April 17, 2024

This entry is part 1 of 5 in the Flash Fiction: Warning Shots

A note on structure: Each update for Part 1 of Warning Shots will be like an episodic short story to provide a prequel to the main event. It’ll make sense later, I promise.

Written in 60 minutes.


STORY 1: And in the Beginning…

Port Charles, New York

September 1999

It had all started with a letter.

On bright April morning, Elizabeth Webber had rushed to her mailbox, eagerly anticipating acceptance to the New York School of the Visual Arts, Step One on the Lucky & Elizabeth Life Plan, a decorated poster board that held a prominent position on the wall in her bedroom.

Step 1: Get into Art School!
Step 2: Move to New York City!
Step 3: Get Lucky a gig playing guitar in the West Village!
Step 4: Get My First Art Show!
Step 5: Get married in Central Park!
Step 6: Live Happily Ever After!

Each step had been illustrated, and Elizabeth couldn’t wait to check off the very first one—

And then she’d seen the letter.

It was a slim envelope, nothing like the large, thick white ones that rolled in for her older sister Sarah year before or the one her best friend Emily Bowen Quartermaine had been receiving for a few weeks now. Or even the one from Elizabeth’s back up school, PCU.

No, this one could hold nothing more than a single sheet of paper.

She had stood on her step staring at it for a long time, the front door wide open enough that her grandmother’s annoying cat, Gatsby, had escaped, and Audrey Hardy had come to admonish her.

“Elizabeth, what is it—” Audrey had stopped when she saw Elizabeth staring at the letter. “Oh. Have you heard from New York then?”

With trembling fingers, Elizabeth opened the envelope, slid it out —

We regret to inform you

It had been devastating. Soul crushing. She’d pinned everything on this one hope — they’d even gone to New York City a few weeks earlier to start scouting out their new neighborhood. Lucky wore a subway token around his neck in memory — and now —

She’d cried in her grandmother’s arms, then had gone to the phone to call Lucky. Lucky had been disappointed, but sweet as always. They’d figure out a new plan. No worries. Good thing she’d applied to her back up school, right?

Within a few weeks, Elizabeth had a new plan. Not as carefully or intricately designed — this was more of a paper ripped from a notebook type of thing.

Step 1: Go to PCU.
Step 2: Room with Emily.
Step 3: Graduate.
Step 4: Move to New York.

And now, five months later, Elizabeth was embarking on step two. Emily had convinced that for their first year, they absolutely had to live together in a dorm on campus. It would be the most awesome experience ever. Lucky had been disappointed — he’d been saving for an apartment for them, but Elizabeth had started to warm up to the idea of going to PCU. Especially with Emily. They’d pored over all the orientation materials, gone to all the opening house events —

Today, Elizabeth and Emily were moving into their dorm — Room 314 on the third floor of Barrington Hall, and Elizabeth was driving Emily’s older brother crazy. Not that Jason Morgan would ever admit it — he’d have to talk in order to do that.

“You’re going to be really mad,” she said, a breathless as she came back into the room to see Jason sliding the desk into the spot Elizabeth had just promised was the absolute perfect place.

Jason looked at her, his light blue eyes locked on hers. “No.” Normally, men like Jason made Elizabeth nervous. He wasn’t particularly tall, but everyone towered over Elizabeth’s short height. He was muscular, and Elizabeth knew he could throw a punch. He was Jason Morgan, notoriously mixed up with the local mafia. She’d been at Luke’s the night someone had tried to kill him and snagged Nikolas Cassadine in the throat.

But he was just Jason to her these days, the guy who ran the garage and rented a room above it to Lucky. He was so different around his sister — he even smiled, and even someone happily devoted to her boyfriend like Elizabeth was, could objectively admit he was attractive. Gorgeous. Sexy, actually with light blonde hair always worn with spikes — sometimes she tried to picture him arranging his hair in the morning with gel, and it made her giggle.

But mostly he was just Jason, the guy who would do anything for his little sister. And his little sister’s best friend.

Jason sighed, pressed one thumb to his eyebrow. “Where do you want it?”

“You are the best!” She squealed, actually jumped a little, then darted around him. “I had this vision as I was coming up the stairs — because you know, Em and I are going to be studying but this is going to be like home, too—”

“Elizabeth.”

She broke off, startled because she didn’t think she’d ever heard Jason say her name. Which made sense — how many conversations had they ever had? She bit her lip. “Right. You don’t care why. I promise this is it. We want the beds here—” She gestured by the window. “And then the desk over here—oh, and—” She bent down as if to pick up one end of the desk. “I can help—”

He brushed her hands aside, the callused fingers startling her — Lucky was the only man who’d ever really touched her, and his hands were so much softer. “Thanks, but I can do this quicker by myself.” Then in one light move, he lifted the desk without even exerting himself.

“You’re really the best. I’m so sorry Lucky ditched us. He had to do something with Laura, and well, Emily would have invited Juan—”

Jason looked at her and Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Right. I know. That’s why she didn’t. Plus, um, she didn’t tell you this yet, but I thought I’d warn you. Juan’s step dad is making him go back to Puerto Rico.”

“Warn me?” Jason said, furrowing his brow. He slid the desk into the space she’d indicated, then moved the beds. “Why do I need a warning?”

“Emily’s trying not to be upset about it, you know, but when she told Lucky and Nikolas they practically cheered in her face. They really don’t like him—and I know you don’t either, but she was hurt—”

“I might not like the guy,” Jason said, his tone changing, a bit more serious now. “But my sister does. And until he gives me a good reason to punch him, she doesn’t need to know that.”

“I figured, but you know, I just wanted to protect her.” Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. “Here she comes now. Remember, you don’t know anything, okay? This will be the first you’re hearing about it!”

Jason just shook his head, but nodded, clearly humoring her. Emily came in now, a forced smile on her face. “Oh, you changed it again. I like this so much better.”

“Good, because I have to go. I should have been gone already, but—” Jason looked at Elizabeth, whose cheeks pinked up. He hugged Emily. “Call me if you need anything. I mean it. Don’t make any headlines.”

“I’ll walk you down,” Emily said, wrapping her arm around Jason’s bicep. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Though he didn’t think he’d needed the forewarning, Jason was glad Elizabeth had previewed Emily’s news for him. He hadn’t cared for Juan Santiago the minute the little bastard had rolled into town over the summer, but Emily had hearts in her eyes almost immediately. Her first real boyfriend was leaving abruptly, and she’d probably never see him again. She’d been hesitant about sharing the news, prefacing it with —

“I know you don’t like so you’re probably glad—” she’d said with a heavy sigh.

“I care about you,” Jason told her, and had hugged her, reminding her again to call him with anything she needed. He knew Emily could take care of herself — and he was glad she was going to be with Elizabeth. He’d seen her around this last year and knew Elizabeth was tougher than she looked.

He left the campus and headed downtown to the garage he’d opened two years earlier. He left  his motorcycle parked in the usual spot, and went inside to the office where Lucky Spencer was tapping away at something on the garage’s ancient computer.

Jason had snagged the mail on his way in and didn’t notice the younger man until he was almost on top of him. He furrowed his brow. “I thought you had something to do today.”

“I finished an hour ago, thought I’d get a head start on logging the new inventory.” Lucky looked over at him. “They get moved in okay?”

“Yeah, all set.” He tossed aside the junk, set the bills on his desk. He didn’t really care that Lucky hadn’t shown up to help move the girls in — Jason could have done it in twenty minutes if Elizabeth hadn’t kept changing her mind on the set up. But it was the first time either had lived on their own, and he wanted his sister to be happy.

But Elizabeth had spent the first half hour apologizing over and over again for Lucky not being there — it had been an emergency, and Lucky said he’d try to hurry up because he hadn’t seen their dorm yet — and yet here he sat, no emergency in sight.

“I wanted to run something by you,” Lucky said twisting on his stool. “Going back to courier jobs.”

Jason grimaced. “Lucky—”

“I know you didn’t get me involved again after you, uh, left the last time,” Lucky said quickly, “and I was supposed to be leaving for New York so it was no big deal. But we’re stuck in Port Charles now, and we’re not going to have the money we thought we’d have for an apartment. That’s why Elizabeth is stuck on campus this semester—”

Jason frowned, looked at him. He knew all about semesters from Robin — this one would end in December. “Just this semester?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m saving up for the security deposit for us to get a place together. That was the plan in New York, but we had to put it on the back burner.”

That wasn’t the impression Jason had gotten, moving pieces around the room a thousand times until Elizabeth had been sure it was comfortable — it was going to be their home away from home, she’d told him, hadn’t she?

But it wasn’t any of his business, so he just shrugged. “So you want some courier work again?”

“Yeah. Just something extra. I can do it—”

“I don’t doubt that. I just—I figured—” Jason shook his head. He wasn’t going to tell Lucky Spencer about getting involved with him and Sonny wasn’t a great idea. Lucky had grown up at Luke’s feet. The kid had been raised inside the life. If he wanted to make stupid choices — “I’ll talk to Sonny.”

“Great. Thanks. This whole thing is just a bump in the road. Elizabeth being stuck at PCU. Maybe she can transfer after a year or something, and we can go to New York. Just as long as we’re together.” Lucky gathered up the things at his desk. “I’m gonna head over to my mom’s and see Lu. If Elizabeth stops by or calls, let her know.”

Jason opened his mouth, then closed it. Lucky had supposedly been with his mother all morning — but it wasn’t any of his business.

Jason was done minding the business of other people. After ending things with Robin and losing custody of Michael earlier that spring, all he wanted to do was stay in his own lane and stay far away from anyone else’s problems.

A few days later, Jason was stretched out underneath a Honda with a leaking oil pan. He heard the outside door open, and then a pair of legs appeared in his view. Long, slender, and bare — at least from the calf to the ankle. The toes were painted a bright pink and encased in a pair of sandals with at least two inches of platform underneath them.

“Hello?”

Jason slid out from the car and Elizabeth danced back, not having seen him. She had a messenger bag slung diagonally across her chest, over a white shirt. The legs weren’t completely bare — she wore a pair of cropped jeans that stopped just below her knees.

“Hey! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I’m supposed to be meeting Lucky here.” She checked her watch. “He told me to just come in and grab him because he’d be in the office.”

“Lucky’s not working today. I don’t know where he is.”

“Oh.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “That’s annoying. And he refuses to get a phone, you know? Gram made me get the one second she found out I was going to be on campus.” She removed it now from a pocket on her bag, flipped it open. “Maybe I messed up the message. He’s been impossible to get a hold of the last few days.”

Maybe Sonny had called Lucky directly and hooked the kid up with a job, Jason thought, though he didn’t really know how say that to Elizabeth. She’d known Lucky was working for him the year before, but Jason didn’t think it was his place to mention it now.

Jason frowned. “You don’t have a car,” he remembered, and she looked at him with some surprise. “Emily said you take the bus,” he added. “You won’t even borrow her car.”

“Well, no, have you seen it? It’s brand new. I can’t park to save my life. Gram and Lucky won’t let me borrow theirs either.” She rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to get better, I ask you? But whatever. No, I take the bus everywhere. It’s pretty reliable.” She fished into another pocket, waved the PC Bus schedule at him. “I’ll just leave a message at his mom’s and you tell him I was here, then I’ll head back to school, I guess.”

Jason didn’t know why it bothered him — except now he remembered hearing Lucky make the plans with Elizabeth that morning on the phone in the office. She hadn’t messed them up — he had.

But he wasn’t going to tell her that and cause problems. No one else’s business but his own, he reminded himself.

Elizabeth started for the door, then turned back. “Since I ran into you, thanks again for putting up with me the day we moved in. It was really nice of you not to just dump everything in the first place I pointed to. I know I was super annoying—” Her cheeks flushed, the color spreading down her neck. “But I’m pretty sure Emily went to PCU because I did. She could have gone lots of places, you know? But she picked PCU so we could do it together, and I really wanted it to be perfect. The dorm room is gonna be like —”

“Home,” Jason finished and she lit up, her eyes sparkling.

