Courage was a quiet thing. Elizabeth had learned that from her mother.

Dragging herself out of bed that morning, she hadn’t thought she’d end up in the holding room of the PCPD.

She’d gotten dressed, had a wonderful breakfast—French toast with powdered sugar and maple syrup, bacon on the side, orange juice and hot chocolate—courtesy of Sonny, and headed out the door.

No one was force feeding her, but Sonny and most of the men in her life, including Johnny, Francis and Father Max—who’d just happened to stop by the last few mornings with doughnuts, bagels and croissants respectively—were making damn sure she ate.

It should have seemed overbearing, like she wasn’t in control of her own life, like they didn’t trust her to look after herself, but instead she found it endearing. They meant well, in their own way. It helped, having them around, getting used to their presence again. And how could she resent them for caring? She doubted her own father would have even noticed. She loved them for that. For noticing. For seeing her.

So when she left the house, her belly full, she had every intention of going to the library to finally start on the art history paper that was due in less than a week. Halfway there though, she turned, went down Jefferson and headed straight for the Police station.

She’d been putting this off for too long. But she’d come to realize that if she wanted to get her life back, she’d have to do this first in order to move on. And that’s what she wanted more than anything. To just…not forget, but to move forward, away from the dark thoughts that had been plaguing her and her dreams. There were others things she wanted out of life and dwelling wasn’t solving anything.

The police officer she’d flagged down amongst the hustle and bustle of the busy station, ushered her into this room and told her a detective would be with her soon.

The room itself was stuffy. It smelled faintly of testosterone, sweat and ego. On the table there was a box of doughnuts, open and half-eaten, and the coffee in the carafe on the counter looked like a thick sludge. Such a cliché, she thought.

She’d been waiting 45 minutes, staring at linoleum tiles and counting the cracks in the ceiling, when the door flew open and a baby-faced officer shuffled into the room. Detective? Yeah, right. The kid looked like he was straight out of the police academy.

The Red Bull in his hand and iPod poking out of his pocket did little to add to his credibility. The uniform he wore was perfectly pressed and she had to wonder if his mommy had ironed it for him that morning.

Stopping herself from smiling when he finally looked up, she took a moment to study him. He was tall, dark haired, and under the veil of black lashes she could tell his eyes were light in color, most likely blue or green.

He looked nice enough, but she had to wonder which one out of the two of them was more nervous. He seemed to be having trouble looking her in the eye.

Setting down the Red Bull and folder that had been under his arm, he took the seat opposite of her. “I’m Cooper Barrett.” He spared a glance at her. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be taking your statement.”

“Okay. But shouldn’t you be playing in the sandbox with all the other little boys?” She couldn’t resist the dig.

“What?” His eyes still didn’t reach hers. Confusion was clearly written on his face.

Officer Barrett’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed and she watched it with sickening fascination.

Her fingers fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket underneath the table. She’d taken it off after ten minutes in the claustrophobic space and placed it over her lap. “It’s just… You’re so young. I wasn’t expecting…”

“A rookie?” There was no malice behind his words, just acceptance, like he’d heard this all before.

This was going to be harder than she thought. It would have been difficult enough to bare her soul to an overweight, underpaid middle-aged detective, but now she was going to have to relive and relay one of the worst nights of her life to this…boy.

And that wasn’t being fair to him. He was probably a very good officer. But he was young. Only a few years older than herself, she guessed. Maybe his age wouldn’t have bothered her as much, had it not been for the unfortunate fact that Office Cooper Barrett was…well, for lack of better words, hot. She was sure he was just the type of guy Trisha would melt over.

And that was going to make things more difficult. Because how was she supposed to tell this young, good-looking cop about the trauma she suffered under the hands of Paul Callahan and maintain her dignity when he wouldn’t even look her in the eye because of what he’d read in his precious little folder.

Under normal circumstances—though God knows, she didn’t even know what that meant—she and Cooper might have been acquaintances, or friends, or dating!

But he didn’t see her as a person—someone with feelings and emotions and likes and dislikes. All he saw was a girl that was brutally attacked. All he saw was some stupid little victim. That did not sit well with Elizabeth.

Cooper took advantage of her silence. “It’s okay. I get it all the time. But let me assure you, this isn’t the first statement I’ve taken.”

“No. That’s not what I meant. I just… Look, I don’t want your pity.” It wasn’t hard to miss the anger in her tone.

He shook his head. “Pity? I-I don’t pity you, Miss Webber.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. It would help if you looked me in the eye when you said that, Officer.”

A blush formed on his cheeks, spreading until even the very tips of his ears were scarlet.

He did look at her then.

His eyes bore into hers until she felt unsettled.

“What?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath. “It’s not you. Well, it is. But not in the way you’re thinking. I-I didn’t want to become distracted.”

“I don’t understand.”

He bowed his head, breaking eye contact. “You’re a beautiful woman, Miss Webber.”

Her mouth hung open in shock. Of all the things she expected him to say, telling her she was beautiful was not one of them.

Cooper rushed on. “And I know that’s not an appropriate thing to say…especially when the crime you’re here to report involves someone trying to…” He shook his head. “I don’t want you thinking… I’m sorry about what happened to you, but I don’t pity you.”

“Oh.”

Officer Barrett cleared his throat. “So, uh, now that that’s out there… Would you, um… Should I get someone else to take your statement? If I’ve made you uncomfortable…”

Elizabeth debated. Sure, it might be easier to have someone else take her statement. Someone more like she’d originally pictured. Or heck, even a woman if the department had any. That wasn’t the solution, though.

Oddly, Cooper’s confession had somehow put her more at ease. Not because she was flattered or was hoping some grand romance would blossom out of this. But by telling her the truth, however unprofessional, he’d cut himself wide open, humanized himself. There were on level playing field.

They were both exposed now.

She sighed. “No. No, that won’t be necessary.”

He still seemed hesitant, unsure. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?”

“No. I’m fine, thanks.” She settled back into her chair.

“Okay. Let’s just get started then.” Cooper pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket and flipped over the folder, exposing the files inside. He gave it a quick scan before settling his pen against the paper, ready to jot down notes. “Can you tell me what happened the night of December the 24^th?”

Elizabeth took a breath in through her nose and released it with a slight whistle out of her mouth. “I was walking home from a Christmas party. I was a little upset so I decided to take a shortcut through the park. I-I know that was stupid, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

She watched the pen glide over the paper in slick, clean strokes.

“Okay and then what happened?”

Elizabeth blinked. She was a little unsettled by the detachment she heard in his voice. She wished she could be that detached, that emotionless about what had happened to her. But that was the difference between them. Cooper Barrett hadn’t been the one that was brutally raped—almost raped, she reminded herself--in the snow on Christmas Eve. She was.

“I, um… There was this guy, Paul. Paul Callahan. I knew him from school. We-we dated once or twice,” she said, unable to hide the distain from her voice. “Anyway, he was waiting for me. He said as much. We ran into each other before I got to the party and exchanged words… I wasn’t very nice to him.”

“Okay. So he approached you…?”

She took a deep breath. In her head, she was right there, stuck, her legs wobbling and her heart pounding. She could sense it all again. That calculated look in his eyes. The smell of alcohol on his breath. The fear clenching her stomach.

“Miss Webber?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Elizabeth nodded. “Yeah. I turned and he was standing there, blocking my way. He, uh… He said that I shouldn’t become a nun, that it was a bad idea because… well then, he just made some references to my body.”

Cooper’s pen stopped moving. He looked up. “I’m sorry I’m going to need to know exactly what he said to the best of your memory.”

“Right. Okay. Um…” Elizabeth had been afraid of that. She chewed on her lip. “He said something about my lips and body and that the nuns wouldn’t appreciate it like he would. That we could…do things together… He said we were going to have fun. I had to force myself not to throw up… That came later,” she said, absently.

She felt the tears prick her eyes. God, it was like it was happening all over again.

“Do you need a break, Miss Webber?”

She shook her head, pulling her jacket over the front of her body, like it was a blanket or a shield. “No. No, I’m fine. I just want to get through this and put it all behind me.”

“Okay. So what happened next?” His voice had dropped to a calm and soothing tone.

It gave her some strength.

“He-he grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him. Then he kissed me and I struggled, but I wasn’t strong enough. My lip was bleeding… I don’t remember how that happened; I just remember the taste,” she whispered, sliding her tongue over her lip as if she could still feel the broken skin and the coppery tang of her blood. “We fell to the ground. I told him no. He said it would only be worse if I fought him. He started hitting me and-and pulling at my clothes, tearing them. I got away for a second, but he grabbed me. We fought some more and then I fell down the hill. I think I hit my head on a rock. I was just so tired.” She closed her eyes, fighting the memories of that night. Trying to bury the way her skin felt on the snowy ground, bruised and dirty and so cold.

Cooper swallowed audibly. “And that’s when Jason Morgan found you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped at it. “Yes. He-he saved my life. I don’t remember much after that.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Miss Webber. You did very well.”

He smiled at her, but she couldn’t match it.

“Can I go now?”

Closing the folder, he met her eyes. There was regret etched there. “We just need… Are you up to looking at some mug shots? It’s just procedure. Even though you named your attacker… We really want to put this guy away.”

“Okay.”

Anything to put Paul away. This wasn’t going to happen to anyone else. Not this time. She’d done everything wrong the last time. In fact, she hadn’t done anything at all. Except bury it deep inside her.

