Category Archives: Flash Fiction

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.

June 29, 2020

This entry is part 7 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in 21  minutes. No time for rereading.

Elizabeth forced a smile at her surly son as he threw himself on the sofa in their parlor, burrowing his face in one of the pillows. “I’m sorry, Cam,” she murmured, sitting beside him and rubbing his back. “I know how much you love going into town, but I have a meeting and it’s easier if you stay home.”

“Don’t wanna stay home,” Cameron’s muffled words were laced with bitterness and insult.

“I bet that Mrs. Baldwin will sneak you some cookies,” Elizabeth said as she flashed a more genuine smile at their housekeeper, Gail Baldwin. She’d been with Elizabeth’s family since she was a small girl and was the closest thing to a grandparent Cameron would likely know.

Cameron turned his face slightly to look at her suspiciously. “How many cookies?”

“Oh, as many as you like,” Gail said with a laugh as the music of Ireland danced in her voice. “Come with me to the kitchen and let your mam take care of her boring business.”

Cameron slid of the sofa and bounced across the room to take Gail’s hand. Elizabeth sent Gail a grateful look as she crossed to the closet and drew out her hat and driving gloves. “I’ll be back before sunset,” she promised them.

The drive into town gave Elizabeth time to think and plan her strategy. It was important that this meeting went the way she wanted it to, but when it came to Ric Lansing, one always had to be six steps ahead.

And unfortunately, Ric always seemed to have a backup scheme to derail even Elizabeth’s best escape plans. If this didn’t work, she’d need to pull up stakes and leave Diamond Springs. Leave behind her grandparents’ ranch and everything they’d ever worked for.

Once more, she cursed her father and hoped he was roasting in hell for what he’d done to her.

She drove past the jail, keeping her eyes straight. She didn’t want to catch even the slightest glimpse of Jason Morgan today. Or any day coming. She wanted to pretend he didn’t exist for as long as she could.

She wondered if things really would have been different if Felicia Jones hadn’t stolen her letters and kept Jason’s from her. Would Jason have come home? Would he have received her pleas?

She was relieved to have the letters in her possession — she’d checked all of them and they’d remained unsealed—all the letters she’d sent over two years — and then one single letter she’d sent in desperation six months after the last.

She steered her cart and horse toward the livery stables to store them while she was in town, and started across the street to the bank. She stopped to look at the outside, at the name of Lansing etched into the sign.

Of course if Jason had received her letters, if he’d come home—Ric would have just found a reason to destroy him like he had anyone else Elizabeth had turned to over the years.

When she stepped inside the bank, she found her tormentor smiling at her. “Right on time, Bethie—”

“That has never been my name and you do not have my permission to address me so formally,” Elizabeth snapped. She drew off her riding gloves and tucked them into her reticule. “Now, I believe you have some paperwork for me to examine.”

Ric’s smile faded as his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t come to your senses yet, I see. Well, then, come to my office—”

She followed him into the smaller room and took a seat—but she jerked out of the chair when he started to close the door. “Don’t you dare,” Elizabeth snapped. “You leave the door open! I will not have you ruin my good name.”

Ric pursed his lips. “Fine. I had thought to give us some privacy, but have it your way.” He took his seat and slid paperwork across the desk. “As I said, here is the mortgage your father took out on the Lazy W. Payments were made on time until his death two years ago, and you now owe me all the back payments, including interest.”

Elizabeth didn’t look down at the paperwork. “Is that contract any more real than the one you gave Alexander? Or Peter?” Her lips pressed together. “Or my husband?”

Ric raised a brow, then leaned back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bethie. This is why you need someone at your side to take care of you. You just can’t do it alone—”

“If I remember correctly, you also presented my husband with a mortgage contract.” Her fingers clenched in her lap. “And when he could not pay what you said he owed, you took him to court. You took our home.”

“Well, he should not have done business if he couldn’t pay the price.” Ric’s smile was almost feral. “Cameron should have known better.”