“Exactly! And it’s the first one I’ve ever really had that I get to sort of do my own thing in. It’s just ours. And maybe next year, we could do suite apartment thing so we could—” She stopped. “Anyway, like I said, it was really nice of you. And whatever you said to Emily about Juan, she felt so much better. It’s really cool of you not to make not liking him her problem. She’s lucky to have you.”

“She’s my sister,” Jason said as if that said everything and she wrinkled her nose.

“It should be that simple, right? But it’s not all the time. Family is—well, they can be the worst. Anyway, Lucky called him a loser, and it made her cry. I didn’t tell you that then but—I don’t even know why I’m telling you now except it made mad because we’re supposed to be a family, too, of sorts. Me, Em, Lucky, Nikolas—we made a pact—” She shrugged. “Anyway. It bothered me. And just because it’s the right thing to do, it doesn’t mean you doing it should go unnoticed.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, feeling a little like a heel staying quite about Lucky being the one to screw up her plans. “Listen, I’m about done here for the day. I can run you back to campus so you don’t have to deal with the bus.”

“Oh, thanks, but I’m gonna stop by my grandmother’s anyway. Thanks. Tell Lucky I was here when you see him!” She tossed him a wave over her shoulders, and he watched her leave.

April 15, 2024

This entry is part 3 of 9 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

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.”

April 14, 2024

This entry is part 2 of 9 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

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?

April 13, 2024

This entry is part 1 of 9 in the Flash Fiction: Chain Reaction

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

April 12, 2024

This entry is part 32 of 32 in the Flash Fiction: Hits Different

Went over! Written in 68 minutes. I was trying to get the ending just right. I hope I did it justice 😛 Timed writing is a bitch sometimes.


“Jason.”

He ignored the call the first time he heard his name. He wasn’t interested in anything the man had to say. As far as Jason was concerned, everything that he needed to say to a single member of the Quartermaine family had been said in court three months earlier when the conservatorship had been dissolved, and Jason was finally free of them.

He’d keep Emily, and was okay with claiming her as his sister. And maybe Lila, too.

But the rest of the family could go to hell.

“Jason, wait—”

Jason stopped at the door to Luke’s, and turned to see Alan striding towards him. “You can’t come in. It’s a private party—”

“I—I know. Emily—” Alan stopped a few feet away. “Emily told me. I just…I know today was the last time I would be able to do this, and this was the only place I’d find you. I wouldn’t go to the apartment. That’s…you’ve made it clear how you feel—”

“Then we have nothing left to say—”

“Please.”

Jason didn’t like that the trembling in the older man’s voice bothered him, but it did, and since Emily said it was Alan who had triggered the petition that had ended the control, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. Just this once.

Jason turned back to him. “You have two minutes.”

“I just…it’s hard as a father to know you’ve failed so spectacularly at the one job you were given,” Alan said, his hand falling to his side. “To raise and guide your child into becoming an adult, a good member of the world. A good human. And to protect them from those who would try to hurt them. I didn’t see that I’d become someone you needed to guard against. I simply assumed that I knew best, and I never questioned that.” He swallowed hard. “After the accident, they said you might never wake up. And if you did, that you’d never be the boy we’d raised.”

Jason had heard this all before. There was nothing new here — just the regrets of a bitter man who’d refused to listen until it was too late. “What’s your point?”

“Emily said the paperwork — all of it is final today.” Alan looked away, took a deep breath, then looked at Jason. “I hope one day you can understand how easy it is to think what you want is the best choice. The only choice. The lengths you will go to for your own child — you can’t know the depth of that love—you don’t remember it, but—”

“You’re sorry. I get that. But I don’t care,” Jason said, and Alan flinched. “I’m sorry those words hurt. That part is true. Justus told me that just because I don’t remember you doesn’t change the fact you remember me. And I am sorry that you lost whoever I used to be. I guess—thank you for ending the conservatorship. But you never should have done it in the first place, so I don’t really feel grateful. Just angry.”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t.” Jason shoved his hands in his pockets. “The doctors told you I’d be stupid and damaged, and you believed them. You made me believe it, too. Every time I got kicked out of a place to live or fired from a job without being told why, I thought maybe they were right. Maybe I couldn’t do it on my own. You and the old man — and Monica — you made all of this harder than it had to be. So I’m not grateful. And after a while, I won’t be angry. I’ll just be done with it. And you’re going to have to live with that.”

He turned back to the door, pulled the door open, then looked back at Alan. “Did Monica ever admit that she was wrong?”

“No,” Alan said, with a slight twitch to his mouth. “You’d have felt hell freezing over. She’ll always believe she did the wrong thing for right reasons.”

“Yeah, well, when you ask yourself why you’re not in my life, why I won’t ever be in the same room with you or her again, just look in the mirror. You had your chance. Over and over again. And blew it. After today? I don’t ever want to see either of you again.”

Jason went inside, leaving the father out in the parking lot, and putting him out of his mind.

At the bar, there was a cluster of people gathered around Luke who had put together a projection screen and was fiddling with the equipment.

Justus saw Jason first and strode over. “Hey. I brought the final paperwork. All finalized and ready to go. You’re officially done.”

“Thanks. I mean that. You didn’t have to go after them to do this for me—”

“Some things are just right,” Justus said.

“There you are!” Elizabeth left Luke’s side and slid arm around his waist, leaning up to kiss him. “What took so long?”

“There was a line.” Jason reached inside the bag he was carrying and handed her the brown package. “But I got it.”

“I guess it was too much to hope the camera had busted,” Elizabeth grumbled, tugging out the VHS tape. “Did Justus tell you?”

“That we’re divorced? Yeah.”

“Well, we knew that. But our replacements came.” She dragged him over to the bar where another envelope was laying. A new driver’s license for him, and for her. And then passports. He flipped through it — Jason Morgan.

“You sure you’re okay with taking back your maiden name?” Jason asked, sliding the license into his wallet, then handing her the passport to stow with hers in the larger bag she carried. “I wouldn’t have cared if you kept it because of Cady.”

“We talked about it,” Elizabeth reminded him. Her smile was only bittersweet now. “I think it’s right that Jason and Elizabeth Quartermaine are gone, too, you know? We shared that name with her. They’ll always be a family. I have my memories, and you can have the pictures and videos. I don’t need the name to know it was real. Even if I’ll miss seeing Edward and Monica’s faces do that twitch when I introduced myself as Mrs. Elizabeth Quartermaine. No, we wanted a fresh start. We’re going to take it.”

He kissed her again and caught her trying to hide the VHS in her bag. “No, we’re watching this—you promised.”

“Well, you played dirty when you asked,” she muttered. “How is a girl supposed to think when your head is—”

“Jason, hey,” Sonny said, coming up behind Elizabeth whose cheeks pinked up when she heard him. “Elizabeth tell you the good news?”

“No, she was too busy trying to renegotiate.” Jason handed the tape off to Justus who headed over to Luke and Laura. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.

“Well, I signed the purchase documents this morning.” Sonny wiggled his brows. “You sure you don’t want to delay your plans until the first board meeting? Because I would think you’d want to be there when I walk in and demand my seat at the board.”

“I kind of do want to see that,” Elizabeth told Jason. “Can you imagine the gasket Edward’s going to blow? He was already furious when you liquidated the trust. Just imagine how he’ll feel when he finds out you how you used that money and what you’re doing with your ELQ shares.”

“See? Elizabeth wants to see the show. Come on.”

Jason shook his head. “We can stay, and you can go. But I don’t want it. I sold Sonny the shares because I don’t want anything to do with that family. Not their money, not their company. Fresh start?” he reminded her, and she made a face. “You can go.”

“Yeah, come on. How you gonna miss out on seeing me and Luke roll in there as board members?” Sonny straightened his jacket. “Edward’s going to shit a brick when he finds out your trust was used to get Luke into the company.”

“Now, now, it was a wise investment, and I’ll be paying you back just as soon as ELQ gives me that first dividend,” Luke said. “I got a lot of plans for the place.”

“We can postpone the flight,” Jason told Elizabeth who looked genuinely torn. “Really. I don’t mind.”

“Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know. We went through all that paperwork to get rid of everything Quartermaine in our life. It was my idea to get rid of all of that.” She took a deep breath, then looked at Sonny and Luke. “I’m sure you’ll raise a lot of hell for us, and when we get back, you can fill us in.”

“If you come back,” Luke said, tapping her nose. “Don’t you dare come home until you’re good and ready. Whole world out there for you to see.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “Now, why don’t we watch this video that Jason was so helpful to bring us?”

The front door burst open and Emily bound down the steps, taking them two at a time. “Did I miss it? Please tell me I didn’t miss it!”

“Just in time.”

“Oh, man. This is so embarassing,” Elizabeth muttered. Jason put his arm around her shoulders, hugged her against his body. “How did I ever let you talk me into this?”

“I could remind you later,” he murmured in her ear, and she lightly whacked his chest. “Is that a no?”

“I think we’ve proved I don’t know how to say no to you,” she retorted. He grinned, and she whacked him again, but her smile stretched from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling.

Across the room, Luke fiddled with the projector one more time, and Sonny leaned in, his voice pitched low. “You see that over there? I’m taking credit for it. That’s what we call successful meddling.”

“Hey, whose idea was it to bring him here?” Luke demanded.

“Because you wanted her to get some sense slapped into her—”

“Actions matter more than motivations.” Luke turned the group, clapping his hands to get their attention. “All right, without further delay, this here is a going away party for the best bar manager a guy could ask for, and, well, Jason, you—” He squinted. “You sure showed up.”

Jason, whose talent at bartending would never win him any awards, just rolled his eyes.  “You hired me.”

“Nepotism,” Luke replied. “Anyway, it’s always hard when your chicks leave the nest, so they tell me, but as much as I’m going to miss you, Lizzie—” He met her eyes, and grinned. “I’m actually glad to see you get out of here. You make that boy take you anywhere you want to go. Paint it all. Then come home.”

“That’s the plan,” Elizabeth said. “Who could leave you forever, Luke?”

“That’s what I’m saying. And this trip of dreams has been funded by Jason graciously selling his shares in ELQ to Sonny here, so you make sure there’s no crummy hotels. Our girl deserves the best.”

“Luke—” Elizabeth opened her mouth, probably to fire back at the sexism, but Luke was already turning to the projector.

“And as a going away present to us, Jason and Elizabeth have decided to share the first of their recent adventures. After weeks of persuasion and all the statistics a man could take — Jason got our Lizzie up in a plane with nothing more than a prayer and a parachute. And we’re lucky enough to have footage from their tandem partner’s. So, let’s watch them fall out of the sky. He pressed play.

The footage was shaky and the sound of the plane was nearly overwhelming, but it brought Elizabeth right back to that crazy day two weeks ago when she’d climbed inside a tiny plane because Jason wouldn’t do it without her and he’d really wanted to try it.

“All right, last minute reminders—” one of the instructors yelled, then began to reel off the reminders.

 

Then the door opened, and there was nothing but blue—the camera was shaky as it approached the door —

“Elizabeth went first,” Jason said. “I knew if I did, she’d change her mind.”

“I hate that you’re right. But hey, I didn’t even need to be pushed.”

The camera leapt into the blue and an shrill scream could be heard as the world plummeted towards her. Then a string of profanities, some creative curses and murder plots against Jason—

The camera switched to Jason still on the plane, whose jump was much calmer and less colorful. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Of course, you’re perfect at it on the first go.”

“First, does that mean you do it again?”

“Not on your life, buddy.”

Then the video switched to the camera on the ground — aimed at the tiny pinpricks up in the sky — the blooming of their parachutes spreading and their gently glide down to the ground.

Elizabeth sighed, remembering that part more fondly than the rush of the fall. Though Jason had been right — the bastard — the rush and roar of the wind had been so overwhelming and scary—and the stark contrast of the gentle, almost relaxing glide — and the easy landing thanks to her tandem partner.

When she’d landed on the ground, her jumping partner unhooked them, and Elizabeth had waited for Jason to land and be unhooked, then launched herself into his arms, kissing him, and knocking him to the ground. The video ended there as the operator started laughing.

“That was worth the show,” Luke decided, grinning at Elizabeth who was beet red. “Launching herself into adventure. Of all kinds.”