“You’re a very brave woman, Miss Webber.” He stood and reached for the door, wrenching it open. “Wait here and I’ll be back.”

Elizabeth allowed herself a moment to let the tears fall. Jason had called her brave, too. But he was the brave one. He was the man that had saved her from something that surely would have killed her. She wouldn’t have survived it a second time.

She waited, motionless. Inside she felt wrecked. Busted up and bruised and emotionally drained.

The walls were caving in on her. The minutes ticked by and she felt like she was in a trance. She could hear the noise outside in the squad room. It was ripe with activity.

Everything in this room was still and lifeless. A dead silence that wrapped around her throat and choked back her voice. The world seemed to swell out of focus.

“Miss Webber?”

“Huh?” She looked up, meeting the kind blue eyes of Officer Barrett. She hadn’t even heard him come in. She wondered how long he’d been standing there.

Cooper shifted on his feet. “If you’re not up for this…”

Finally oriented by the sound of his voice, the rumble of words bombarding her, Elizabeth titled her head, looking at the overwhelming faded black book. New resolve thrust her back from the edge. “No. I can do this.”

“Here’s the book.” He carried it with both hands and placed it in front of her. “Take your time.”

He left her then. In the stagnant room with that ominous black book sitting on the table, taunting her.

_____

Elizabeth felt mentally exhausted. The smell of the police station permeated her clothes and soured her tongue.

It had always been her intention to take the day to catch up on all the homework and reading she’d missed. But the day had not been going as planned. Not that she was shocked. Plans never seemed to be kept by her.

Scatterbrained, her Gram called her. Elizabeth had always taken her criticisms in stride. There was too much to see and too much to do to ever follow a plan. Life was not made for plans. If only Gram could see that. But the second she had stepped foot in Port Charles, she had realized that plans and schedules and propriety were key factors in winning her grandmother’s love and respect. She wasn’t sure she’d earned either. Oh sure, Gram loved her, but she never talked about her in that almost affectionate way she spoke of Steven or in that adoring way she spoke of her late husband. In fact, most of the time she felt like a failure in her grandmother’s eyes.

It hadn’t taken long for Audrey to realize that her granddaughter was not easily tamed. No amount of etiquette classes could iron out the free spirit embedded in her heart.

And when Elizabeth chose to study art in college? Well, any notions of continuing on in the family business died and Audrey, unable to hide her disappointment, told Elizabeth that she didn’t approve and never would. It hurt her to watch the last of her hope drain out of her eyes and to be reminded once again that she would never have the support of those closest to her.

Plans and responsibilities, however, were two different things. She had never been one to shirk her responsibilities. That was the exact reason why she found herself turning the opposite way down Jefferson and back toward the library. There was research to be done and papers to be written.

The library seemed like a tomb, cramped and claustrophobic, full of old air and musty books. Bound volumes of history encompassed each rusting metal shelf, littered every overstuffed and stained couch, scuffed armchairs and wooden cubbies, adding to the already oppressive space. The colors were dull, moss greens, hopeless blues and muted reds. Five minutes inside and she felt like she couldn’t take one clean breath. Like the joy had been sucked right out of the place.

Spending the afternoon in that environment did not appeal to Elizabeth. Instead, she high-tailed it out of there and let her feet do the thinking. She ended up at the farmer’s market. It was vibrant and bursting with energy. Everything about the place captured her. The people were from all different ethnic backgrounds, arguing in all kinds of languages, selling familiar and exotic foods alike. She’d wished she’d brought a sketch book when she passed a kiosk full of fresh vegetables: yellow squash, imperfectly shaped green peppers, purple eggplants and her favorite, peaches imported from California, so ripe they split open, out of their skin, the moment she bit into one. If only she could capture the way they tasted on her tongue, or how it felt when she palmed an artichoke.

She bought flowers from one of the vendors and a soft salty pretzel. She ate it while she walked around, comforted by the activity and open fresh air. Besides the peach, she didn’t purchase any vegetables though. Sonny would have considered it a betrayal. Just the thought of his face if she’d shown up with bicolor sweet corn or baby red potatoes, caused Elizabeth to laugh.

Before she left she played with the crateful of kittens a woman was selling at the doors by the East exit. They were small and soft and strong.

And so was she.

She just had to prove it to Jason.

It was days ago that Jason had kissed her. Part of her lived in anticipation for when it would happen again. The other part was terrified it never would.

They’d shared company since then, but nothing had happened. Well, things had happened. They’d had lunch together and he’d passed her the pepper shaker. Last night he’d carried her laundry basket for her when she nearly toppled down the stairs trying to carry it herself. And when she’d “accidentally” grazed his hand and bumped his hip with her own, while they did the supper dishes two nights ago, he’d shrugged it off and accepted her very lame apology. So things had happened, but nothing in the romantic sense.

He’d been more than the perfect gentleman.

And that was really starting to irritate her.

Trisha had told her to give it time and to let things happen naturally and most importantly not to rush. And while that was good advice, practical and considerate, Elizabeth wondered when Trisha had gotten so wise.

Elizabeth trudged through the slushy streets and wondered when and how life had become so complicated.

It was late afternoon by the time she finally made it back to the house. Jason was sitting on the stairs outside, despite the cold, waiting.

She approached him. “H-Hi.” She’d wanted to sound casual, but the hitch in her voice gave her away.

“Hey. You left early this morning.”

His words were light, but she knew what he wasn’t saying. Today had been the first day she had ventured beyond the confines of the monastery since coming to stay here. What he really wanted to know, but wouldn’t ask, was where she had been and why she hadn’t told him where she was going. But he wouldn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to feel pressured…or that he even had a right to know. She decided to take pity on him.

“Yeah.” Sitting down next to him, she placed the flowers, wrapped in simple brown paper, on the stair in front of her, right by Jason’s feet. “I had some things to do.” She tilted her head, watching him, trying to gage his reaction. But he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were focused straight ahead. “I, um, I went to the police station today. I gave my statement.”

That got a reaction.

His head whipped around to look at her. “Alone?”

The shock in his voice didn’t surprise her. It was a fact that she’d lost some of her spunk and going to the police station, let alone by herself, was a huge step. Catching him off-guard hadn’t been her intention, but she did feel a slight sense of satisfaction knowing she hadn’t become entirely predictable. Her smile was small. “Yeah.”

“I-I would have gone with you.” He was looking at her so intensely she had to look away.

She shrugged. “I know, but it was something I needed to do on my own.”

“How did it go?”

She chuckled. “Well, at first, not so well. They sent in this rookie cop, Officer Barrett, and I kind of told him off a little.”

“You told him off?”

She heard the confusion in his voice but didn’t turn to look at him. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her and her face felt hot under his inspection. “Yeah, but only a little.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “I thought he pitied me, but when he explained that he didn’t and was just trying to keep it professional, it got better. God, I can’t believe I made him tell me I was beautiful! I felt like such an idiot!”

“Wait, what?”

This time she did look at him. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“He hit on you?”

“What?!” Was that jealousy tingeing his voice? No, it couldn’t be. Jason didn’t seem the jealous type. She wanted to laugh. It felt good. “No. Jason, no. It was a misunderstanding.”

Clearly her answer hadn’t satiated him, but he seemed to let it go.

“Oh-kay. So, after the misunderstanding, how did it go?”

“It was hard. I gave my statement. I tried to separate myself from it, but it was impossible.”

From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched his hand lift from his thigh. She thought for sure it was going to land on hers, but after a moment of hovering he dropped it down onto his own lap.

Ugh! She wanted to scream! Why was he being so distant? What the hell was going on? She wanted to ask him, but his next words stopped her.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

”Me, too.”

They were both silent. Elizabeth hated this. They had been moving forward. A few days ago they’d even kissed. But there was still something holding Jason back.

Had she sabotaged all that forward progress by coming to him with her problems? No wonder he didn’t want to touch her, she just had to keep reminding him of all the ways she was broken inside.

When the silence started to stifle her, she tried to lighten the mood. “I looked at mug shots and let me tell you, some of those guys have horrible haircuts. We’re talking mullets galore!”

He nudged her with his shoulder. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Hide how you’re really feeling.”

At that moment Elizabeth felt something inside her mend--a tiny stitch that pulled a small piece of her soul back together. Just the fact that Jason knew her well enough to know when she was pretending made tears collect in her eyes.

“It’s not pretty.” She bit her lip.

“I know. Tell me.” His hand reached out and this time he did touch her, softly caressing her with smooth, fluid motions up and down her back.

She remembered all the black and white faces staring back at her, their eyes void of any human emotion. It had sent chills up her spine.

Blinking rapidly, she tried to get control of herself. The heat of his hand gave her strength. Releasing her lip, she blew out a breath, sniffling, and desperately trying to wipe away her tears. “I felt like…like I couldn’t breathe. And when I looked at all those pictures and imagined how many other people something like this had happened to… How can so many men do such awful things, Jason?”

His eyes were hard. “That’s just it. They’re not men.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I yelled at you for calling the police. You were right; it was the right thing to do. I pointed him out. The mug shot… It must have been taken that night. He--Paul… His face was pretty busted up.”

Jason bowed his head.

