Written in 62 minutes.

---

Emily heard her mother’s voice the moment she opened the front door and headed towards the parlor where she found the three family members she wanted to yell at the moment —

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Edward retorted, waving a sheaf of papers in Monica’s face. “It doesn’t matter how many damn senators or congresspeople I call! This report is a death knell—”

“I just don’t understand—” Alan took the papers, staring at them, almost dazed. “Justus—he said it was hers — but I thought—”

“Oh, good, I was hoping I’d get to be here when you found out Jason was the freeloading gold digger.” Emily leaned against the door jamb, smirking when all three of them whirled around. “Go ahead, Dad. Tell me more about how you thought my best friend was only using Jason for his money.”

“Emily.” Alan set the report on a nearby table. “As I’ve told you—”

“No, no, Dad. I interrupted you. Go on, what did you think?” Emily arched on brow. “That they were living off the trust funds? That Elizabeth was, what, drinking away the money she made at Luke’s?”

“She’s a bartender,” Monica began, “at a seedy nightclub—”

“She’s the bar manager at a jazz and blue club that’s packed every night of the week. B.B. King was their opening act. Luke’s was good enough for you back then, Mom. You and Dad went to the opening party.”

Monica grimaced. “That was before—”

“Before what? Before Elizabeth went to work there? Before she started dating Jason? A bartender isn’t good enough for your precious son?”

“No. She isn’t. And I don’t care what that report says—she was biding her time,” Monica said. “Waiting until Jason came into the full trust fund, until he was done medical school—”

“And went into residency and internship, and the fellowship he’d need to be a surgeon. A decade of investment while she paid the bills.” Emily folded her arms. “You think she was playing the long game, huh?” She shook her head. “None of this matters, and you know it. That report just proves you were always wrong about her. And I don’t know what lies you’re telling, Mom, but the only way my brother was going to leave Elizabeth was in a body bag.”

“Emily, you were only here for a few weeks,” Edward said. “You can’t understand the pressure and worries we all had while Jason was in the first stages of his recovery—”

“You did something underhanded to get Jason put into a conservatorship, Grandfather. You control his money, his ability to get a job, to sign a contract, to find a place to live—you had him thrown out on the street. And while you were crippling any chance Jason had at independence away from all of you, you were systematically stripping Elizabeth of anything that connected her to Jason or this family. The money, the apartment that was Jason’s first, and I just bet there was something in there about relinquishing the name.”

“Well, naturally, in a divorce,” Edward muttered, but dropped his eyes to the ground.

“Who’s idea was it to say anything about a divorce?” Emily challenged. “Because it’s the first I’m hearing about it, and I think this is the kind of thing you run past your sister before you just up and leave your grieving wife—”

“You’re Elizabeth’s best friend,” Alan said. “Fiercely loyal to her. Of course Jason wouldn’t tell you that—”

“Jason and Elizabeth both knew I was a vault when they talked to me. You didn’t know that, of course, because you never bothered to get to know her. Jason talked to me all the time after Cady died.  I called him every day, Dad. Did you know that? The last time I spoke to him was the morning of his car accident. He was so angry because there was another story in the paper about Elizabeth, and she’d seen it. Accusing her of being the drunk driver — that the Quartermaines were covering up for her and that’s why they never found the actual driver.”

Alan shook his head. “No one in this family—”

“He wanted them to leave her alone. To leave him alone. Because how could they ever move on from, how could Elizabeth ever forgive herself if the world kept blaming her?”

“Whatever conversation you had with your brother, Emily, he had changed his mind. Because he was here that day to tell me,” Monica told her. “You don’t have to believe me—”

“Prove it,” Emily cut in, sharply, and Monica closed her mouth. “You can’t. It’s just another story you’re telling yourself because you can’t believe your precious perfect son fell in love with someone you didn’t pick out for him. I spent too long staying out of this. Avoiding the argument, letting Elizabeth tell me not to get involved. I never did enough when it could have mattered. I’m not doing it again. So you either make this conservatorship disappear, Grandfather, or I’ll be the next grand child that you don’t talk to. I’ve already spoken to a lawyer to help me liquidate my trust fund so you can’t threaten to stop paying for college.”

“Emily, just wait—”

“No. No. I’m done. I just went to see Jason and he’s happy. Because he’s away from you. What’s it gonna be, Grandfather? You gonna let me walk or are you going to set Jason free?”

“It’s not that simple,” Edward began, but Emily just turned and headed for the stairs. “Now just a minute—young lady, you come back here right now—”  A few moments later, a door slammed and he returned to the parlor, red-faced. “Damn it, Alan, can’t you control any of your children?”

Exhausted, Alan took a seat, reached for the financial papers. “She never spent a single dime of his trust fund,” he murmured. “Every deposit, every withdrawal in this account — it’s all her salary. And we took what was left, Father. Because we assumed—”

“They must have had some sort of understanding,” Edward said gruffly. “To keep him out of student loan debt. He could have asked for more money from the trust. Why didn’t he do that? Why let her pay for the everyday—”

“Because she could afford it.” Alan shook his head, a slight smile. “She made quite good money. And they paid her full salary while on her maternity leave.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Monica said, disgusting. “You two fools started all of this, and now you’re throwing in the towel? So what if she paid a few bills for a year—she’s just better at manipulating than we thought. What about all the times Jason did ask us for money? For her?”

“For her art school tuition. We said no, and she didn’t go.” Alan looked at his father. “He told us she didn’t know he was asking, but we thought he was lying about that. But it was before they were dating—”

“Before they admitted to dating—” Monica tossed in.

“It would be like him,” Edward admitted. “Grand gesture. He was always a little sweet on her, you know. And—well, I have to admit—if we’d investigated the accounts before closing them—”

“We acted too rashly,” Alan said. He rose to his feet. “The grief of losing that little girl, and then the double tragedy of Jason’s accident, AJ’s issues — we should have taken a moment. I think—”

“Oh, well, this is just wonderful,” Monica said sourly. They both looked at her. “You find out she could support herself and now suddenly, you want to throw a ticker tape parade?”

“I never said that, Monica. I just—you reevaluate your position with new evidence. That’s just good business—”

“Good medicine,” Alan added. “We can rethink our position—”

“We’re so close to getting her out of his life,” Monica said. “We’ve been trying for over a year, and just when we’re in the home stretch, the two of you want to give up? If we can get him back in this house, if we can get him to listen to us, you said he was good in court. Maybe there’s still a chance he’ll think about medical school. Or law school. Or—”

“What makes you think we can get him to listen to us?” Edward said. “We miscalculated. You were right on the money there,” he admitted to Alan. “We pushed him too far, and made Elizabeth into the tragic heroine.”

“I’m going to vomit,” Monica muttered, folding her arms. “Fine. Emily wants proof? I’ll get her proof. Jason wanted to be done with that woman, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

—

“Don’t start that again,” Elizabeth warned, carrying their coffee mugs to the kitchen, the ceramic mugs clinking against each other.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Jason said, leaning against the back of the sofa, with a grin that belied his words. “You can get someone to do the inventory, and we can—”

Elizabeth glanced around the edge of the cabinet, then her cheeks pinked up. “Put your shirt back on. You know I can’t think when you do that.”

“Then why—” Jason stooped to snag the blue shirt from the ground as he joined her in the kitchen. “Why did you take it off me in the first place?”

“It’s your fault,” she muttered, but her ire was only for show. He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her back against him, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck, nibbling gently below her ear. “This is why we never get anything done.”

“Not on your list, no. But we always finish mine.” His fingers, warm against her belly, crept beneath the hem of her shirt. “Call Claude. He’ll do the inventory—”

She was tempted, she really was, but— Elizabeth ducked out of his arms, covered her eyes. “I did that last week. And Claude’s not scheduled today. Put the shirt one.”

She heard him laughing. “Fine. You can look now.”

Elizabeth peeked between her fingers, and sighed in a mixture of disappointed relief. “Thank you. Was that so hard—don’t answer that,” she ordered when he just grinned again. She started past him, pausing at the door to the bathroom. “And because two can play that game—remember the other night? In the shower? Well, imagine me all alone, with the soap and water—”

He scowled. “That’s not fair—”

“Exactly.” She smirked, closed the door behind her, and immediately started the shower. Jason wasn’t the only one who knew how to be distracting.

—

Still enjoying her good mood, Elizabeth was humming when she arrived at the club forty minutes later, her hair still a little damp and tucked up in a clip. If she was quick and efficient, she could be finished inventory before Jason showed up to help with deliveries, and just maybe she’d let him talk to her in the sky diving lessons he was going to book this weekend.

Maybe.

She was halfway through counting the liquor behind the bar when she heard the door open, followed by footsteps. “You’re early,” she sang out, not turning around. “And you’re not going to distract me again—”

“I’m afraid that I don’t have a choice.”

The tone was short, clipped, and the temperature in the room felt as though it had dropped twenty degrees. Elizabeth slowly turned, found Monica on the other side of the bar, her coat over her arm and brown leather portfolio tucked under the other one. She set the clipboard down on the bar. “We’re not open.”

“I know. I also know this is your morning to work in the club alone,” Monica said. She set her things on the bar, flipped open the portfolio. “I didn’t think we needed an audience for this conversation.”

“No, you never do.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Makes it easier for you deny it later. What’s it going to be this time, Monica? Have you increased your price again?”

