Category Archives: Flash Fiction

July 7, 2020

This entry is part 5 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

Written in 21 minutes. No time for rereading or typos.

Jason wasn’t entirely sure what was happening with Elizabeth.

A few months ago, it had seemed clearer. His marriage was breaking up, and he was reconnecting with her—remembering the son they’d shared, regretting how he’d handled things with Sam.

Then he’d kissed her that day on the bridge, starting stopping by her house, spending time with her and her boys. He’d saved her from Ewan Keenan, the crazy doctor who had helped Jerry Jacks poison the town through the water system. Since then—it was different.

And standing in front of her, in his penthouse, the place where they’d reconnected six years ago and created a little life that hadn’t survived—where he’d proposed to her twice—Jason knew she was calling his bluff.

Elizabeth fully expected him to step back again—like he had after the bridge, like he had a thousand other times in their long history. For too many years, he’d stepped back.

Run away.

“I am the Queen of Regrets,” she’d said with a smirk the night he’d saved her life. “And you can be the King.”

He didn’t want that anymore.

So Jason did what he knew she didn’t expect. He stepped forward, took the strap of her purse between two fingers and slid it off her bare shoulder. “You know where the stereo is.”

Elizabeth blinked at him, her breath caught in her throat, and then she searched his eyes for a moment—as if trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“Or did you change your mind?” Jason asked. He set the purse on the desk, next to his keys. He lifted a brow.

“No.” She bit her lip. “That’s what you do.” Elizabeth wandered over to the shelf by the stairs and glanced at the old stereo that had been sitting for years. She didn’t even wait for his reaction—

Because he knew what she was thinking. What she was remembering. He’d never had any trouble remembering their history or the moments that should have changed his life.

They were standing nearly in the same spot where he’d asked her to marry him the last time. And she’d looked so scared, so excited—and she’d said yes.

And then he’d promised not back out.

He swallowed hard as she finally found a station and turned it on low. Then Elizabeth came back to stand in front of him.

Making him choose. Leaving it up to him.

So Jason stepped forward, took her arms and slid them around his neck, his fingers trailing down her bare skin as he settled them around her waist. He didn’t hear the lyrics, didn’t even really register the music.

Only the way she looked up at him, at her eyes, and the way it felt to have her back in his arms—wondering why he’d ever let her go.

They swayed there, barely even dancing, barely even breathing. He couldn’t have said how long it was until the song she’d found drifted from a slow ballad to something more upbeat and rock.

Elizabeth started to pull away, started to break eye contact, but Jason tugged her back and bent his head to brush his lips against hers. Her mouth parted beneath his, and then she kissed him back.

For only a moment before she jerked back, then nearly flew away from him, standing by the sofa, her eyes large on her face.

“Should I apologize?” Jason asked roughly, his stomach rolling with worry. Had he ruined everything? Should he have just let her go home?”

“N-No.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then shook her head. “No. But I can’t— Ican’t do this again.”

“Elizabeth—”

“I love—I love being around you,” she told him. “But you—” Elizabeth bit her lip, looked away. “You just finalized your divorce. And the last time—” She straightened and seemed to find her strength. “The last time we were here, in this position, you walked away from me. And the family you told me you wanted.”

“I know—it was a mistake—”

“You didn’t want it with me,” she continued, her eyes glimmering with tears. Tears that felt like a punch to his stomach. “You chose them with Sam. Less than a year later. You always—you go back to her. So I can’t—” Her voice quavered slightly. “I can’t be the second choice.”

“You’re not—” Jason took a step towards her, but Elizabeth lifted her hand to stop him from coming any closer.

“I am. Right now. Because we’re spending a lot of time together, you know? And it’s great. I don’t want to lose that. Every time we do this, and we fail, I lose you again. And I’m—” A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m not strong enough to do it again. Please.”

He let his hands fall to his side. “You’re stronger than you think,” Jason said softly. “But okay. I won’t—we’ll just—we’ll just put this away.” Again.

“Okay.” She wrapped her arms aroud herself. “And I’m sorry—I know I was probably sending you mixed signals—”

“You weren’t—”

“I was,” she insisted. Elizabeth closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “The truth is that I am always going to be in love with you. And I’m sure—I’m sure that, in some way, it’s the same for you. I’m willing to accept that. I just—I’m not sure it’s enough. Not after the last time we went through with this.”

“I know.”

“And I also know—I can even accept that it was circumstances—you know, the world around us. We let it ruin things. What happened with Michael, then the Zaccharas, and the Russians—we let it mess things up. You walked away, and I let you go.” Elizabeth walked past him to pick up her purse.

He turned to face her as she walked towards the door. “You walked away from me once, too,” he reminded her. “I let you go.”

“Twice.” A hint of a smile. “We’ve both walked away twice. You left town, then I wouldn’t leave Lucky.”

“And you left after Sonny—”

“And then you left after Russians.” Elizabeth exhaled. “I’m not walking away, this time, Jason. We’re not going down this road. Not again. Not now.”

“And I’m not letting you go. Not again. Not now,” he repeated softly. “I’ll walk you out.”

This entry is part 9 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 23 minutes. No time for typos or edits.

When Jason checked on Elizabeth ten minutes later, she was curled up on her side and fast asleep. Relieved she was going to get some rest, Jason left the door partially ajar so he’d hear her if she woke up. Then he checked on Jake and Aiden, who were still asleep. They’d been out about four hours at this point, so he knew they’d be waking soon.

He hoped Elizabeth was ready to talk to them — Jason really didn’t know how much they should know or what to do next.

“Cameron,” Jason said when he came back into the living room. “Why don’t you take the other bed in Jake’s room?” he said. He sat down next to him as Diane put away her notepad. “Jake and Aiden are sharing the bottom bunk. You can take the top.”

“I couldn’t—” Cameron shook his head. “I can’t sleep.”

“That’s what your mother said,” Jason said. “She laid down and now she’s asleep. Come on. You need to rest.”

“Just lay down for a few hours,” Diane told him. “I need to contact the PCPD anyway.” They all got to their feet as Cameron reluctantly nodded. “I had them cancel the APB when you picked up the boys, but we’ll need to figure out what to tell them. And if you’re pulled in for questioning, Cameron, I want you alert.”

Cameron scrubbed his hands over his face, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He looked at Jason, hesitant. “You’re sure Mom is sleeping?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m here if she wakes up. I’m not going anywhere,” Jason promised. Even though he knew he should check in with Sonny, Jason didn’t plan to leave this apartment until he was confident Elizabeth and the boys were okay.

“All right.” Cameron nodded. “All right. I’ll try to get—or at least I’ll be there if Jake or Aiden wake up.” His voice trembled slightly on those last words. “What—what do I say to them?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. “We’ll—we’ll deal with it when we have to.”

He watched Cameron disappear down the hallway, then heard the bedroom door gently close a moment later. Jason looked back at Diane. “What do you think?”

“I think we might run into a few problems because of Elizabeth’s actions after it happened,” Diane admitted. “She sent the boys away before Franco was murdered in her kitchen. That looks guilty. Like she got rid of them to finish the job.”