Most of that night had been a blur after she tumbled down the hill and hit her head, but she remembered Jason’s strong arms holding her, his voice, saying her name for the first time, how beautiful it sounded. Distantly, in a haze, she heard the scuffle, but it wasn’t until she saw Paul’s mug shot that she realized the fury Jason had unleashed. Violence like that should have scared her, but she didn’t feel afraid or even sorry for Paul. She couldn’t put how she felt into words. It only served to reaffirm her faith and trust in Jason.

Elizabeth wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let him go again. Instead, she settled for reaching out and touching his cheek. “Thank you.”

His hand covered hers. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t get there sooner.”

She smiled, sliding her thumb along his jaw line. “Don’t be sorry, just say you’re welcome.”

The corner of his mouth hooked upwards. “You’re welcome.”

“Good,” she said, taking a deep, cleansing breath. “Anyway, Jason, I’m just glad it’s over with for now. I don’t even want to think about it anymore. I just want to block it out, but it’s almost like I need something…I don’t know…louder.”

“You want to go for a ride?”

“Like on your bike?”

His mouth curved into a full blown smirk. “Elizabeth? I know a hint when I hear one.”

“Can we take the cliff road again?” Excitement curled around her like a vise at the prospect of taking the turns so fast she thought they would fall. She remembered the few times she’d been on the back of his bike. How the wind had whipped through her hair and the city sounds had rang through her ears and everything passed by them in a blur. She remembered the way her stomach clenched and how much she laughed and screamed. But mostly, she remembered the feel of Jason’s strength beneath her fingers and how, for just a moment, nothing mattered.

“Whatever you want.”

“Great, let’s go!” Her hand dropped from his face, but she didn’t let his go. She held tight and pulled him along behind her toward the garage, abandoning her flowers for adventure.

_____

Elizabeth felt alive. Everything seemed so intense. Like the stars in the big black sky, so close she felt like she might actually be able to touch them. The air was cool against her skin, but she wasn’t cold. Her adrenaline was pumping through her veins, heating up her blood. She felt free.

She didn’t know how many hours they had been gone, but she felt like they could ride forever and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

Jason had taken her for a long ride, twisting and turning up all the steep hills Port Charles had to offer and then took them beyond the city limits, setting a demanding pace up the country roads. They took streets and alleys Elizabeth had never been on and trails that weren’t meant for cars, so narrow and steep, her stomach dropped every time they hit a new turn.

Eventually they found their way back to the monastery. They had stopped on the ridge overlooking Brenda’s gravestone. Jason had taken her hand and led her down a different path, up an incline and past a clump of trees to a wide clearing, overlooking the city lights. They twinkled in the night air.

Shimmering blues, gold halos and flashy reds blanketed the urban space below. There were some houses that still had up their Christmas lights and they looked like candy beads. There was one tree far in the distance, covered in green bulbs. They blinked like fireflies.

It was beautiful.

“It’s nice out here. So quiet and peaceful.”

Jason nodded.

Elizabeth watched him and felt her heart skip. There were so many thoughts swirling around in her head. “Jason?”

His gaze was focused on the city and the lights. “Hmm?” he answered lazily.

She cleared her throat. She’d been waiting for a moment like this. A quiet moment they could use to reflect on their…whatever it was they shared. “There’s something between us, isn’t there? Something real. I’m not the only one that feels it, am I?”

Jason’s features remained unchanged. He took a step back from the ledge and looked at the ground.

God, what was she thinking? She hadn’t meant to be that forward.

His silence was killing her. “Jason?”

He turned to her, his eyes clean blue pools, open and pained. “I feel it.”

The air seemed to be sucked out of her lungs. “So what—what are we going to do about it?”

“We’re not going to rush into things.”

Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes. “What does that mean?”

God, what did it mean? It had all made sense when the possibility of them being together was still just a thought, but they’d been circling around each other, denying their feelings—and they were strong feelings—for so long, that it was just inevitable that they were going to explode.

He wanted her to understand.

He wanted to explain.

The truth might frighten her. There was something very real between them, something palpable.

The other day in the gym when he’d barely brushed her lips with his own, something primal had woken up inside of him. He wanted Elizabeth in a way that he’d never experienced before. And he was terrified that if they kissed again, he wouldn’t be able to stop. That it would consume him. That he would rush them into something combustible, so rigid and hot and all-consuming that they’d forget to take a moment to breath. And in the end, there would be nothing left but a thick trail of heartbreak when the dust settled.

He’d die before he let Elizabeth be hurt again.

“Elizabeth. It’s been a long day, we should--”

“Nope. Nuh uh. Not gonna work this time, buddy. We’re here and we’re talking about this. I don’t get it, Jason. If there’s something between us and we both feel it, why can’t we do something about it? My Gram always says you have to understand the problem before you can solve it. So help me understand.”

Elizabeth knew what he was doing and she refused to allow it to happen. It was always like this with them. One of them was always retreating when things got a little uncomfortable.

Her eyes were large and searching.

Something in him, something male and primitive, wanted to pull her against his chest, touch the soft curls framing her face and breath in her scent while he held her desperately close and took her, claiming her in the way he’d been wanting to since he first laid eyes on her. But those large eyes were also full of trust.

She’d been hurt. Hurt in the worst way a woman ever could. And he didn’t want to remind her of that. He never wanted her to hurt like that again. She wasn’t over it, despite how strong he knew she was. It took more than a few weeks to forget. When they were finally together he didn’t want any part of her to be unsure. There would be nothing between them, especially not memories of the broken past and fractured portraits of a reckless youth. Those were demons she had to face and dismantle first.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t easy. Elizabeth never let anything go without a fight. He admired that about her. But right now he just wanted to get her home before she persuaded him, in that soft subtle way of hers, to give in and let this happen. “We’re not ready, Elizabeth.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m ready.” Quiet resolve glinted in her eyes.

“Well then, I’m not.” He began to walk back toward the bike.

He could hear her hurried steps trying to keep up with his, but he refused to turn around or slow down.

“Okay, I can accept that,” she declared, diplomatically, tailing him. “Do you… Will you ever be ready? I mean, I’m not just setting myself up here to be royally screwed over am I? Because the other day you seemed ready. You know, when you kissed me,” she reminded him. She was glad his back was to her. She wasn’t sure she could have continued had she been looking him in the eye. In fact, she was almost positive she wouldn’t have if the warm sensation in her cheeks was any indication. Why stop now? “Granted, it wasn’t some mind-blowing, all-encompassing, soul-searching, passionate kiss like on Christmas Eve, but it still got my temperature rising. God, even the slightest touch from you gets me going, though!”

Jason stumbled. Her honesty humbled him.

Stopping, he turned around and started walking back toward her.

She folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head. “I, uh, I probably shouldn’t have admitted all of that.”

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but the words got lodged in his throat while he watched a pretty pink blush deepen and settle over her cheeks and travel down her neck.

She took a step forward bringing them intimately close. “Look, I’m not asking you to ravish me right here out in the forest or anything. I just want to know. Am I wrong to be feeling what I am? Do you not…?”

His touch stopped her words.

She felt her blood race. It made a whooshing sound in her ears.

His eyes were intense. A blue so charged she knew she’d never find the right combination of paint to equal it. “Jason?”

The only answer she received was the gentle skim of his rough hand down her cheek.

Jesus. She felt something spike inside her, a deep want that edged closer to oblivion the longer his fingers trailed down her skin.

Mimicking him, her hand tentatively brushed his cheek.

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

“Jason.” Her voice came out as a whisper. She hadn’t meant to speak.

His head dipped in answer, capturing her eyes, staring into her soul.

Breathing seemed impossible.

“You, uh… When you touch me…” Struggling to get out the right words, he sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

Her breath was rapid and uneven against his ear.

He pulled back. He had to. “It-It’s mutual.”

The admission surprised her. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard.

She smiled wickedly. “Well, that’s good to know. So then what’s the problem?”

“You’ve been hurt,” he answered, simply.

“Yeah, but--”

“I just don’t want to cause you any more pain.” He didn’t want her to make the same mistakes she had when she was fifteen. He didn’t want to be the guy that took advantage of her vulnerable state. Things were different now. Before when he’d kept his distance, it was for her protection, and this was too, but not in the same way.

To build something lasting with her, he knew he’d have to put his willpower to the test, because Elizabeth Webber was the most tempting woman he’d ever met. And he never wanted to take her for granted.

The last thing Jason could ever do was cause her pain, but she knew this was important to him. If they were going to make this work, she had to let him set the pace. Even if that meant they were going to be moving toward each other at a sluggishly slow rate. At least they weren’t dancing around each other any more. It was progress. “So we’ll take things slowly if that’s what you want.”

Jason’s eyes met hers and held her suspended. “That’s what I need.”

“Okay.”

_____

Elizabeth closed her eyes, falling into a state of semi-sleep. The day had been hard on her. Between her afternoon at the police station, her exciting bike ride with Jason and then their somewhat disappointing ride back, she was all set to fall into dreamland and forget. But that was proving more difficult than any other night in this big house so far.

There were noises all around her, penetrating her sleep, making her shift and turn over. In the distance, not too far away, she could hear the cry of an owl. Outside the window she imagined the bird perched on a tall barren oak, caked with snow and ice, hooting its warning notes. What was it trying to say?

Rising onto her forearms, she scanned the dark room. Her eyes fixated on the window. She really hoped it was locked. The last thing she needed was a swarm of birds trying to descend upon her and scratch out her eyes. She’d seen that Alfred Hitchcock movie. Hey, it could happen.