“You had your chance to take that offer. To take any of the generous offers my family have made to you over the last eighteen months, but you were holding out for something better. And you were right.” Monica reached for Elizabeth’s left hand, and she snatched it back. “You’ve got the ring, the name, and no prenuptial agreement. The trifecta of the successful golddigger.”

“Well, I talked to Emily, so I know that you got the copy of the audit of our accounts. But if I know you, Monica, and I think I do—” Elizabeth tipped her head. “You immediately fit that into the narrative and rewrote the story to fit your needs. I was playing the long game, right? Banking on that rich, successful surgeon I’d trapped into marriage. Everyone knows you can’t make any real money without investing your own.”

“At least you admit it—”

“I admit that you know how a golddigger thinks. I mean, my father wasn’t good enough for you,” Elizabeth said, and Monica clenched her jaw. “And when you had the chance to be with your true love—my uncle—you chose the cheating bastard who had tried to kill you. And who kept having affairs. How many is Alan up to now, Monica?”

“You have no right—”

“You think you see yourself in me,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve always known that. I never told Jason why you’re so convinced I’m just here for the name and the money. See, he still loved you. Still wanted to believe in you and his father, and the whole family. But I don’t have to worry about that anymore. And it’s all thanks to you. Jason wants nothing to do with any of you.”

“You think he’ll want you after he’s used you?” Monica asked. “I know all about that divorce case. He’s staying with you because he needs you to get out of this ridiculous mess Alan and Edward created. But what happens when that’s over, Elizabeth?” She leaned in. “What happens to you when Jason’s bored and wants to move on? You need to think about the future.”

“A few months ago, that might have hurt,” Elizabeth said. “It might have shaken me because I’ve asked myself that a time or two. But here’s the thing, Monica, whatever happens when Jason’s finally free of your family, is between him and me. Just like it always has been. Whether we sink or swim—whether we’re together for a century or divorced in six months, that’s going to be a decision we make. Not you.”

“Is it though?” Monica slid a sheaf of papers out of portfolio, turned it around so that it faced Elizabeth. “Because Jason made that decision before the accident. Emily said you wanted proof. Here you go.”

Elizabeth didn’t want to look down. Couldn’t bear it. But finally she dropped her eyes and her belly clutched.

Action for Divorce. Jason Morgan Quartermaine, Plaintiff against Elizabeth Imogene Quartermaine, defendant. Grounds for divorce, cruel and inhumane treatment—

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Monica said, almost kindly. “For all your faults, Elizabeth, no woman wants to read what their husband really thinks about them. But you wanted proof. Go ahead. Call the lawyer. I did when Jason gave them to me. I was sure that it was a lie, but he confirmed Jason was his client and had drawn up the papers. You see, Jason came to apologize to me. After that last story, it was just too much.”

Elizabeth looked up. “He didn’t believe it—”

“He didn’t know that no one had ever tested your blood. And you had just come from a bar—he’d already blamed you, Elizabeth. For months. For taking his daughter there in the first place. But he couldn’t tell you. He was afraid you’d kill yourself. After all, didn’t you threaten to throw yourself out the window when he brought you home after the hospital?”

“How—” Elizabeth’s lips trembled. “How did you know that?”

“Jason told me.” Monica’s eyes were steady. “That day. He’d blamed you from the first, but he’d thought it was irrational. The horror of the grief. And it just kept eating at him until he couldn’t take it anyway. Even that last day, even at the end of his rope, Elizabeth, he was still so worried you’d hurt yourself. That’s what you did to him. You trapped him with that baby, and then you trapped him all over again with your threats of suicide. I’m asking you, mother to mother, to let my son go.”

Written in 60 minutes.

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“Where’s Grandfather?”

Ned tossed aside the newspaper, smiled broadly, rising to his feet. “Emily! I didn’t know you were coming in this morning—”

“I wanted the element of surprise.” Emily Quartermaine dropped her purse on the sofa, planted one hand on her hip. “I have a list of people to yell at, and I didn’t want anyone hiding from me. I’m starting with the most guilty and working my way down.”

Ned made a face. “Lois said you were angry on the phone—”

“Angry isn’t the word. Apocalyptically furious. I was so mad that I called Elizabeth on the phone and said a bunch things I have to apologize for because—” Emily shook her head. “No. No, I’ll deal with that later. First. Grandfather.”

“He’s at ELQ—”

“Then that’s where I’ll go—” Emily turned on her heel, then bumped right into her father. “Oof—Oh, okay, you know what? You’ll do—”

“Emily!” Alan embraced his daughter before she could stop him. “We didn’t think to expect you for another week! How was the flight—”

“Don’t act like this is a happy visit,” Emily bit out, and Alan’s smile faded. “What did you think, Dad? That I’d be in California and that was another universe? Or did you count on Elizabeth not telling me because she never puts me in the middle of the bullshit you people pull—”

“I don’t think much about what Elizabeth does or doesn’t do,” Alan said carefully. “Do I get a chance to defend myself or have you made up your mind—”

“There’s a defense, Dad? Really? For getting a conservatorship? For making sure Jason was practically homeless and ready to beg on the streets? And don’t tell me that I have Elizabeth’s side—that’s what you always do. You always act like she’s lying, and she never is—”

“So you’ve made up your mind without hearing all the facts.” Alan pressed his lips together. “You’re not even going to give me the benefit of the doubt—”

“Because you’re wrong,” Ned offered helpfully, as he sat back down, reached for the paper. “You know you are. That’s why you kept it a secret for so long.” He shrugged, flipped to the business section.

“Since the second Jason brought Elizabeth into this house, you and Grandfather have lost your freaking minds,” Emily said flatly. “She’s been my best friend for ages and I never did enough to defend her. But you always acted like she wasn’t good enough for me, and I don’t know why Jason ever put up with the same attitude from you guys. You put Jason into a conservatorship, Dad! And you were going to evict Elizabeth from her home!”

“I—” Alan took a deep breath. “Look, it started as a way to protect Jason. You don’t understand. He doesn’t remember what it was like at the end. He wanted a divorce—”

Emily stepped back, her eyes wide. “What are you talking about? Jason never wanted—no. You’re wrong. You’re absolutely wrong—”

“Honey—”

“I’ve been trying to tell him that since the hearing,” Ned said. “But somehow your mother convinced him that’s what Jason wanted.”

Emily shook her head, bewildered. She looked from her cousin back to her father. “Mom says this? Why? When did Jason even come here to say that? He was barely talking to you guys before the accident. And don’t blame Elizabeth for that. She’s not the one that told the paper she’d hadn’t had her blood tested for alcohol. Jason was so mad, Dad, and I just know it was Mom or Grandfather—”

“Is that why he stopped coming around here after the funeral?” Ned wanted to know. “Because of that story?”

“I don’t know why he’d think we’d want that story out there,” Alan said. “You must have misunderstood—”

“Jason never would have divorced Elizabeth, so whatever Mom’s cooked up this time, you can tell her to forget it. I’m so mad at you, Dad.” A tear slid down Emily’s cheek and Alan looked away. “So mad. You actually had me questioning my own best friend because I started to ask myself why didn’t she just tell me all of this was going on — why does she never ask me for help with any of you? I would have taken her side, she has to have to known that—but after Jason yelled at me, and I hung up on him, I started to think about it. I started to think about he never really defended her either. And I didn’t do enough. We let you and Mom and Grandfather torture her.”

“I never—”

“You made sure she never felt good enough to be in this family. Because now I know why Elizabeth never told me. She didn’t think I’d support her. Well, she’s wrong about that Dad. Because I’m home, and I’m going to make it my life’s mission to make sure my best friend and my brother are free of this lunatic asylum, so when you see Mom and Grandfather, you’d better tell them that. You are done playing games with other people’s lives.”

Emily shoved past him, and a few minutes later, they heard the front door slam.

Alan exhaled slowly, dragged a hand down his face. “She just—she’s too young to understand—”

“Understand what?” Ned set the paper aside again, looked at his uncle. “Because I don’t get it either. What crime did Elizabeth Webber ever commit that made you go to this much trouble to be rid of her?”

“Jason was going places until he met her,” Alan said, though his voice lacked some conviction. “He could have gone to one of the best medical schools in the country, been matched to any hospital—”

“But he didn’t want that. He wanted to be here, and he was happy with his choices.” Ned got to his feet. “You know, the only way I could see Jason divorcing Elizabeth if he’d convinced himself she was better off without him. If he could see what you’ve done in his name—well, he’d be as mad as the man who woke up with his face is.” Ned just shook his head. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to admit you were wrong, Alan. It’s a shame.”

—

Elizabeth set the last box by the sofa, then looked  back at the second bedroom — it was empty now. Clothes had been packaged up for donations, the nursery furniture had been taken to storage—on its way to a thrift store. Even if Elizabeth had children again, she wouldn’t want to use Cady’s things.

Photos had been carefully packed into shoeboxes, waiting to be put into albums. Some of the frames had been moved back into the living room — including the one Jason had barely been able to put down — one of her favorites of Jason napping on the sofa after a long day at medical school, Cady curled up on his chest.

She looked at it now, wondering what about this photo had inspired him to ask about videos. To want to know more. It seemed almost fantastical that somehow he’d been able to develop a connection to their little girl — that he’d been able to love her, even a little.