“She didn’t—”

“You and I know that, Jason, but they already matched her fingerprints to the knife. Now, we have a great case for self-defense with Cameron’s statement. We can argue that Elizabeth came back in to call the police but was attacked again—except—”

“She doesn’t remember anything. But—someone else was there, Diane.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to sort through his thoughts. “Who?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Diane said, slowly. Her dark eyes met his. “And you’re not going to like my answer.”

Jason frowned at her. “Diane?”

“The list of people who hate Franco? Endless.” Diane shrugged. “The list of people who wanted Franco dead? Nearly as long.”

“I know, but—”

“But—and hear me out—we have two possibilities. One — Franco went to the house last night with a partner. A look out. Or Two, someone followed Franco there, and took their opportunity to get rid of Franco and frame Elizabeth.”

Neither of those possibilities were good ones. Jason sat back down, clasped his hands between his knees and looked at her. “You have someone in mind.”

“I do.” Diane perched at the edge of the chair and studied him. “Franco has very few friends in this town—that probably does not surprise you. There’s Ava Jerome. Her daughter, Kiki. And his father, Scott.”

Jason hesitated. “I don’t know Kiki that well, but I can’t—I can’t see Ava or Scott helping Franco—”

“Really?” Diane lifted her brows. “You don’t think Ava Jerome would do something like this? You really haven’t been here that long—”

“I know she’s capable of violence,” Jason said flatly. “But everything Sonny and Carly told me happened more than a year ago. The woman I know risked her life to help me escape. I don’t see her turning around and putting kids in danger, putting Elizabeth in danger, to help Franco attack her.” He shook his head. “No.”

“Fair enough. She wasn’t on my list either.” Diane tipped her head. “And I agree with you about Scott. So that’s possibility one out of the way. Which means we need someone who hated Franco enough to kill him as well as someone who didn’t mind Elizabeth and her family being terrorized. Didn’t mind Elizabeth paying for his murder.”

Jason stared at Diane for a long moment, then shook his head again. He shoved himself off the sofa with another shake of his head. “No.”

“I don’t enjoy this possibility either, Jason, but the list of people who do not like Elizabeth? I can count that on my hand and skip fingers. There are two people in this town that activey dislike her. And only one of them has a history of terrorizing her.”

Jason dipped his head, took a long breath. “It can’t be here. She wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t do what, Jason? Watch as Jake was kidnapped?” Diane sighed. “Hire men to scare Elizabeth and her children with guns? You haven’t even been here long enough to know what Sam could do. She also had an illness last year that—well, she tried to kill Sonny and almost killed Drew. She’s supposed to be in recovery from that—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jason. But unless you can think of someone else that hates Franco and Elizabeth the way Sam does—”

“It could just be opportunity,” Jason said roughly. “Someone who wanted Franco dead and didn’t care—”

“That’s true,” Diane allowed. “That brings us back to a very long list of suspects. I suppose we’ll have to see how this turns out. But let me—” Jason looked at her sharply and she held up her hands. “Let me just ask Spinelli to look into Sam quietly. I know she left town a few weeks ago, when Drew filed for divorce. Let me just make sure she’s where she’s supposed to be and hasn’t left.”

Jason finally nodded, then sighed. “Yeah. You’re right.” He looked down the hallway where Elizabeth and her boys were sleeping. “I don’t—I can’t believe she’d do it, but it’s better to know for sure.”

——

Elizabeth only slept for another hour. Then she showered and changed into the clothes Carly had sent over. By then, Jake and Aiden had woken up and were in the living room, playing video games.

Aiden had asked a few questions about why Franco would tie them up, but Jason had managed to avoid answering them. Laura Spencer had called a few times, asking about Aiden—but Jason had, again, deflected.

When Elizabeth emerged from the bathroom, her wet hair clipped up, she looked a bit better even if there were still dark circles under her eyes.

She accepted hugs and kisses from her boys, and smiled faintly at Jason. “Thanks for making sure Cameron slept. Can—” She jerked her head towards his small kitchen. “Can we talk for a minute? Jake, Aiden, can you guys go back to your game?”

“Mommy—” Aiden began, but Jake took his brother by the shoulder.

“Sure, Mom. We’ll be right over here.”

“What’s up?” Jason asked, his voice pitched low as they stood by the sink, the furthest they could get from the boys.

“I—” She sighed. “I was in the shower—and I remembered something.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I came back into the house—and I fell—but something hit me. And then—then I remember being dragged.”

She stared at her hand. “I tried to run,” she murmured. “Or at least crawl, but someone grabbed my hair and yanked it back. I turned over, and—I think—I saw who was there.”

Jason held his breath, searched her eyes. “Who?” he asked quietly.

“I—I don’t know. It was a woman. She was a small, but I can’t—” Elizabeth shook her head. “ I can’t bring her face—”

But she was lying. He knew it. He looked away, towards Jake, the little boy who’d been kidnapped once while she watched and knew the truth.

“It was Sam, wasn’t it?”

July 6, 2020

This entry is part 9 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in 20 minutes. No time for edits or typos.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and stepped back from Jason. “Thank you for your advice,” she told him. “I can handle it from here—”

“Elizabeth—” Jason stepped forward, tried to grab her elbow but she smoothly evaded him and opened the door. He followed her outside. “Please–

“I have—” She closed her eyes, put up a hand to keep him away. “I have humiliated myself quite enough, Jason. Sheriff,” she corrected. It was important to remember that. He wasn’t the boy of her youth—no matter what he’d said or the letters that had been stolen—

He could have simply returned. He hadn’t.

“I feel satisfied that if Ric attempted to take legal action with custody of my child, that I am protected. My husband’s will was handled in Sacramento. I have my own copies. He can take whatever else he wants—Cameron is what matters.”

“I can help,” Jason promised her as she started across the street to the livery stables. “Let me—”

“Sheriff Scorpio said he would help us when Ric stole Cameron’s home.” Elizabeth lifted her chin. “He couldn’t. Ric has too many friends in powerful places in this county. I need—I need to leave.”

“But—”

Yes, that was the answer. She’d hoped to stay—hoped to continue her family’s legacy, her grandfather’s dream but the ranch was already lost. All she could do was start over somewhere else.

“Thank you again, Sheriff. But I don’t need you.” She met his eyes. “I can manage on my own. I always have.”

Jason flinched. “I’m sorry—”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You made the decisions that felt right to you, and now it is up to me to do the same.”

She turned her back on him to retrieve her horse and cart, and Jason finally returned to the jail.

But he couldn’t get his conversation with Elizabeth out of his mind, and the conviction that there had to be a way to stop Ric from continuing to destroy Elizabeth’s life and the lives the people around him.

When the sun had dipped behind the Sierra Nevadas and the night deputy had arrived, Jason took his hat off the post and headed back to his grandmother’s.

Lila Quartermaine had some questions to answer.

“Dearest.” Lila beamed as he entered the parlor. “I was hoping you would join me for some dinner. You remember Mrs. Barrington—” She gestured to the other elderly woman seated on the chaise.