“You mean I should have known better,” she murmured softly. “The moment I accepted Cameron’s proposal, you were going to do to him what you’d done to anyone I’d ever thought about marrying.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“I always wondered what you’d done to Jason,” Elizabeth said. “When I didn’t receive any word from him—I assumed you were right. That his grandmother was right. But now I know. You, my father, and Lila Quartermaine were in this together—”

Ric tipped his head. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, Lila never would have worked with you if she’d known my father was involved, but she never cared for me.” Elizabeth looked away. “I will never marry you. You can take everything I have, but I promise you—”

“Well, if the Lazy W isn’t enough to convince you—” Ric slid another piece of paper across the table. “This might do it.”

Elizabeth frowned as she picked up the paper, her heart pounding as she recognized her own writing—but this wasn’t hers. She hadn’t written this.

“You forged a letter from me—to you—” Her blood iced over. “Claiming that I was pregnant with your child—”

“If you decline to marry me this time, Bethie, I will take what is mine. I’ll have my son.”

“He’s not—” White spots danced in her eyes. “He’s not—”

“Who do you think the courts will believe? You? After the trail of destruction you left? Or me?” Ric raised his brows. “What will it be?”

June 28, 2020

This entry is part 2 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

Written in 21   minutes. No time for typos.

Elizabeth’s sons returned from Disney World two days after the authorities assured them that the poison in the water had, indeed, been eliminated. She’d refused to let them return until she was confident—and even so, she’d asked Jason and Patrick to drag in gallons of water to use in their food and for baths.

It might be a while before she completely trusted the water system again. Patrick didn’t balk at helping, and Elizabeth also sent Jason to help Patrick with water for his house. The two of them even delivered water to Carly’s place.

No one was taking any chances.

“It would be nice if we could stop having this insane level of drama for like eight seconds,” Elizabeth muttered to her brother, Steven, as he joined her at the nurse’s station to grab some charts. “Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Constantly,” he agreed. But he grinned. “But it’s never boring.”

“I could do with boring.” She wrinkled her nose and frowned when she saw Brad Cooper, the lab tech she’d asked to run the maternity test several days earlier. “Hey, Brad. What are you doing up here?”

“Oh, well…” Brad slid a glance at Steven. “Just delivering some test results.”

“Hand delivering?” Steven smirked. “Brad, I told you. The lab is safe. ELQ donated enough money to keep all the positions secure for another year.” He scribbled something in a chart. “Don’t know what made Tracy get all generous, but let’s hope that it doesn’t go away.”

“I know, right? She was always worse than Edward.” Elizabeth looked at Brad. “Are those the results for Patrick? I can take them to him.” She put her hand out and Brad hesitated. She frowned, wondering if he was worried he’d get in trouble or something.

She’d told him the test was completely on the level — Patrick had agreed to run the test for her and ordered them. Jason was getting billed. All Brad had to do was run the test but maybe he was still a bit jumpy after nearly getting laid off.

Steven looked at Brad, then at his sister. “Uh, do I have to know something? Or should I go?”

“It’s fine,” Brad said finally. “Sorry, I just—Patrick told me these results were important, so—” He set the envelope in Elizabeth’s hands. “I just want to do it right.”

“Elizabeth here is Patrick’s right-hand man,” Steven assured Brad. “And you’re not getting fired for giving results to a nurse.”

“Right, right.” Brad made a hasty exit, skipping the elevators and taking the service stairs. Elizabeth stared after him, frowning in complete bewilderment.

“Oh, man, he’s weird,” Steven murmured. “Where did we find him?”

“I don’t know. Ask the lab director. She hired him. Maybe he really just was nervous—I mean, I know you’re an idiot, but other people might respect you.” Elizabeth shot her brother a smirk, and he flicked her nose.

“Quiet, Bits. What’s the test? What’s so important?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Just a test Patrick wanted done. One of his VIPs, I think. That’s why I handled it.”

“Right. Keep your secrets. Just don’t get me sued,” Steven told her. He picked up his chart and headed down the hallway.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned back to her monitor, slipping the envelope into her scrubs pocket. “One time, and he acts like I’m a walking lawsuit,” she muttered.

When she’d finished marking up her patient charts, she headed for the break room so she could text Jason and tell him to head over on her break. She wasn’t really in a hurry to give him these results, but she knew he wanted them quickly.