She jolted at the knock on the door, setting the frame back down. When she peered through the window and saw Emily, she almost considered pretending not to be home. But that was the coward’s way out, and too often, Elizabeth had let the Quartermaines walk all over her.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Emily said, her voice muffled through the wood. “I’d be mad at me, too. I’m a horrible best friend who for, like five minutes, let myself believe the worst. But I want to apologize.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, then pulled the door open. “This isn’t a trick, is it?” she asked, stepping back. “Because I’m not in the mood.”

“No, I get that.” Emily shuffled, wrinkled her nose. “I’m awful, Liz. I don’t even have a good reason for that freak out other than I wanted to blame you. It was easier to do that,” she added, “than admit that I’d run away to California and I wasn’t asking questions.”

She stepped inside the apartment, saw the second bedroom door open. “Oh. You—you’ve been in Cady’s room?”

“We cleaned it out last week,” Elizabeth said, closing the door. “I thought it be a fun way to celebrate our one year anniversary.”

“You and Jason?” Emily set her purse down. “How did he, I mean, how’s he doing with all of this? When I left, he was running from everything that made him Jason Quartermaine, but Lois said you guys were living together. That you’re still married.”

“For now,” Elizabeth said, nervously twisting her ring. “It’s supposed to help get him out of conservatorship. If we’re married, I can petition to be co-conservator. And make it go away.”

“Oh.” Emily paused. “Is that—is that why you cleaned out…the bedroom? For him?”

“No.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “It’s…” Her cheeks heated. “We’re…I guess we’re together. Though it’s hard to really…explain.”

“You and—” Mystified, Emily followed her into the kitchen. “You and Jason? But he didn’t want to even call me  his sister, and I was one of the people he liked. Well, until a few weeks ago,” she admitted with a grimace. “And Grandmother—he likes her, too—”

“It’s not…it’s not like that. I mean, it is—” Elizabeth leaned against one of the counters. “That part of is it separate. We’re together, but we’re not married. I mean we are, but it’s—it’s separate.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” her friend said. “You’re married. You still have the rings on. Does he?”

“No. I don’t know what happened to his—I figured it got lost in the hospital—” Elizabeth shook her head. “The marriage part of it — it’s just legalities. We’re not calling each other husband and wife or anything. And I have his last name because, well, I’d already changed my name. But what we’re—we’re separate. It’s just for us.”

“Oh.” Emily pursed her lips. “No, I still don’t get it.”

“I don’t really know how to explain it. I know a lot of people would just think I’m taking advantage of him. I worried maybe I was, too. Like you said — he was out of options when Luke offered the job,” Elizabeth said, and Emily made a face. “But I didn’t know that. I was avoiding everything to do with him. Luke forced me to face it, and I did. He’s…I know he’s Jason. I know that. But he’s not Jason, you know? He’s different.”

“I guess. I mean, I only got to know him a little bit before I went back to school.” Emily chewed on her bottom lip. “But aren’t you worried after he gets out of this conservatorship and doesn’t need you anymore, he’ll just…leave you?”

“Well, if you believe your family, he was going to leave me anyway,” Elizabeth muttered, looking towards the wall. “So, what’s the difference?”

“I don’t believe them,” Emily said, and Elizabeth looked back at her. “You couldn’t see Jason. You know? You were grieving so hard, I think you were both a little blind to each other those last few weeks. He wanted to help you, but you…I don’t know if you were ready to be helped. And I’m not judging you,” she added hastily. “What happened—it was so awful. And it kept getting bad, and Jason was just killing himself trying to come to terms with all of it. But he was never thinking about leaving you. You know that, don’t you? You didn’t really believe it?”

“I—” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t know. We argued after that last story was in the papers. I just wanted to be left alone, and I knew it was from your family. I just never told you that. I knew all the leaks — I knew it was from them. They knew where we lived, when I was getting out of the hospital, where the funeral would be — Jason never would have sold me out. Neither would Luke or Sonny.”

“But my parents might have. Or Grandfather. Yeah, Jason was almost sure of it, too,” Emily said. “We talked about it, and he was so angry, Elizabeth. At them.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just—I can’t keep thinking about it, Em. I just can’t. Whatever Jason wanted to do—it didn’t happen. And that version of him is gone. He won’t ever come back. The man who woke up from that coma? He didn’t know me, he didn’t remember our daughter.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “That really hurt for a while, and I thought I needed to be away from him. But Justus came up with this idea, and it needed me and Jason to be together. So I agreed.” She rubbed her fist against her chest. “Do you know he was angry with me after that phone call with you?”

“He was mad at you?” Emily asked. “What? Why? You didn’t even do anything, except not tell me what was going on, and I figured out why eventually. I really so sorry—I know I have to stop just freaking out and slow down before I hurt people.”

“He was mad because I didn’t fight back. I let you yell at me, Em, and I barely defended myself. Your family? I barely fought back there, too. And I never stood up for myself.  I never expected you, too. I never thought Jason would take my side. So I never asked him to.”  She smiled faintly. “But I got angry with Jason, and I stood up for myself when he was asking questions I didn’t want to answer, and he liked me better for it. I liked myself, too. I was able to look at photos and videos of Cady again. To pack up her room with love, and not avoid her like she never existed.”

“Because of Jason?” Emily asked, her eyes shimmering. “He did it with you, you said. I’m glad. I’m glad he could help you. That you were ready for it.”

“Me, too. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Jason, but right now, I’m almost happy. And I never thought I’d get back there.”

“I’m so glad.” Emily stepped forward, pulled Elizabeth into a fierce, tight hug. “I’m sorry my family sucks so hard and I won’t wait for you to ask for help next time. I’m going to just be there. I already yelled at Dad. Mom and Grandfather are next.”

“I don’t want you to be in the middle—”

“I know. But they’re the ones putting me there, not you.” Emily stepped back. “And it’s time I took a side.”

Elizabeth started to respond, but the door opened behind them, and Jason stepped in, his expression cooling when he saw Emily.

“Jason. Um. Hey.” Emily took a hesitant step. “I came…to apologize. About the phone call. To both of you—”

“Elizabeth is the one you owed the apology to,” Jason said shortly. He tossed his jacket aside, looked at Elizabeth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I really am. Emily and I cleared everything up.”

“Okay, then that’s all that matters.” Jason came into the kitchen, opened the fridge and removed a beer. “Justus called while I was at the club,” he told Elizabeth. “He got a court date with probate court. Next month.”

“That’s so far away.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “But I guess it could have been worse.”

“Yeah.” He popped the cap off the bottle. “He said he got the financial audit back. The money in the bank account was yours. All of it.”

“Bank account?” Emily asked, looking back and forth between them. “What’s that about?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Edward and Alan closed our bank accounts — and I found out Luke and Sonny had been paying my full salary even though I was on maternity leave. According to Justus, the money that was in the account—that was taken — it was mine.”

“They stole from you?” Emily clenched her jaw. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Justus said you were supporting me,” Jason said, and Emily’s jaw dropped as Elizabeth made a face. “All the trust fund money went to tuition and savings. You were paying the day to day.” A wry smile. “He says he can’t wait to tell Alan and Edward that I was the freeloader in the marriage.”

Elizabeth snorted, rolled her eyes and took the beer when he offered her a drink. “You were not. I don’t care that I was paying the bills right now. It would have evened out eventually.”

“This is insane,” Emily said, touching her forehead. “All this time, Mom’s been bemoaning all this money you supposedly took from Jason, but—”

“I apparently never took a cent,” Elizabeth said. She handed the beer back to Jason. “You know, Justus is right. It’s going to be amazing when I get to shove that proof in their judgemental faces — I was the one putting their kid through med school, not them. Sorry, Em,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“No, I’m completely on your side. I just wish I could be there when they found out. Their heads are going to explode.”

“If only that were actually true,” Jason muttered. Emily choked back a giggle, then Elizabeth snickered, and they both started to laugh.

Written in 65 minutes.

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The door to the second bedroom had only been opened once since that terrible night — the day she and Jason had stood in the apartment, and he’d asked her for more pictures. Elizabeth had given him the only pictures she allowed herself — the family photo from her wallet and those inside the baby book she’d given him.

She’d thrown out the idea to clean Cady’s room almost as a dare to herself than an actual plan. If she said it, if she made a date and a promise, well, then she’d have to actually do it, wouldn’t she?

And yet.

Elizabeth stood halfway between the kitchen and the door, her fingers curled around a cup of coffee, staring at the closed white door. Behind her, she heard the click of the coffee pot—Jason switching it off after pouring the last cup.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, coming up behind her. “We can do something else today.”

“Maybe skydiving,” she murmured. “I think I’d rather jump out of a plane.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I told you, didn’t I, that I refused to come into the apartment after I got out of the hospital. I knew there were pictures everywhere. I framed everything — ultrasounds, her first day at home. Her first morning in her crib. Her first—” She cleared her throat. “There were toys. And baby things everywhere.”

“You said you made me clean it up,” Jason said, and she looked at him, leaning against the wall.

“A horrible thing to ask. I don’t know if I really understood how much I was asking of him—you—” she corrected, almost absently, as if Jason’s use of the pronoun had made her feel safe to use it, too. “You never even blinked. Never argued. Never said a word. You just turned me around, put me back in the car, and drove me to Luke’s. When I got home, it was like she ever existed. Out here. I thought it made it easier. And maybe it did for me. But I took her away from you, too. And now—” She finally looked at him again. “Now I regret it. Because you don’t remember her, and I feel like I stole those final weeks.”

“I can’t speak for who I used to be,” Jason said. He hesitated. “But I hope I would have understood.”

