a step back.

“You didn’t. You didn’t come home. For a year, Lucky. I lived in a world without you. And I had to piece myself back together. I did that. I figured out how to survive. I decided who I was going to be. And I was making plans for the rest of my life.”

“Plans that included Jason?” Lucky demanded, that tightness back in his voice.

“No. No. That was—” A fragment of a dream she’d barely begun to even form before Jason had left. “That was not what happened. He was gone, too, Lucky. It was just me. Then Luke told me you were alive, and you were standing in front of me. But you weren’t you. You know that. Do you think it was easy for me these last six months? I know it was the brainwashing,” she said when Lucky opened his mouth. “I know that. But I didn’t. For months, I thought you were playing with my feelings. Pushing me towards Nikolas, pulling back. It was exhausting, Lucky. And painful.”

“It wasn’t me—”

“It was your voice, your face, your body. All of those things are still true, Lucky.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I’m glad that we know why. And it does make a difference that you didn’t want to do those things, but they still happened. And it’s not fair to ask me to pretend like they didn’t. To pretend that you weren’t gone.”

“You didn’t seem to care about any of that when you found out about the brainwashing,” Lucky retorted. “You were happy to jump right back in with me—”

“Because I thought you were back. I thought that it would all go back to the way it used to be. But it hasn’t, Lucky.”

“It’s been a week—”

“I know, and maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all except—I have a decision to make. One that could change my whole life. One that takes me away from you for a little while.”

“A little while? Six months—”

“Two at most. And so what? So what?” Elizabeth demanded. “Why can’t I go and do this amazing thing? You’re not alone here. You could come see me, we’ll call and we’ll write—”

Lucky snorted, shook his head. “So that’s what all of this is about. You just want to run off and play fashion designer. You don’t even give a damn about any of that! What happened to your art?”

“I used to,” Elizabeth said, and he frowned at her. “I used to care a lot. I read every fashion magazine. But you didn’t know that. You don’t know anything about who I was before I was raped.” Tears slid down her cheeks, hot and painful. “You didn’t want to know anything.”

“What was there to know?” Lucky said, with a careless shrug. “You were a brat, and you’d be the first to say so. You were shallow and obsessed with how you looked and getting me to look at you. To get anyone to look at you. That’s not who you are now. You’re a better person.”

She could scarcely speak, could scarcely force out the words, the pain was too stark, the light from the sun above them felt suddenly blinding. “I’m…” She stopped. “I’m a better person because I was raped?”

His eyes went wide. “What? That’s not what I said—” He stepped towards her, but she stepped back again. “Elizabeth, come on. That’s not fair. You grew up—”

“I can’t—I can’t—” She shook her head. You were a brat. Shallow. “I always knew…” She fisted her hand, pressed it against her abdomen as if that would assuage the pain. Brat. Shallow.

What was there to know?

“Elizabeth—”

“I always knew you didn’t like me much,” Elizabeth managed finally, and he scowled. “But I don’t think I realized how much…how much you disliked me. Before. I wasn’t good enough for you.” She looked away, brushed away her tears with the heel of one hand. “I wasn’t good enough for you,” she repeated, looking back at him. “Before.”

“Hey. Come on, you know that’s not what I meant. Elizabeth—”

“I’m a better person now,” Elizabeth repeated. “Now. Before, I was a brat who was obsessed with you.”

Lucky’s tone was gentle. “I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed, okay? Because I knew you had a crush on me—”

“Y-you knew.” Of course he had. She hadn’t really covered it much, but she’d never really—she’d never put it all together. “You knew. When you came to tell me you were going to the dance with my sister instead. You knew I’d asked you…”

“I—” Lucky’s face was pale. He must have started to put the pieces together in his head, maybe he understood the implication of what he’d said. “I guess—”

“I need to go. Okay? I need to—” Elizabeth threw up a hand when he started to follow. “I have to go. Don’t follow me. Don’t come near me. I can’t look at you right now.”

Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room

Sonny closed the door behind Carly, Michael, and the guard he’d sent with them, then turned back to Jason. “Sorry, I, uh, thought they’d be gone before you got here.”

“It’s fine.” Jason folded his arms. “What did you need?”

“I got a call from Paulie—he’s over at the PCPD, working lock up where they’re holding Smith while he’s waiting on trial.” Sonny returned to the breakfast table where the remains of their morning meal still sat, and picked up his half-empty coffee cup. He needed to have something in his hands, something that would occupy him. “Smith is meeting with his lawyer almost daily.”

“He’s facing serious charges. Kidnapping is—I think that’s still twenty-five years, isn’t it?” Jason asked.

“Something like that. I was thinking maybe if we can get Paulie on night shift, we can get him to send a message to Smith. Maybe promise him protection at Pentonville if he turns on Sorel,” Sonny continued. “Problem is I don’t know if I can back up that promise. You—” He winced. “You mostly handled that side.”

“So you need my contact,” Jason said. “Is that it?”

“Yeah. I guess. I thought we should get the deal in place as soon as possible. Or I wouldn’t have asked you over this morning—” Sonny looked at the booster seat with Michael, nearly three, had sat during breakfast. “I wouldn’t keep doing this to you.”

Jason followed his gaze, then grimaced. “Sonny. I told you—” He stopped, and Sonny looked at him, watched as Jason seemed to have some sort of internal discussion with himself. “Look, when I said I forgave you, you didn’t believe me. I know Carly didn’t.”

“How could I? I stole your family—”

“Michael and Carly aren’t possessions,” Jason said gently, and Sonny looked away. “Carly is a person who makes her own choices. And she made hers. And Michael deserves to have people in his life who will love him. But you were right. I didn’t and don’t forgive you. Either of you.”

Elizabeth had been right, Jason thought, seeing the relief flood Sonny’s expression, the muscles in his face seemed to relax. “Forgiving means I accept what you did and why. And I don’t.  I won’t,” he added. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be angry about it for the rest of my life.”

“Jase—”

Jason stopped Sonny, holding up his hand. “I’m not angry about it. And I’m not hurt. Not anymore. It happened, and we can’t change it. You and Carly, if you think that being together is what you should do, then okay. Do that. I know you’ll be good for Michael. But we don’t have to do this. I’m not a threat to whatever you want to have with Carly.”

Sonny exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. I know you said that before, but—”

“You didn’t believe me.”

“I wouldn’t have forgiven you either,” Sonny said, and Jason tipped his head in acknowledgment. “I know things won’t go back to what they were—”

“I don’t expect them to. It’s different now. I also—I need this to be the last time we ever talk about it. I want to be done with it,” Jason said. “If you’re still feeling conflicted, that’s not my problem. So if you can’t handle me being here because I remind you of it, then tell me, and I won’t be here.”

“Simple as that, huh?” Sonny muttered. He took another sip of his coffee, looked at the Port Charles skyline out the penthouse window. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to see what happens.”

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