Elizabeth had listened to the reasons Jason thought Victor Delgado might be Danny McCall, and was reluctant to admit he might be right. Victor and Danny had been born on the same night, around the same time — without doctors. Todd Manning had been lurking in the area, as had Heather Webber. If you threw in the fact that Victor had an genetic illness that she knew some Cassadines had also inherited—

It was just—she knew that the friendship she and Jason had enjoyed over the last few months, the quiet talks, the spontaneous dinners with her and boys—it would all end. Because if Victor was Danny, Jason would rush off to bring him home to Sam, and she’d be grateful. They’d reunite and that would be that.

Not that she wanted Jason back, but she also didn’t want to lose him again in her life. Without Jake to tie them together…

Elizabeth sighed and sent Jason the text message, telling him her break was in an hour and she’d meet him on the roof.

It didn’t make her a bad person if she didn’t necessarily think it was fair that Sam got her child back while Elizabeth’s would never come home again. Particularly Sam, a woman Elizabeth loathed with every fiber of her being.

But she was also a grieving mother, so if she could relieve another mother’s mind—

Jason responded to let her know he’d seen her then, and she got back to work.

_____

Jason found Elizabeth on the roof, looking out over the city—where she’d been a week ago when the rain had finally poured down on the city, ending a recent drought and bringing some symbolic relief to end of the poisoned water crisis.

“Hey.”

She turned and flashed him a smile—one he returned automatically. It was rare to see Elizabeth smile these days when she wasn’t with her boys. When they’d lost Jake the year before, a melancholy sadness had settled inside of her—even he could see she wasn’t the same.

He understood — he hadn’t even been a true part of Jake’s life, but the loss of their son had cut him deeply. He didn’t know how either of them would ever really get past it.

“Hey,” she greeted. She slid an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Here are the results.”

Jason frowned as he took the sealed envelope. “You didn’t look at them?”

“No, I figured you’d want to do that.” Elizabeth’s smile dimmed slightly. “I just—I was thinking about how much—” She exhaled slowly. “How jealous I am of Sam, and she doesn’t even know it. I’d give anything to be holding a set of results like that—to just…” She looked away. “To just have hope our little boy was out there.”

Instead of lying in a coffin in the cemetery, a headstone with dates indicating just how little life their son had enjoyed.

He didn’t have the words to comfort her, so Jason opened the results and looked at the paper. He exhaled slowly and then looked up to find her studying her.

“Well?” Elizabeth asked.

“I was wrong,” he said. He carefully folded the results and placed them back in the envelope. “Victor—it’s not him.”

“Oh.” A little breath rushed out, and Elizabeth bit her lip. “I guess—I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me either.” He’d wanted to be absolved of this guilt, the sin of what he’d done to Sam and how it had destroyed everything. But it wasn’t going to happen. “I’m glad I never told her.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I should get back to work.”

She started past him, but he grabbed her elbow and drew her back. “Hey,” he said, “why don’t I come over tonight? I’ll bring some pizza or something.”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth smiled, her face brightening slightly. “The boys would like that. Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

June 27, 2020

This entry is part 6 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Whatever It Takes

Written in 20  minutes. No time for edits.

Jason and Ric had hated each other almost from the moment Jason had started to work for Sonny, and the situation had only worsened when Elizabeth had filed for divorce after a short, disastrous two months only to marry Jason six months later. While Ric worked for Sonny out of familial loyalty and because Sonny had promised their mother he’d look after his little brother — Jason had risen to his place in Sonny’s organization through actual loyalty and merit.

Elizabeth hadn’t intended to get in the middle of all of that, but neither had she really paid attention. Maybe she should have, she thought the next morning as she walked out of her former home and crossed the hallway to Sonny’s penthouse.

She smiled at Max Giambetti, the long time guard for Sonny. “Hey.”

“Mrs. Morgan.” Max straightened. “Uh—I didn’t realize you were still here—” He looked at the door, then back at her. “Mr. C isn’t taking visitors—”

“I know, I understand. I was hoping Ric might talk to me.” She fluttered her lashes slightly because she knew Max was easily flustered by women. “Does he know I’m here?”

“Uh…maybe. I don’t know. I should check.”

Max knocked lightly on the door. “Go away,” Ric barked, his voice muffled by the heavy oak door.