Throwing herself back against the mattress, she again closed her eyes and waited. Outside she could hear the wind howling and that damn owl hooting.

Her eyes opened and closed. All she wanted was a few solid hours of rest. She took to watching the alarm clock by her bedside. Every time she looked, thinking hours had passed, she was annoyed that only a few minutes had actually ticked by from the last time she’d checked. The numbers began to blur and her eyes felt abnormally sore and heavy. Before long she wasn't sure if she was dreaming or awake.

The moon gleamed through the open drapes and it smiled a warped, twisted smile at her. She closed her eyes to try to block it out, but it was beckoning her from her place in the center of the large bed. She felt so small, so helpless.

The sweat had soaked through her clothes and made her feel sticky and hot. She tossed and turned. Reciting long-forgotten prayers over and over in her head until the words collided together and nothing made sense.

_

“She’s a brat!”

“Jeff, stop!”

“No. We’ll have the damn thing with or without her. You hear that, you little bastard?!”

“Stop it! You’re scaring her!”

“Stop coddling her!”

“It’s okay, honey. Go upstairs. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m so sick of this!”

“Mommy!”

“You see what you make me do?”

_

“Come on, Lizzie, you know you want it.”

“No.”

“Don’t be a tease!”

“W-Where’s my father?”

“Don’t worry about it. He won’t be able to hear us.”

“I-I… I’m really tired, Tom. You-You should go.”

“I don’t think so. You’ve been tempting me for months. Don’t be a prude now when I’ve come to collect.”

“No, I…”

“Shh…”

“No!”

_

“I swear, Lizzie, the things we could do together…”

“What do you want?”

“I think you know what I want.”

_

Jolting up in bed, she shivered. She’d broken out into a cold sweat. Somehow during the night her blankets had found their way to the floor.

Nightmares. She’d had an intense predisposition towards them ever since she was a little girl. They always rocked her to the core. Especially after her mother died and there was no one there to check for monsters in her closet. She was too old for this—too old to believe in fables and things that were simply not there. Still, she couldn’t stop shaking.

The room seemed impeccably dark and there were shadows on the wall. Sleep had not come easily to her lately. It was always fraught with weird images and disconnected sounds that jostled her back to the waking world, rattled and confused.

She knew why her dreams haunted her. Had tried to ignore it, but it was an impossible task.

No wonder Jason wanted to take things slowly. As much as she tried to trick herself that she was okay, she knew that she still needed some time. Rushing into things would have been a huge mistake.

Doubts plagued her. But…

The best sleep she’d had since being attacked was New Years Eve when she’d fallen asleep against Jason’s side. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

She eased her way out of bed and stalked over to the antique dresser, opening the bottom drawer. Pulling her shirt off, she grappled around in the dark for a clean one. Feeling the soft, worn cotton of her favorite t-shirt—a Port Charles Woodchucks baseball jersey she’d stolen from Lucky, who’d still had it from little league—she slipped it on. Pulling off her flannel pajama bottoms, Elizabeth chucked them in the general direction of her laundry hamper. Pulling out the first thing her fingers came into contact with—a pair of pink and white checkered boxer shorts—she slipped them on without a second thought.

Elizabeth stepped cautiously to the door and hesitated. The floor was cold and a chill ran up her spine breaking her skin out in goose bumps.

Turning on the light, she surveyed the room. Her eyes landed longingly at her art supplies. Painting all night might help, but she still hadn’t managed to unpack the boxes with all her supplies. Hell, her spare easel had a coat of dust on top, undisturbed, because she certainly hadn’t touched it since she’d been here. She had barely looked at the thing. Something was holding her back. Something she couldn’t yet name and didn’t want to think about.

The room itself was total chaos. Her clothes were strewn all about, a stack of folded laundry sat on top of the dresser, untouched. It hadn’t been put away from the last time she and Jason had done laundry together and that was a few days ago. It was nice having a washing machine at the house with a dryer that worked. She hadn’t had to schlep her dirty clothes across town to the laundry mat in weeks.

Her school bag and papers were in disarray. Assignment sheets and marked tests blanketed the floor in a spiral, almost creating a mosaic.

Cleaning up might calm her. But she already knew what she needed and what she was going to do before she had even considered any other possibilities. The mere illusion that she was going to do anything else was just a stall tactic.

She shouldn’t go to him. It wasn’t fair. Part of her wished she could be strong enough to deal with this on her own. The other part needed him in a way she was only just starting to realize.

Twisting the handle, she made up her mind and walked down the narrow hallway to Jason's room. There was still a faint yellow light spilling out under his door.

She pushed tentatively on the old wooden door and it creaked open.

Jason looked up, startled. He was in bed, bare-chested and reading a book.

His eyes immediately connected with hers. “Elizabeth?”

She wasn’t expecting this—Jason in his bedroom, relaxed and…half-naked. Her eyes swept over him. The soft lighting highlighted his sculpted abs, broad chest and impeccably muscled biceps and forearms. His hair was more disheveled than normal and it made him look utterly sexy.

She bit her lip. "Jason."

"What's wrong?" He was on alert. His back straightened and his muscles tensed. There was something wrong. He could feel it bouncing off of her. All she had to do was tell him and he’d try to make it better.

She could see he was worried and tried to ease his fears. Elizabeth offered a small smile.

The tension slowly drained out of him. Whatever it was that was wrong, it wasn’t causing her direct harm, but he could see the faint shadows of something lingering in her eyes. He set the book he’d been reading on the small table near his bed and gave her his full attention.

"I couldn't sleep," she said quietly, digging her bare toes into the carpet nervously. “My room… The guest room, I mean. It’s just a strange feeling trying to sleep in an unfamiliar place. I was thinking…”

“You were thinking…?”

She swallowed her pride. “That maybe if… well, if you just, sort of, sat with me for a little while, that I might--”

“Okay.” Jason wasn’t an idiot. He’d noticed the dark circles under her eyes. How she yawned through breakfast and dinner. Frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t intervened sooner. But he knew Elizabeth. How strong and independent she was. It had to be her choice. He couldn’t inflict his help on her when she wasn’t ready to ask. Apparently, now she was ready. Relief coursed through his veins.

“Okay? Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Flipping the covers off his long legs, Jason stood to his full height and ambled over to her.

Elizabeth had to look up to see into his eyes. And when she did her breath caught in her throat.

The scent of him, raw and pure male, was hard to ignore when he stood beside her, reaching to grab his jeans from the floor. She tried not to notice that he was only wearing a pair of boxer briefs and that he filled them well, leaving little to the imagination. The battle was easily lost.

When he slid the jeans up his legs, leaving them unbuttoned and moved past her, she realized he wasn’t going to cover up his torso.

“Maybe you should… Could you put on a shirt?” No sense sugarcoating it. Jason was beautiful and she wasn’t quite prepared for the feelings he was stirring up inside her.

He bowed his head. “Sorry. I-I wasn’t thinking… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She wished he wouldn’t do that. Assume he knew what she was thinking. Yes, she was uncomfortable, but not in the way he thought. Because the way he looked without a shirt was certainly not going to help her with not rushing into anything. Licking every available inch of toned and tan skin might have breached that very tentative line.

Ah, hell.

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. “You don’t. It’s just… It’s kind of hard not to rush into things, go slowly or whatever you want to call it, with you looking the way you do.”

Jason blushed in response, feeling embarrassed and desired. He hastily pulled his shirt over his head.

Allowing Elizabeth to exit in front of him, Jason followed closely behind, his brain unable to stop his eyes from taking a quick perusal of her attire. A t-shirt and shorts was not something that should turn him on, but watching Elizabeth’s petite figure and jolting steps, no doubt from the icy wood floors, Jason could easily say that he’d never seen anything sexier.

His hand hovered just above her tailbone, occasionally resting on the delicate curve of her spine a second or two before he took it away.

She could feel the heat of his palm soaking into her skin and warming her up from the inside out. If he didn’t want to rush into anything than he better keep his hands to himself because one more accidental bump of his hip or caress of his long fingers and Elizabeth was going to press him against the nearest wall and kiss him until his very stringent control snapped.

”You haven’t been sleeping well this whole time?” he questioned while he ushered her the last few feet down the chilly hallway and back into her own room.

She shrugged. “No, I guess not.”

Once they made it inside, Elizabeth immediately hopped onto the bed and sank into the mattress, pulling up her blankets from the floor.

Jason hesitated by the door. He checked the hallway once before pulling it shut. “You want the light off or on?”

“Off.”

Jason reached for the light switch and flipped it off.

Elizabeth waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She could still hear that old owl outside the window cooing a warbled song. She shuddered and turned her head. The moon was taunting her with that maniacal smile. “The drapes, too. Please?”

Jason nodded. He walked to the other side of the room. Drawing the drapes closed, he felt the cold radiating off the glass. For the first time he noticed the overall draftiness of the room. Making a mental note to take care of that sometime the next day, Jason took a tentative step toward the bed. Elizabeth looked so small wrapped up in her blankets, scooted on her side of the bed, leaving a very obvious spot for him to fill.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. Now the room was nearly black and the moon seemed very far away. She was feeling brave under the mask of night. Pushing the covers to the side, she patted the bed beside her.

Jason cursed in his head. Though it was beyond dark in the room, her creamy thigh was still visible to his hungry eyes. Pink boxer shorts were just not appropriate for this kind of weather, especially in this chilly room and especially when it left so much skin for his eyes to caress.