“Maybe you did. I found the baby book after the accident. It was in the desk,” she said. “Between tax forms and bank statements — somewhere you knew I’d never look. I felt better when I found that.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to think about before the accident — that it’s separate for you—”

“I’ll let you know when I get annoyed,” he interrupted, and her smile was faint. “Justus said maybe it was easy for me to do that, but I couldn’t force everyone to feel the same way. And maybe—” he shook his head, sipped the coffee, considering what he wanted to say. “Maybe it’s selfish to want people who used to know me to act like I’m someone different.”

“I think you get to be a little selfish, Jason, with everything you’ve gone through.” She bit her lip. “You are different. I mean, you’re the same person. But your personality, it’s…you don’t care so much about taking care of people’s feelings—” She winced. “That sounds terrible—”

“Customer told me last night I was a rude asshole when I decked him for pinching the waitress,” Jason offered. “I’m okay with that.”

“You used to…” She drew her brows together. “You worried a lot about what other people thought. About you. About your intentions. It’s not that it made you less honest — but sometimes, you weren’t always clear. That’s…I think that’s the biggest change. You say what you think and there’s not three layers to dig out what you feel.”

“I figure it makes it easier to know where you stand when you just say what you really mean.” He retrieved her cup from the desk, went to the kitchen and ran some water. “Why did you want to clean out her room today?”

“Because it has to be done, and I—I think—” Elizabeth looked down at her fingers, twisting the ring on her finger. “I think it’s the last thing I get to do as her mother. And if you help—it’s…”

“The only thing I get to remember about being her father,” Jason finished. Her throat tight, she could only nod.

“And maybe if we did it together, it might not hurt so much,” Elizabeth said.

“Then let’s see if we can do it.” Jason held out his hand. “And if it doesn’t work, I’ve got the number for a skydiving place. We can start lessons.”

She laughed, but took his head, and together they approached the closed the door. She touched it first with her fingertips, then slid her hand down to the knob, twisting it.

And pushed it open.

Sunlight from the window streamed in—illuminating the thin layer of dust on every surface.  In the center of the room sat a white wooden crib with a soft yellow blanket hanging over the end, the mobile with ducks still dangling. A matching wooden dresser in the corner, and next to it a changing table.

There was a tall set of shelves — they’d been half empty the last time she’d been in this room, but now there were picture frames filling them.

Elizabeth released his hand, walked to the shelf, and picked up the first one she saw. In the hospital, taken only a few hours after labor. She was holding Cady, a squalling red-faced baby bundled up in the hospital’s white and blue linen. She was grinning at whoever was taking the camera, Jason leaning in, one arm extending over her head, the other braced against the bed.

Their first photo as a family. She touched Jason’s face. His hair was longer, but his smile was the same. How could the woman in this photo ever think that her life was be dismantled piece by piece only months after it was taken?

With trembling fingers, Elizabeth set the frame back on the shelf, cleared her throat, looked over the room—found Jason still in the doorway. “I thought…the clothes. They’re clean. Some of them weren’t even—” She folded her arms. “I could pack them into some brown bags. I’m sure there’s a thrift store or a shelter that would appreciate them.”

“Do you want me to do that?” he asked, almost gently. “It might be easier—”

“No. Um, no. I was hoping—” She exhaled in a shaky breath. “Could you take these photos? Um, out of the frames. I have a shoebox for them for now. But later, I want—I want to put them into albums. So I can take them down and look at them.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay. That’s a good enough place to start.” Elizabeth brushed past him, heading the kitchen where she’d stowed the bags.

——

Had it only been a month since Jason had stood in the living room, and asked to see more photos? Only a month since he’d learned about the baby whose entire existence had come and gone before his memories stopped.

It’s not fair to put you through this just so I can maybe one day feel a connection to her.

Jason picked up another frame, this one with his face looking back at him. He knew it well enough now that it didn’t take much to understand the image. He was laying on the sofa—he recognized it from the living room. His eyes were closed, and the baby was stretched out on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. They were both sleeping.

What had it been like, he wondered, to hold something that small? Something that came from you? A person who hadn’t existed until you’d met someone else, and together, you’d made someone new.

He heard a dresser drawer, and looked over to find Elizabeth carefully taking a stack of clothes from inside and setting it into the brown paper bag open at her feet. The clothes were so small, he thought. And in the photo, the baby hadn’t even been reached longer than the end of his ribs.

“How much did she weigh?” Jason asked, the words leaving his mouth before they’d even formed in his mind.

Elizabeth blinked, then cleared her throat. “Nine pounds, twelve ounces.”

Not even ten pounds. Christ.

“I can bench 150 pounds,” Jason said, which was stupid thing to say, but it was all he could think. 150 pounds. That was fifteen times what his daughter had weighed when she’d—

His fingers clenched the frame more tightly, his chest aching. It was stupid, he thought. To get upset because he didn’t remember holding a baby he’d never met.

But she wasn’t just a face in a photo, the way she’d been the first day — when looking at himself before the accident holding her had been something like a novelty. You could see emotions in photos, he’d realized. Learn from them.

And she’d been a ghost in this apartment since the moment he’d stepped foot inside, the closed door haunting Elizabeth every day. How had she been able to keep moving forward? To keep breathing? She remembered everything.

The baby had been a fact about himself, something he’d learned about on his own. But he didn’t feel anything more than that—not really. He hadn’t known what it meant to love anything or anyone. Not then.

But now—looking at a picture of himself in a quiet moment with the daughter he’d never know—

Pressure built behind his eyes, and they began to sting.

“Jason?” Elizabeth’s voice was quiet. She’d come closer when he’d replied to her, but he hadn’t noticed. “Are you okay?”

“I—” His voice cracked, and his cheeks flooded with heat. He set the photo down almost with a thud. “I’m fine.”

Her fingertips skimmed his jaw, cool to the touch. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” He lifted his gaze to her. “I won’t ever remember her. I don’t know what she sounded like when she cried or how it felt to hold her—I can’t learn those facts from anyone else but you and it’s not fair—”

“Jason.” Elizabeth pressed a hand against his shoulder, so that he’d face her more directly. “Come with me.”

He frowned, but she took his head and pulled, so he followed. They went into the living room, and Elizabeth opened a cabinet where he knew she kept her movies. She pulled out a tape, then slid it into the VCR above the television.

“Here. Here, um—” She found the remote. “I know you don’t do well with the moving part of it, but if you just close your eyes—”

Jason felt like an idiot, then closed his eyes. He heard sounds in the background. A door opening, closing. Then voices.

“Jason, don’t point that thing at me!” Elizabeth, sounding so much happier, almost laughing. “I look so awful!”

“You look beautiful,” came the response, and Jason frowned, because it—that was him, wasn’t it? He’d heard his voice on recordings at the hospital, after therapy sessions with the doctors.

“I do not—you’re a terrible liar—Cady, tell Daddy not to lie to Mommy—”

There was a thin cry, then a louder wail, and then the voices again.

“See? Cady doesn’t like it when you accuse me of lying. That’s right, you have Daddy’s back—” There was laughter in the male voice, even over the sound of the baby crying. After another moment, the crying faded.

“Twelve hours of labor, and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger. Daddy’s girl.”

The sounds stopped, and Jason opened his eyes. He looked at Elizabeth who was staring at the screen, tears sliding down her cheek. He turned around, and she’d frozen the picture—paused it, so that he could see himself, holding a swaddled bundle, grinning down at the baby who wasn’t crying anymore.

“I don’t—I don’t know if that helped,” she tried, lifting the remote again, but Jason closed his hand over it, his eyes still locked on the screen.

It was real. All of it. He’d been a person before the accident, a person with a full life, happy life. A family.

He knew what his daughter sounded like. And that she’d stopped crying when he’d held her. His daughter. Cadence Audrey. Cady.

She’d been his, and he’d never know her. It was just like that day, holding the photograph. Seeing her had made it a real fact that he’d learned all on his own. The first moment, really, that he’d been able to do that. He’d learned her name on his own.

And hearing her—hearing himself talk to her—

He’d learned something else. You could create a feeling from nothing more than series of facts and images and stories, and he’d been doing that little by little over these last few weeks. Finding those pieces of the Jason he didn’t know.

“Jason?”

And now, all those pieces had formed not just a picture, but a person. They’d given him just a brief glimpse of what it had been like to be a father.

He’d loved his daughter. And standing here now, sorting through the memories left behind, Jason knew that he’d learned to love her again.

His cheeks were wet when he looked at her. “How did you do it?” he asked, his voice almost hoarse. “How did you keep breathing?”  How was he supposed to just keep living—

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her smile wobbly. “I just did. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to hear her—”

“Thank you. For — for giving her back to me.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Can you  let it keep playing? Or will that be too hard for you?”

As her answer, Elizabeth aimed the remote at the television, and the sounds of their former life filled the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said it doesn’t matter—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re right. Thanks.”

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

—

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

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

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

Jason frowned. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I know, but—”

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

And Jason didn’t have answer for that.

Written in 61 minutes.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason frowned. “You believe them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but—”

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

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

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

“Yes. I can.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So? She didn’t know—”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Written in 57 minutes.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Honor, we object—”

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

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

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

“That’s what I’m for—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling these days, Jason?”

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

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

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

“If you could, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Objection—”

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

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

“Did she tell you then?”

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

“But she did tell you eventually?”

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

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

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

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

Jason furrowed his brow. “No, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Honor,” Barber began.