“Sheriff,” Amanda Barrington murmured with a hint of disdain. He’d never live down his illegitimacy to some of these people, and Jason had stopped caring long ago.

“Grandmother, I can’t stay but I was hoping we could talk in private for a moment.”

“Jason, I have a guest—”

“That’s quite all right, Lila.” Amanda got to her feet. “You should deal with…” She sniffed. “His problem. I’ll see you another evening.”

She swept by Jason as if she were still swanning around the parlors of New York City, as if her family hadn’t lost most of its wealth before the gold strike.

“Jason, I hope you can explain your rude behavior,” Lila said as he strode forward, closing the parlor doors behind him.

“If you can answer a question honestly.” Jason perched on the edge of the sofa, narrowing his eyes at his indomitable grandmother. “Did you do anything to keep Elizabeth’s letters from me? Or mine from her?”

“I hardly see what relevance that has.” Lila rose to her feet and crossed to the mental. She folded her arms and stared into the fire. “It was ancient history—”

“So the answer is yes.” Jason’s stomach sank. He had trusted her—had trusted this beloved member of his family with the person he loved and Lila had let him down.

He’d let Elizabeth down by trusting the wrong people.

“Jason—”

“If you don’t tell me what happened, I will leave this town and never come back,” Jason told her bluntly. “And Dillon will be all that’s left.”

Lila pursed her lips. “That’s a terrible thing to threaten an old woman.” She squared her shoulders. “Jeffrey Webber told me that he found you to be an unsuitable husband for his daughter. I disagreed, of course. You might not have been born in wedlock, but the Quartermaines were certainly better than the Webber or Hardys.”

“Grandmother—”

“And when I refused to help him keep you two apart, he made sure I regretted it. He had been your grandfather’s doctor, you know. He refused to come to see Edward when he had his last—” Lila pressed her fingers to her lips. “He refused to see to Edward. Dr. Lewis did what he could, but the delay—your grandfather never recovered fully. He remained weakened .”

“I—” Jason swallowed. “But—”

“I was going to write you. To demand you come home and take care of this. To—to help.” Lila met his eyes. “But then Richard Lansing came to the house. And he showed me—”

She closed her eyes. “Somehow he had a copy of a mortgage. He said our bank accounts were empty. That he owned my house. And that the only way I could have the money restored in the bank was to…was to tell Elizabeth what I needed to tell her.”

Jason clenched his fists. Ric had tormented his family? What hadn’t anyone told him?

“I—I knew how you felt about her of course, and I thought, well I’ll tell him but I’ll tell you the truth. But then—he told me he owned shared in the railroad you had signed on with—that he could arrange to assign you to the—” Lila’s lips pursed. “To work with the Chinese. Blowing up tunnels, doing the worst of the work—he’d put you on the front. And he could do that before I could reach you.”

Jason remembered the two years he’d worked on the railroads in Northern California, and the Chinese workers with the company had been the most dangerous and lethal jobs—many had died. Ric had threatened to kill him.

“Grandmother—”

“He just—he wanted me to tell Elizabeth that you’d married someone else.” Lila swallowed hard. “And I did. I’m so sorry, darling—”

“When—” Jason stared at her. “When did you tell her? How?”

“Elizabeth had come to me shortly after Alexander and Peter had died. It was a terrible time—she wanted to send a letter to you. She’d written you for the first time in a few months—apparently, she had given up but their deaths had, I supposed, encouraged her to reach out again. She wanted to send a second one with my letters, to make sure it reached you.”

“And you told her—”

“That you had married someone else nearly a year earlier. That you’d…” Lila looked ghastly as she finished her statement. “That you must have forgotten her because you’d never asked about her. Not even once.”

July 5, 2020

This entry is part 4 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

Written in 22 minutes. No time for edits or typo checks.

Elizabeth knocked on the door to Jason’s penthouse, then nervously ran a hand down the front of her dress.

This was not a date.

Jason pulled open the door and offered her a grin. “Hey—sorry—I’m running late.” He stepped back to let her walk through the front door, and Elizabeth arched her brow as he grabbed a tie from the back of the chair and wound it around his neck. “I got back late from the warehouse.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It took me longer than I thought to drop Cameron and Aiden with Patrick.” She wrinkled her nose, thinking of the third-degree her best friend had given her about today.

This was not a date, she’d told Patrick with exasperation. Just two friends attending the same event.

An event to which she hadn’t been invited, Patrick had reminded her with that irritating smirk. She was Jason’s date.

Guest, Elizabeth had thrown back at him, but now she was flustered because why had Jason invited her in the first place? It wasn’t like he couldn’t go alone—Carly would be there.

With Johnny Zacchara, her boyfriend—

“What’s going through your head right now?” Jason asked as he knotted the tie. He still had that sparkle in his eye—the one that told her he was teasing her.

She liked seeing that—liked remembering how nice it was that they were friends again, like they had been in the beginning. Jason had teased her all the time back then—

“Oh, nothing.” She played with the strap of her tiny purse. “Just thinking about something at the hospital.”

“Uh huh.” Jason grabbed his suit jacket and put it on. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, with a grimace.

“Oh, come on, it’s a wedding.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she followed Jason out the door and towards the elevator. “And Sonny and Kate deserve this. I mean, they’ve worked so hard to get back here.” And she would absolutely not mention where she and Jason had been in their relationship when Sonny and Kate’s first wedding had ended tragically.

She’d been left waiting at an airport gate, so close to their dream trip. She should have known better.

They stepped onto the elevator. “I know. But the Haunted Star?”

Elizabeth made a face. “I know. It doesn’t really seem like Kate, does it? And it guarantees Carly will bring Johnny. Anywhere else, she might have left him home.”

“No, she wouldn’t have. Carly lives to annoy Sonny.” He looked at her. “Thanks for coming with me. If I’m alone, Carly tries to make me have a good time.”

“We can’t have that.”

The elevator stopped at the parking garage level, and Elizabeth started towards her car but Jason took her hand and led her in the other direction.

“We’re going to a Corinthos wedding,” he told her. “Do you mind if we take the SUV?”

“The bullet proof SUV?” Elizabeth repeated. “Don’t tell me you’re expecting mayhem. I thought all of that was over—”

“It is, but it’s—” He unlocked the door with his remote. “Has Sonny ever been able to get married without something going wrong?”

“Yeah, but both those times were to Carly, so point taken.”

——

Elizabeth sighed as she watched Kate walk down the aisle towards Sonny. “She looks so happy,” she murmured to Jason, then caught Carly’s eye in the row behind them. Carly narrowed her eyes with a dirty look.

Some things would never change.

Kate reached the end of the aisle, and the guests took their seat. She could feel Jason’s tension next to her—this had been the moment in the last ceremony when Kate had been shot by Anthony Zacchara. She reached over and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

“Relax,” she said softly. Their eyes met. “It’ll be fine—”

“I’m sorry, Sonny. I can’t marry you.”

They both looked to the front of the room as Kate Howard smirked, then angled herself towards the audience. She tossed her bouquet at a stunned Maxie Jones. “I’m already married!” she declared.