“I didn’t mind it either,” Jason said, kissing the top of her forehead. “It was exactly what I wanted. I’m glad I waited until you changed your mind.”

“I’m glad I went, too. Even if the video is mortifying. I’m glad Luke wanted to see it, and that we made it part of tonight.” She bit her lip. “Before we go to the airport, can we…there’s a stop I want to make.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The party broke up and hour or so later, after drinks and some food. Some hugs and kisses, crying from Emily and Elizabeth. Even Jason had been surprised to find himself reluctant to part ways with Luke, Sonny, Justus, and his sister. But there’d be phone calls and letters, and visits.

But there would never quite be another time just like this, Jason thought. He and Elizabeth would be something different after a few months of traveling together. They were already a team, created through necessity thanks to the Quartermaines. Now they’d get a real chance to see who they were away from all of this.

Finally, though they were in the car Jason was borrowing from Sonny and leaving at the airport for them to pick up. The bike would be put in storage until they came back. A promise of sorts, to the people who cared, Elizabeth said, that they would be back. There was an entire storage locker with the contents of the apartment. They were taking very little but the clothes on their backs, some art supples, and a few pictures.

“Turn up here,” Elizabeth said, and Jason did so, sobering a little when he saw the cemetery. He parked, and she led him through the maze of graves to one in the back, beneath a tray.

There was a statue of an angel over the stone which simply read Cadence Audrey Quartermaine. Cherished and Precious. September 19, 1995 – November 4, 1995.

In all the months since he’d learned about her, he’d never been here. To her final resting place.

Elizabeth brushed some dirt from the top of the stone, then sank to her knees in front of him. Jason hesitantly got to one knee, unsure what she wanted from her.

“People come to these grave stones and talk to them like the person they mourn can hear them. I tried it once, but it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel her here, you know? And if she’s not here, how can I talk to her?”  She traced the letters. “Is it strange to hope that there’s a way your memories are somehow with her? That the father who loved her so much is with her now, taking care of her because we can’t?”

Jason’s throat was tight. He knew scientifically that wasn’t how it worked. The memories were nothing more than electric impulses in his brain — the storage of them had been disrupted and they’d been erased. But he’d seen those pictures, and heard those videos. And maybe it was okay to believe in something so impossible. To hope that somewhere, the daughter he didn’t know was safe and loved by the father who no longer existed in the world.

“No, I don’t think so. If there’s something after all this, I hope she’s safe and loved.”

“I never came back here after that. And I mostly tried to forget her, you know. But I guess — we’re leaving, and we don’t know when we’re coming back. Her room is gone — I just—I wanted to be somewhere with her just one more time.” She looked at Jason. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t leave Port Charles after your accident. Leaving her here, leaving without you, it was too much. I couldn’t do both.”

“We don’t have to get on that plane for California tonight,” Jason told her. “We can—”

“No, I just wanted to say goodbye one more time. That’s all.” Elizabeth pressed two fingers to her lips, then set them against her name. “Goodbye, baby. Mommy loves you.”

Jason covered her hand with his own. “So do I,” he said, his voice a bit rough. Elizabeth leaned her head against his shoulder briefly, then let her hand fall to the ground. She rose to her feet, brushed the dirt from her pants.

Jason looked back at the stone, then let his hand fall to his side. He stood, laced his fingers through Elizabeth’s. “We’re not saying goodbye,” he told her, and Elizabeth lifted her brows. “Not to her.” He rested a hand on the top of the stone. “We’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah.” Her smile was small, but genuine. “We’ll see you again one day. But that day better be far away,” she told Jason, as they walked towards the parking lot. “No more getting in cars with drunken idiots. Or jumping out of planes.”

“You liked it.”

“I did not—”

“You did, too. You’ve got the bug.”

“Listen—”

“We’ll work up to jumping alone. That’ll be even better.”

“You are never, in a million years, getting me to jump out of plane alone. No more adventures like that, thank you very much.”

It only took him three weeks to talk her into bungee jumping.

THE END

April 10, 2024

This entry is part 31 of 32 in the Flash Fiction: Hits Different

Written in 58 minutes.


“When the conservatorship is dissolved, we’ll ask Justus to draw up divorce papers.”

The words lingered in the air for long moment, Jason simply staring at Elizabeth as if she’d suddenly grown a second head. She wrinkled her nose. “That sounded dramatic, didn’t it? I’m sorry—”

“You want a divorce?” Jason said, furrowing his brow, trying to understand where he’d lost the thread of the conversation. He thought he’d been doing much better noting social cues from others — the way Luke always seemed just a little bit irritated with the world, or how Sonny hid his penchant for controlling others by maintaining an air of detachment or disinterest. And Elizabeth — he’d spent the most time with her and she wore nearly every emotion on her face, in her eyes, on her lips.

But a divorce? They’d been together for weeks, sharing the same bed, at the bar—just that morning—

“Not the way it sounds. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said it that way.” Elizabeth kicked off her shoes, then padded into the kitchen, tugging open the fridge for a can of soda. “Maybe because I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks—”

Weeks. She’d been thinking about ending everything for weeks. His head swam and suddenly everything Jason thought he’d understood or even mastered since he’d woken up with nothing to call his own, not even his name. None of this made any sense—

But Elizabeth had continued talking, somehow unaware that Jason was having some sort of existential crisis just a few feet away.

“—and I’ve wanted to bring it up to you a thousand times, but I always lost my courage. I’m not even sure I’m explaining this well—” She cracked open the soda,  then turned and looked at him for the first time since she’d said. Something in his expression must have given it away. “I don’t—I mean, I don’t want us to stop—to stop being us.

“Maybe I don’t understand what divorce means then,” Jason said slowly. “Because—”

“I married Jason Quartermaine,” Elizabeth said, and he stopped. “A really nice guy who didn’t always stand up for me the way I wanted him to, but who loved me enough that I didn’t really notice it most of the time. We were happy, and I think—” She smiled faintly, looking at her rings. “I think we would have made it. A week ago, I wasn’t so sure about that. But you went to that lawyer and AJ—I’m glad I went. It gave me back that sweet boy, and I think I can let him go now.”

“But I’m him,” Jason said, a bit hesitantly.

“You are. But you didn’t want to be, and you shouldn’t feel obligated to be, either. I know that we’ve built something there that’s just ours, but I’m afraid—” She set the soda aside, then twisted her wedding ring again. “I’m afraid that I might always wonder just a little bit if you’re here because you were already sort of stuck with me and you like me well enough—”

Insulted, Jason opened his mouth to argue and defend himself, but she continued talking. “And you might wonder sometimes if I love you or who you used to be. Are we really here because we want to be?” She folded her arms, bit her lip. “I guess maybe I’m hoping we can give each other a fresh start. A real one. Justus said when this all started that we need to take this choice back for ourselves, and I’m glad I did. That I didn’t just let the Quartermaines steamroll over us. I know it hasn’t happened yet, but we’re going to win in court, and you’re going to be free. I want you to really be free, Jason.”

“I am free right now. I’m where I want to be,” Jason said, stepping towards her. “You don’t have to do this—”

“I believe you.” Her smile was nervous, but real when she closed the distance between them, slid her arms around his waist, loosely clasping her hands at the small of his back. “And I hope you believe me. But I never want there to be any questions.”

He didn’t hate the idea when she talked about it this way — all he’d ever wanted was to make his own choices, and hadn’t he come back to her a little bit because of the history they shared that he would never be able to reclaim.

“Lila told me once I had all the pieces of the puzzle of who I used to be, I’d have to decide which pieces to keep.” He reached for her hands, still wrapped his back and brought them up between them, looked down at the ring he didn’t remember giving her. The bracelet she wore that he had no memory of. “Son, grandson, brother, cousin, medical student, husband….father.”

“And what do you think now?”

“I think maybe none of those pieces are mine now,” Jason said finally. “Most of them don’t mean anything to me, but—” He looked past her to the shelf where the photo of Jason and Cady sleeping on the sofa, the one that had triggered a cascade of emotions that he’d only barely begun to understand. “But I’m only going to regret losing one of them. The rest — I could have if I want. But I don’t ever get to be her father again, and I’m sorry for it.”

“So am I. I envied you not remembering, not feeling this black hole in the center of your world—” Her voice faltered and he looked back, met her eyes. “It kept growing and growing, swallowing me whole, until there was no light left to remind that there was anything left to live for. I wished I could bash my head on a rock and just make it go away. But—”

He brushed a tear from her cheek using the pad of his thumb, and she leaned into his touch. “But it wasn’t a black hole after all. Just a shadow. Like the way night crawls over everything, disappearing the light and joy and good in the world. But eventually, the night ends. And I can remember the good. The way I felt when I was pregnant, her kicks—” Elizabeth pressed a hand to her belly. “I had nine more months with her, you know. I carried her everywhere and kept her safe. Then she was gone. And it took a long time for me to forgive myself for not keeping her safe anymore. I’m sorry you don’t get to remember her. The joy of waiting for her to arrive, the wonder at what we’d created, and even the despair of losing her. I’m so sorry I ever wished that I could lose that.”

She cleared her throat. “I think maybe that’s really why I want that fresh start. Why I need it. I hope you can understand it.”

“At the Quartermaines, they kept looking for who I used to be. For the Jason they wanted me to be. You did, too, in the beginning,” he said, and she nodded, bit her lip. “I thought I could just tell you that it was separate and have it be true. It was, mostly. But sometimes, yeah, I wondered if you’d be here if we hadn’t been married before the accident. If we had had these legal issues to deal with. So if you think getting a divorce will fix that, or help, we should do it.”

Elizabeth smiled, leaned up to kiss him. He cradled her jaw, deepening the embrace until she sank against him, and he had to wrap his arms around her to keep her standing. “But first, we have to finish what we started,” Jason said, stepping back slightly. “There’s still time to call the sky diving place—”

“I am never jumping out of plane. You can just forget about that.”

Across town, another father was standing in front of his family, with an announcement of his own. Monica sat on the sofa, her eyes rimmed with red, her mouth pinched, with a sour expression etched into her features.

“I’ve hired a lawyer of my own to represent me in the probate hearing,” Alan said, and Edward scowled, nearly pushed himself to his feet but a quick look from his wife stopped him.

Ned, lounging by the window, lifted his brows. “Why? You and Grandfather have a spat?”

“I won’t blame Monica entirely for what’s happened in the four or five months.” Alan smiled sadly. “The last few years. I made a judgment about Elizabeth, finding her to be unworthy of my son. Not good enough for the man I wanted him to be. I thought that as his father I had a right to weigh in on that decision, to press my thumb on the scales to achieve the outcome that I deemed just.”

“Spare me the speech,” Monica muttered.

“I didn’t give her a chance. She was barely good enough to be your friend, Emily, but to be a member of this family? To stand by Jason’s side as he took on the medical world and became a shining star? No. She couldn’t be. So I meddled. I schemed. I pushed, and I pushed Jason right out the door. Even before the accident, he could barely be here without one of us making a scene. I deprived myself of time that I will never get back. My son is never coming home.”

“This is all well and good, you know, but you owe an apology to Elizabeth,” Emily said, sitting stiffly in an armchair, her eyes stony. “A huge one.”

“I know that. I chose to believe Monica’s story that Jason wanted a divorce. I turned a blind eye to the ragged edges of her facts, and ignored how they didn’t quite fit together. They were good enough to confirm what I already believed, so I went after the power of attorney to maintain control of my son in he hospital. And when Father suggested we take this further, to protect Jason’s estate, to make his wishes permanent, I didn’t hesitate. I ought to have.”

He paused. “I’ll be asking my lawyer to petition to dissolve the conservatorship. I’m asking you, Father, to stand down. Not to object. Jason shouldn’t have to waste one more minute of his life fighting either one of us for the right to make his own decisions.” His lips twisted. “He’s been doing that too long.”

Edward made a face, but looked at Lila again, and inclined his head. “I’ll direct our lawyer to do the same,” he said finally. “Jason seems capable of making his own choices. Terrible choices,” he muttered, “but he’s capable nonetheless.”