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

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

Written in 60 minutes.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. What time is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

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

“I—I didn’t know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t think you did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Written in 60 minutes.

---

By the time Edward had walked their lawyer to the door, his confidence in their ultimate goal had been restored. After all, he was Edward Quartermaine — he’d contributed to all the right people, spread money in the right places—his legal team would run right over some dinky family court judge, and Justus—well, Justus was a fine lawyer, but he was a bleeding heart liberal. No match for anyone ruthless.

Edward recounted all these facts to Alan before dinner that night, and Alan accepted that his father didn’t believe they were in trouble, but Alan couldn’t quite find that confidence. It was one thing to orchestrate all of these things when Jason hadn’t been aware or fighting back—

It was another to sit in a court room and active oppose what his own son wanted to do. Even if that son didn’t remember his life or choices he’d made before the accident. Jason was still Alan’s child, and all of this turmoil weighed on him.

“Well?” Monica rose as soon as Alan entered the family room. “What’s going on? What does Edward say?”

Alan closed the door behind him, made a face. “Father remains convinced, but I’m not so sure. I know you’re angry that we took it this far, Monica, but I remain convinced it was the only way to do right by Jason. The power of attorney alone wouldn’t have given us the right to protect Jason’s trust fund. When he comes to his senses and realizes we only want what’s best, he’ll understand.”

“I just wish you’d told me,” Monica said. She paced the length the room. “It was humiliating to be confronted that way, in front of Lois who has never understood what it means to be a Quartermaine. For all my faults, Alan, I always did.”

Alan wasn’t so sure about that since Monica had once tried to bankrupt ELQ and tossed them out of the house but that had been more than a decade and two remarriages ago, so it was water under the bridge. “I was worried that you’d begun to soften towards Elizabeth. That you might think Father and I had gone too far—”

“I was,” Monica muttered. “I thought she was making the right choice, walking away from Jason. Not showing up here, begging to see him. I thought she’d learned about the memory loss and had cut her losses. But she was just regrouping. And it worked—” She whirled to face him, her eyes a bit desperate now. “It worked, Alan! How can that be possible? Jason has rejected every damn piece of the life we worked so hard to give him, but her? Her he wants to keep?”

“Monica—”

“It’s just like before,” Monica muttered. She resumed her pacing, one arm wrapped around her waist protectively, the other nibbling at her fingernails. “Just like it. Do you remember when he came to you to pay that girl’s tuition at some ridiculous art school? They weren’t even dating—and she’d almost talked him into giving her a hundred thousand dollars—”

“I wish you wouldn’t let that upset you—”

“And you know she got pregnant to trap him. It’s the oldest trick in the book! Jason’s too careful—especially after what happened to Stone Cates—She probably poked holes in the damn condom—” Monica took a deep breath, turned back to Alan. “And just when I thought there was some use to her, when I thought at least we’d have that precious child to love—that reckless girl destroyed everything—”

Alan stopped her, placing his hands at her shoulders. “Darling, don’t get so upset. Father and I are managing this—”

“But you said you’re not so sure. You said—”

“I said that I’m not so sure things on Wednesday go as well as he thinks. I wouldn’t be surprised if the judge grants an injunction—”

“Alan!”

“Monica, what do you think the family court is going to do? Jason’s perfectly capable of making this decision. He can choose to be married, just as he could before the accident. And if he went out and married the first idiot off the street, I’d tell you that we’d have to live with that. But he didn’t choose this marriage, and I don’t think it’s fair to allow it to stand when we know Jason wanted differently before the accident. A judge is going to see that if Jason can choose to get married now, then he can choose to stay married.”

“What if we told the judge everything we know? I could tell them about the last conversation Jason and I—”

“You could. But it would be hearsay, Monica.” Alan sighed. “I wish we had some proof of what he was planning, but we might be out of luck.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” she demanded. “Just let her keep dragging our son down into the mud? If Jason gets his trust fund back, what’s to stop him from putting her name right back on it—”

“Jason saw through her once, my dear. I’m going to try to convince Father not to fight too hard on Wednesday. This won’t be won in a court of law, but public opinion. Jason’s public opinion. All we have to do is make sure he sees Elizabeth for who we know she is.”

“Why couldn’t he have fallen for Sarah?” Monica muttered. She dropped onto the sofa. “A perfectly lovely and ambitious girl. If it had to be a Webber, why not her?” She sighed. “I know you’re right, Alan. It’s just…she managed to convince him to do this in a matter of weeks. We had two months with him, and somehow—” She closed her eyes. “Why does he want her and not us? Why?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll get through this. I know we will.” He squeezed her hand. “Trust me.”

—

Elizabeth balanced the pizza box in one hand and reached for the phone with the other, turning to flash Jason a smile over her shoulder as he headed into the kitchen with the brown bags of groceries they’d picked up on their way home from working the happy hour shift. “Can you grab this?” she asked, holding out the pizza. “Hello?” she said into the phone.

“Elizabeth?”

“Em.” Elizabeth’s hand tightened around the phone, then she forced herself to relax. She hadn’t called her best friend in more than a week—and so much had changed.

“Lois called me this morning,” Emily said, her tone strangely flat and empty. “What the hell is going on in Port Charles and why didn’t you tell me?”

Jason retrieved the box, but didn’t return to the kitchen, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

Elizabeth pressed a hand to her forehead, wincing. “I was going to call you, but there’s been so much going on—”

“My grandfather put Jason in a conservatorship and you didn’t tell me? They’re trying to force a divorce, and you still didn’t tell me? They’re evicting you and you didn’t tell me? You got back together with my brother and you didn’t tell me. That didn’t all happen last week, Elizabeth.”

“No. No, it didn’t.” Elizabeth sat on the arm of the sofa. “It just kind of got out of control, and you were already back in school—”

“No, no! You don’t get to use that as an excuse—”

“Yeah, I do, Em. You’re three thousand miles away, and these calls aren’t cheap—”

“You’re married to a millionaire—”

“No, I’m married to a millionaire’s grandson, and you know there’s a difference. Jason’s trust fund doesn’t make him a millionaire—and this is a stupid argument. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to cause issues with you and your family—”

“This isn’t about you, Elizabeth! This is about my brother! He’s been through so much, and now I find out my family is trying to control him! I could have helped—what kind of friend are you that you let him be thrown out onto the street before you even lifted a finger to help?”

“Wait. What?” Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck. “What are you talking about?”

“Lois told me that Dad and Grandfather got Jason fired from any job he tried to get and thrown out of every place he tried to live. How long were you going to let that keep going? Until he was desperate enough to need you?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “I didn’t know any of that was happening—”

“Sure. Okay, you just walked away from your husband without a second thought. I don’t buy that—”

“I don’t care what you believe, Emily, it’s the truth! I did the best I could, and you don’t get to judge me from across the country!”

“How can I judge you when you never tell me anything?” Emily accused. “Is that why Luke gave Jason and job? Because he couldn’t get one anywhere else? How long did it take before you talked him into moving back into the apartment?”

“I didn’t talk him into anything—” Elizabeth frowned when the phone was jerked out of her grasp.

Jason lifted it his ear. “Emily?” There was a pause. “No, she didn’t ask me for help. If you’re going to talk about me, why not say it to my face? No, I want to hear what you think Elizabeth is making me do. You can accuse her of doing it, why don’t you ask for my opinion?”

Elizabeth sighed, looked down at her hands, picking at a cuticle. A moment later, she heard the phone clatter as Jason set it back on the base with a hard rattle. “Who hung up, you or her?”

“She did. She said it wasn’t about me, it was between you two. So you tell me what she’s mad about.” Jason folded his arms, his jaw clenched. “What’s her problem?”

“I didn’t tell her about the conservatorship. I probably should have. She’s your sister—”

“I don’t know if I’d call her that.”

Elizabeth broke off, confused. “I thought you…you said you liked Emily and Lila.”

“Yeah, but—” Jason’s mouth tightened. “Never mind. It doesn’t have anything to do with her. What’s she going to do about it?”

“Yell at her grandfather, like that’s ever worked. Emily and I were really close growing up, but she went away to college, and it’s…we’ve drifted a little bit. Don’t worry about it. She gets mad for a week, then apologizes later.” Elizabeth headed for the kitchen. “Let’s put these away and eat before it gets cold.”

“Don’t brush me off like that. She was yelling at you about me, and I want to know.”

Elizabeth sighed, started to unpack one of the grocery bags. “I didn’t tell her what was going on. The power of attorney, either. She was so upset and scared for you, and the last thing I wanted to do was put her in the middle of what was happening with me and your—Alan and Monica. And Edward,” she added. She put the eggs in the fridge. “It just…I don’t know. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. That’s how I’ve been handling everything for the last few months, honestly. Just don’t look directly at it.” She looked at him. “And she was back in California by the time I found out about the conservatorship. I’ve gotten used to not including Emily in my life. She’s hurt that I shut her out. That I kept her from helping you. She probably doesn’t even mean what she said—”

“You still didn’t tell me what that is.” Jason leaned against the fridge, blocking her from putting away anything else. “Just say it.”

“She thinks I knew you were basically homeless and I let it happen so you’d be desperate enough to need my help, and I’d be able to convince you to come back.”

“And is this what best friends do?” Jason wanted to know. “They accuse you of being manipulative?”

“That’s what Quartermaine best friends do,” she muttered. She bumped him out of the way and put away the milk.