“Mr. Lansing—”

“Say Elizabeth is here,” she told him quickly. “Or my maiden name. Or something.”

“Right—Uh, Miss Webber is here—”

The door was yanked open even before Max could finish his sentence. Her former husband was disheveled, his dress shirt unbuttoned to his collar, his usually sleek hair tumbling over his eyes. “Elizabeth.”

“Hey. I was hoping you might agree to see me. I know Sonny isn’t up for visitors.” She folded her arms. “But I wanted to check on you guys.”

“Uh…yeah. Okay.” Ric dragged his hands through his hair and stepped away from the door. Elizabeth stepped inside, but left the door slightly ajar. “I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d come back from Boston.”

“Well, Carly and I never had problems with each other,” Elizabeth said. “But I haven’t heard from my brother in a few days.” She took a deep breath. “With the next couple of weeks—it’s just not a time when Steven would be out of touch with me, you know?”

Ric blinked at her. “The next couple—” He nodded. “Right. Right. Uh, I’m sorry. I think I lost—it’s been a rough couple of days.”

“I’ll bet. Is Michael here?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, he’s with Bobbie—uh, Sonny thought that would be—” Ric shook his head, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t expecting you. I haven’t seen you since you moved.”

“Well, other than Steven, I don’t really have a lot of good memories in Port Charles,” Elizabeth murmured. “And since my divorce will be finalized soon…” She let that dangle, hoping that would make Ric give her a bit more information.

If he had anything to give.

“Justus said something about that. It’s been tough here. You’re not the only one Jason abandoned,” Ric said tightly, his eyes flashing. “I told you he would disappoint you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Elizabeth said carefully. “It’s hard to say if things would have been different—” She sighed. “I suppose I’m not meant to be a mother.”

“Don’t—” Ric reached out to her, but Elizabeth couldn’t fight the old habit—she stepped back. His hand curled into a fist between them as he nodded. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You still haven’t forgiven me.”

“No,” Elizabeth said. And suddenly, the air was heavy and she couldn’t force a full breath. Being around him—remembering those final devastating weeks. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. Look, I really just came by to check on Sonny. I know he and Carly had their problems, but I’m sure he’s taking this badly. And I was hoping you’d heard from my brother.”

“No. I haven’t,” Ric said flatly. “And Sonny’s fine. I’ll have some of the men look around for Steven. Are you at the hotel?”

“No,” Elizabeth admitted. “I’m across the hall—”

“Jason’s staying across the hall. He got back yesterday.” His eyes flashed. “I thought you said your divorce was nearly final—”

“It is. But there’s no point in wasting money when I can stay in a guest room. There are still a few things I need to pack anyway.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “Let me know if Sonny needs anything.”

She turned and left the penthouse, barely giving Max a second glance as she hurried back to the other penthouse where Jason and Justus were waiting.

She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, her heart pounding. Jason and Justus both shot to her feet.

“What is it?” Jason demanded as Justus crossed the room to her. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Elizabeth exhaled. “Except lie to me. Everything he said was a lie.” She stepped away from the door. “He knows something about Steven. He claimed not to know I was in town or staying over here. And—” She swallowed hard. “He claimed he didn’t know it’s been almost a year.”

Jason frowned. “How does that—”

“Because he still sends me flowers every May, Jason, that’s why. For the last three years, he’s sent me flowers to remind me that his mistress shoved me down a flight of stairs and I miscarried my first child. You’re telling me he doesn’t remember that my second child died in July?” Elizabeth demanded harshly.

Jason pressed his lips together and looked away. “So why would he lie?”

“To make her think he’s forgotten her,” Justus said. “That he hasn’t been thinking about her. He knew Steven was missing. And he knew you were here. Max told him yesterday. Max tells him every time someone comes to the Towers.”

“So he’s lying about something. About my brother, about me, I don’t know. Take your pick.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “You said Sonny ordered the bomb and Carly picked it up,” she said softly. “What if they were both framed?”

Jason shook his head, looked at her. “What? Why?”

“Sonny never does the work directly. You told me that,” she reminded him.

Justus inhaled sharply. “Ric could have done it in his name. Tommy wouldn’t have thought anything of it.”