He hesitated, but only for a second.

The mattress dipped and something wound tight in her stomach.

She looked at him in the dark, his face barely visible and just a few inches from hers. Even in the darkness, she could tell he was looking at her. Their eyes met and held.

He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he fisted his hands at his sides instead and looked away.

Jason cleared his throat. His voice came out hoarse, almost husky. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. I just… I had a nightmare. But, really, it was nothing.”

He didn’t believe her. He’d seen that look in her eyes before. It was that day Edward had made an unexpected visit and Sonny flew off the handle--as he was wont to do every time Edward was around. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Now.” She wasn't so afraid with Jason lying next to her.

They were both quiet for a minute.

Elizabeth broke the silence. “When I came into your room, I noticed you were reading. What was it you were reading?”

“A travel book.”

She smiled. “Really? For where?”

“Italy.”

Italy. How she’d longed to see Italy. Some time ago--she couldn’t recall the exact date--it had become an obsession. Many a daydream had been spent thinking of Italy. Rome alone hosted several sites she was interested in: the Sistine Chapel, St. Peter’s Basilica, Fontona di Trevi, not to mention the Colosseum. And then there was Venice and Florence, Naples, Milan and Siena… The list went on and on.

“Oh, I would love to go to Italy. The art, the architecture… There’s so much to see there. Some of the most famous artists were born in Italy--” She stopped, realizing she’d been rambling. She looked at Jason. He didn’t seem to mind, so she continued. “You know, my grandfather told me that the light in Italy is different than any other place in the world. Do you think that’s true?”

Jason shrugged, leaning back against the headboard. “Probably. It looks like a beautiful place.”

“You’ve never been?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth couldn’t hide her surprise. According to Sonny, Jason had traveled all over the world. Italy seemed like a reasonably place to visit. An obvious place. “I mean, I just assumed you’d been. You have the book and Sonny said you’ve traveled a lot.”

Jason sighed. He wondered what else Sonny had told her. Not that he minded her knowing, but there were certain things he’d wanted to tell her himself. “I have, mostly to remote parts of the world.”

“Oh,” she said again, a little puzzled.

Jason watched her face, saw the worry lines marring her features. He didn’t want to get into this. Not now. Not when it was so obvious something was on her mind. He didn’t want to burden her with his peculiar childhood.

Traveling hadn’t been a thing born of luxury, but out of necessity. There had been a stretch of time when he’d gone to bed in one place and woken up in another. His parents had still been alive then. He remembered it being a tense time in their lives. Happy, but tense.

After they died, he had six solid years of stability and a pseudo family before he was uprooted again. The sanctuary he’d found in Tibet had been breached. Everything had been destroyed. People had died. It was his fault.

The traveling began again, but this time he understood it. Didn’t always like it, but he understood. Most of the time he was lonely. He met people, but everything was fleeting. It was hard to form attachments when he was staying in places for only a few months before moving on. It was years before his uncle finally sent for him, declaring it safe to return to the states. He was wrong.

But Jason was old enough to brave what his parents had so desperately tried to shield him from.

When Jason first arrived in America it was a huge culture shock. His classmates thought he was weird and the awkwardness that a teenager always seemed to possess was only magnified by Jason’s strange upbringing. He didn’t have many friends, but his uncle was as worthy a companion as anyone.

God, it hurt to even think about him. The man had taught Jason so much, had become a second father to him. And all Jason did in return was get him killed.

Even now, Jason wondered how things would have turned out if he had stayed abroad. His uncle would be alive. Whatever danger followed Jason would have been his alone to bear.

Jason scratched behind his ear. His eyes felt heavy.

Elizabeth was looking at him. Her hand was between both of their bodies, just barely brushing his knuckle.

“Jason?” Her voice was lower than a whisper. “Are you okay?”

He nodded without thinking.

“You sure? Because you just… You seem lost in thought. Should I not have asked what I did? Sonny only told me because you still weren’t talking then and I had so many questions and frustrations where you were concerned. I don’t anymore.” She laughed softly. “Well, no, that’s not true. I still do, but I can actually talk to you about them now.”

Jason smiled. He understood about being frustrated and questioning things. He wondered, even now, if he was doing the right thing. If comforting Elizabeth, in her bed, when he felt such attraction and affection toward her, was the right thing to be doing. He didn’t have the answer for that. It seemed these days he didn’t have the right answer for anything. There was so much between them that it made it hard to think rationally sometimes. He’d wanted to keep his distance from the first moment he saw her, but there was just something that wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Thinking about his uncle was stirring up all kinds of doubts. The last thing he wanted was Elizabeth to be hurt because of him. All the signs were telling him to bail, but there was just something that kept him coming back for more. She was intoxicating. Like a drug. He wanted her safe and he didn’t want to be selfish, but letting her go didn’t even factor into his brain as a possibility anymore. He’d fought it for so long. He was so tired of keeping her at arms length.

But he knew, even while their eyes locked and his fingers stretched out to take her delicate hand in his, that if it came down to it, if he had to let her go to keep her safe, he would. Even if it killed him.

“It’s okay,” he said, reassuring her. “I talked about going with my Uncle once.”

“To Italy?”

“Yes.” His thumb stroked over the back of her hand, drawing lazy circles.

He felt her breath hitch. “Your Uncle? The same one that--”

“Yes.”

“Sonny said you were very close to him. I know that when he…” She looked down at their entwined hands. “When he died you took a vow of silence and you told me your reasons why, but I’m still sorry I made you break it.”

Jason squeezed her hand. “I’m not.”

Her eyes lifted slowly to his. “Jason,” she said, licking her lips. “Will you… Can you tell me what happened? I mean, how he--”

“It was an accident.” He sighed. “At least, that’s what we thought.”

”But it wasn’t?”

Jason shook his head. This was the very subject he’d wanted to avoid. The last thing he wanted to do was make her more afraid than she already was. “Elizabeth.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--”

She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“It’s fine. I just don’t want to make this about me. Tonight you came to me and I want to help you. If you want to know I’ll tell you but--”

“You don’t have to explain. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Or not. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Elizabeth sank heavily against her pillow, using the hand he wasn’t holding to pull the blankets around her neck. Her head was parallel to the ceiling. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Jason watched the way she closed herself off, instinctually protecting herself, even physically retreating from him. He hadn’t let go of her hand and she’d stopped fighting him, but it was limp and lifeless against his palm. No longer did he feel the gentle pressure of her fingers tangling with his, almost flirtatiously.

He couldn’t blame her. He’d done it a million times himself. This was a pattern with them. One step forward, two steps back.

But she’d been so honest with him. About everything. She’d shared such deep, painful secrets with him. He couldn’t deny her his.

Letting go of her hand, he pushed off of the headboard and shifted on the bed, bringing them closer. He reached out and brushed his thumb over the cleft in her chin, tilting her head until she was facing him. Her eyes remained closed, but he knew he had her attention.

Jason took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wasn’t there when it happened. I was across town. But when Sonny called…” He closed his eyes. He remembered that call. The hint of urgency in Sonny’s tone. The whispered plea to hurry. But in the end, it was too late. It always had been. “He’d been fixing the roof. Trying to, at least… I was supposed to help him.”

That afternoon Jason had felt unsettled. He couldn’t place the strange feeling in his gut, but he had to get away. He’d taken the bike out for a long ride, despite his responsibilities. “The equipment--” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Somehow he fell. By the time I got there, he was barely hanging on.”

Regret wasn’t even a word that came close to how it had felt when Jason arrived back at the monastery. There was blood. A lot of blood. His uncle’s body had been lying where he initially fell, his limbs akimbo. There was a gash on his head. His right shoe was ten yards away. And his neck was broken.

Jason shuddered. “He-he died in my arms.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were open. “Jason.”

Soft fingertips came to rest on his cheek, gently stroking a silent path.

”It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jason reached for her hand, steering it away from his face and letting it rest against his chest. “Me, too. I should have been there.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were sorrowful in the darkness. He could see the moisture that had collected at the corners. “Do you think you could have prevented it?”

“I…I don’t know. I think about it a lot.”

“Me, too.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “I mean, not about your uncle, obviously. My mother, she died when I was eight, almost nine. I always thought… I thought it was my fault somehow.” She shrugged. “I know it’s not the same…”

“What made you think that?”

A shadow passed her features. “It was my birthday. I didn’t want a party.”

Her words didn’t make any sense. At least not to him. “I don’t understand.”

“See, my parents fought about it and… She was sick, Jason. I should have just had a stupid party.” Her fingers gripped the cotton of his t-shirt, fisting it in her hand.

Jason swallowed. “Was it cancer?”

“No. No, nothing like that. My parents… They didn’t have one of those fairytale marriages.”

Her explanation veered off-topic. It served to only confuse him more. “I’m not—I’m not following.”

Something flickered in her eyes. It was raw and painful.

Jason’s chest constricted.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” she said, attempting a smile that didn’t compute.

Jason let her drop the subject. For now. He had a feeling that whatever path she had started down was one that had been left to fester. It might even have something to do with her nightmares.

Elizabeth squinted through the darkness. She watched Jason’s face. It was obvious he wanted to talk more, but the images were still too fresh and the heartache too real.

Letting her fingers explore the expanse of Jason’s chest, she traced patterns over the cotton of his t-shirt, concentrating on the left side where she could feel his heart beating rapidly.