“What the—”

Elizabeth heard a groan behind her and twisted in her seat just as Kate declared. “To Johnny Zacchara!”

“What?” Carly screeched. She lunged to her feet, took one look at her shame-faced boyfriend sitting next to her. “What? You just asked me to run away with you?”

“What were you saying about everything being fine?” Jason asked Elizabeth as the room exploded in chaos. She didn’t get a chance to answer him because Jason had to stop Sonny from choking Johnny Zacchara.

——

“You know, it could have been worse,” Elizabeth told Jason as they pulled the SUV back into the parking garage at the Towers. She climed out of the car and waited for him to meet her at the back of the car.

“I guess. No one died,” Jason said with a sigh. “You want to come up?”

She hesitated. Cameron and Aiden were supposed to spend the night with Patrick and Emma since she’d expected to be a wedding reception until midnight, but it was barely seven at night. And they hadn’t eaten. “Um, okay—”

“I mean, we could get dinner. Or something.” Jason slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “I promised you food.”

“True.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I guess we should have known better. Going to a Corinthos-Howard wedding. Oh, wait. Falconieri. Hey, how is that going to work?” She and Jason traced their earlier steps back to the elevator. “Didn’t the Connie alter cause that car accident?”

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” He pressed the button. “Sorry.”

“For what?” She smiled at him as they stepped inside and he used his key to allow for the penthouse level.

“I don’t know,” Jason replied. He shrugged. “It feels like I should apologize.”

“Well, I was looking forward to the reception.” She glanced at him under her lashes. “I bet Carly could have made you dance.”

“Uh, probably not,” Jason said with a smile and shake of his head. His lips quirked up at the sides, that light in his eyes again. “You might have though.”

“Oh—sure, you say that now when you don’t have to.” She rolled her eyes. They stepped out into the hallway of the penthouse.

“I would have,” Jason protested as they stepped into the hallway and he unlocked his door

“Fine.” Elizabeth shrugged, walked into the penthouse ahead of him and spun to face him. “Then how about right now?”

July 4, 2020

This entry is part 8 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written in 20  minutes. No time for edits.

Jason didn’t know what he was going to say to his sister, but was relieved when she agreed to meet him quietly in the gardens of the estate where she lived with her husband. He didn’t care that it meant he had to take the launch to Spoon Island — he wanted to meet with her discreetly and quietly.

Not in the middle of where she worked or anywhere else.

“Jason!” Emily enveloped him in a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re home!”

“It’s not—it’s not permanent—” He drew back from her, his hands on her shoulder. “I just—I need to do a few things, then I’m going—”

“What?” Emily blinked, stepped back. “Why? Oh—are you going to Boston? Liz is working there—”

“Elizabeth is here. In Port Charles. She came home for Carly’s funeral, but we’re both—” Jason studied his sister for a long moment. “She said that you two had argued—”

“I thought she should give you more time to deal with everything.” Uncomfortable, Emily folded her arms. “That, you know, you had to figure out to forgive yourself so you could be a family again. I mean, she waited three months. If she’d waited a little longer—” She forced a smile. “But you talked to her. That’s good—”

“It’s not—” Jason squinted. He hadn’t realized his sister would take his side—he’d never, for one moment, thought what he’d done was a good thing. He’d come home prepared to be given a cold shoulder by everyone.

Especially his sister, who had been like a sister to Elizabeth, who had been there after her marriage to Ric had fallen apart, after Lily’s death—

“We’re still—we’re still getting divorced,” Jason told her. “It’s—Justus told me it’s finalized in two weeks—”

“Is that what you want?” Emily demanded. “Because you could stop it—”

“Em—” Jason frowned, let his hands fall to his sides. “What do you know that we don’t?”

“What?” Emily’s eyes widened—just a little too much, and he swore under his breath. His sister was always a terrible liar.

“I left her—in the middle of the night—with absolutely no warning. I never contacted her, and the only thing I left behind was a letter telling her I was sorry.” Jason scowled. “And you took my side?”

“Well, no, not at first,” Emily said, with a roll of her eyes. “I thought you’d be gone a few weeks, and I was pissed. But then—then a month went by and I knew something was wrong.” She fidgeted, looked at the ground. “I asked— I asked Nikolas to try to find you, but he couldn’t. So I went to Steven, thinking maybe he’d know something—”

“Steven? Do you know where he is? He hasn’t contacted Elizabeth in a week—no one has seen him since Carly’s body was found—”

“I know. I know.” Emily shoved her hair out of her face. “This isn’t how any of this was supposed to go.” She bit her lip. “You’re not supposed to be getting divorced, and Steven is supposed to be fixing this, and Elizabeth was really not supposed to pick up and move away!”

“Emily,” Jason said flatly. “What the hell is going on?”

“I went to Steven to ask him what was going on,” Emily continued with a sigh. “And he told me that he couldn’t say anything—that he couldn’t even tell Elizabeth which was really bad because you know how much he loves her. He’d never hurt her like that—unless it had to be done.”

“Get to the point—”

“Well, all he would say was he understood why you’d left. And that everyone would when you came back—but then you didn’t. A month later, Elizabeth started talking about leaving, about divorce, and I was—I was almost ready to agree, but Steven told me I had to stop her—”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Did Steven say the same to Elizabeth?”

“No. He said he to be completely on her side, but that everything would be worse if she left town and divorced you. I didn’t understand it, but he seemed—he seemed to feel like it was dangerous. I don’t know, maybe he needed Elizabeth to stay in Port Charles.” Emily bit her lip. “Jason, Steven never would have left her alone this long. Do you think—”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “What else did Steven say?”

“Just—just that you had done something stupid, but you’d done it for the right reasons and when he could make everything right, Elizabeth would understand.” She paused. “I thought that meant the two of you were in contact—that you’d planned it together—but you didn’t?”

“No. I didn’t know—Steven was just a doctor who worked with us.” Wasn’t he? He exhaled, looked away. “This doesn’t make sense—”

“Why did you leave?” Emily asked. With a grimace, Jason told her briefly about Tommy Graviano, their suspicions about Sonny and Carly, and the shooting in Cairo as her face grew paler.

“Someone was trying to kill you? The whole time? It’s about you—”

“And now—Elizabeth thinks it’s Ric.”

Emily scowled. “Ric Lansing? Oh, of course. That son of a bitch has been obsessed with her since—you know he sent her flowers every May.”

“No,” Jason said tightly. “She never told me.”

“Oh. Well, maybe she knew you’d kill him,” Emily said. “Because you would have. I just—I don’t understand. Last year, he sent her those flowers, and then you’re saying he might have ordered a bomb. But did he want her dead or just you? Why go after you in Cairo with Elizabeth right here?”

“I don’t know. And I’m tired of the questions,” Jason snapped. “I want some answers. Now you’re telling me Steven knew something was up—” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Em—”

“None of this makes sense, Jason. If Carly picked up the bomb, but wasn’t in on it, how does she fit in? Does she?”