“Mother?” Emily prompted when Monica said nothing. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

Monica just snorted, rose to her feet. “Why? And take some of the attention from Father of the Year? Jason would have seen her for the social climbing, gold digging bitch eventually, and turning control of his trust fund back over to him is a mistake—”

“I created that trust fund so that Jason would never have to beg for anything. When Father was poised to prevent Jason from having any piece of this family because he was born out a wedlock,” Alan said, giving Edward a dirty look. “I should have remembered that. How hard I had to fight to give my son the life, wealth, and name he ought to have been entitled to by birth.”

“If you think I’m going to apologize for using every resource at my disposal to do right by my son, you’ll be waiting until hell freezes over.” Monica lifted her chin. “I did what I did for the right reasons, and no one will ever convince me otherwise. Do whatever you want. Just don’t blame me when it all goes horribly wrong.”

She left the room then, and Emily just said. “You know, I’m glad I’m adopted. And that Jason is — at least on his mother’s side.” She got to her feet. “I love you all, I really do. But there are days when I’m glad your blood doesn’t run through my veins.” She looked at her father. “You’re doing the right thing, Dad, but it’s too little too late. Jason will never forgive you for this.”

“I know. But it’s the only way I know how to right any of these wrongs. I’m sorry, Emily, that we so often fail to live up to the family you deserve.”

“Yeah, well, I guess life could have been worse. I could have ended up adopted by the Manson family,” she muttered, and left the room.

“Father—”

“You have to know when to fold,” Edward said gruffly. “Better to retreat then to be beaten with witnesses. We’ll lose in court. At least this way, I don’t have to sit in front of a judge and listen to a lecture. Put your lawyer in touch with mine. We’ll get it done.”

A few days later, it was Tuesday night, one of the slower nights at the club. Elizabeth didn’t need a second bartender on shift, but Jason thought he was beginning to wear her down on sky diving lessons and had shown up after the happy hour rush with new facts to convince her.

“Fatalites occur in less than 1 per 100,000 cases,” Jason said, sliding the pamphlet over to her. “And serious injuries are 2 in 10,000—”

“See, that second thousand number is much smaller — and someone has to be the one or the two.” Elizabeth leaned over the bar, smirked at him. “You are never, in a million years, getting me on one of those rinky planes thousands of feet in the air—”

“But just think about how much better the rush will be,” Jason argued. “The wind roaring in your ears, so loud you can’t think—you don’t think that’s worth the risk?”

“I like going fast. On the ground—”

“Skydiving is statistically safer than driving—”

“I told you teaching him to read would be a mistake,” Luke quipped, a cigar sticking out of one side of his mouth. He came past Elizabeth to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Kid, when are you going to give it up—”

“I just haven’t found the right facts.” Jason looked at a different brochure, scanning it. Elizabeth snickered, went to the end of the bar to fill an order.

Luke followed her. “When are you going to put that boy out of his misery and go on the plane?”

She rolled her eyes, pressed the button for the blender. After she’d delivered the margarita to the customer, she looked at her boss. “What makes you think I’m going to fold?”

“Darlin’, I’ve known you way too long. You’re going to cave.”

She shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out someday.”

“Skydiving,” Jason began when she returned to his side of the bar, “is safer than driving—more than three million people go skydiving every year—” he broke off when Justus slid onto the stool next to him. “Hey. I thought we weren’t meeting you until tomorrow.”

“Got a late note from the court.” Justus tossed a sheaf of legal papers on the bar. Jason picked them up, his eyes widening.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Elizabeth leaned over. “What?”

“Petition to dissolve the conservatorship filed by Alan and Edward—they both caved?” Jason wanted to know.

“Yeah, I thought for sure we’d get a dramatic scene when we had mediation in a few days. You didn’t even get to confront Monica with what we found out from AJ. And now you don’t need to.” Justus made a face. “I was kind of looking forward to seeing the face crack when she realized we were on to.”

“Feel free to do it on my behalf, but I don’t need to tell Monica it was a lie. She knows it was. I know it was. And it wouldn’t make me feel better.” Elizabeth shrugged. “She’ll just defend herself. But you said Ned was asking the right questions, and Alan must have had his doubts.”

Justus looked at Jason. “It’ll take a week for the hearing, but it’s basically over. The court isn’t going to hold you to something that even the conservators don’t want. Do you want to schedule a meeting with the Qs?”

“Why? I wanted them out of my life. You’re making that happen. As long as Elizabeth gets her money back, I’m good.”

“Well, you’ll need to sign papers for the trust fund—”

“I don’t want that,” Jason said immediately. “Any of it. Tell them to keep their money. And everything else—”

“Well—” Justus lifted his brows. “You did say you were hoping to get a little revenge on the family for the way they’d treated Elizabeth.”

“What?” Elizabeth blinked, looked at Jason who just returned her look a bit defiantly. “When did you say that?”

“A while ago. And yeah, I do. Why, do you have any ideas?”

“Oh. I have a few. And if Sonny’s around, maybe he’ll be interested in what I have to say.”

“I do like a plot twist,” Luke decided. “Let me go get him.”

“While you’re cooking that up,” Elizabeth said to Justus, “can you make time to do something else for us?”

“Anything.”

“Divorce papers,” Jason said. He laid a hand over Elizabeth’s on the bar. “And a name change.”

April 8, 2024

This entry is part 30 of 32 in the Flash Fiction: Hits Different

Written in exactly 60 minutes. Exhausted, lol. Enjoy the cliff hanger 😛


Elizabeth leaned up to tug a plate from the third shelf of the cabinet, then jolted when Jason’s arms slid around her waist and he pulled her back against him, kissing the pulse point beneath her ear.

“One of these days, you’re going to do that, and I’m going to break something—” She set the plate on the counter, and then twisted in his arms, wrinkling her nose when she realized he’d changed into jeans and a t-shirt instead of staying in his usual sweat pants on their days off. “Oh, right, I forgot.”

She wiggled out of his embrace, then went to the toaster where her bagel was waiting. “You’re driving down to Silver Linings today.”

“Justus is picking me up in twenty minutes.” Jason leaned against the fridge, watched her concentrate on buttering the bagel with more focus than anyone had ever used on a bread product. “I could tell him to wait. You could go.”

“We’re not still having this conversation. I told you a week ago when you had this idea, three days ago when you scheduled it, and last night—”

“Last night, you distracted me before I could ask you, which is why—” Jason gestured to the space between them. “I’m standing on this side of the kitchen.”

“Only because I moved over here.” She bit into the bagel, and he just lifted his brows. “My answer isn’t going to change.”

“Okay.” Jason left the kitchen, went over to the sofa where he’d left his boots the night before after work. Elizabeth watched his suspiciously, wondering what he was going to try next.

“I don’t know what the point is in asking AJ what happened that day. He was too drunk to know better.”

“Probably true. But we need to cross him off. Justus says if we can show that the Quartermaines had any malicious intent in the conservatorship, it’ll sway the judge.” Jason tied the last lace, then straightened. “And isn’t that the point of all this? To do whatever we can to get this thrown out so it just can be over?”

“I know.” She stared down at the bagel. Jason needed to see him, and that was fine for him. But she could die happy never being in the same room again.  “You said Monica is the one who extended his stay?” she asked reluctantly, setting the plate aside, washing her hands to remove traces of butter and crumbs. She’d lost her appetite.

“Yeah. At least that’s what Ned says, and he hasn’t been wrong before. Why?”

“Well, I guess if that’s true—than that probably means AJ knows something. Or that Monica thinks he knows something.” She made a face. “You think he’ll tell you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because you don’t know if he’s lying. He could make something up—” Elizabeth folded her arms, looked down at her toenails. The pink polish was starting to chip. “I feel like I’m finally starting to let go of all that,” she said finally. She looked up, met his eyes. “Like I’m turning a page. I don’t want to keep going back to that day—to that time. I want it to be over. Don’t you?”

“I do. After this over, I never want to think about the Quartermaines again,” Jason said. “But we need enough to throw this whole thing out. I know it’s harder for you. You still remember everything, and if seeing AJ messes any of that up for you, I don’t want you to go. You’ve done more than enough to stop this conservatorship—”

“I just—I don’t want him to screw with your head. I know you’re not the same. I know you don’t let anyone guilt trip — especially people you don’t know or like. But—” Elizabeth just shook her head. “Can you call Justus? Ask him to push back leaving for another twenty? I can be ready in a half hour, maybe forty minutes.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I made a promise to who you used to be,” she said quietly and he closed his mouth. “I’ve kept it this long — no point in running when the finish line is in sight.”

“I mean it, you being happy is more important—” Jason started, but she crossed the room, stopped in front of him, slid her hands up his chest. “Don’t distract me—”

“Maybe this is one last ghost I have to confront.” She leaned up on her toes, pressed her lips against his. “Call Justus.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but that’s why I have to go. No more running. If I can do that—” She nodded towards the second bedroom, still closed. “I can do anything, right?”

He cupped her face, kissed her again. “Okay. I’ll call Justus.”

——

The ride to Silver Linings was nearly an hour, and Jason spent it restlessly looking out the window, wishing he’d been the one to drive. Elizabeth was in the backseat, looking through paperwork, and Justus behind the wheel.

The rehab center was a sprawling campus of buildings — Justus pulled off the main road onto a long driveway, then around three or four more cream-colored brick buildings before parking in one of the lots that ringed the campus area.

There wasn’t much conversation as the trio headed for the visitor’s building. Justus signed them in and Jason clipped a blue badge to his shirt. Two turns down another set of halls, and into a large room with circular tables.

Near the windows sat a man with shaggy blond hair. He was looking out the window, but he was sitting alone — one of the few people in the room on their own.

“AJ?” Jason asked, nodding towards him. Elizabeth’s mouth pinched, and he sighed. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

AJ rose when he saw them approach. He was of similar height to Jason, average build, though less muscle.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up,” he said, holding out a hand for just a moment before running it through his hair. He looked at Elizabeth. “I—I didn’t know you were coming.”

“To keep you honest,” she said coolly, taking a seat at the table. “Jason doesn’t know you like I do.”  Jason sat next to her, and Justus pulled out the chair next to him.

“No, I suppose that’s true. ” AJ returned to his own seat. “Justus said you had some questions about the accident. I, uh, don’t know what I can do to help—”

“Your blood alcohol was never tested,” Justus said, and AJ frowned at him. “How drunk were you?”

“I don’t know. I never knew that. I just kept drinking until the world went away. Stopped counting how many drinks that took back in high school.” He cleared his throat. “Why does it matter—”

“Alan and Edward filed for a conservatorship. Jason can’t legally enter or break contracts or make any medical decisions without their permission,” Elizabeth cut in. “And they say they did it because Jason told Monica before the accident he wanted to divorce me.”

AJ’s eyes widened. “A conservatorship? Whoa. That’s—that’s crazy even for them. That’s the legal thing where you’re basically powerless? Man—” He clasped his hands together. “That’s wild. And—” He squinted, looked at Justus. “Monica says Jason wanted a divorce?”

“That’s their basis for filing for divorce as conservators,” Jason said, drawing AJ’s attention back to him. “We know that I didn’t want it. But we can’t prove that Monica knew the divorce papers I brought were fake.”

“Divorce papers? Geez. Well, I don’t know anything any divorce papers, but she sure as hell knew you didn’t want a divorce,” AJ said.

“How can you be sure? You were drunk enough to get behind the wheel—”

“I didn’t need to be plastered to do that. Just…just loaded enough to think I wasn’t drunk,” AJ admitted. He stared down at his hands. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, for what I’ve put you through—”

“If you’re sorry, then you’ll tell me—tell us what happened that day.” Elizabeth lifted her brow. “And don’t leave anything out.”

“Oh. Well, I can try. I don’t know what happened before I got there, just that I heard shouting from the family room—”

AJ hesitated just before he reached the doorway. The last thing he needed was another lecture from his mother or brother about ruining his life and the people around him—but maybe they wouldn’t even notice him if they kept arguing—

“You’re an unnatural child, do you know that?” Monica demanded. AJ peered around the edge of the doorframe, saw his mother stalk across the room towards Jason standing by the terrace. “To do this to your own mother—”

“What about what my mother is doing to me? Or does the guilt only work one way?” Jason demanded. “Did you think about that before you told the Sun’s reporter that Elizabeth was going back to work? Before you told them our apartment number?”