“He ordered it in May, didn’t he?” Elizabeth pressed Jason. “That’s when your guy started working on it. Ric came back from a business trip and he’d been for months. I wasn’t showing when he left—”

“But you were when he came back.” Jason fisted his hands at his side. “I never thought—I never thought he’d go after you—”

Elizabeth smiled thinly. “I should have. It wouldn’t even be the first time.”

June 26, 2020

This entry is part 6 of 20 in the Flash Fiction: Desperate Measures

Written in  22   minutes. No time for typos.

 

As Jason pulled the car into a parking spot at his apartment building, his cell phone rang. He looked at Cameron. “It’s Diane.” Because he thought Cameron had earned it, he put Diane on speaker phone.

“Hey, Diane. I just got back to town with Cameron. Max is behind me, maybe five minutes with Jake and Aiden.”

“Oh, good. Good.” His lawyer sounded slightly distracted. “I’m calling because I called in every single favor I’ve had with all the judges, including some of yours, and I’ve got Elizabeth an arraignment hearing at 8 AM.”

“That’s in an hour,” Jason said. Without looking at Cameron, he continued, “Which judge got the assignment?”

“Richardson.”

“Okay. I have some calls to make. Thanks.” Jason closed the phone, looked at Cameron. “You can stay for this next part,” he told Elizabeth’s son, “but I’m going to commit a felony.”

Cameron’s smile was thin, his eyes wry. “Yeah? Cool. I think I’ve commited more in the last twelve hours than one.” He sat back against the seat, putting a hand over his eyes. “Which is never something I thought I’d get to say to Jason Morgan.”

He had his mother’s gloomy sense of humor, Jason thought as he called the clerk’s office. “Jimmy? Tell Richardson we’re even if Webber goes home.” He waited a minute, then hung up.

“That’s it?” Cameron frowned. “That’s all it takes? He’ll know?”

“He’ll know,” Jason said. He got out of the car as Max pulled into the parking spot next to him. He went to the passenger’s side to get Jake and Aiden.

“They fell asleep about ten minutes ago,” Max told him. “You want some help getting them upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Jason tossed his keys to Cameron. “I’m on the third floor, Apartment C.” He unbelted Jake and lifted his son into his arms, a pang of regret that with his eleventh birthday behind him, he was already too big to carry.

Max took care of seven-year-old Aiden, and the five of them trudged towards the building.

Once Jake and Aiden were settled in Jake’s bunk bed, Max left and Cameron was alone with Jason again.

“How do you know he’ll do it?” Cameron asked as Jason brewed a pot of coffee. “What if he doesn’t?”

Jason thought about the judge who liked to hire escorts in groups of two and three, and the wife and children he had at home. “He will.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Cameron insisted. “I mean, we can’t stay here forever.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t think about what happens next. Mom told me to go, so I went. But she confessed. They might not let her take it back. If she goes to jail—” He looked towards the bedroom. “What happens to us?”

Jason hesitated, because he didn’t know. “That’s not going to happen—” he started, but Cameron clearly wasn’t in the mood for that.

“I’m not stupid, Jason. Bad things happen all the time. You can’t fix everything. If you could, Franco wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Cameron winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—’

“You’re right.” Jason looked at him. “I don’t know what happens to the three of you if your mother isn’t here to take care of you.” He hesitated. “I know that before—before Jake’s accident, she left custody of the two of you to me. She wanted you two to stay together. That was before Aiden was born. Laura might have taken over as guardian.” His lips tightened. “Or someone else from the Spencer family.”

“Oh.” Cameron closed his mouth. “I guess you’d get Jake, then. And Aiden would go to Grandma Laura or something, like Spencer.”

“Your mother might have other plans now. It’s been a long time since she could depend on me.” Jason hesitated. “But she can now. So can you.” He gestured down the hallway. “You want to sleep? My room is down the hall or you can take the couch—”

“I can’t sleep. I want—I need to see my mother.” Cameron shook his head. “I know you said the judge will let her go, but—”

“But you need to see for sure. Understood.”

An hour later, Diane called again — Elizabeth had been released on bail. Jason had already arranged to pay for it. Within thirty minutes, Diane had brought Elizabeth to the apartment.