“You lose your husband, your bank account with your money, your home is being threatened, and somehow that makes you the bad guy,” Jason said. “Why don’t you get mad? Why do you just take it?”

Elizabeth blinked. “What?”

“You just let her yell at you. You didn’t yell back. Why would you stay married to someone who wouldn’t defend you against his own family?” He shook his head, went over to pizza box. “I don’t understand that.”

Tears burned. “I didn’t need him to defend me. And I don’t want to yell back. I just want them to leave me alone. I wanted everyone to leave me alone, and they were doing that—”

“They were evicting you,” Jason said, looking at her like she was an idiot. “Trying to bankrupt you—”

“This is just a place. Okay? It’s four walls that I don’t even like. And I knew I could make it go away any time I wanted. All I had to do was agree to sign those divorce papers! I could have made it stop if I wanted to!”

“Then why didn’t you if none of this matters to you?” Jason challenged. “Why keep letting them beat you down?”

Her hands curled into a fist. “Because I made a promise. There are vows. You don’t remember making them to me, and that’s fine, but my memories weren’t erased. I made a promise. In sickness and in health. Honor. Cherish. Jason wouldn’t have let my family control me, and I wasn’t going to let them control you! Okay? I refused to sign those damn papers because they wouldn’t agree to end the conservatorship.” She scowled. “You don’t get to decide that’s not important.”

Jason leaned back against the counter. “So why didn’t you get pissed at Emily? Why do you only get mad at me?”

“I didn’t—” Elizabeth blinked, stepped back. “What? I didn’t get mad at you.”

“The first time we talked. You got angry with me because I was rude. I liked you better when you did that,” Jason added, and she just stared at him, bewildered. “And the next day—when I yelled at you, you yelled back. You didn’t tiptoe around me. Treat me like I was damaged. But you tiptoe around Emily. And the Quartermaines. Why?”

“I don’t—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she said finally. She closed her eyes. “You think I’m a victim. That I make myself the victim.”

“I never said that—”

“Like I’m martyring myself,” Elizabeth muttered. “I’m not doing that. I’m not a victim. I’m just trying to survive.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “What are we even fighting about?”

“I don’t know. But I like fighting with you,” Jason told her, and she laughed—just a short surprised burst exploding from her throat. She pressed her hands over her mouth, stifling the rest of it. “We’re done now, right? Do you still want to fight?”

“No. No, I don’t.” She closed the small distance between them, leaned up to kiss him. Jason’s hands immediately tangled in her hair—she fisted her hands in his shirt and started to back away, drawing him with her. “Have you ever had cold pizza?” she asked.

“What happened to waiting?” Jason wanted to know just as they reached the bedroom.

“Did you want to keep doing that?” she asked, her finger tips dancing underneath his shirt. “Because I could stop—” Elizabeth started to step away, but he yanked her back, his arm tight around her waist. “That’s what I thought.”

Written in 68 minutes. Went slightly over, sorry!

---

Monica was a woman with many regrets, and she did her best not to to dwell on them for too long. After all, what was done was done and there was no point in being mired in endless self-pity. But she had a feeling going along with the decision to keep Jason’s marriage a secret would be one regret she’d find to difficult to forget.

After attending the Easter service at Queen of Angels with the rest of the family, Monica sought out her mother-in-law, hoping Lila would be willing to share some of her boundless wisdom and strength.

Instead, she found the elderly woman fretting in the parlor, Lois seated on the sofa, reassuring her that Jason would understand and believe no one had known. After all, Ned hadn’t told her either — Monica frowned at that — Lois was always complaining about the Quartermaines and their penchant for secrecy.

Ned was near the terrace, looking out the garden pensively. He turned when Monica entered, his scowl deepening. “You know, you could have shut this down months ago.”

“I fail to see how since none of us knew what Alan and Edward were up to.” Monica lifted her chin. “I don’t agree with their methods, but their goal—”

“Oh, come on!” Lois threw up her hands, surged to her feet. “What’s it gonna take for you to see you’re wrong about that girl! Ned says she’s been Emily’s best friend for years—”

“A best friend is hardly the same thing as a spouse,” Monica retorted. “And I don’t have to justify myself to you—”

“Well, no one ever could make me understand just what the problem was—sure they were young, and maybe having a kid so quick wasn’t the plan, but they were handling it—”

“Lois.” Ned touched his wife’s shoulder. “I don’t think this is helping—”

“For months you’ve all walked around this house trying to get Jason back into this family, and all you did was push him further away! A conservatorship, Monica! It’s awful, can’t you see it?”

“I don’t know that it was the best choice, but it’s not like Jason’s been under lock and key. He wanted to leave. They let him go—”

“Made it impossible for him to keep a job or a roof over his head,” Ned said. “I’m just surprised it took Luke a month to step in.”

“Elizabeth probably wanted to wait until Jason was desperate—”

“You’ve buried a daughter, you know,” Lois broke in, and Monica stumbled to a stop, stared at the younger woman. “Dawn, right? Ned told me about her—”

“Lois—”

“No, I’m sick of tip toeing around this! We’re gonna talk about it—you buried a daughter, and so did your daughter-in-law. Why couldn’t—”

“I’m not responsible for my daughter’s death,” Monica said tightly. “That’s the difference—”

“No one seriously believes Elizabeth wanted that accident—”

“She had a responsibility to my granddaughter, and she failed. Jason saw that —”

“Monica.”

Lila’s voice was soft, but unmistakable and the trio twisted to look to look at her. “I wish you wouldn’t caste such blame on that child. She nearly died herself, and whatever blame that might be hers, surely she’s paid for it in spades. I think we can afford a little grace. She buried her child before that precious baby could even blossom.”

Monica pressed a closed fist against her abdomen, took a deep breath. “I don’t doubt Elizabeth’s grief. And it’s not for you to understand why Alan and I didn’t approve of Jason marrying Elizabeth. He’s not your son—”

“Yeah, well, the rate you’re going? He’s never going to be yours again, either.”

Monica didn’t break eye contact with her nephew’s wife. “Ned, I think it’s time you and Lois went home to the gatehouse.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve had enough of this family for a life time,” Lois bit out, stalking from the room.

“I’m sorry she brought up Dawn, Monica, but Lois isn’t wrong,” Ned said gently. “Everything we’ve done to keep Jason close has only backfired. And this stunt of Grandfather and Alan? It won’t help anything.”

“Thank you for your concern, Ned, but it won’t be necessary.”

Ned shook his head, then headed for the doorway. Monica pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry for that scene. Lois hasn’t learned to mind her tongue yet.”

“As you have?” Lila asked, arching a brow. Monica frowned at her. “I notice you haven’t quite condemned this…this legal nonsense my husband has orchestrated. That your husband has supported. I wish you could have given Elizabeth a chance. If we’d taken her in, supported her—”

“She was just smarter than Nikki,” Monica cut in sharply. “Alan was able to find her price, but Elizabeth played the long game. You don’t know everything, Lila. Jason wouldn’t have told you of the times he gave her money. The attempts he made to draw on his trust fund so she could waste more time and money at some art school—and that was before she got pregnant. She would have kept taking from him if we couldn’t stop it. And the only reason there’s even money left in that account is Alan and Edward took control away from her.”

“I think Jason had a right to make his choice—”

“And his choice led him to have brains bashed in, so he got what he wanted, didn’t he? She should have cut her losses and moved on, but she didn’t. She waited and she found a way—” Monica shook her head. “Jason saw her for who she was once, and I just have to trust he’ll do it again.”

“What does that mean?” Lila asked, but Monica was already on her way out of the room, leaving the bewildered woman alone with her worries.

—

Across town, on Charles Street, another disapproving family was sitting down to Easter dinner—well, Laura had decided to reserve judgment, Luke thought, but his mind was made up on the whole thing.

Elizabeth had brought Jason after a last minute call that morning, and now the pair of them were in his house, Jason hovering behind Elizabeth, clearly uncomfortable around people he didn’t know or give a damn about.  Luke hadn’t much liked the Quartermaine scion before he’d had his memories scrambled and he wasn’t growing more fond as the days passed.

It had been a mistake, he thought, to ask the kid to come work for him. To take him in and give him shelter from the meddling Quartermaines. He’d thought Elizabeth would get a shock to the system — her husband was gone. Time to give up the ghost, and let Jason fight his own battles. Cut her losses, sign the divorce papers, and move on.

But instead, Jason had pulled Elizabeth back in, asking for her help. And now they were right back where they’d been before the accident — Elizabeth doing all the work, taking all the risks, and Jason reaping the benefits.

“What is your problem?” his sister Bobbie hissed after she caught Luke glaring at Jason’s back when they moved to the dining table. “You’re making everyone uncomfortable—”

“No, I’m not, and lay off, Barbara Jean. You don’t know the situation—”

“I know that you’ve been downright rude to Jason, and Laura is going to murder you if you keep it up—” Bobbie closed her mouth when the woman in question called after them to hurry up and take their seats.

Luke took his sister’s advice to heart — his misgivings weren’t anyone else’s problems, and the last thing he wanted was Elizabeth to think he wasn’t on her side. She was free to make her own mistakes, he thought, it was a free country and all that. So he forced a more genuine smile on his face, passed the mashed potatoes, and ignored the bottom feeder taking advantage of his favorite bar manager.

“Thank you for dinner,” Elizabeth said, kissing his cheek and hugging Laura. “And for the day off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Luke folded his arms, watched them head to Elizabeth’s car—Jason to the passenger side.