“She has to. She’s dead, isn’t she? And Sonny is apparently useless—locked in his room, refusing to see anyone.” He hesitated. “Can you think of anything else that might help us find Steven? He seems to be the key to all of this—”

“No, but Patrick was his best friend. Maybe he knows something,” Emily said. “Or—” She blinked. “Jason, when did you say you’d been shot in Cairo?”

“Two months ago.” Jason winced, thinking of the two weeks he’d spent in the hospital. “Why?”

“That’s about the time that I confronted Steven. When he told me I had to stop her from leaving. Jason—Steven was out of town. He left for a week in April. The last week of April.”

“That’s when I was shot—” Jason shook his head. “No—Steven wasn’t involved—”

“No? Because Elizabeth was going to go look for you,” Emily told him. “At first—after a few weeks, she told us she was leaving to look for you. Then she had a conversation with Steven. He left town after that—and she started talking about divorce.”

July 3, 2020

This entry is part 8 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 21  minutes. No time for eidts.

Cameron jumped off the sofa to follow his mother, but Jason stopped him — holding his hand up. “Wait, just give her a minute.”

“But—”

“Hey.” Jason looked at teen’s wild eyes, saw the fatigue and worry there. He’d been through more in the last ten hours than any sixteen-year-old boy deserved. “Do me a favor. Talk Diane through any questions or details she has. She’ll be your lawyer, too, if it comes to that.”

“I just—my mom—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Jason scowled when he heard a knock at his door. He didn’t miss the Towers and their highly secured lobby often, but on days like this— “Wait here.”

He strode across the room and threw open the door. “Carly—”

“I came as soon as I saw the news—” Carly pushed past him and went straight for Cameron. “You’re okay? It was all I could to keep Joss at home—”

“I’m—” Cameron swallowed. “I’m fine.”

“Carly, this isn’t a good time—”

“No, I know. But I saw the news about the murder, and Elizabeth’s arrest—” Carly turned back to him. “The reports said the boys were missing—”

“Misunderstanding,” Diane said smoothly, rising to her feet and patting her hair as if she were wearing one of her finely tailored outfits rather than jeans and a cardigan. “It’s been sorted. Jake and Aiden were here last night, and Cameron was out past his curfew.”

Carly narrowed her eyes, looked at Cameron, down at the hands she held in hers—the bruised knuckles. “Right. Should I be asking Joss about this curfew?” she asked him, and Cameron blinked.

“I—”

“It’s fine, Carly. Joss doesn’t have to get involved,” Jason promised her. “But I really need to—”

“Okay. Okay. I was just—” Carly exhaled slowly. “What do you need? What can I do?”

“Why—” Jason frowned at his friend. Why was she asking him?

“My mom needs clothes,” Cameron said quietly and all the adults looked back at her. “I know Jake probably has things here, but—” He exhaled slowly. “Mom’s still wearing what she wore to bed.”

“Oh. I can handle that. I can do that. I’ll bring things by for all of you. No telling when they’ll let you back in the house.” Carly hugged him briefly. “I can keep Joss and the others away for a few more hours, but if you could just text her—”

“I’ll—I’ll try.”

“Let me know if I can do anything else, but I’ll bring something back.” Carly hugged Jason, then left. He frowned after her.

“She likes me more than Mom,” Cameron said, and Jason turned his attention to her. “Joss and I—I mean, we’ve always gone to school together, but we—it doesn’t matter.”

“Right. Cameron, why don’t you and I discuss last night to make sure I have everything I need, and Jason—” Diane looked at him. “Go check on Elizabeth. She needs sleep.” She sighed. “We all do.”

Jason left Cameron in Diane’s capable hands and traveled his short hall to the bathroom. He knocked lightly. “Elizabeth—”

“Go away—”

He glanced back at the living room, then sighed. “Can we just—let me make sure you’re okay. Are you—can I come in?”

There was silence for a long moment, and Jason struggled with the desire just to shove the door open, to see for himself—

Cameron’s depiction of the scene he’d walked in on—the fact that Elizabeth with her history, had been assaulted again by a man Jason should have cut into tiny little pieces and set on fucking fire—

“Yeah.” He heard a sound that must have been the door unlocking. She opened it slightly. “I can’t—”

“I know. You need sleep,” he told her. Elizabeth opened the door more, and he walked her down to his bedroom. She seemed to have hit her limit—her eyes were empty, her hands listless, and she let him guide her into the room and close the door.

“Carly is going to bring you clothes,” he told her as she sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I don’t understand how any of this is happening,” she murmured. Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes glassy with tears, with shock. “I went to bed last night, and it was fine. My life—it was okay. I was getting there anyway.” On a deep shuddering breath, her shoulders shook.

Jason sat next to her. “Why don’t you try to rest—”

“I can’t. I can’t. Because I close my eyes, and he’s there again, and I can’t—” She put her hands over her face. “I made a mistake. I thought—I thought he was different. But no one ever changes. Not like that. Why did I think I could change him?”

He remained silent because his opinion on Franco was well-known and wouldn’t help.

“I thought he was out of my life—I—he’d just lied so much—and I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be a liar. I can’t be lied to.” She bit the nail on her thumb, wincing—he could see she’d bitten the nail to the quick.

“Did he—” Jason hesitated. “Cameron said he was trying—” He paused. “Should you go to the hospital?”

“Oh.” She looked at him blankly. “Oh. No. It wasn’t—He was—” She looked at her pajama pants, and he saw now that the string that tied them closed had been ripped—that the elastic had been destroyed and it was being held together a rubber band.

He crossed to his dresser and took out a t-shirt, one that he knew would be long enough to cover her. “Here,” Jason said, roughly. “Carly will come back with something—”

“Thanks.” Her lower lip trembled. “He tried to rape me,” Elizabeth said finally — and while Jason might have expected the statement to upset her more—something about saying it out loud seemed to give her more reassurance.

“He said that he was going to make me remember how it had been, and that no one was allowed to leave him.”

“I’m sorry—”

“It didn’t happen, and that’s going to help when I can think better, I know that. I just—if I didn’t—if I didn’t kill Franco, then it means someone else was at the house.” She searched his eyes. “Who would do that? Who would wait while he tried to rape me, then kill him—”

“And leave you there to pick up the pieces,” Jason finished. “Whoever did this called the cops, Elizabeth. They wanted you to pay for it.”

“Who could hate me that much?” Elizabeth asked. She closed her eyes. “I can’t—I can’t believe someone could do that to me. To my boys. He tied them up, and someone else let that happen—”

“Elizabeth—”

“I can’t think about this anymore. I just—” She twisted her hands in his shirt. “Can I just change? And—and when Carly brings me something else—I just can’t stand to be in this anymore—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He squeezed her hand and got to his feet. “Try to lay down. If you can’t sleep, that’s fine. But the boys will wake up soon—”

“And I need to handle this.” Elizabeth managed a smile that looked almost real. “Thank you. I can—I can do this.”

“I know you can.” He leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll take care of Cameron.”

July 2, 2020

This entry is part 8 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in 20 minutes. No time for edits.

When the door to the jail opened that afternoon, Jason was immersed in a letter from a marshal in Sacremento, so he didn’t look up right away, thinking that Dillon would handle it.