“These accusations, Jason! How can you think I would do that to you—”

“Because no one would, Mother. Even Grandfather has his limits.”

“This is such an awful thing to say to me. To do—what kind of person goes to all this trouble just to lie to their mother?” Monica lifted a chunk of papers, shaking them in his face. “Have you no shame? No decency?”

“You weren’t so mad when you thought they were the truth—you were so eager to believe the worst about Elizabeth that you didn’t even bother to realize these were your words. Not mine.”

Monica scowled. “She’s done this. She’s put you up to this—”

“She doesn’t even know I’m here. Or that you were behind this last stunt. Wasn’t it enough that you told them when we were burying her?” Jason bit out. “Wasn’t it enough for you when that reporter accused Elizabeth of drinking and driving, killing our daughter?”

“You’re just angry because that woman has twisted you up so much that you’re facing assault charges—” Monica tried to go around Jason, back to the desk, but Jason grabbed her elbow swung her back. “

“Those charges went away when I filed my own. Harassment and stalking. But I knew he didn’t get that information out of nowhere. You were the only one that knew Elizabeth was going back to work that day. The only one I told!”

“I’m sure—well, that can’t be true—”

“It is! You set her up to be confronted all over again when she was just starting to feel better!”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t deserve to feel better!” Monica spat. “She’s the reason we put an infant in the ground—”

Something crashed and shattered, and AJ moved into the doorway to see better. Jason had reached for one of the crystal decanters of water they kept in the library — right next to all that lovely vodka, and he’d thrown it across the wall. Jagged shards and water stained the carpet.

“That is the last time you’ll ever speak about my daughter that way. About my wife. I thought if I confronted you, if I could make you believe that I would leave Elizabeth, you’d confess and take credit for finally winning, but I don’t need you to confess. Because it won’t change what a cold, unfeeling bitch you are—”

“And then he turned and he—you—,” he said to Jason, “saw me in the doorway.”  AJ rubbed his neck. “Mom started freaking out, accusing me of drinking—I mean, yeah, I had been, but she needed to start discrediting me. Why do you think I’m here?” He gestured around them. “In exchange for an advance for my trust fund, I got ninety days here.”

Justus tipped his head. “And when did that turn into one hundred and twenty?”

“Around Easter. Mom said if I stayed in here longer and didn’t come home and tell anyone what I heard, well, she’d make sure I got another advance.” AJ looked at his hands. “But you know, I didn’t go home and tell anyone. You came to me. And anyway, I’m gonna lie to the guy I put in the hospital? No way. Maybe she paid me to come here—but I’m trying. I want—I don’t want to do this to another family—”

“You shouldn’t have needed to bash Jason’s brains against a rock to learn that lesson,” Elizabeth said, speaking up for the first time since AJ had recounted his memory of that day. “Our daughter should have been enough.”

“That’s what Jason said that day. When he tried to stop me from leaving. Cady was enough, he said. Enough for a life time. He’d never pick up another drink as long as he lived. But I wasn’t in the mood to be lectured to. You were picking at me because I was drunk at one in the afternoon. Like I cared about the clock,” AJ said dismissively. “I told you to go to hell and suck up to Mom some more, because even though you were mad at her, it wouldn’t last. It never did. Then I left. You followed, and well—” He trailed off. “Sorry isn’t enough.”

“It’s really not,” Elizabeth said. She shoved away from the table. “Finish whatever you need to do. I’ll wait at the car.” She left the room.

Jason looked at AJ, at the man who was supposed to be the brother, then shook his head. “We have nothing to say to each other. Justus?”

“I’ll take care of it.” When Jason had followed Elizabeth, Justus slid a pad of paper across the table. “I need you to write that down, and I’ll be back with affidavit to sign for court. With what you’ve told me, we should have enough to make the Quartermaines drop the conservatorship.”

“It’s the least I owe them—”

“You could try for a thousand years, AJ, and never come even close to what you owe. That’s not a debt you settle,” Justus said. “So don’t bother trying.”

Monica finishing making notes in her planner, looked up when Alan came into their bedroom, a familiar set of papers in his hands. “What—what are those?”

“I’ve read these over and over and over since Ned gave them to us.” Alan looked down at them then at his wife. “You told me that first night in the hospital that Jason wanted a divorce. And I believed you because you were so upset. And I still hoped Jason would wake up. Why would you tell such a disprovable lie? So I made sure we’d find a way to respect Jason’s wishes. Father and I—”

“Don’t you dare blame me for that conservatorship—”

“It was the only way we’d get enough control to get Elizabeth out of his life. But—but Jason never wanted that? Did he?” Alan demanded when Monica said nothing. “I read this—it’s fantasy. Father pointed out quite rightly that there’s language in there that Jason never, on his worst day, would have used against Elizabeth. Calling her an alcoholic, accusing her of taking his money. Believing she’d caused the accident—that’s where you want too far—even Father knew how staunch Jason was in his support of Elizabeth. You don’t go from that to believing the opposite overnight.”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” Monica rose, fisting her hands at her side. “What do you think I’ve done?”

“Written papers up to support this story you’ve been telling us for month.” Alan flung the papers towards her. She didn’t reach for them—they fell to the carpet between them. “You pushed me time and time again to think of Elizabeth as nothing more than another Nikki Langton—”

“She’s worse. Because she actually managed to turn Jason against this family! And you can believe whatever you want—but Jason wrote every single word in those papers. Maybe he wasn’t ready to admit that he wanted to be rid of her, but I knew it—why else would he go to all that trouble and bring me this—”

“I don’t believe you. And no judge is going to accept those papers. Jason never wanted a divorce. This was a lie, wasn’t it?”

Monica growled, the rage rising. How dare he accuse her of lying—of not knowing her own son! “If you want proof, I’ll give it to you.” She stalked over to her dresser, yanked it open and fished through it. When she came back to Alan, she held up a single gold band. “He took this off that day—”

Alan took the ring from her, then sighed. “The lies need to stop, Monica. This was on his finger the night of the accident—”

“How—I handled the inventory! I took those things home—” Monica closed her mouth, and Alan looked at her.

“Yes. You did. You took those home. The wallet, the keys, and the ring he never took off. You may have handled the physical inventory, Monica. But I signed the papers that listed this as his property.” He closed his fingers around the ring. “You’re lying. Just like the papers. You’ve been lying from the start—”

“You don’t—you don’t understand—” Monica leapt forward, when Alan turned away from her. “The doctors, they told us that Jason had terrible brain damage. That if he woke up, he’d never be the same. I knew he wouldn’t remember — he wouldn’t remember that last day—I’d lost him, Alan. I’d pushed too hard and he was so angry—”

“So you thought you’d rewrite the story and push Elizabeth out before Jason could even decide what he wanted. You thought you could control him the way you have his whole life. He chose the career we wanted, the school we wanted, the friends—but we never could stop him from loving who we picked out. You got rid of Keesha Ward, didn’t you? Funding a scholarship she couldn’t turn down—” Alan shook his head. “But Elizabeth—she wasn’t going anywhere. And now you’ve destroyed any chance we ever had of Jason coming home.”

“No, Alan, that was you—you took away his control and his rights—”

“Because I believed it was the right thing to do. Because I believed you that Jason wanted it. Because I wanted him to want it. I wanted him to go back to being our son. To the best in his class at Stanford, matching with the best schools—we couldn’t see that the life we’d picked out for him—he didn’t want it Monica. We didn’t see it. And now it’s too late to even try.”

——

Jason unlocked the apartment door, and waited for Elizabeth to go inside first. She’d been quiet on the ride home, not having any real input on Justus’s discussion of the road ahead. Filing AJ’s affidavit would be the nail in the coffin, he thought. Alan and Edward would read it, realize how much Monica had torched their case, and maybe they’d file on their own to make it over.

“Just think,” Jason said, “a week from now on this, this could be over.”

Elizabeth turned, looked at him, smiled, but was tinged with sadness. “I can’t believe Justus was right. That AJ could hold the key. Any judge who hears about all of that—” She rubbed her chest. “When the conservatorship is dissolved, we’ll ask Justus to draw up divorce papers.”

April 6, 2024

This entry is part 29 of 32 in the Flash Fiction: Hits Different

Written in 64 minutes — Dad called halfway through to ask about the Phillies and Spencer Strider’s elbow injury (pitcher for the Braves). Hard to get him off the phone, lol.


Emily dropped her purse and coat onto one of the empty tables at Luke’s and came over to the bar where Elizabeth was restocking for the upcoming shift. “Do you, like, live here?”

“Seems like it sometimes,” Elizabeth said, lifting a bottle of Grey Goose onto the back shelf. “Why, what’s up?”

“Oh, well, I came in over the weekend but it was that really crazy night, and I only got a second to talk to Jason.” Emily climbed onto the stool. “I got stuck at L&B—you know how Lois is. Impossible to say no to.”

“Have you tried?” Elizabeth asked, and Emily rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s really changed in the last few days if that’s what you’re wondering—”

“Well, I didn’t even get the actual scoop from Jason. He just told me it was some kind of trick and not to talk to Mom until he said so, so tell me everything.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, looked at Emily. “How mad are you going to be if I tell you that’s the limit of what I know?”

“What? Elizabeth!”

“We were slammed at the bar, so we didn’t get a chance to talk. And when we were done…I just—” she hesitated. “He told me that they weren’t real. That it was being used as a trick on Monica, and honestly—that’s all I needed to know.”

“How can you not want to know what he was planning? That’s insane—”

“My life has been dominated by  your family since the second Jason brought me to that Christmas party. Schemes to set your brother up with other women, his trust fund being frozen, ELQ—last fall—is it so crazy to believe that I just don’t want that to be my life anymore?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I got what I needed to know, Em. Jason wasn’t going to divorce. He didn’t say the things in those papers. Not really. He probably wrote up those papers using every accusation Monica ever flung at me. I don’t know why he’d do it without telling me, but it’s enough for me to know that those last few weeks — they weren’t a lie. I can…I can turn the page on all of that now. The probate hearing is coming up, and Justus is pretty sure the conservatorship will be tossed out at that point.”

“Dad and Grandfather seemed shaken by the audit Justus had done. It wouldn’t surprise me if they don’t even object to ending the whole thing. But—you and Jason are still married. You can’t really turn the page on all of it.” Emily bit her lip. “Unless—I mean, are you thinking maybe once this is over, so are you and Jason?”

“No. Maybe once, but I think—I don’t know.” Elizabeth smiled, looked down at her inventory clipboard. “I think maybe we’ll be okay. It’s not like before. None of it is. We don’t do the same things—well, some of them are still the same—”

“Oh—” Emily held her hands up. “Don’t say stuff like that with that look in your eyes, because you’re talking about sex with my brother. Take some pity, please.”

“Haha, very funny. But yeah, we just—we’re different. Or maybe we’re what we would have been all along if your family didn’t throw obstacles and roadblocks at us—”

“Or what you’d be if Jason had actually done anything about those obstacles and roadblocks,” Emily said. “Because having spent some time with my brother, he is really different. But not in the ways that count, you know? Like he’s still really sweet. And kind. But not to everyone. Like he got legit mad at me over the phone that day, and Jason’s never yelled at me a day in my life. Even when I deserved it.”

“He rides motorcycles and spends all his free time in the gym. He wants me to take skydiving lessons with him, but we compromised on rollercoasters. He’s…harder than he was,” Elizabeth said. “And maybe that makes me a little sad sometimes, you know? But it’s good, too.”

“He was a pushover. Do you see Jason getting into a car with a drunken moron again?” Emily asked. “No. He’d just punch AJ and take the keys. Definitely better choices. Better results. So…like, are you in love with him?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “I don’t…I want to say yes,” she said slowly. “But I don’t know. I like him. I like what we are together. But I think maybe we need more time. More of nights like last Saturdays.” She grinned, thinking about the mad dash upstairs, how they hadn’t made it off the floor for at least an hour—

“Oh, ew, you’re thinking about sex again—” Emily grimaced. “Nasty.”