When their brake lights had disappeared around the corner, Laura’s smile vanished and she whacked Luke hard in the arm. “Hey!”

“What is your problem? And don’t ask what, I don’t want to play six rounds of dumb before you admit I’m right.” Laura stalked back into the house, and Luke reluctantly followed. Bobbie took one look at her sister-in-law’s expression and decided it was time to decamp.

“Well, this was a lot of fun, but Lucas and I are going to head out.”

“Yeah, tell Doc we were sorry to miss him,” Luke said. When his sister and son had left, he turned to Laura. “Look, I wasn’t that bad—”

“You don’t think Elizabeth knows you better than that? You were rude, Luke. To a guest in our home—”

“To a freeloader,” Luke muttered, heading for the kitchen. He yanked a beer out of the fridge. “I gave him a job I don’t even need to fill—”

“You needed a new bartender—”

“He’s terrible at it—”

“You asked him, Luke. You sought him out—”

“And that’s on me. He’s using her, Laura. Maybe he doesn’t know it,” Luke said. “I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt there. But they were working opposite shifts. She gave him what he needed to figure out the Q’s games, and then she was keeping her distance. Finally figuring out she’s better off without that bastard—”

“You didn’t have to like their financial arrangements—”

“He had millions of dollars in that trust—”

“Luke—”

“And now he’s living with her again. Using her to get out from under the Q’s thumb. Just like before. She was that idiot’s rebellion from his uptight, snooty family, and now she’s his ticket out of there again—”

Laura sighed, looked away, then met his eyes again. “What goes inside of a marriage is only known to the people in it. You know that, Luke. There are plenty of people who don’t think you and I should have even looked twice at each other. You think my mother was wild about you? Your sister hated me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“From the outside, sure, it looked like Jason was using Elizabeth to support him through medical school. But we don’t know why he didn’t want to use that money for more than tuition. And now, yes, it looks like he’s getting all the benefits—”

“They’re dating,” Luke said flatly. “Sonny told me that. How do you date your wife, Laura? You don’t. You’re married or you’re not. He’s stringing her along—”

“Luke—”

“And when he drops her, Elizabeth is going to hit bottom again. Because he might think she’s pretty and want to sleep with her. But he doesn’t love her, Laura. And she’s never  going to see that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t want the world to fall apart again. She’s been through enough.”

“That isn’t a decision you or I get to make,” Laura said. “Just like it’s not on Alan or Monica or Edward Quartermaine. It’s for them.”

“He hurts her, I’m gonna scramble what’s left of his brains,” Luke muttered, grabbing his beer, and heading for the living room.

—

Jason hadn’t noticed Luke’s rudeness or caught any of the dark looks Laura had sent her husband — mostly because he thought the club owner was like that with everyone. So he didn’t think much about dinner once they’d left the house.

It was good to have something to do that wasn’t working behind the bar or taking a ride on the bike, he thought, trailing behind Elizabeth as they walked up to the apartment. It was a good thing Elizabeth had started that conversation about hobbies. He needed something to fill the extra time he had now that he wasn’t worried about where he’d work or sleep.

“Um…it’s still early,” Elizabeth said, taking the jacket from her and hanging it in the small closet by the door. “I don’t know what you want to do. Or maybe you don’t want to do anything. I could make coffee or—”

“What would you normally do?” Jason asked.

She bit her lip, shrugged. She kicked off her low heels, leaving her feet bare as she padded towards the kitchen. “Watch TV or a movie. Lately, go to sleep.” She went into the fridge, found a can of soda. “You want one?”

“I’m good. You can watch something. I don’t care.”

“I guess.” She sat on the sofa, but didn’t reach for the remote. “What would you normally do?”

“Go for a walk.” He sat at the other end of the sofa. “Find somewhere under the docks to sleep. It wasn’t so bad,” he added when she made a face. “And it was only once or twice.”

Elizabeth stood up again, smoothing her hands down the sides of the dress she wore — it reminded him of the color of butter, he thought, as she went to a shelf by the desk. There was a stereo with racks of cassette tapes. She switched it on, fiddled with a knob, filling the room with low sounds of music.

“Um, I listen to music, too. Have you? I mean, is it something you like?”

Jason listened to the song that had been switched on. It was loud, like things were crashing against each other. He winced. “Was it before?”

“Yeah. Hold on—” Elizabeth slid her fingers down one stack, took out a cassette, then popped it into the stereo. “This was one of your favorite songs—”

The loud, crashing music was replaced with a more laid back guitar.

I would like to reach out my hand I may see you,
I may tell you to run (on my way, on my way)

“It’s okay,” he said, though he didn’t know if he really thought it. What was the point of sitting and listening to music? “Uh, do we just…listen?”

She smiled now, and for the first time since they’d gotten home, some of the nerves eased. “Sometimes, yeah. But you can do other things. Like, I used to listen to certain songs to clean, or driving—sometimes you just want the right music for that. You used to study with music a lot.”

She switched something on the stereo. “This is a good radio station for that. Have you, um, tried dancing?” She glanced back at him.

“No. I don’t think I’d like it,” Jason admitted.

So don’t try to deny it, pretty baby
You’ve been down so long you can hardly see

“Well, you won’t know until you try.” Elizabeth held out a hand, and he reluctantly let her pull him to his feet. She was right — maybe he’d like it, but he’d watched people at Luke’s, and it didn’t really look like a lot of fun.

“So…what do I do?” Jason asked. He made a gesture with his hands. “Are people born knowing how to do this? Because—”

The right time to roll to me
The right time to roll to me
The right time to roll to me, ooh

 

“You just sort of—” Elizabeth reached out for his other hands, and she did something with her hips that looked right, but then he tried it and it was so wrong she almost started laughing.

“Okay, so maybe this kind of dancing isn’t right—”

“Are there others?” he asked skeptically.  The song on the radio faded, and a slower one came on. “I could do this one — it doesn’t move fast.”

Close your eyes, make a wish
And blow out the candlelight

Elizabeth glanced at the stereo with narrowed eyes, then sighed, looking back at him. “Yeah, this would be easier,” she admitted. She stepped closer to him. “You just…”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ve seen people do this.” Jason lifted his hands, set them at her hips, and she slid her arms around his neck. “It’s just…swaying.”

“Yeah, it’s easier. Especially when you don’t have any rhythm.”

For tonight is just your night

We’re gonna celebrate
All through the night

“I definitely don’t think dancing is for me,” Jason said, but maybe he could learn to like this kind. He’d seen people at the clubs, dancing like this, though usually they were closer, but remembering their conversation earlier that day—

I will do anything
Girl you need only ask

He looked down at her, but Elizabeth had looked away, staring more at his shirt, then at him. Jason frowned. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“What?” Now her eyes flew to his, startled. “No, it’s um, fine, it’s just—”

And I will not let go
‘Til you tell me to

“I like this,” Jason decided, and she smiled faintly, the blush flooding her cheeks, then down her neck, to her chest. Elizabeth bit her lip, but she didn’t look away now. Somehow, she stepped closer to him, or maybe he’d moved—

Anything that you ask
I will give you the love of your life

“I like it, too,” she confessed. Her hand slid down his chest, the other stayed around his neck, and her gaze held his, her pretty blue eyes that he wouldn’t mind looking at for the rest of the night.

And I will not let go
‘Til you tell me to

The song faded around them, and the radio moved into a faster, more upbeat song, and Elizabeth stepped back. “I think we’ve established, though, that music isn’t going to be your thing.”

“No, but the dancing is okay.” Jason still held her hand, and he raised it up, turning it over so that her palm was facing up. Her skin was soft, he thought, and he liked touching it. The feel of the smoothness against his tougher, rougher fingers.

“I should, um, change. And go to bed. I… have inventory  tomorrow,” Elizabeth managed. She leaned up, kissed him lightly, then tugged away, making her escape.

---

Songs: Send Me On My Way (Rusted Root), Roll To Me (Del Amitri), and I’ll Make Love To You (Boyz II Men). All songs charted on Billboard Hot 100 1995.

Written in 64 minutes.

---

Alan checked the hallway once more before sliding into the study, and closing the door firmly behind him. “Well? Have you gone through the papers?”

Edward scowled, tossed the petition aside. “I don’t know what that boy thinks he’s doing, going against the family like this, and you! We’re in this position because of you!”

Alan lifted his brows. Instead of rising to the bait and giving his father the fiery response he’d wanted, Alan said, “So it’s bad then, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” Edward growled. “It’s all supposition, and-and rumors! Justus thinks this will get him a leg up in the conservatorship—he wants that ridiculous child to be appointed instead of me!” He huffed. “Can you imagine?”

“Well—”

“And don’t think I’m letting you off the hook! You told me to leave it alone! You said to give it time! Well, what we do we have? That girl got her hooks into him just like she did before his brains got scrambled—”

“Father—” Alan winced. “I don’t know if we can really speak about him the way. After all, you thought he’d be crawling back by now—”

“That was before I realized that girl is more conniving than I thought.” Edward stalked over to the window. The early morning sun rose over the rose garden outside, and Edward could almost see Lila working with the flowers, on her hands and knees, the way she’d been before she’d been relegated to the wheelchair. Her grandchildren at her side.