She didn’t look much better than when Jason had left her five hours earlier, but she was relieved to see Cameron. Mother and son rushed at each other, and with a start, Jason realized that Cameron now towered over his mother—

He’d grown up. Just like Jake. None of them were little boys he’d known once.

“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth murmured. She took Cameron’s face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Cam.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Cameron’s voice broke, and he sounded for a moment like a small child again. “It’s okay. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

He hesitated. “Mom, Jason told me Franco had—that he’d been stabbed. I didn’t—I didn’t do that.”

“Stabbed.” Elizabeth frowned. She stepped back, looked at Diane and Jason. “What are you talking about? He—he fell and hit his head.”

“No one told her?” Jason asked Diane sharply.

“Told her? Why would? She confessed.” Diane planted her hands on her hips. “Are you—”

“I didn’t kill him,” Elizabeth said. “I—” She swayed slightly, then looked at Cameron. “Oh, God, you didn’t do it either. You didn’t—”

“But then how the hell did he die?”

Diane frowned, then strode forward. “Elizabeth—at any point before Cameron left the house, were you hit in the head?”

Elizabeth turned, looked at her with bewilderment. “What?”

Jason saw what Diane was looking at—at the slight blood trail at Elizabeth’s hairline. “You—” He touched her face. “You were bleeding earlier. I didn’t think to ask—”

Diane pinched her lips together. “Elizabeth—”

“I don’t—I was in the living room—and the boys were gone, and I was going—” She looked at Jason. “I was going to call you, but then I—” Her hands fluttered up to her head. “I fell. Didn’t I?”

“Aiden had already called 911, because the cops were at the house by the time I got there. You didn’t calle them. Neither did Jake or Cameron. It had to be Aiden—”

“Unless someone knocked Elizabeth out, stabbed Franco, and called the police themselves.”

This entry is part 6 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: An Everlasting Love

Written in  20   minutes. No time for typos.

After Elizabeth’s revelations about the fate of the Lewis brothers, she closed up and Jason knew he wouldn’t get any more answers, so he left the ranch and headed back to town. Instead of going to the boarding house where he was staying, he rode towards the older part of town, where the founders’ families lived.

Where his grandmother still lived in the elegant home his grandfather had built when Diamond Springs had been little more than a boom town in 1850. Edward Quartermaine had uprooted his entire family to travel west, taking the fortune he’d made in property and commerce in New York City.

The Quartermaines had come west with the Hardys, the Webbers, Lewises, and Joneses. Jason had traveled with them, no more than three years old, the illegitimate grandson that Edward had refused to leave behind when his mother, Susan, had died in childbirth.

The Quartermaines had built the town, but had declined over the last decade as men died and women left to find better options in San Francisco or Sacremento. Now, only Jason and his grandmother were left.

Lila beamed at him as he strode into her little parlor. “Darling! I have been longing to see you.” She extended her hand and Jason bowed over it, an old habit from his youth when she’d been missing the England and ballrooms of her youth.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by very much,” he told her.

“You could solve that if you lived in your old rooms,” Lila said with a sly smile. “You’d have the run of the house—”

Jason hid his grimace, but shook his head. “I like the boarding house for now. It’s closer to the jail.”

Lila pursed her lips, then nodded. “All right. We’ll discuss it at another time.” She patted his hand. “It’s rather late for a visit, dearest. Have you a reason for coming by?”

Jason hesitated. His grandmother was a wonderful woman, but she was strict about manners and propriety. He couldn’t simply ask her what had happened to Elizabeth Webber five years ago, when she’d stopped writing—but maybe he could work around to it.

“I was told today that the Lewis brothers both died,” Jason said hesitantly. “I was surprised by that—they were young. I was hoping you might tell me what happened.”

Lila frowned slightly with a bit of a gimlet eye—as if she knew exactly why he was asking. “The Lewis brothers? Alexander and Peter? Why, I haven’t given them a single thought in years.” Her voice shook slightly, and he heard the lie.

“Interesting.” Jason raised a brow. “Because I would think a murder-suicide would be memorable.”

Lila pursed her lips, drew back her hands. “Well, if you already know the gory details, my dear, then why are you asking me?”

“Because you never mentioned it,” Jason told her. “You wrote about everything—but not this. And I wanted to know why.”