Their talk this afternoon had been necessary. He didn’t want them to rush into anything they weren’t ready for, but laying next to her, smelling the soft scent of her perfume, watching the way her teeth dug into her bottom lip, Jason was mesmerized. God, she was beautiful. And the way she was so innocently touching him? The very masculine part inside himself growled.

Elizabeth continued to study his skin with her fingertips. They found their way to the nape of his neck. She played with the short, soft hairs there. Everything about him was hard and rough, but his hair was baby soft, especially right behind his ears. Jason shuddered when she hit a sensitive spot right below his ear. She bit back a smile and brushed it with the tip of her index finger, tracing upward until she reached the shell of his ear.

Jason’s eyes fluttered shut. His breathing changed.

“Jason?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you talk to me? I know you’re tired, but it helps to hear your voice.”

“I’m not tired.” Keeping his eyes closed, he lifted his hand to her cheek, let his fingers spread out over her skin, relishing in the softness.

“I thought you were falling asleep,” she said, sheepishly.

“No, just relaxed.” He sighed.

“Okay. But why do you have your eyes closed?” She traced that spot below his ear again. Elizabeth felt his body rumble next to hers.

His hand moved from her face to the back of her neck. He mimicked her gentle caresses and then moved on to her shoulder, kneading the knots out. Opening his eyes to slits, Jason challenged, “Because if I look at you, I’m going to kiss you and we promised to take this slowly.”

“Oh!” The words had shocked her. They burned hot circles inside her belly. It wasn’t just his words, though. Her body was tingling everywhere he’d touched her…and in places he definitely hadn’t. She wondered if he was as affected.

The continuing silence was making her nervous. “So are you going to talk or what?”

Jason’s lips twitched. “Sure. What should I say?”

“Tell me about your parents.”

His fingers faltered for a moment, but then he recovered and began the same soothing rhythm over again. “There’s not much to tell. I was six when they died.”

“That’s young. That’s so young.” She moved closer, feeling the heat coming off of him. She liked that about him. That he was always so warm. It made her feel especially safe. “Do you—do you remember them?”

“A little. Not everything. Small things.” Opening his eyes fully, he looked down at her, surprised at their close proximity. He tugged her just a little bit closer until her head was just under his chin and he could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. Was that apples?

“Like what?”

He took a deep breath. “Oh, I don’t know… It’s hard to think of something.”

“Try?”

The hopeful lilt to her voice was his undoing.

He rolled onto his back and washed a hand over his face.

Elizabeth trailed him, pressing her palm to his chest again. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder.

Talking about his parents wasn’t something Jason did. There hadn’t been a need for it, even with his uncle or Sonny. Elizabeth was the first person he’d let get close enough to ask. It was new territory.

“Um, my father read a lot. He always had lots and lots of books around. I remember sitting in his lap while he read to me. I don’t remember what he read, though.”

He took her hand in his again, studied the delicate lines of her veins and folds of her fingers. She had such small delicate hands, soft like silk and creamy-white like porcelain. It took him a while to realize he was even touching her and when he finally did notice he let her hand drop back onto his chest and covered it with his own.

Her smile was sincere. “I like that. It sounds nice. And your mom?”

“Apricots.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “I just…I remember the smell of apricots. She loved them.” Jason smiled. Talking about his parents had been cathartic, alarmingly so. Something clicked into place. “How about you?”

"She was beautiful, my mother," she replied, quietly. “I don’t really…” she faltered.

Jason squeezed her shoulder, encouraging her to continue.

“I don’t look like her, not that much,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “She had the bluest eyes. Everyone said so.” Propping herself up on her forearm, Elizabeth looked directly at Jason. “They were—they were almost like yours, actually. But not—not so intense. Or maybe…maybe a different blue. I can’t really remember.”

She settled back down beside him, defeated. It was hard to remember anything specific about her features. Her father had taken down all the photos of her mother after she died and put them away where she couldn’t find them.

She hated him for that.

"I miss her so much. For the longest time I wanted to go with her. Just to be with her. Even for only one minute," her voice was thick with tears. They pooled in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

Jason watched her closely. Her eyes were mostly hidden under her dark lashes. He could clearly see the pain in them anyway. “What about your father? Is he still…?”

She laughed derisively. “Oh, he’s alive. I-I don’t really talk to him much. And when I do, it’s one lecture after another. And my brother… My brother was a lot older, independent. He went away to college. But my mother…she was my world.”

“Tell me.” Jason wondered when she’d talked about this last--or if she had at all. He hoped it was helping her the way it had him. Just those few words about his parents had restored something inside himself. He wanted that for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth spared a glance at Jason. His face was unreadable. “About my mother?”

“Yes.”

Her eyebrows rose in skepticism. “Why?”

Pushing her hair behind her ear, Jason tilted his head, staring deep into her eyes so she wouldn’t misinterpret what he was saying. “She’s part of you and I…I want to know everything about you.”

Sometimes Jason had a way of making her speechless. She wondered if he knew how much he made her ache. She’d never met anyone like him. She shook her head, laughing tersely. “Jason. You don’t want to know everything about me.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” he challenged, tapping her nose with his index finger.

“Some of it’s pretty ugly. I’ve already told you things that I’m sure you didn’t want to know and I’ve made you say things that I’m sure--”

“I wouldn’t say them if I didn’t want to,” he said, gently.

“Fine. Where should I start? The end?” She nodded in answer to her own question. “That seems fitting.”

Jason’s hand spanned her back.

She sucked in a breath.

He began to move his fingers slowly and steadily over the column of her spine.

After a moment she relaxed into his touch. The soft pressure lulled her into a sense of security. "I remember the funeral. It rained. Ironic, huh?”

Jason smiled softly, sadly.

“I always thought so anyway. It’s amazing the things you remember and the things you don’t. My shoes got muddy--my old Chuck Taylors with the skeleton laces and ink stain on the tongue--and I made tracks of dirt all over the house. No one even yelled at me. No one,” she said, dubiously. “It actually rained for days after she died. I would sit at my window and wait.”

She remembered the large bay window in her bedroom--the window that never opened. There were times it had made her felt trapped. Sometimes, especially after her mother died, she wanted to throw her desk chair into it just to let in some air. It was large, nearly taking up her entire wall. It always let it lots of light, but when it was raining, her bedroom felt dark and claustrophobic.

“I don't know what I was waiting for. Maybe I thought she was coming home, or maybe I was waiting for the rain to stop." She sighed. "My father acted almost like nothing had happened. He went to work, ate, slept, and drank too much, same as before. He still didn't talk to me." She closed her eyes.

Jason increased the pressure on her back, massaging out the knots in her shoulders and neck, trying to comfort her.

"That feels nice," she whispered, relaxing even more against his touch. "I remember the wake. People came to our house and brought us food we never ate and said things I didn't seem to hear. When everyone left, I went to my parent's bedroom. I went to the closet, took out her robe and put it on. It went past my feet and dragged on the ground when I walked, but I didn't care. It smelled like her, a combination of lavender and baby powder. She always said she liked the smell of baby powder because it brought back memories and didn't make her feel so old. The thing was…she wasn’t even thirty yet. I didn’t think about that then. She must have felt so…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

Jason was working magic on her tense muscles. She was at ease and comforted, talking about things she hadn't said to anyone.

Fighting back a yawn, she continued, "I fell asleep on their bed and it became a habit, until my father locked the door and sealed the room. He'd been sleeping in the quest room anyway, so it didn't matter to him, but for me, it felt like a betrayal. I went through his coat pockets every night while he slept and I continued my ritual, until Rosa, my nanny, found me in there and had a long talk with me.

“Long story short, I lost my mother, had a father that didn't care about me and was raised by a kind woman who did the best she could. And then I came here to live with my grandmother when I was fifteen and out of control. She made sure I became a proper young lady. Or, at least, that I tried to be one. I never quite succeeded."

Jason had listened attentively. To the words she was saying and the things she was not. There was still something that didn’t make sense to him. There was something she was leaving out.

Jason hadn’t spoken in so long Elizabeth was starting to wonder if he had fallen asleep. So when he did speak, his voice startled her.

“You said she was sick.”

She swallowed hard. He would dwell on that detail. “Not—not in a physical way.”

“Then how?”

“Remember how I said my parent’s marriage wasn’t exactly ideal?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what I meant was… See, sometimes he drank and he’d get angry and things would just escalate.” Elizabeth shuddered.

Jason understood what that meant. He just hoped he was wrong. “He-he hit her?”

She forced herself to stay in the moment. She didn’t want to go back there. Back to that enormous house empty of compassion and kindness and love. “Sometimes. Sometimes he’d hit her so hard…” she said, her voice cracking. “He’d hit her so hard, I didn’t think she’d ever get back up. But she always did, Jason. She always did. She was so strong.”

There was a sick feeling twisting Jason’s gut into knots. “How did she die, Elizabeth?”

“She-she took my father’s gun and…” Elizabeth sat up, abruptly.

Jason’s hand slipped from her back.

She felt like they were talking about someone else’s life. It all seemed so distant and far away from who she was with and where she was, nestled in the safely of Jason’s arms.

She shook her head, her eyes meeting Jason’s.

Jason’s heart was thumping wildly in his chest.

She took his hand, squeezing it hard. “She didn’t know what she was doing, Jason. She couldn’t have,” she said, reflectively. “She was sick. I should have just had the party. Don’t you see?”