——

At the apartment, Jason was opening the door for Justus. “Hey. Elizabeth had inventory at the club. We can head over if you need her—”

“No, no,  you can pass this on to her. I talked to Ned about the papers, and he thinks it might be good to tell Alan and Edward that divorce papers exist. Nothing else about them,” Justus added. “He won’t tip our hand that they’re not real. We don’t know for sure Monica knows they’re fake, so I want to keep that quiet until we have something else to work with.”

“What’s the point in telling Alan or Edward?” Jason opened the fridge, retrieved a beer. “You want something?”

“No, I’m good.” Justus leaned against the back of the sofa. “Ned says the financial audit really screwed with Alan’s head. He’s had it in his head Elizabeth was out for the trust fund from the beginning — apparently, when Elizabeth’s parents refused to pay for art school, you went to Alan asking for the money. You’d need his permission to take that amount all at once.”

“Let me guess — he assumed Elizabeth put me up to it.”

“This was maybe six months before you brought her to the party, so it wasn’t that long before you started dating her. When she turns up pregnant not much later—” Justus shrugged. “Look, Alan’s touchy about that kind of thing. Monica married him for his money back in the day. They went back and forth a lot with affairs and divorces. He watched it happen with AJ—”

“Elizabeth said something.”

“And he thought it was happening with you. He wasn’t wrong to be concerned. But he was wrong not to give Elizabeth a chance and to let Edward and Monica in his ear about her manipulating her. I’m not saying you gotta forgive the guy or start calling him Dad. I know he didn’t handle any of this well, and he was never that nice to Elizabeth either. He went for that power of attorney originally, before the conservatorship.”

“He was different in court,” Jason admitted. “When Elizabeth found out about the divorce. He answered her, remembered?”

“I do. Which is why I sent the audit to him. I thought proof that Elizabeth was supporting you would screw with him. It did. Emily said he was upset, confused. And now we’re going to put it in his head that Monica who told him about this divorce story has proof she’s never shown? He’s going to have questions. We need him to have questions. Because if the probate judge won’t appoint Elizabeth as co-conservator—”

“Alan could petition to dissolve without you,” Jason finished. “Okay. If you think so—”

“There’s another angle we could do to nail Monica down. There are only two people who know what happened that day,” Justus told Jason. “Monica will never tell us and you can’t remember. But we forgot that a third person showed up at some point.”

“AJ, the brother I never met because he’d already gone to rehab,” Jason said. “And hasn’t come back.”

“He’s in a six-month program. Best thing for him honestly but it was Monica’s idea to extend it to six months. Ned says she decided on that six weeks ago.”

“Six weeks ago—” Jason straightened. “Wasn’t that—”

“Around the same time I took your case? Isn’t it interesting that Monica found out about the conservatorship and divorce case and then took steps to make sure the only other witness to that day can’t come home and tell us what he knows?”

Jason leaned against the counter. “But he’s still not coming home for a month—”

“Ned told me where to find him. And he can make some calls, get you on the visiting list. Just tell him when.”

“Let me run this past Elizabeth.” Jason sipped the beer. “She hasn’t really wanted to talk about any of this the last few days. It was enough for her to know the papers weren’t real. But I don’t feel right about going to see AJ without telling her.”

“I don’t blame her for needing a break. When you live among the Quartermaines like you did and Emily still does — you get immune to the way they treat people. How they can turn so viciously on one another.” Justus picked up his briefcase. “Give me a call when you want me to set things up with Ned.”

“I have to tell you father,” Alan said, laying some papers on Edward’s desk. “I don’t know how this probate hearing is going to go. I think we’re looking at a loss.”

Edward grimaced, picked up the report. “Not if I make some calls,” he muttered.

“Do you really want to waste favors on this?” Alan asked. He paced across the study to the window then back. “I keep thinking about seeing Jason in court. He looked good, didn’t he?”

“Anyone can put on a suit and—”

“Father, he testified,” Alan cut in. “He sounded perfectly capable. Normal. All the things the doctors said he couldn’t be. He spoke about the aphasia without hesitation. Father, he never completed the testing in the hospital. If we’ve been underestimating his capabilty all this time—”

“I depended on you for the medicine! You told me the doctors said he was limited! That he’d never function normally, live independently—”

“I was devastated! One of my sons had permanently damaged the life of another! Can you even imagine the stress and pressure I was under—the grief—”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Alan whirled to find Ned in the open door way. He grimaced. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see how things were going in Jason’s case. I  would think you’d be feeling confident. At least in the divorce case. Have you filed an appeal?”

Edward stood up, flattened both his hands on the desk. “Have you come to gloat, you reprobate?”

“Me?” Ned set his hand against his chest. “I would never. I thought you’d be over the moon since Monica found those divorce papers.”

“Divorce—” Alan came towards him. “Explain. Now. What divorce papers?”

Ned widened his eyes. “I thought for sure you’d have seen them. They confirm everything you’ve been saying—Monica brought them to Elizabeth at Luke’s last week. Justus brought me a copy, wanting to get my perspective.” He handed them to Alan who snatched it up. “Strange that Monica didn’t tell you about them, isn’t it?”

“What is it?” Edward demanded, coming around his desk. “What’s going on?”

“Divorce papers—Jason was filing for divorce—” Alan stared at them for a long moment. Dated December 27. “He drew them up the day of the accident. He went to the lawyer and came straight here?”

“I suppose so. Why wouldn’t Monica give them to you if she had them all along?”

Edward snatched them from Alan, started to skim them. “Who is this lawyer? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Alan?” Ned asked, and his uncle looked at him, blinking. “When did Monica tell you about the divorce?”

“In the hospital. After the accident,” he said numbly. “She was hysterical when Tony told us Jason might never wake up. You can’t imagine. We’d just—we’d just lost our granddaughter. She never had a chance, did you know that? Dead on impact, the reports said. And Elizabeth having to wake up to it—whatever her faults, I know she loved that baby. Jason—he was just destroyed. And now another drunk driver—my own son—had taken Jason from us.”

“The divorce?” Ned pressed gently. Alan cleared his throat.

“Elizabeth was in the lobby, trying to get into the ICU, but Monica didn’t want her there. It was all her fault, Monica kept saying. Jason was at the house because of her. Because he was filing for divorce, and he came to tell us—and he saw AJ with the car—” Alan rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest. “She begged me to keep Elizabeth away—she was absolutely hysterical, and I thought, all right. Just for tonight. Just to keep Monica calm.”

Alan exhaled slowly. “Later, she told me the rest of it. What Jason had told her. But she never, ever told me about these papers—Father—”

Edward shook his head, looked at his son. “They’re not real,” he said. “These—these are things that Jason would never say about that girl.”

Alan frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

“Blaming her for the accident. How many fights did we get into?” Edward wondered. “How many times did I demand that he see sense — that he admit if he’d just married a proper girl who didn’t work in a bar that Cadence would be alive — that it was Elizabeth’s fault—but Jason—he always defended her. Always. We had that last fight just before the holidays. I told him that as long as he was defending her, we didn’t have to speak a word. And he told me that it would be a cold day in hell before he came back to this house.”

Ned raised his brows. “But he came back.”

“I had that argument with him here in this room. December 20. A week later, after two months, he has an epiphany? He suddenly gives up and says everything we ever wanted him to believe about her? Using some of the exact same words that Monica herself had used?” Edward tossed the papers on the desk. “As much as I want to believe it — no wonder Monica never showed them to us. I’d never have believed my grandson would say those things. I may not think Elizabeth was worthy of the love or devotion he showed her, but I certainly won’t pretend he didn’t feel those things.”

“Then why did you believe he was asking for a divorce?” Ned asked. “You’re not making sense, Grandfather.”

“I thought—I thought he had doubts. I thought maybe—Monica told us it was because he believed the accident was Elizabeth’s fault, but I just—it was so hard. He was grieving so hard, Alan.” Edward looked at his son. “I just thought maybe he’d reached his breaking point, and he didn’t know how to explain to Monica, so he’d told her what she wanted to hear. I just—I thought maybe she’d asked him for money, and he’d begun to see what we’d always said, but now—now, I just don’t know.”

He sat down, scrubbed his face. “It’s one thing to have Monica tell you this is what he said, this is why he’s doing it, and it—it confirms what you think, so you just go along with it. Jason wanted a divorce. Why would Monica lie? But to see it in print, to see those words—the way it’s written. I don’t know. Maybe he did ask for the divorce. But those papers — that’s not how he would have done it. It’s cold. Jason—” Edward sighed. “He was soft, kind. He’d never have done that to her. Not that way. Even if I would have.”

Edward looked at Alan. “What the hell is your wife trying to pull?”

“I don’t know,” Alan said, grimly, “but I’m going to find out.”

Elizabeth tossed a copy of the schedule at Jason when he came to work later. “I gave us both off next Saturday,” she told him, reaching for the ingredients to blend a margarita. “We’re going to find an amusement park with good rollercoasters.”

Jason sighed. “We could do that, or we could do something else—”

“I’m not skydiving—”

“We could go see AJ in rehab.”

Her fingers stilled for a moment, then pressed the button to start the blender. Jason went to fill some orders, waiting for her to be done. When she’d handed off her own set of orders, she  came to stand next to him, leaning back against the bar.

“Why are we going to see AJ on Saturday?” she wanted to know. “Isn’t it enough to know the papers are fake?”

“They’re not fake in the way you mean. The lawyer is real. He drew them up. But nothing in them are real. I told you, the idea was to trick Monica. But no one knows if she knew they were real. When Monica found out Alan and Edward had started divorce proceedings based on her story, she arranged for AJ’s rehab stay to be doubled. He’s the only other person who was in the room that day.”

“A witness that can tell us what Monica knew and when. Maybe. If his alcohol-soaked brain remembers any of it. Well, you and Justus can go—”

“I want you to go with me. You know AJ—”

“You want me to go see the drunk driver that killed my husband?” Elizabeth bit out, then looked away. “I mean, you’re not dead. But that part of you is, and it’s never going back, so it’s not that different, okay? So why would I go? Why would either of us go? Tell Justus to go take a statement.”

“Because I want to look him in the eye,” Jason said, and she sighed. “You don’t have to go. I just thought maybe you’d need to see him the way I do. I don’t care much about who I used to be. I don’t care about the future I was planning, or the memories I lost. But I do care about it did to you. And that because of AJ, I’ll never know or remember my own daughter outside of pictures. So I need to see him. Just once. But you don’t have to go.”

“Good. Because I’m not.” And with that, the conversation was over, and Elizabeth moved to the other end of the bar to take another order.

April 3, 2024

This entry is part 28 of 32 in the Flash Fiction: Hits Different

Written in 65 minutes. Song at the end is Red Light Special (TLC)


Luke’s was in full swing by the time Jason arrived to work the eight to two shift, and the club was packed to the brim for a band Luke had lured up from New York for a special week of performances. Most of the time, Jason didn’t mind the crowds — he didn’t much like people but when it was busy, the night went quickly and no one lingered at the bar. He could fill the orders without much thinking, leaving his mind to wander on more important things.

Tonight, all he really wanted to do was tell Elizabeth what he’d learned at the lawyer’s office, wondering what her reaction would be to learning that the divorce papers had been a ruse to lure Monica into admitting her part in the press leaks. Jason was partially relieved his former self hadn’t been a complete asshole, but he also thought it was still a stupid idea. Why bother making Monica admit anything? He could have just cut the entire family off.

But there was barely a quiet moment to be had that night — the music was pumping, echoing off the walls, the dance floor was packed, and he could barely keep up with the demands for Blue Moons, Budweisers, Rolling Rocks, and the occasional Guiness. Elizabeth was working as quickly as she could to fill the orders for martinis, margaritas, and other stupid mixed drink people could think of.

The tips rolled in, though, and Jason appreciated those. Sky diving lessons weren’t going to come cheap, he thought, and he was still holding out hope he’d be able to convince Elizabeth to try it. He thought it might be like the bike only a thousand times more intense.