“This is about that Webber girl,” Lila said, her voice tight. “You were hoping to marry her when you came home. But you never came home—”

“Because you wrote to tell me she was married. I always thought she’d married one of the brothers.” And it had torn at him—Jason had refused to touch the inheritance from his grandfather or father, but the Lewis brothers didn’t have that problem. He’d wondered if Elizabeth had married for the money.

“Well, by the time she married, there was only one Lewis left,” Lila said sharply. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. She was a lovely girl, but I couldn’t abide being connected to that family. That Jeffrey Webber was a terrible person—”

“Grandmother, Elizabeth and I wrote to each other for two years—and her father arranged to keep all of our letters from reaching us.”

Lila’s nostrils flared as she reared back. “That reprobate! How dare he! You are a Quartermaine! He should be so lucky!” She twisted her hands in her lap. “How dare he,” she muttered. “If your grandfather were still with us—”

“Do you know what happened to Cameron’s sons?” Jason asked gently. “And why is Elizabeth at the Lazy W when she should be here, in town? In the Lewis house?”

“The Lewis house was sold after the incident,” Lila said. “She and Cameron made their home on the ranch. There was no—” She sighed. “There was no money. Alexander gambled away his share, and Peter had made a terrible investment—between the two of them, it was all Cameron could do to settle their debts. Then—” Lila twisted her handkerchief in her hands. “Alexander and Peter insisted that they were being tricked—that they’d been tricked out of their money, but they argued with each other, and—well, no one knows for sure what caused it. But it was over the loss of the money, we’re sure of it.”

Jason sat back. “So…Elizabeth’s marriage had nothing to do with them?” he asked, skeptically.

“Well, I don’t know about any of that. I know that Jeffrey Webber was hoping she would agree to marry that awful banker,” Lila said with a sniff. She didn’t trust anyone who handled money for a living. “But she never did. She and Alexander were always friends as children—you know that. I suppose we thought they might marry, but then the tragedy—” Lila smiled thinly at him. “Does it matter now, dearest?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. He was looking for a reason Elizabeth had stopped writing him, why her letters seemed to be such a secret — but maybe it wasn’t that difficult to understand.

She’d written more than a hundred letters to a man who’d never answered them. Why would anyone keep writing?

Jason frowned, looked at Lila. “Wait, Alexander and Peter claimed someone was tricking them?”

“That was the rumor, but I don’t pay much attention to those. It was probably their pride—”

“Maybe.” But Jason couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Elizabeth had stopped writing him, might have married Alexander Lewis—and then Alexander and Peter were broke, without money.

And Ric Lansing was a banker who was still bothering Elizabeth now, seven years after she’d rejected his proposal of marriage on her seventeenth birthday.

June 25, 2020

This entry is part 1 of 16 in the Flash Fiction: Darkest Before the Dawn

This begins in 2012, near the end of the water poisoning crisis after Jason has saved Elizabeth from Ewan. Thanks to Tania for inspiring this particular idea.

Written in 21  minutes. No time for edits or typo checks.

Elizabeth Webber felt a hundred years old as she stepped up to the porch to unlock her front door. Behind her, she could hear the booted footsteps of Jason Morgan who had driven her home from the hospital.

In the last twenty-four hours, she’d been kidnapped by her most recent romantic mistake, then rescued by her ex-fiancee, and then, somehow, the city had been saved when the antidote to the poison in their water system had been located. She and Jason were still slightly damp from the rain that had finally given them a sense of relief at the end of it.

It had been a hell of a couple days, she thought dryly as she slid her key into the lock. She turned back to Jason. “I’m pretty sure I have a frozen pizza in the kitchen. I want to call Gram and the boys in Disney World one more time, but if you want to stay—”

“Sure,” Jason said, with his own tired smile. He likely hadn’t slept much in the last week either—it usually took him three days of running on empty before he looked this tired, she mused, as they went inside and Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at the living room.

“You know what?” she said, stopping abruptly. Jason bumped into her, putting his hands at her waist for just a moment to steady them both. “I’m done.”

“Done?” he repeated.

“Done.” Elizabeth nodded. “I just kidnapped by the first guy I’ve dated since I almost dated Matt Hunter. And then he turned out to be a murderer. And before that—”

She scowled. Best not to think about about what had been before her brief flirtation with Patrick’s younger brother who was now in prison for killing Lisa Niles.