Her fingers were shaking inside of his palm. “Elizabeth.”

“They wouldn’t have fought. If I’d just let him have the party…” she said, earnestly.

Slowly his other hand reached out and touched her cheek. “You were just a girl.”

“I still knew. Even then, even when I was a child I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That she was the only one that ever cared about me.”

"I'm sure that's not true. It’s not possible," he whispered playing with a lock of hair between his fingers. He couldn’t imagine anyone not loving Elizabeth.

She burrowed into him, buried her face against his chest and yawned sleepily. She slid back down onto the mattress pulling him down with her. "It's true. And I knew it, that’s why I didn’t want the damn party. It was his idea."

Elizabeth seemed convinced and that was enough for him. It might have been true then, but it wasn’t now. There were so many people that cared about Elizabeth, people that would protect her with their lives. Suddenly, Jason had the urge to track down the remaining members of Elizabeth’s family and beat them senseless. They had no idea. No idea what this slip of a girl was worth.

“My father didn't know I existed and when he did see me--” she stopped, strained in the darkness to see his eyes, feeling her heart flutter when she did. They were intense and sparkled a dark blue in the blackness of the room.

Jason let his fingers move out of her hair to mold against her cheek while his thumb strummed away the single tear she didn't know she'd shed. "What? Tell me."

She closed her eyes, blinked at the moisture she felt when she did. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want anyone to know. "I can't."

"I'm here and you're safe now. Nothing can hurt you. You don't have to be afraid anymore, Elizabeth," he begged her to open to him, with his eyes, with the way his hand rested on the curve of her hip, lightly stroking, and with the soft way he said her name.

“Jason.”

“Did,” he started, then swallowed hard, “Did he hit you?”

He felt her tense, and felt her try to draw away, but he held onto her tighter.

She shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that. I barely spoke to him! I almost think it would have been better had he hit me. At least he would have noticed I was there.”

His hand caressed her left wrist and something inside him roared. No. His fingers whispered over her wrist again until he was sure. There was no denying the very faint raised skin. He pulled up her sleeve, not letting her draw away. He knew what it was and had only God to thank that she hadn’t succeeded. His finger traced the line over and over, wishing he could take away her pain. Absorb it himself if he had to. "Is this what you meant when you said you wanted to go with your mother?" His voice wasn’t accusatory, just concerned.

"Don't!" she protested trying to pull her sleeve back down to hide the scar.

She was so ashamed.

The scar was barely an inch long, horizontal on her wrist. Hardly noticeable in the light, but it hadn’t stopped her for years from wearing long sleeves to cover it up. In the dark, she doubted Jason could even see it without his sense of touch guiding him. It hadn’t even been deep enough to bleed more than ten minutes before it clotted. She’d wussed out.

He kissed her temple softly and again touched her wrist with slow, gentle hands.

Her eyes met his. “I wanted to, Jason. I wanted to, but I couldn’t do it.”

She let him touch the raised ridge.

"Tell me about your father." He could feel her body shiver and so he hugged her closer to his chest. “Let me in."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. The last of her secrets, the last of the pain she’d clung to for so long, was slowly being pulled out of her. She’d held onto it for so long and she knew it was destroying her. But Jason wouldn’t let it. "He knew and never did anything."

"Knew what?"

"He didn't do anything, Jason, and he knew!"

A bell went off in Jason’s head. Instinctively he pulled her closer and wove his fingers through her hair, lightly stroking the top of her head. "Elizabeth."

"He knew, Jason. About…about the r-rape." Elizabeth's voice was barely above a whisper and there was no mistaking the quiver and pain in her statement.

No no no. How could anyone…? Her own father, no less, stand by and let someone get away with hurting her, with breaking her beautiful and wild spirit? Jason hurt for her more than he'd ever hurt for himself. It was a deep ache that soured his stomach. Everything went numb. She was in so much pain and all he wanted was to take it away. His lungs burned and he slowly released his breath.

"My father found out,” she said.

Her voice had hardened, becoming a brittle cold sound that stung his ears.

She watched him to gauge his reaction, but his eyes remained trained on hers, unflinchingly calm.

“He said I deserved it; that I drove Tom to it with my short shorts and tank tops. He made it sound like it was my fault," she said softly, so very softly,

Jason felt his own eyes grow moist. "It wasn’t."

She closed her eyes and let the tears slip out, unbidden. Despite all the years, she needed to hear that, to be reassured. "I know that now. In my head, I know that. But I was young, Jason. I believed him. He was my father and I…” Her eyes opened then, capturing his once again. The steely blue concern, flashy like a beacon, gave her the strength she needed. “He was the only parent I had left. I-I relied on him to tell me the truth, to do what’s right. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? I wanted him to love me and I tried so hard to be a good girl but it was never enough. He said I was a tease and what did I expect? My own father said that, Jason!"

"Elizabeth," he soothed, kissing her forehead with all the gentleness befitting the woman in his arms. There was something so delicate about Elizabeth, but at the same time she was the strongest person he’d ever met. "It was not your fault."

"Jason." She wanted to believe him. She did. But there were so many lies. Over the years there had been too many that she wasn’t sure of the truth anymore.

"Listen to me. You're beautiful…smart and talented… You’re so strong, Elizabeth. You did nothing wrong."

"Jason, please don't. I’m… I shouldn’t have told you. It was my burden to bear. It wasn’t fair of me... And now…" She didn't want to think about it. Everything hurt. "He shipped me off here because he couldn't look at me anymore and now you won't be able to either."

"Elizabeth, please. Stop talking like that!"

Oh, God, what had she done? She was stripped bare. There were no secrets left, nothing to protect herself with. He knew her now, inside and out. And she loved him. She loved him like she never thought she was capable of loving another human being. She’d thought, stupidly, that her heart would never be able to mend. But it had. Her heart had expanded and filled with pieces of Jason. Nothing had ever frightened her more. "You're going to leave me now, aren’t you? That’s what everyone does. And I don't blame you. I don't."

Jason sat up in bed, taking her with him so he could really make her hear him. “Elizabeth, I would never--”

“Do you think I’m crazy like her? Do you think--”

“No!” His grip on her shoulders increased. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“I tried,” she said, brokenly.

“You couldn’t do it,” he whispered, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“But I thought I could. Doesn’t that make me…?”

“No.” He was holding her so hard he was worried he was going to leave bruises. “No, there’s nothing wrong with you. Grief makes us do things we normally never would.”

“Like taking a razor to your wrist?” she said, sardonically.

He bowed his head. “Or starting a vow of silence.”

He was patronizing her. Anger spiked inside her. “It’s not the same and you know it! You’re just trying to make me feel better because you know what I did was insane.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, shaking his head. He loosened his grip, smoothing his fingers up and down her arms, ashamed by the red imprints his fingers had left. “I’m just being honest. I know you didn’t do it so you could die, you did it because you missed your mother.”

“I thought…if only for a minute…”

“But it didn’t work.”

“No, it didn’t,” she agreed, defeated. “Nothing does.”

“I know the feeling.”

“You do, don’t you? You get it. I always thought…” She reached to cup his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Your eyes,” she said, trailing a finger over his eyebrow and down the corner of his eye. “They were always so sad and I knew somehow that you understood.”

“I do,” he said, pulling her hand away from his face and kissing her knuckles.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore. Why do people always leave me, Jason?" Her bottom lip trembled and she valiantly fought the tears that collected in her eyes, but they fell soundlessly down her cheeks anyway. She looked at him like he might vanish.

The uncontrollable shaking of her body frightened him. He pulled her into his arms. She clutched him to her tightly, her hands interlocking behind his neck, creating a tight seal. "I'm not going to leave you," he vowed.

"Promise me you won't,” she pleaded.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. "I promise, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth could no longer fight back the yawns and her eyes were growing heavy. Jason was so warm and strong she was having a hard time staying awake. It had been a long time since she'd had that kind of connection with anyone and she didn't want to let go.

Holding her for a long stretch of time, although the exact number of minutes he wasn’t sure, Jason was convinced she had fallen asleep. Her breathing had slowed and so had her heartbeat. He felt it strong everywhere they were touching. The position they were in was becoming uncomfortable. Her own limbs were at odd angles and he had to wonder if any of her appendages had gone numb. He had to get her to lay down if she was going to get any rest. Slowly disentangling himself from her fierce grip, Jason began to lower her back onto her side of the bed.

“Jason?” she said, groggily.

“Shh,” he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. “Lie back down and close your eyes. Try to sleep."

Her eyes blinked open. "You'll stay with me?"

"I'll be right here."

She smiled faintly, letting her eyes flutter shut. “I’m sorry, Jason. I promise in the morning I won’t be such a mess.”

Jason stroked her hair softly and whispered words she could barely make out while she drifted into a deep slumber.

He wrapped his arm around her and cradled her against his side. She was so soft and vulnerable in his arms and it made him feel needed, like he could do something other than bring hurt and despair to someone he cared about.

Jason did not sleep. He kept vigil.

Elizabeth muttered in her sleep. Something about paint fumes and stretching canvases.

Jason smiled.

___

She woke up to find the spot next to her cold and empty. Her fingers scrambled along the sheets without opening her eyes, but she knew she was alone in the bed. Her eyes opened slowly. Movement from the corner of her room alerted her that she wasn’t alone. She flashed a smile when she spotted Jason sitting in the chair. She expected things to be awkward, but one look at him and those thoughts melted away.