“Uh, cuz?”

Jason blinked and looked up to find Dillon standing in front of him, gestured to the entry way where a pale Elizabeth was standing. “She, ah, said it was—”

Jason dropped the letter to the desk and got to his feet. “Elizabeth. What’s wrong?”

She slid a glance at the younger man who put his hands up. “I’m gonna go take a walk, see if Coleman is causing trouble again.”

Jason walked Dillon to the door, then dropped the latch behind him. He turned back to face Elizabeth. “What happened?”

“I—” She swallowed and her hands fluttered up to her face, then down again as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “Um, you were a marshal before you came here, weren’t you? I—I never asked, and no one said, but you—”

“Yes.” Jason hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, intending to steer her towards the desk and a chair to sit in. When she didn’t protest, his worry only deepened. “I couldn’t find steady work with the railroad,” he told her, leaning on the desk. “But the marshal service in San Francisco was hiring. Are you—do you need a marshal?”

“I only—” She closed her eyes. “The court. Um, we don’t have a regular judge here. He travels, but we can—we can petition for things, and people could petition a judge for something.”

“Yes—”

“I just—do you know anything about the law? About what a judge might do?” A tear clung to her lower lash and she swiped away.

He knelt in front of her. “Elizabeth, tell me what’s happened. What’s wrong?”

“Can a man—can he pretend to have a letter that says he’s the father of a child and—take the child?” Her voice was so faint as she asked the question he could barely hear it. The blood in Jason’s veins chilled as he accepted the implications of the statement.

“Who has a letter that says that?”

“He couldn’t, couldn’t he?” Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Oh, God, if he couldn’t, you would just say that—oh, God, he’s going to take my baby, and it’s not even true—” She buried her face in her hands.

“No one is taking your son, Elizabeth,” Jason told her firmly. “We—we’re talking about Cameron?”

“What?” She blinked, raised her head, then nodded. “Of course. We—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “He forged the letter. It’s not true. But that won’t matter. His forgeries always hold up.”

“Always—” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Lansing.”

Miserable, she nodded and looked away. “He could do it, couldn’t he? It doesn’t matter that we’re not married, that Cameron isn’t his child. That I never, ever let him touch me—”

“It does matter,” Jason told her. “Cameron was born while your husband was alive, and Dr. Lewis raised him, didn’t he?”

“Cameron is his son,” Elizabeth insisted. “I don’t care what anyone in this town thinks—I never ever—” She shot out of her chair. “I never broke my vows. My promises.”

“I know,” Jason said gently. She met his eyes. “I believe you. What I mean by that is that legally speaking, a child born in wedlock is legally the responsibility of the husband. Cameron Lewis could have left you and legally taken his son from you, but it doesn’t matter what a letter says. Dr. Lewis had a will, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” She sucked in a deep breath, feeling steadier. “Yes. He knew—God, he knew what Ric was. What he could do. He was afraid—so he made sure to say I have guardianship. He didn’t want Ric to forge a will saying any differently. He even went to Sacramento to have someone else witness it.”

“Good. You are Cameron’s mother, and his father made sure that you retained guardianship in the event of his death. That’s all you need. Ric Lansing can forge all the letters he want, but a judge isn’t going to disrupt that. Not when it would declare Cameron illegitimate.”

The tension bled out of her shoulders and Elizabeth sighed. “Thank you. I’m sorry—I just—I didn’t know who else to ask—”

“What other forgeries?” Jason demanded. “Why did Dr. Lewis go to all that trouble to protect you and Cameron?”

“I—” She shook her head. “It’s not important. All that matters is that he can’t take Cameron. That’s—he can take everything else, but not my son—”

“What else—” Jason swore as she started to leave. With his longer legs, he was able to reach the door before her. “If you think I’m going to let you leave without telling me what the hell Ric Lansing is up to—what he’s done to you—”

“Jason—I only—I can handle this—”

“I’m sure you can. You’ve been handling it for years, haven’t you?” Jason demanded. “And I know you’re strong. It’s not a question of can you do it—you shouldn’t have to. He’s breaking the law. That’s what I’m here for —”

“I tried to stop him once,” Elizabeth murmured. “But Sheriff Ramsay said that I should just stop playing coy and marry him.”

Jason grimaced — Burt Ramsay had been a terrible person and an even worse officer of the law. “I’m not Sheriff Ramsay.”

“No.” She sighed. “You’re not. All right. You want to know what Ric forged?” Elizabeth folded her arms. “Where do I start? With the loan documents that wiped out my grandfather’s savings, and led to his heart attack? The mortage papers that he showed my father—which is probably part of the reason he stole our letters—”

Jason swore. “Damn it—”

“The investment papers he used to swindle Peter out of his inheritance or the gambling debts he forged with Alexander? How about the loan and mortgage documents he gave the court to take my husband’s money and home away from him?”

He stared at her. “Elizabeth—”

“Or last week, when he gave me an update mortgage document saying that I was losing the Lazy W?” She raised her brows. “And that’s just the paperwork he’s used to harass me for the last eight years.”

“Eight—but I was still here—”

“He saw me the day he moved to Diamond Springs when I was just sixteen years old,” Elizabeth told him. “And apparently, he likes to collect pretty things. I’m just the first thing he’s tried to collect he can’t get.”

This entry is part 3 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

Written in 21 minutes. No time for edits.

Brad Cooper was not having the best of days even before Tracy Quartermaine ambushed him at the Metro Court. He’d just wanted to get a little bit drunk to forget the crime he’d committed earlier that day, but of course—the motivation for said crime just had to check in.

She sat next to him at the bar and ordered a glass of white wine, waiting for the bartender to wait on another customer at the other end of the bar before she spoke. “Well?”

“It’s done,” Brad muttered.

“And my results?”

“I was going to mail them to you,” Brad said. He sipped his whiskey, trying to look casual. He knew he actually just looked like someone trying to act normal. He’d always been a terrible actor. He dug the envelope out of his back pocket and laid it on the bar.

Tracy set her purse down—over the envelope and sipped her wine. “Was I right?”

With a shuddering sigh, Brad nodded. “Yeah. The kid is definitely hers.”

“And what about the other test?”

“Right again. He’s not the father.” Brad paused. “And he’s no relation to the actual father.”

Tracy pursed her lips. “Interesting. I’d hoped for that, but that does make me curious.”

Of course it did — Tracy had paid him to deliver a set of results of to Elizabeth Webber the declared Victor Lord, Jr. Was not a match for the DNA of either Sam McCall or Jason Morgan. The actual test had matched Sam, but not Jason.

Tracy had also wanted to know if Jason Morgan was related to Franco in any way—and since he wasn’t, Brad knew that it meant there was probably still a mysterious twin brother floating around out there but he didn’t care.

“If he’s not related to you,” Brad said as Tracy looked at him, sharply, “Why do you care if the mom gets him back?”

Tracy raised her brow. “That’s an interesting question. I shouldn’t. But I know this gold digger. She gets him back now, that idiot will probably stop the divorce.” She frowned at him. “Don’t get cold feet now.”