“Okay,” Jason drawled. He stepped around her to pick up a photo that had fallen from her table. He set it back in its place. “So you’re done.”

“I have the worst taste in men—present company excluded, mostly—” She added as an afterthought. She wandered into the kitchen. “Zander. Nikolas. Lucky. Matt. Ewan. Ric. Am I leaving anyone out?” she tossed over her shoulder as she pulled out the pizza from the freezer and flicked the oven on to preheat.

“Uh…” Jason slid his hands into his pockets and furrowed his brow at her, as if actually thinking it over. “I don’t know. I think that’s it.”

She pursed her lips, not sure if he was teasing her or not. “Hmph. Anyway, that’s a terrible list, and you—” Elizabeth stabbed a finger at hime. “Are the best of a bad bunch, and let me tell you, you’re not a shining star either.”

“No arguments there,” he muttered. “Elizabeth—”

“Anyway. I’m going to raise my boys, go to work, and keep Patrick out of trouble. That’s it. That’s all I want to do for the next twenty years. Maybe—just maybe—I’ll be in the mood to find someone to die with.”

Jason raised his brows. “You’re planning to die at the age of fifty-three?”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “Listen—”

“Elizabeth—”

“Never mind.” She reached into her fridge and handed him a bottle of the Rolling Rock she’d bought on a whim a few weeks earlier. Jason had been stopping by more and more, and she’d just grabbed it the last time she’d been in the store. She opened her own bottle. “I’ll talk to Brad tomorrow,” she said.

Jason sighed and sat on a stool at the island. “You think I’m wrong?”

“I think,” Elizabeth said, slowly, “that you’re feeling guilty about everything that’s happened in the last year.” She offered him a faint smile. “I know you think it was your fault—”

“If I’m right, and Tea Delgado’s son was switched with Sam’s,” Jason said, “then it was my fault. Sam was only at the motel because of me.”

Elizabeth sighed and took a pull of the beer. It was hard to argue with him on that score, she knew. Sam had been living apart from Jason because he’d struggled to accept her pregnancy, the result of a rape from Franco, the serial killing psycho Jason had finally killed in January.

“Thank you for not arguing with me.”

“I think that it’s simple to say it was your fault it happened,” Elizabeth corrected. “Yeah, I think you were probably not as accepting as Sam probably deserved—” Jason looked away. “But to say someone kidnapping Sam’s son and replacing it with a dead child is your fault for that is to say it’s Sam’s fault for living in a motel instead of with her mother.”

“Elizabeth—”

“We’ve been over this,” she reminded him. “Just because there’s a possibility Danny might still be alive—it doesn’t mean what happened is one hundred percent on you.”

“But you’re not saying it’s not on me,” Jason replied.

“I—” Elizabeth shrugged, and ignored the question by turning around to slide the pizza into the oven. “Could you have done better with all of it? Sure. But you’re human, Jason. Maybe thing would have been different if Danny had survived.”

“Maybe.” Jason was quiet for a moment.

“You never used to think about this kind of stuff,” she said. Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. “Things were what they were, and there was no point in looking back. I used to envy that about you.”

“Yeah, well, then I started to make a lot more mistakes,” Jason muttered.

“Well, hey, then join the club. I am the Queen of Regrets.” She held out her beer and he clinked his bottle with hers. “You can be the King.” Elizabeth wagged her finger at him. “Platonic though. Because I told you, I’m on a twenty year break.”

Jason shook his head, but then smiled. “Yeah, okay, we’ll talk in twenty years.”

——

Brad Cooper was cleaning up the lab in the hospital after a long week of running tests and devloping serums. He was whistling under his breath, thinking of the vodka and popcorn he’d have when he finally got home.

He heard a throat clearing in the doorway, and he turned to see Tracy Quartermaine in the doorway. “Ms. Quartermaine.” Brad snapped to attention, bu frowned. He didn’t think he’d ever seen this member of the family in the lab. “Did you need something?”

“Someone is going to ask you run a test tomorrow,” Tracy said with an arch of her brow. “I’ll make it worth your while if you do it my way.”