“Morning,” he said.

His voice was still thick from sleep, leading her to wonder how long ago it was that he’d abandoned her and the bed. “Morning. What time is it?”

“About noon,” he answered without checking the clock.

“Seriously?” she asked, sitting up, brusquely. Finger-combing her hair, she blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of her eyes. “I have to meet my grandmother in less than an hour. How could you let me sleep so long?”

His lips turned up. “It seemed like you needed it.”

That damn crooked smile.

She yawned, stretching, not the least bit concerned when her small t-shirt rid up, exposing a fair amount of her midriff. “I guess I did. I slept really well.”

Jason cleared his throat. She was killing him. He’d woken up with the unfortunate problem of having a very prominent reaction to her proximity. And now, with her showing so much skin, that unfortunate problem was making his jeans feel very tight. “I noticed.”

“Did I snore?”

“No.”

She wiped at her mouth in horror. “I drooled, didn’t I?”

“No.”

“Then what? Why are you smiling?”

He shook his head. Teasing her was fun. “No reason.”

Jason watched the adorable way she wrinkled her nose and bit her lip while she thought.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, paid no mind to him, and thought of all the embarrassing things she’d ever been aware of doing while she slept. The answer hit her like a ton of bricks. Oh, God. “I talked in my sleep.”

Jason’s grin turned into a full-fledged smirk. “A little.”

Jason was fixated on every word. True, she’d mumbled mostly about art supplies, but watching her squirm was enlightening. He wondered what kinds of dreams she’d been having that would cause such distress.

She buried her face in her hands. “What did I say? Oh, man. I really hope I didn’t mention--”

Just when Jason thought he was going to get some insight, her head snapped up and she caught his eye.

“Nope. You know what? I don’t want to know. Just keep in mind that whatever it was I said was not meant to be heard by the public, and you, being the public, should just ignore anything you heard, especially if you or your name was involved.”

“You have dreams about me?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she mumbled, feeling heat in her cheeks. In situations like this, Elizabeth always found that diversion worked best. “Uh, you know what? I need to get showered and dressed. Gram hates it when I’m late.”

“Okay,” he said, getting up from his chair and heading to the door.

“And, hey, Jason?”

He stopped at the threshold and turned around. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For last night.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, perplexed.

Elizabeth smiled. If only she could express to him how much he had done. “You listened. You stayed. I was kind of a mess, wasn’t I? I tend to fall apart around you. I’m sorry.”

“Elizabeth, you don’t ever have to be sorry.”

God, he was an amazing man. She turned her head so he wouldn’t see the tears that sprang to her eyes. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

“I’ll be here.”

_________

Elizabeth spotted Father Max immediately upon entering the small church. She was surprised to find it dimly lit. The only source of light was coming from the red votives lining the right side of the church wall.

“Hey, Father Max. How goes the God business?”

Max tugged on his collar. The lie was worse than the outfit he was forced to wear, but he definitely didn’t like the stiff collar that was constantly choking him. “Oh, you know, slow and steady. One worshipper at a time, I say. I have to say I don’t have many younger people, such as yourself, clamoring for my attentions these days. It’s nice when you come by.”

“Yeah, it’s a changed world, my Gram always says. She also says Japanese makes more sense to her than I do sometimes.”

Max sighed. “Maybe she’s just not listening hard enough.”

“Sometimes I think she doesn’t listen at all. Which is why I’m always glad to stop by and talk to someone who is forced--by nature of his very job description--to listen to me.”

“You know I like to listen to you babble,” he teased.

“Father!”

“I’m just stating facts. You do like to talk, Miss Webber.”

She blushed. “I do. Well, at least with people who actually listen and care about what I have to stay and don’t steamroll right over my feelings or passions or--”

Max frowned. “I take it lunch didn’t go well with your grandmother?”

“Same as usual, Father. I don’t think she’ll ever accept that this is how I’m choosing to live my life.”

“Sometimes people can’t see past their own dreams.”

“Yeah. She wants me to be someone I’m not. I wish she just wanted me to be happy, because that I might be able to do.”

“Oh, really?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Don’t give me that look, Father.”

“What look?”

“That look you have that makes me spill my guts to you.”

Max tried to hid the flinch that he involuntarily gave. It was true. He and Elizabeth had an easy relationship. It was different than the one she had with Sonny or Francis and Johnny and definitely different than the one she had with Jason. Elizabeth wasn’t guarded around him. In her mind, he was a real priest. She told him things about her family, about her feelings, about tragic things that had happened to her and he swore to keep her secrets. But he was keeping a pretty damn big secret of his own. And when the truth came out? Well, lairs were not people she wanted to associate with. He wasn’t sure if Elizabeth would ever forgive him. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself!

“Hey,” he said, placing his hand on his belly. “I’m just here for the sacramental wine.”

“Sure,” she said, laughing. “So, I can’t help but noticing that it’s unusually dark in here today. Granted, I’ve always found churches to be on the dark side—not the dark side, as in evil, just as in with very little light. I’ve always kind of liked that. Makes for great paintings. But what’s going on? Did you forget to pay your light bill?”

“Hardly. Something’s wrong with the power.”

“So I take it Jason’s here? Figures,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve looked everywhere else.”

Max placed his hand over his heart, pretending to be grievously offended. “Oh, so you really didn’t come to visit me at all.”

She chuckled. “Come on, Father. You know I love our little chats, but yeah, I did come looking for Jason. So where is he?”

“He’s working on the electrical box in the back. Something about a short in the wiring? Unfortunately for me, the bible isn’t much help when it comes to electrical problems.”

“Do you mind if I go see him?”

“No, not at all. But you’ll need this,” he said, handing her a flashlight. “It’s mighty dark back there.”

“Thanks.”

_____

Nervousness flickered around her stomach when she spotted Jason. His back was to her when she approached. “Jason?”

Jason looked up in acknowledgement but couldn’t speak over the penlight in his mouth.

“Do you want some help? I could hold the light for you,” she said, waving around the flashlight.

Jason pulled the light from his mouth, wiped it on his jeans and then stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “Thanks.”

Elizabeth sat down on a wooden stool and focused the light on the panel of switches with which Jason was tinkering. “When I couldn’t find you at home--” She stopped, reminding herself for the umpteenth time that this was not her home. “I mean the house. Anyway, I went looking for you. Do you even realize how big this place is? I mean, of course you must know. You’re the one that takes care of everything around here. I guess it keeps you pretty busy, huh?”

“I guess.” Oh, he knew. He’d been keeping himself busy the whole day. His mind had been a jumble of thoughts and he needed something to occupy his hands. Fixing things always had a way of bringing clarity. But now, with Elizabeth two feet away, he couldn’t remember a damn thing about wiring, let alone how to fix the electricity problem the church was experiencing.

“Listen, I wanted to thank you again for last night. It really helped having you there next to me. I didn’t feel overwhelmed or scared or alone.” Her voice was wistful.

Jason frowned. He remembered everything they’d discussed, especially her ardent fear that he would leave her. The way she was talking, it was as if it had been a huge sacrifice on his part. “You don’t need to thank me, Elizabeth.”

“I know.” She bit her lip and sighed. “I know this is asking a lot...”

Jason stopped what he was doing and turned to face her. There was little light in the room and he could just make out the quiet bravery building behind her eyes.

She shook her head. “No, forget it.”

“What?” he encouraged.

“Do you think… Could you… Would you sleep with me tonight?”

“What?” Jason couldn’t hold back an amused smirk.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened when the full meaning of her words registered to her brain. She did not just ask Jason Morgan to sleep with her! And the smug bastard thought it was funny! She could see the mirth shining in his eyes. “Oh, God! Not what I meant. I didn’t mean “sleep” with me like in the biblical sense. I just—I meant sleep. Nothing sexual. Just sleep. That’s all.”

Okay, so she hadn’t meant to ask him that, but now that it was out there her brain couldn’t help but follow. And yeah, the idea hadn’t just sprouted out of nowhere. She’d envisioned it--on more than one occasion.

She could feel Jason’s eyes on her, but she refused to look up. Her face felt hot and her skin flush. He certainly had an effect on her like no one else. “It’s asking too much, isn’t it?” She shook her head, sparing a glance his way.

His smirk slid from his face.

The flashlight had become lax in her hands and the light was aimed at the floor, revealing little of Jason’s features. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or amused. “No, you’re right. It was a stupid idea.”

Jason reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s not stupid. I’ll come by after I finish up around here.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. It’ll be a while, though,” he said, fishing out the pen light from his pocket.

She took that as her signal to leave him to his work. “That’s okay,” she said, delighted. Pushing herself up from the stool, she aimed the flashlight toward the exit. The sooner Jason finished, the sooner they could go to bed--in that completely platonic, non-sexual way. Just two people sleeping beside each other. She smiled. “Jason, thank you. This is-this is great.

Jason returned her smile uneasily. What the hell had he just agreed to? Oh, man.

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

She bit her lip. “I have one more favor.”

“Okay.” Jason wasn’t sure he could handle another favor. Sleeping next to her night after night, without acting on his feelings, was going to be challenging enough.

“Do you think… Could we just keep this between us? If Sonny knew, well, he’d probably only worry.”

“Sure,” he agreed and watched her walk away, sighing in relief.

If Sonny knew, Jason highly doubted he’d believe the innocence of their arrangement. Hell, he was starting to doubt it himself.

_____