“Behind,” Elizabeth called out, scooting past Jason with a tray of drinks she delivered to  waiting server, then twirled around past him again to grab another set of orders. He watched her for an extra minute, wondering how she kept all those drinks straight in her head and could fill the orders flawlessly. And she still found time to check in with everyone at the bar, offering quick smiles conversations—

“Well, one thing hasn’t changed.”

Jason whipped his head around at the familiar voice shouted over the music. Emily had wedged herself into the a space on the bar. “Just give me a Corona!” she shouted over the music. Jason grunted, grabbed a glass, filled it and set it in front of the bar.

“Did you go to see the lawyer today?” Emily wanted to know when Jason came back from getting a new rack of orders from the server.

“Yeah,” he said, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard. “Long story short, they’re real but it was a trick. Monica was feeding stories to the press.”

Emily winced. “Damn it.” Whatever she said next was lost in the wave of music. “Did you tell Liz yet?”

“No. Not yet. And don’t say anything to Monica until we know what we want to do,” Jason told her. He delivered a drink order.

“Whatever you guys need.” Emily tossed a twenty on the bar, took her drink and disappeared into the crowd. He lost her after a few minutes, and focused on getting through the shift.

The band finished their set around eleven, and the club thinned out by at least half. There was finally time to take a breath.

“Christ, I think I’m going to clear a grand tonight,” Elizabeth muttered, shoving another wad of bills into the tip jar secured beneath the bar. “But I’m glad to have a minute to myself.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler behind them, rested it against the skin left bare by her scoop-necked tank top.

Jason leaned against the bar back, folding his arms. “I don’t know how you can stand this every day,” he admitted. “This is way too many people.”

Elizabeth grinned at him. “You’d much rather working the opening shift when we have twelve people, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Jason said, immediately.

“This is definitely not your scene.” Elizabeth sipped her water, then handed him the bottle. “You should talk to Luke or Sonny about finding something else in the clubs. Less people, you know? I mean, I’d miss you back here,” she admitted. “But there’s no point working a job you hate.”

Jason took a long swig of water, handed it back. “I don’t hate it. But it’s not my favorite thing.”

“Did you like the warehouse when you worked there?” Elizabeth asked, before heading over to fill an order. She mixed some vodka with a spray of Coke, then delivered the drink.

“People left you alone. They gave you a task, and as long as you did, you weren’t bothered.”

“Sounds perfect for you. Seriously, when we get this conservatorship done, you should really think about what you want to do. You’ll have options again.”

“Maybe. You…you haven’t asked about the lawyer.”

Elizabeth sighed. “On purpose, I guess.” She looked towards the stage where the musicians were packing up. The live music had been replaced by the jukebox in the corner. “I don’t know about you, but I am really over dealing with the Quartermaines.”

“Since the moment I woke up,” Jason muttered, and she laughed. It was good, he thought, to see her happy. Whatever mind games Monica had tried to play, Elizabeth had brushed them off. She’d seemed much lighter in general since the day they’d packed up the second bedroom.

“We don’t have to get into the details, but you should know the papers weren’t for the court. They were to trick Monica into admitting something.”

Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment, then tipped her head. “So he didn’t mean any of it?”

“No. Not a single word.”

She looked forward again, nodded. “Okay.” She smiled. “Okay. That’s—that’s good. Thank you. But everything else?”

“It can wait,” Jason promised.

“Tonight, I just want to pretend none of that is out there,” Elizabeth told him, and then went to server waiting at the end of the bar.

Across town, Justus Ward was also looking forward to putting this case to bed and not being surrounded constantly by the Quartermaines. But he’d gone to the gatehouse with the file Jack Bingham had given them after the apppointment.

“He never told me he was doing any of this,” Ned murmured, sifting through the press articles. “I thought that the press mostly went away after the funeral.”

“WKPC did,” Justus said. “But the Herald and Sun kept printing. I didn’t know Jason was charged with assault after punching a reporter until Luke mentioned it a few weeks ago. Did you?”

“He said nothing.” Ned picked up an editorial about rich families throwing their weight around. “Which makes you wonder why he was cutting us both out of the loop. Did he think we might be the leak?”

“He didn’t tell anyone, including Emily. But look — he’s circling things in every article. Facts that no one could know unless they’d been told personally. Maybe you could find out where their apartment building was, but not the apartment number.  This article talks about Elizabeth’s shifts at the bar — which she hadn’t worked since before the baby.”

“He was tracking how much information was being shared.”

“And after he got the charges dropped against the reporter, the day after Christmas, he went to see Bingham and came up with a scheme to make Monica think he was on her side.”

“And wrote up these divorce papers, designed specifically to delight her.” Ned stroked his chin. “But why would Monica not use them? I can’t believe Alan and Edward would have agreed to keep these quiet—”

“I think she knew they weren’t real. She told Alan and Edward Jason wanted a divorce. I bet  that’s when Alan went for the power of attorney, and it snowballed from there.”

“She knew if Elizabeth saw these papers, she might have ask the lawyer—”

“I have that covered, too. Bingham was instructed to confirm Jason was a client and these papers were real if he was ever asked. Only Jason would ever have been able to get the rest of info. Jason said Monica was ready to bolt when he showed up at the bar.”

“She wanted to guilt Elizabeth into leaving, but not have Jason ask too many questions. That’s desperation.” Ned closed the folder. “Alan and Edward have been singing a different tune since your financial audit came back the other day. Edward’s going to be in touch in a day or two to return Elizabeth’s money. Alan wants to drop the conservatorship.”

“Desperation,” Justus repeated. “Monica made one last play to get Elizabeth out of Jason’s life. Well, it backfired, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I can just imagine.” Ned looked at Justus. “You know who we haven’t talked to yet. The only person who was in the house that day and can tell us what Monica and Jason were talking about.”

“That’s a good point. Do you know if AJ can have any visitors in rehab?”

The club continued to empty out as the clock crawled towards two, and the final pair of college students staggered out ten minutes to the hour. Elizabeth locked the front door with a relieved flourish, then leaned against it. “Thank God.”

Jason was on the floor, clearing empty glasses into the rubber tub. “Luke told you to stop scheduling doubles when you do inventory.”

“Well, tell him to hire me a bartender who can mix drinks next time,” she replied with a smirk. She headed over to the jukebox and flipped on the freeplay mode so that it would cycle through the songs. “Let’s clear down and get the hell out of here.”

Jason continued to clear the dirty glassware, setting them in the kitchen for the dishwashers the next morning while Elizabeth cashed out the registers, matching orders to the cash on hand.

When he returned, she was counting out money from the tip jar. “After we’re done paying out to the servers, and bus boys—it’s just under eleven hundred for us both.”

“Good. That covers the first round of sky diving lessons.” Jason leaned against the front of the bar, watching her count. “I’ll sign us for our next off day.”

“You can keep trying,” Elizabeth said, flashing him a quick smile, “but there’s no chance you get me to jump out of airplane.”

“You love the turns on the bike,” Jason reminded her. “The wind rushing past your face so loud you can’t hear anything—you don’t think it might be fun to try it from a thousand feet in the air?”

“Oh, God, not even a little bit,” she said with a shudder. “The bike is still on the ground.”

“You want me to try new things, but you won’t?” Jason asked. “Didn’t I let you teach me to dance?”

“I’m sorry, we’re definitely not calling what you tried to do dancing—”

“I managed the slower one,” Jason said, insulted. “I could do it if I wanted.”

Elizabeth just laughed and slid his share of the tips across the bar. “I’m sure you could. But I’m not skydiving, and you’re not dancing.”

“They’re not the same thing—”

“Ha! Exactly. You want me to jump out of a plane, you have to d something nearly as scary in return.”

Jason furrowed his brow. “Like what? What am I supposed to be scared of?”

“I don’t know, but when we think of something, we can trade the plane for it.” Elizabeth pocketed her tips. “But if you want to think of something smaller for me to do with you, like—I don’t know. What about roller coasters?”

“Roller coasters,” Jason repeated. “I don’t know if it’d be the same but we can talk about it. But I get something in return, don’t I?”

“Yeah, sure.” She propped her elbows on the bar, leaned forward, with a smirk on her lips. “What do you have in mind?”

Jason was stumped for a minute, but then the jukebox clipped to a different song, and the music was slower, not that different from that night in the apartment.

Take a good look at it look at it now
Might be the last time you’ll have a go round

“Dance with me.”

Elizabeth shrugged, came around the bar. “Okay, I was expecting some a bit more demanding but—”

He set his hands at her hips, pulled her close, and she smiled, tilting her head back to look at him. “Oh, okay, I see what you’re doing.”

I’ll let you touch it if you like to go down
I’ll let you go further if you take this southern route

“What am I doing?” he asked, sliding one hand into the back pockets of her jeans, the other resting on the strip of skin left bare between the hem of her tank top and her jeans.

Elizabeth curled an arm around his neck, her nails lightly scratching against the nape of his neck. “So you like this kind of dancing?”

Don’t go too fast don’t go too slow
You got to let your body flow

“I like anything that lets me touch you,” Jason told her, and the flush he liked so much rose from her chest into her cheeks. She rested a hand over his chest.

I like ’em attentive and I like ’em in control

“I like it, too,” she murmured, then leaned her head against his chest, curling into his arms, their dancing little more than just gently swaying to the slow pulsing music. The last time they’d danced, she’d still been nervous, he thought. But it was different now after all these weeks together.

Baby, it’s yours, all yours, if you want it tonight
I’ll give you the red light special all through the night

He stroked her back, from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck, then back again.

Baby, it’s yours, all yours, if you want it tonight
Come through my door, take off my clothes and turn on the red light

“Maybe we should go home,” Elizabeth murmured. She tipped her head up, her eyes dark and hooded. “If you’re ready.”

“We could do that,” Jason said, leaning down, brushing his lips against hers, lightly first—once, twice, then sinking in, drawing it out until they were both breathing heavily. “But I have a better idea—”

“I don’t think I’d ever be able to look Luke in the eye again if we had sex on his desk,” she quipped, and for that, he lightly pinched her butt. She laughed, but he kissed her again, cutting it off, dragging her hard against him.

I know that you want me, I can see it in your eyes
You might as well be honest, ’cause the body never lies

“I still have the key for the room upstairs,” he whispered in her ear. “Unless you really want to go all the home first—”

Tell me your secrets and I’ll, I’ll tell you mine
I’m feelin’ quite sexy and I want you for tonight

“Say less,” Elizabeth said, fisting her hand in his shirt and dragging him towards the back stairs. He laughed, following her up the steps and down the hall. She dug into his back pocket where he kept his keys, making sure to let her fingers return the pinch he’d given her. He put his hand at her neck and dragged her against him for a hard, intense kiss while fumbling with the keys in the lock.

If I move too fast (too fast) just let me know (just let me know)
‘Cause it means you move too slow

The door suddenly opened, and they fell through it,  Jason landing first with Elizabeth on top of him. She flattened her hand on either side of his head, and grinned. “Well, you know, the bed’s a good idea, but the floor will do just fine.”

He grinned, used a leg to kick the door closed, then dragged her top over her head. “For the first time anyway. We’ll get to the bed eventually.”

I like some excitement and I like a man that goes
Baby, it’s yours, all yours, if you want it tonight

April 1, 2024

This entry is part 27 of 32 in the Flash Fiction: Hits Different

Written in 59 minutes. I’m a little annoyed. I was hoping I’d have time to do add a quick Liason scene that wasn’t in the outline after the Luke/Jason scene in the beginning, but I ran out of time. It’ll be there in the edits, so just imagine Jason going home to Elizabeth that night, lol.


“Thought you were gonna sit out tonight,” Luke said when Jason joined him behind the bar later that night for his regularly scheduled shift. “You bring Lizzie with you?”

“No, she’s still at home,” Jason replied, then got to work.

When the night’s featured act took the stage, there was a lull in the drink orders, giving Luke a chance to dig in a little bit more. “How she taking it?”

Jason hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t know. She told me to come to work, and not to leave you short handed. I think she wanted some time alone.” He took a tub of dirty glasses, then returned from the kitchen with a rank of clean ones.