“I just—”

“Because the deed is done. There’s no turning back. I protected my family and that child from a vicious con artist who only cares about money. You protected your job. Everyone wins here.” She finished her wine, picked up the purse from the bottom so she could deftly slide the envelope inside.

“Ms. Quartermaine—”

“And if you think you can turn on me, remember who I am, who you are, and why you’ll only lose.”

And with that, she sauntered out of the room, confident in her privilege and position while Brad just ordered another whiskey. Maybe if he drank more, he’d be able to forget what he’d done.

——

“I am not ready for this,” Elizabeth declared the night before school was scheduled to start. This was the first year that Aiden would be attending—he was going to the two-year-old program for a few hours.

“You said the same thing when Cameron started kindergarten,” Jason told her as he handed her the last form. “This is for field trips—”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I thought about homeschooling him, to be honest,” she told him. She scribbled her name at the bottom of the form. “Why is there so much paperwork? Ever year, the school mails like eight extra forms.”

She caught a glance at a picture across the room—a photograph of all three of her boys the day she’d brought Aiden home from the hospital—the only photo she had of the three of them. She swallowed hard. “Jake would be in first grade this year.”

Jason met her eyes, then looked at the photo, before turning back to the paperwork. “Yeah, I know.”

“I wonder what kind of student he’d be,” Elizabeth said. “Cameron still likes school, you know, but he’s in third this year, and I think he’s going to start hating it soon. But I think Jake would have loved it.”

“Elizabeth…”

“I’m sorry.” She tossed her pen down and pressed her hands to her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do that.”

“It’s okay.” He squeezed her hand. “Hey, it’s okay,” Jason repeated when she looked at him. “Why do you think Jake would have loved school?”

“Oh.” She smiled even as a tear slid down her cheek. “He was good at focusing. Even as a baby, you know? He could play with one toy for twenty minutes. He was like you. A-and I think maybe he would have just—he would have been good at sitting, and reading. And maybe he would like math like you do.”

“Numbers make sense,” Jason told her as he slid closer and enveloped her in a one arm hug. “You can rearrange words to do a thousand things, but numbers never change. I liked that after the accident.”

“Cameron hates sitting still. He loves running and jumping and hiding, and just—he’ll be the class clown. He loves attention. Jake didn’t—” On a shuddering sigh, she forced herself to take a deep breath. “I’m okay. It’s just—it hits so hard in these moments, and I think—I don’t know. Maybe it always will.”

“Because there will always be something the boys are doing and Jake isn’t,” Jason said softly. “It’s okay—”

“You don’t have to say that. It’s not—it’s why I fell apart last year, you know. Why I ended up in Shady Brooke. I kept seeing Jake everywhere, I was making all those mistakes—I’m pretty sure I killed Siobhan—” Elizabeth sighed. “I thought about—when we were talking about Sam and her baby—I thought about not helping.”

She looked at him but his expression didn’t change, so she continued. “Because I didn’t want—I thought you were right, and why did she get to have her baby back? And then Brad gave me those results, and I wanted to throw them away—I wanted to hurt her because she was going to get what I couldn’t—”

“Why didn’t you?” Jason said when she didn’t say anything else. “Why’d you give them to me? Why didn’t you open them?”

“Because—because I wanted you to be okay,” she admitted. “I knew you wanted it to be true, and I—I’m the reason Jake is gone. I messed up, and I let our baby die.”

“Elizabeth—”

“And I know—I knew if you brought Danny home, you could get back together with Sam, and then you’d get to have him—and I—” She bit her lip. “That sounds insane, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He pulled her close again, tightening his arm around her shoulders. “We’re going to be okay. You didn’t let Jake die, Elizabeth. You loved him. And it’s okay if we think about how he would have grown up. I want to do that.” His voice faltered. “It’s the closest I’ll ever get to being his father again.”

She closed her eyes, leaned her head against his shoulder. “He would have loved your motorcycle.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cameron loves it, too. He wants to drive it.”

Jason laughed, his voice a bit rusty. “Just like his mother”

July 1, 2020

This entry is part 7 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written in 20 minutes. No time to reread or check for typos.

Jason flinched immediately, taking in Elizabeth’s palor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I—”

He hadn’t forgotten how her marriage to Ric had ended or how she’d begged him not to do anything the night he’d found her—

But somehow he hadn’t associated that terrible night with the way they’d lost their daughter.

“It’s fine.” Elizabeth dismissed it, ignoring Justus’s curious looks. “What do we do?” she asked them. “I mean, if this Tommy guy is gone, and we’re not going to get anything from Sonny—what’s left?”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. “I’ve been—I’ve been gone too long.” He didn’t know all of the guards anymore—many of the men in the lobby had been strangers. There’d been a lot of turnover in the last six months obviously.

“We’re thinking too much inside of the organization,” Justus said finally. “Steven going missing isn’t a coincidence. And he didn’t just work for us—”

“Maybe someone at the hospital can help,” Elizabeth said, finishing his thought. “Oh, well. I still have friends there. I can call Patrick or Robin.” She looked at Jason. “Can you call Emily?”

“Can’t you?” Jason said, tipping his head to the side. Emily had been Elizabeth’s best friend since the day she’d gone to work at the hospital.

“She and I—we, um, lost touch when I moved to Boston,” Elizabeth told him. “She…” She paused. “She didn’t think I should file for divorce.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll—I’ll call her. I should go see my grandmother.”

“So it’s settled. I’ll go to the hospital—”

“I’ll go with you,” Justus added. “Just to drive you over,” he clarified when she frowned at him. “I need to run down to my place and let Mikki know I’m going, okay?” He checked his phone. “Let’s meet in the parking garage in about fifteen.”

She scowled as he left, leaving them alone in the penthouse. Jason shoved his hands in his pockets, not really sure what to do now.

He’d still left her with no word in the middle of the night, left her alone in this pit of vipers—across the hall from someone who might have wanted her dead. He’d always believed he was the target, and she had been collateral damage.

But what if it was the other way around?

“I’m sorry about Emily,” he said finally. She looked at him, then shook her head and crossed the room to the sofa to dig through her purse. “I didn’t tell—I didn’t tell anyone.”

“No, I know, but she thought you’d come back once you’d figured out how to forgive yourself.” Elizabeth shrugged, but the gesture wasn’t nearly as casual as she’d tried to make it look. “We didn’t seem to agree on whether I was supposed to forgive if you did come back.”

Her hands were trembling slightly as she took her phone out of her purse. “I never thought you’d be a coward,” she murmured. Elizabeth finally looked at him, met his eyes. “I never thought you’d find out who killed our daughter and run away.”

“I—” Shame crawled through his veins. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you—how to understand what I thought Carly had done—but then Tommy was dead. And—”

“And what?” Elizabeth demanded when he stopped talking abruptly. “What? What could possibly—”

“Someone tried to run me off the road the night I left,” he said finally, tired of the lies. Tired of that look in her eyes. She was never going to forgive him—he’d accepted that a long time ago—but she needed to do he hadn’t run away.