Jason, that bright, shining boy with so much purpose—

“How did she do it?” Edward muttered. “At every step, he’s rejected his old life. He refused all our efforts to show him who he used to be. He rebelled. He broke furniture. He destroyed his room. He shattered that damn window—but two weeks with that girl—less than two—and he’s agreeing to file paperwork to stop the divorce we worked so hard to arrange—”

“Father—”

“How did she do it?” Edward repeated, turning to his son, his eyes blazing. “How did she convince him to keep the one piece of his life he should have been eager to discard! She hid the truth from him for months—”

“Well, Father, it seems to me that we underestimated his hostility towards us.” Alan sighed when Edward scowled. “It’s possible he’s aware that we’re behind the lost jobs. Ruby and that woman who ran the bar — they were under orders not to tell him why he was being kicked out, but maybe he connected the dots on his own.”

“The doctors said—”

“The doctors said that they couldn’t measure the damage fully. All we know is that his long-term memories are gone. Retrograde amnesia combined with the damage to the frontal lobe—he’s impulsive. His filter is gone,” Alan continued. “He doesn’t have the same reasoning abilities he once had. Though he never completed the hospital tests,” he admitted with a rueful sigh. “So it’s possible we’ve been operating with a faulty thesis. Perhaps Jason is more capable than you or I gave him credit for—”

“What are you telling me—”

“If he underperformed on the tests in the hospital purposely,” Alan continued, “and it seems to me that’s likely, then we created the circumstances that made him vulnerable to Elizabeth’s story. After all, consider it from her perspective. What do you suppose she’s told him?”

Edward bristled. “That we barred her from her husband’s hospital room, kept her from the estate, stole her money, and are trying to steal her home.” He gripped the back of his desk chair. “I see your point.”

“We cut Jason’s access to money, and when he left, we made sure he couldn’t find a job or a place to live. Now, you and I know we were only trying to encourage him to come home. To be with his family. But Luke went to find him. And instead of being angry that Elizabeth kept the truth from him, she’s spun it so she’s the victim. Just like he is.”

“If we could only make him understand that we were doing what was best for him. What I know he’d want if he knew the truth—”

“Once she was pregnant, Father, there was no chance Jason would ever see Elizabeth for who she really is.” Alan paused. “Can Justus win on Wednesday? Have you talked to the lawyer?”

“He’s not sure,” Edward muttered. “He says it’s a crapshoot. No one’s ever done this before. If Jason walks in there, looking capable and of sound mind, a judge is going to have questions.”

“I think we need to talk about what our goals are. And adjust to this. If you’re still of the mind that you want Jason back in this house and away from Elizabeth, well, then we might need to make some concessions on Wednesday. We’ve lost the opportunity tell Jason what really happened. We have to work with what’s left and not alienate him further.”

—

Across town, Elizabeth was doing everything she could not to think about the upcoming court hearing. Or that she’d relegated Jason to the sofa while she laid in her bed half the night, thinking of him lying out here, in nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants that were so much more revealing than she’d ever—

“I was thinking,” Elizabeth said, curling up in a corner of the sofa with a legal pad and pencil in her hand. “About what we talked about last night. About you not knowing what you like to do.”

Jason, at the end of the sofa, frowned at her, his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Well, you have time now, right? We’re both off today. And Luke said I had to stop working seven days a week,” she said with a curl of her lip. “We could make a list of stuff to try.”

“A list?” Jason repeated. He shifted on the sofa so that he faced her. “Like what?”

“Well, I don’t know. I was looking through some magazines, and if you’re okay, I was wondering if you want to start with some of the hobbies you had before,” she said. “I mean, maybe you might still like that stuff.”

“Uh, okay. I guess that makes sense.” Jason set the coffee on the table. “Like what?”

“Well, sports. I know you said you don’t watch television or movies because the pictures move, but there’s playing sports right? You played hockey in high school and college.” Elizabeth frowned, tapped the pencil against the pad. “But you don’t like people.”

“No, not so far, I don’t.”

“Yeah, so the other sports are out—well, what about running? And, um—” She bit her lip, stared at the legal pad. “You, um, work out, right? With weights.” She glanced up. “You didn’t…well, you didn’t before,” she muttered.

“Then how did you know?” Jason asked, drawing his brows together. “Did Emily tell you, or—”

She cleared her throat, then gestured at him. “You look, um, different. Like—in the biceps. And—” The abs. And chest. And it was how it had all gone stupid and insane a few days ago—she hadn’t noticed the physical changes, and then he’d been shirtless, and she’d just wanted to—

“Anyway. So that’s a yes?” she asked.

Jason tilted his head, peering at her, and she wondered if she was flushed all over. She certainly felt like everything was on fire, and damn it—her chest was probably red—

“That’s a yes,” he said slowly. “I had some physical therapy at the hospital, and the weight training because I’d been laying down for almost two weeks. And there was a gym at the house. When I got too frustrated or angry, which was all the time—I went there.” He stretched out an arm, flexed it—

“Don’t do that,” she hissed under her breath, clenching the pencil tightly.

Jason frowned. “What did you say?”

“I said you should talk to Sonny,” Elizabeth said. “He’s got a gym. They’ve got a boxing ring down there, too. He’d get you set up with access or whatever.”

“Yeah, okay. But that’s not what you said.”

She cleared her throat. “Uh, what about other physical stuff, like—”

“You said you wanted to go to art school.”

Elizabeth blinked. “What?”

“You were supposed to go to art school,” Jason said, “but I don’t see any art supplies around. Did you stop doing that or something?”

“I don’t…”  She slid her hand across the legal pad. “I had a studio. Where I used to live before I moved in here with you. I used to go there. I haven’t in a few months. I…I was going to give it up, but Sonny…he found out and prepaid the rent for the year. He said I’d change my mind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I guess…I mean, we’re talking about you like to do or might like to do. It’s fair to…ask me. I just haven’t felt inspired in a few months. That’s all.” She set the pad on the table. “I called Luke while you were in the shower. If you still wanted to go to dinner, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, I still want to go.” Jason caught her arm as she stood and tumbled her back to the sofa, only this time she was sitting almost on top of him. “You noticed I worked out.”

“I—” Elizabeth winced. “Yes. You just…look, we already went through this, okay? This is how it started, and we’re not starting it now.”

“Starting what?” But he was grinning when he asked it and she rolled her eyes.

“You’ve got a one-track mind,” she muttered.

“Am I not supposed to think about that when I look at you?” Jason wanted to know.

“When you—” She stared at him. “What?”

“You think about it when you look me.” He leaned in, brushed his lips just beneath her ear, and she sighed. “You get all red. From here—” He touched her forehead, then his finger stroked her cheek — “to here—” and then he traced the edge of her scoop-necked shirt. “To here.”

“You—” Elizabeth stopped. “I forgot what I was going to say,” she muttered.

“And I was trying to remember,” Jason continued, “if you were red all over, but I didn’t really spend a lot of time looking—”

She clapped both her hands over his mouth. “Oh, man, you’ve got to stop that,” she muttered. She jolted when the tip of his tongue darted out and licked the inside of her palm. “Oh, you—”

“It upsets you that I think you’re beautiful?” Jason asked, frowning. “Or that I think about you all the time—”

“You think about—” Elizabeth took a deep breath, and slowly slid away from him. “You think about sex all the time,” she corrected. “And I’m in front of you. I’m the only woman you’re around—”

“I lived at Jake’s for over a week. There were women there,” Jason told her, and she made a face. “There was this one blonde. She came back a few times, and I thought about it, but then I got kicked out. I could have gone back,” he said.

Elizabeth sighed, and now some of the flush was gone. Reality was setting in, reminding her why she’d put the brakes on in this area. “That’s my point. If you went back there tonight, and she was there, you could—”

“But I don’t want to now. I like you.”

“Okay. Sex is fun, okay? It is, and it was fun the other day, too. Not just fun, but good.” She bit her lip. “But it means something to me, that’s all. And I don’t sleep with just anyone. I don’t judge people who do, but it’s just not for me. I want to care about someone before we’re together that way.”

Jason considered this. “Why?”

“I—” Elizabeth hesitated. “I—women get a different message about sex growing up. You know, if you sleep with a lot of guys, you’re a slut. Like, there something wrong with you. And…maybe it’s because…well, it’s personal. I mean, you’re seeing me naked. And you’re—” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Well, I don’t know what it’s like for lesbians or whatever, but having sex with a guy means, you know, you’re inside me. Which sounds so crude,” she muttered, “but that’s what it boils down to. For me, anyway. I’m not speaking for all women. Just me. And I like you, Jason. You—the guy in front of me. But I want more than someone to share a bed with. And maybe I don’t know if you want more than that.”

Jason had been listening to her as she stumbled through the explanation, and he didn’t look mad or annoyed like another man might. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Elizabeth repeated. “What does that mean?”

“Okay. It makes sense, and it’s important to you, so it’s important to me. So I won’t talk about it until you want me to—”

“Oh, I didn’t—” Elizabeth made a face. “See now, I’m just a floozy, because I kind of like it when you say that stuff—except it makes me all—” She wiggled her shoulders. “I don’t know. I want you to be you, and say what you’re thinking.”

“So don’t stop?” Jason echoed, bewildered. “But you told me to—”

“Yeah, I know—” she sighed. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just want to make sure I understand. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t like when you cry,” he told her, and she smiled faintly.

“You weren’t hurting me earlier. It’s just…you start talking about it, and I start thinking about it, and then all my morals go out the window, and I start thinking about—never mind. Let’s talk about something. Anything else.”

“Okay. We could work on that list more,” he offered. “We only found one thing. Do you have more ideas?”