“For what it’s worth, I meant what I said earlier. This isn’t real. I don’t know what the doc is cooking up, but I don’t buy any of it.” Luke paused. “But you didn’t want any part of that old life, so maybe it doesn’t matter to you—”

“You think I don’t care that they’re using me to hurt her again?” Jason demanded, his eyes flashing. “Because they ran out of everything else, now they’re dragging up things she said—” He stopped. “Monica knew things that only…that she have only learned from him.”

“From you,” Luke corrected, and Jason glared at him. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit about not being Jason Quartermaine. It’s a copout. Lets you walk away from all the people and things in your life, acting like none of them existed. But they did. Just because you don’t remember it—that don’t erase what you did or said. Maybe that works on Elizabeth, maybe that’s how you get her hooked again—”

“Do you have something to say to me?” Jason cut in sharply. “Because this is none of your business—”

“The hell it’s not.” Luke grimaced when his tone and volume caught some eyes. He jerked his thumb towards the back office. “Let’s go. Claude,” he called to the man at the end of the bar. “Take over for a bit.”

In the office, Luke headed straight for his chair and box of cigars. “Don’t you ever tell me what happens to Elizabeth isn’t my business. Who do you think scraped her off the damn floor when your family locked her out of your life? When they stole her money? Tried to evict her from her home? You don’t get to ride in here like the white knight after me and Sonny and Mike did the hard work of keeping her in one piece—”

“And you don’t get to take credit for what she did. You stood by her, and that’s great. But getting up and still fighting? Elizabeth did that, not you.”

Some of the flush faded from Luke’s cheek, and he squinted, tipped his head. “She did. No one’s disputing that. But—”

“I get that you don’t want me in Elizabeth’s life. That you only brought me here so she’d see that I didn’t remember her, so she’d move on. But I’m not going anywhere until she tells me to.”

Luke sat down, lit his cigar, then leaned back. “When Lizzie first took up with you, I told her — that one will only bring you down. Edward and Alan will never see past her lack of college education and polish, and no one will ever be good enough for Monica’s golden boy. She told me she didn’t care and went on her merry way. I never liked you.”

“I don’t think that much of who I used to be either,” Jason said, some of his own anger fading. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that despite knowing you’d bring her nothing but pain, I changed my mind about you a little after you lost that baby.” He sat up, had to take a minute. “Christ, the way that accident would have leveled even a strong man, and I figured you were such a weak-willed Mama’s boy that you’d crumble under the pressure, and how could anyone blame you? You’re barely grown, and you got a wife in the ICU who might not live, and that angel who never had much of a chance to live—who would have blamed you if you’d been like your brother and crawled into a bottle?”

Luke tipped the ash from the cigar into a nearby ash tray. “But you didn’t falter. You sat with Elizabeth until she woke up, until they knew she’d recover. And you found the strength to tell her that awful news. Maybe it’s good that you don’t remember that part.” He waited a beat. “And you stood up to your family when they wanted to blame her. That’s the part Doc isn’t remembering. You stood in that hospital and told them off when Monica started going in on Lizzie working here, bringing Cady here. You knew she was only coming by to show that darling off to her family. Because me and Sonny, we’re her family. You knew that, Jason. You said it before Elizabeth ever woke up from that accident.”

Jason leaned forward, realizing where Luke was going. “So why, two months later, did I write in divorce papers that I blamed her all along?”

“Exactly —” Luke gestured at him with the cigar. “And that’s crap about suicide threats — you brought her to us that day. You sent her off with Sonny, and you sat in this office—” His voice faltered, and he looked away. “You told me what she’d said. And that you were worried that she meant it. Because she couldn’t live with the guilt. You knew she blamed herself, and you were scared she’d never accept the truth. That the only person to blame was the damn driver they never found.”

“I told you that,” Jason said slowly.

“You did. And you asked us to sit with her while you cleaned up things at home. You’d put everything in her room because Elizabeth would be ready one day, and you’d be there when she was. But until then, you had to protect what was left of your family.” Luke looked at him. “So when I say there’s not a chance in hell that you went to some cheap ass lawyer to sell Elizabeth up the river, I’m telling you it as a fact. I gained more respect for you in that single conversation than I had in all the time that came in front of it. Monica is working some scheme. I don’t know how she knows about those threats, but you told me. You might have told someone else who passed those on to her.”

“They know they’re going to lose in court,” Jason said. “That’s why she’s doing this now. The probate hearing is coming in a few weeks.”

“You do yourself a favor — you get to the bottom of this divorce thing, and you go into that hearing and you show just how relentless that family has been to get her out of your life. It goes back so much further than you know. This isn’t the first time they’ve tried to use the law against you and her. Did she talk about the business about a prenuptial agreement? How they tried to force it through ELQ, freezing your trust fund and putting your medical school tuition at risk?”

“She mentioned it.”

“You put that together with the bullshit about the power of attorney, this conservatorship, the divorce they filed, and now this—this is the nail in the coffin. So do yourself and Elizabeth a favor — find out what the hell you were doing at that house before the accident.”

“Jack J. Bingham.” Justus scowled as they looked at the sign above the dingy building and pot-holed ridden parking lost. “It just sounds like an ambulance chaser.”

“Sonny said this guy was cheap, used by the strippers he knew at the Paradise Lounge.” Jason folded his arms. “You think Monica paid him off?”

“I think there’s always a possibility, especially since these were never filed, so it’d be tough to prove an ethical violation.” Justus pulled open the door. “Let’s go find out.”

Inside, the lobby looked even worse. The carpet was threadbare, with patches of subfloor peeking through. The walls were peeling, and the chairs didn’t look like they’d support a small child much less a grown adult.

A woman with blonde hair sat behind the receptionist desk. Her eyes were wide when she saw Jason and Justus. “Oh. I didn’t have an appointment on the books.”

“This is going to sound like a strange question,” Justus began, flashing a bright smile. “But my client here, Jason Quartermaine, was in a car accident that damaged his memory. You might have read about it in the papers.”

“Oh.” Her voice was breathy, and somehow high-pitched at the same time. “I did! But if he’s your client—are we representing the driver?”

“No. Recently, my client was made aware of some divorce papers created on his behalf. There’s a claim that he directed Mr. Bingham to file them. We were hoping to confirm that and have a conversation about it.”

The woman accepted the papers Justus handed her. “Well, that’s our letterhead. I’ll go get Jack. See if he can take a minute.”

She disappeared behind a door, and Jason sighed. “Why the hell would I do this?” he muttered.

“We’re going to find out.”

The woman reappeared. “Jack says come on back.”

They followed her back through the door and into an office that wasn’t much better than the lobby. A tall man, with a receding hair line and a bulge around the middle got up from his chair, came around the desk. “Mr. Quartermaine, can’t say I expected to see you again.”  He extended his hand, but Jason just stared at him.

“So I was a client.”

“Yes, well…” Jack Bingham shifted uncomfortable. “I suppose you don’t remember.”

“No. Not until Monica Quartermaine gave these to my wife—” He gestured at the papers in Justus’s hand. “Are they real?”

“Well, that would depend on your definition.” Jack gestured for them to take a seat, and reluctantly Jason did. “You came to me a few days before Christmas and asked me to draw up divorce papers.”

Jason gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his stomach rolling. “I did.”

“You never intended to file them,” Jack continued, and Jason released his first easy breath in twenty-four hours. “It’s not unusual for a spouse to draw up papers as a threat, so I was happy to do it, but you wanted me to know that your wife was never supposed to see them.”

Jason straightened slightly. “She wasn’t?”

“No. And if you remembered that, you’d be very angry right now,” Jack said. He went to a filing cabinet, pulled out a thin green hanging folder with white hooks. He set it down and flipped it open. “You’d been collecting newspaper articles since your wife and daughter were in an accident.” He slid the file across to Jason, but Jason didn’t touch it.

“Why would I do that? Why would I create a divorce that Elizabeth would never see?”

“Because you were hoping it would be enough leverage so that your mother would admit she’d been the leak to the press,” Jack said. “For weeks, there had been editorials and news coverage about the accident. About the search for the driver. About the funeral. Every little tidbit. And they were full of information that no reporter could have known without a source. The final straw for you to come to me was the reporters outside your building.”

Justus frowned, looked at Jason. “I knew you were having issues with the press, but I didn’t know they came to the apartment.”

“They knew where you lived. And they had been lying in wait for your wife outside in the hallway,” Jack said. “And shoved a camera in her face the first day she was going back to work.”

Jason scrubbed a hand down his face. “The reporter. Luke said I punched one.”

“Yeah. And the reporter was going to file charges until you threatened trespassing charges. Suddenly, he was full of information. And had no problem revealing the source came from your family. But that was far as he was willing to go.”

“So you put together papers that would convince Monica everything she ever thought about Elizabeth was true. So she’d admit the truth.” Jason grimaced. “And I must have gone to the house with them.”

“I heard about your accident later and just assumed you never had a reason to use them. But I suppose you got as far as talking to your mother—”

“She’s not my mother,” Jason interrupted. “She’ll never be my mother. This isn’t what mothers do, is it?” He thought of Elizabeth, the way she’d talked about their daughter, the loving way she’d packed Cady’s things, the way she’d looked in photos, holding the baby— “She made Elizabeth’s life miserable.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to talk you out of it,” Jack said, “but—” He gestured at the office. “It’s not like I can turn down a paying client. I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you hoped.”

“No, it really didn’t.”

Elizabeth had gone to the club, not wanting to sit around the apartment waiting for Jason to get back from meeting with the lawyer. She’d busied herself doing scut work and redoing the inventory she’d never finished.

But it was impossible to put it out of her head — to stop wondering if everything she’d thought about her life had been nothing more than a lie—

“Hey, darlin’, any word?”

Elizabeth turned, saw Luke sliding onto a bar stool, a glass of whiskey already in his hand. “No. No, not yet.”

“You shouldn’t worry so much. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass when I tell you whatever those papers are, they’re not real.” Luke raised his brows. “And you know how I felt about that husband of yours, so I ain’t lying.”

“I know. I know. But—” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re not real. Maybe Monica cooked them up or Jason had a plan—I should know, right? I should be able to be one hundred percent certain that my husband loved me—”

“And you think because you got some doubts that somehow it messes up everything else?” Luke shook his head. “You forget how chaotic it all was. How messy and rough it all was. You and Jason were finding your way after a traumatic, terrible event. Maybe you didn’t handle it well, maybe he didn’t confide in you — but that doesn’t have to change what you do know.”

“It shouldn’t, but—”

“Do you know why I wanted to bring Jason here to work?”

“To jolt me back into the land of the living,” Elizabeth said with a half smile. “To show me that I was just standing still—”

“You were holding onto the dream that if you and Jason saw each other, somehow you’d be the exception to all the rest of it. That he’d see you, and he’d feel something. Maybe he still wouldn’t remember, but what you had, it mattered enough to survive whatever that rock did to his brain.”

“I was wrong, and I needed to see that—”

“You were right,” Luke cut in gently. Startled, Elizabeth’s eyes flew to his, and he grinned. “You know how much I hate to say that, but you were right. Maybe it took some time for it find root again. But from the moment that boy knew who you’d been to him, when he found out about his daughter — something was there. And now look at you—”

“Luke—”

“I sat with him in my office yesterday after that whole scene, ready to tear him a new one because as far as I was concerned, he was doing nothing but messing up your life and making it impossible for you to move on. But he did the ripping. Came at me for acting like me and Sonny did all the hard work of keeping you in one piece. Because as far as he was concerned, the only person that deserved that credit was you. And he was right. You took hits that would have leveled someone twice your age—and you kept taking them. But you got back up again. And you kept trying. And he saw that. He wanted to make sure I did, too.”

Elizabeth blinked, holding back the tears stinging her eyes. “Luke.”

“You don’t think there’s a little something to wonder about how out of every one in Jason’s life, you’re the one he’s let back in? Whatever dumbass thing your husband was doing at the Qaurtermaine house that day, I can’t picture him turning his back on you. Not then, with all you’d been through. And not now. There’s something about you that he can’t let go of. Even when he doesn’t remember anything else. You don’t have to doubt that, Lizzie. Not anymore.”