Elizabeth glared at him. “And how did that lead you to leave me in the middle of the night—with a stupid letter—” SHe squeezed her eyes shut. “Why—”

“Because it convinced me I was the target,” Jason retorted. “The bomb was on my car, Elizabeth. You weren’t going to take my car to the hospital that day—not originally. No one came after you for the next six months, but as soon as I came close—they tried to kill me again. Every second I was with you meant they might—”

He clenched his fist at his side. “We’d already lost Lily. If this life—if what I was thinking about doing with the WSB—if I lost you, there’d be nothing left. I knew I was the target, so I made sure they were chasing me. Not you.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “This is why men are the worst,” Elizabeth offered with some disgust. “Because somehow your pain is more important than mine—”

“What—”

“Because you could at least be out there, knowing I was okay—knowing that I was alive—believing you’d made some noble sacrifice—but me—” She pressed a fist to her chest. “I lost you anyway. I lost my daughter, my marriage, my entire life here. I was devastated, Jason, when you left! And you think because you did it to keep me alive—that makes it better?”7

Elizabeth stalked across the room and grabbed a frame from a shelf. She shoved it at him, almost throwing it. “The day we got married—what did we promise?”7

He stared down at their wedding photo, at their faces smiling at the photographer. “Elizabeth—”

“I promised you my face would never change and you promised me you would always respect my choices. My choice was to marry you even though I knew what you did for a living. My choice was to get pregnant and start a family—even though I knew you who you are. My face didn’t change—”

“I know—”

“Not until you broke your promise. I had a right to know who killed my daughter, who tried to kill me—who wanted you dead—” Her eyes were bright with rage, her cheeks flushed. “And you stole that from me! You left me in the middle of the night and destroyed anything I had left! But, hey, I’m alive, so I guess it’s okay, huh?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Too little, too late. Find my brother. Find out who killed our daughter. And then, I never want to see you again.”

Then she slammed the door behind her.

June 30, 2020

This entry is part 7 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in 21  minutes. No time for typos or edits.

Elizabeth put up her hands and took a deep breath. “I need—I need to slow down. I need—” She looked at Jason. “I need to sit down,” she admitted.

The last ten hours of her life had been the worst of her life—from being woke in the dead of the night, fighting for her life and sanity—for her children—terrified that her choices had led to one of her son having to live with killing someone—

Only to learn that everything she thought had been happening was a lie.

She closed her eyes, took another breath. Her boys were safe. That was all that mattered in the end.

She felt a hand at her elbow as Jason gently steered her towards the sofa and guided her to sit down. “Just…” Jason hesitated. “Relax,” he said, but the way he said the word suggested he knew exactly how insane that sounded. “Let’s just all take a second and regroup, okay?”

“Is there coffee?” Diane asked, the lines in her face more prominent than usual. She’d been up all night, Elizabeth remembered, helping her. “I think we’re going to need it.”

Jason sat next to her, and Cameron took the other side. She looked at him again, at her little boy who looked so grown up—there was something in his eyes that said he wasn’t the boy he’d been yesterday. He’d grown up over night, and she was all too aware how something could destroy everything you thought about yourself.

She’d never wanted that for her boys—but this was her fault.

“Let me get you something to eat,” Jason told her. “You should rest, sleep—” He took her hand in his, wrapping her smaller fingers in his own. “We can deal with this when you’re stronger.”

“No, no, I won’t be able to sleep until we—” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. She looked at Cameron again. “Does he know what happened?”

“He knows everything I know,” Cameron told his mother. “You—you said I could trust him—”

“Of course,” Elizabeth assured him. She turned to her son, facing him fully. “There aren’t a lot of people I would say that about, but Jason will always be one of them.” Her smile was thin. “But I know I don’t have a lot of credibility right now—”

“Mom—no, don’t—” Cameron shook his head. “You’re not the only one who thought he was different. We all did.”

Diane returned with two cups of coffee, one for herself and one for Elizabeth. She arched a brow at Jason. “My empathy only goes so far,” she murmured. “Now, let’s—let’s take a minute and start from the beginning. Now that you know you don’t have to protect Cameron.”

She opened her notepad. “According to Detective Chase, they received a 911 call at 1:05 AM. What time did Jake call you?” she asked Jason.

“1:13 PM,” Jason answered. “But the line went dead after I picked it up.”

“His phone fell while we were getting in the car,” Cameron told his mother. “Remember? You told him there was no time—that you’d call Jason when you got inside. So we went in.”

“The cops arrived on scene at 1:20 PM,” Diane continued. “That’s seven minutes.” She tipped her head. “They were delayed due to traffic on Quartz Lane and overnight construction. I don’t have the transcript of the call yet or the recording—”

“I thought Aiden called, but that timing wouldn’t match,” Cameron admitted. “Jake told me they were tied up, and that Aiden’s knots were looser so he got them both free. “I got home aa little before one.”

“It all happened so fast,” Elizabeth murmured. “I don’t understand. Who called 911?”

“We’ll know when we get the information. But I need to know what happened after the boys left,” Diane said. “What was the plan?”

“I didn’t know the cops were coming,” Elizabeth admitted. “I, u—” She looked at Jason. “I was going to call you. I thought—” She blanched.

“You were going to ask Jason to get rid of the body,” Cameron said as Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes burning with tears. “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to protect me anymore.”

And there was something about that statement that quietly shattered her. The tears slid down her cheek again, and she couldn’t stop them. Diane shifted, uncomfortably as Elizabeth struggled to get herself under control again. She was just so tired of everything.

“You didn’t call me,” Jason said, drawing her attention after a long moment. “Why? What happened?” he repeated Diane’s question.

“I went inside, and then—” Elizabeth hesitated. “I fell—” She touched the back of her neck, at the base of her skull. “Or something hit me. I don’t know.” She closed her eyes. Forced herself back into that terror—

Running inside, her skin like ice, rushing for her phone, trying to dial—then blinding, white light—pain—

She looked at her knees, left bare by her cotton shorts. They were scabbed, the blood having dried. “I fell,” she repeated. “Something hit me—and I fell on the ground.”

Jason took her leg in his and she shivered at his touch, her fingers warmer than her cool skin. “These are scrapes from being dragged,” he told her and she didn’t question how he’d know something like that. “Someone hit you and dragged you. Where did you wake up?”

“The next thing I remember is the living room—I was standing there, and there was an officer shoving his flashlight in my face, asking me if I was high, and who killed Franco. I didn’t even think—I didn’t know—I just said it was me.”

“And Franco was dead in the kitchen. You left him upstairs, on the bedroom floor while you got the boys out of the house,” Diane said. “And while you were outside with them, Franco came down stairs, someone called 911, hit you in the head, and killed him.”

“But—but maybe it was me,” Elizabeth insisted. “Maybe—”

“Someone dragged you across the floor—you must have scraped your knees on something—and Franco was stabbed to death. Someone was with Franco last night,” Jason insisted. “He wasn’t alone.”

“Someone waited while he tried to—” Elizabeth pressed her fist to her mouth, then lurched off the sofa and ran to the bathroom, barely reaching it before she vomited.