Elizabeth Webber had studied many art textbooks, had even read manuals in several different languages—with great patience and trusty translation books, oh, and an insatiable bout of insomnia—and still she came up empty. Nowhere was there a section about not falling for the subject you were studying/drawing/painting.

Obviously the authors had never encountered their own Jason Morgan. Had they, they would be able to write volumes upon volumes for her eyes only. Maybe their versions could shed light on her sudden need to draw the man. Maybe they could explain the nagging irony of going to bed at ten o'clock only to be awoken nearly four hours later sweat-soaked and yet chilled to the bone with the exciting spill of inspiration that rolled off her fingers onto canvas after canvas.

Weren't there other artists out there in the vast expanse of the universe struggling with this exact same problem? Was there a support group for this sort of thing? Or could only one man be that inspirational, that…mysterious, that she had to paint his face, those eyes, those lips, that soft pink tongue?

And was it wrong for her to imagine that tongue, those lips and teeth dragging over her body when she hated to be touched? She had never heard him speak and yet she knew, absolutely knew, his voice could make her weep from the sinful words that would pour against her skin. She could imagine his hushed words, whispered against her ear, tickling her skin while his hands made their way up her thigh, under the denim of her skirt, over the silk of her underwear…

Oh, God.

For the first time in a long time, Elizabeth felt herself wanting something…someone and it was so very wrong.

So unwanted.

So unplanned.

So…not real, she decided.

She had to remind herself that she didn't even know Jason. Not really. What she was feeling was a silly, unreciprocated crush and she would just have to get over it. Like now.

Picking up one of the loose sheets of paper that she'd torn out of her sketchbook earlier that night, Elizabeth stared into the eyes of Jason Morgan. She knew she should just throw it away--throw them all away--but no matter what how hard she tried, she couldn't stop drawing him. She saw something in him that reflected back in her own eyes. That unbearable pain. And, okay, if she was forced to admit it, that wasn’t the only reason she drew him. Fine, so she liked the way he looked. More than liked. But it wasn’t going to go any farther than that.

The yawn that escaped from Elizabeth's mouth was a tell-tale sign that she should be in bed. The next day was going to be long and she needed her rest. So, after shuffling her paints and canvases to the side, she crawled onto the couch and threw a blanket over herself, falling fast asleep.

_____

Bored was a word too kind for how Trisha Harper felt. She wanted to stir things up, to make a little trouble. Hanging upside down in a beaten-up chair, Harper looked over at Liz. She got a devious smile on her face. "So how's the stud?"

"What?" Elizabeth asked looking up from her notebook. She was too busy studying for her art history test to notice that for the last half-hour Trisha had been huffing and sighing her way into boredom.

She went to take a potato chip from the bag they had been sharing only to come up empty. "Did you eat all the chips?"

Putting her pen down and throwing her notebook on the table, Liz went into the cupboards searching for some more empty-calorie foods that would make studying less torture. Okay, so they weren’t into healthy snacking—at least, not during exams—but an apple just wasn’t going to do the trick.

"I was hungry," Trisha stated watching as her friend tore her studio up looking for something to eat. "Did you even hear what I said?"

Falling to the floor, Trisha picked herself up and sauntered over to Liz.

"You know, we should just go to Kelly's," Elizabeth remarked when her search wielded nothing. "Studying makes me hungry," she continued absently, becoming aware that Harper was staring her down. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You heard exactly what I said and now you're acting like you're starving so I'll drop the subject,” she said.

"Correction, I really am starving and I don't really care what you have to say," she said, matter-of-factly.

Liz grabbed her coat and mittens and headed out the door.

Trisha grabbed her things and followed her. "Where are you going?"

"Kelly's," she said flatly.

"Fine, I'm coming too."

"Suit yourself."

"On the way we can discuss the always-sexy Jason Morgan," Harper teased.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, finished buttoning her coat and headed out into the crisp night air. "I really think you need to get him out of your system. All you ever want to do anymore is talk about him."

"I've been trying to do more than talk with the man but he doesn't seem interested. Do you know anything about that, Liz?"

"What would I know about the guy? I know about as much as you do. Maybe less, in fact." She wrapped her arms around herself, walking faster to keep the anger down. Why was it that Trisha always had to bring Jason Morgan up and why was it that it bothered her so much?

Trisha pulled her scarf around her neck and breathed the fresh fall air. She glanced at Liz and saw that she was really getting to her. It was only a matter of time before she gave up the good girl routine and admitted that she was attracted to Jason. The more she pushed the faster that admission would come. "Then maybe you could explain to me why he pretends I don't exist and why he can't keep his eyes off you."

"What? He doesn't do that," Liz disagreed adamantly and then softened, "W-When does he do that?"

Harper rolled her eyes. As if anyone was that oblivious. "When doesn't he?"

"Well, if he does--and I'm not saying you're right--but if he does, it's because he's giving me his death-stare or something. Let's face it, the guy hates me! You know the things I said to him the first time we met and every time after that. I always seem to do the wrong thing..." Elizabeth trailed off realizing Trisha was getting a kick out of it.

The last thing she wanted to admit was that she might be falling for the guy and hated the fact that he didn't like her.

"Ladies!" Lucky Spencer called, running to catch up with them. "Where ya headed?" he asked looking between them. "Whoa, am I interrupting something?"

Trisha shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing we can't pick up later."

"Yeah. We were just heading to Kelly's. I guess you can come," Liz said to Lucky.

He trotted along beside them.

The invite was just a formality. They both knew he would tag along whether invited or not.

"Don't look now, but it looks like Paul Callahan is over there with his football buddies and it looks like he just saw you," Trisha warned her friend.

"Hey, Lizzie!"

"Too late," Lucky grumbled under his breath.

"Hey, Paul. You remember Lucky and Trisha, don't you?"

"Yeah, sure. What's up, Spencer?" Paul jabbed Lucky in the ribs hard, making him lurch forward.

Lucky gasped when the wind flew out of his lungs from the force behind the punch. "Jocks!" The winded Lucky muttered under his breath.

Paul grabbed the chair nearest Elizabeth and straddled it. "So, Lizzie, I was thinking maybe Friday night you and I could go to the movies or something."

Elizabeth cringed. She hated the way he said her name. It always made her feel so young and so unlike the woman she was. "That's a really nice offer, Paul, but I already have plans."

"Oh, that's too bad." Running his fingers through his mousy brown locks Paul “not always too quick on the uptake” Callahan seemed unfazed. "How about Saturday?"

"Oh, I really wish I could, but Trisha and I have to… Well, we're going to-"

"A gallery opening!"

"Yes!” Liz said, silently thanking Trisha across the table.

“We have to go to a gallery opening as part of our grade. Plus, it gives us a chance to meet new artists and get pointers, that sort of thing. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course, Lizzie. Some other time, okay?"

"Yeah sure, that would be neat."

Paul got up and slithered away.

"God, he is such a creep! I can't believe I ever went out with him in the first place."

"That's all fine and everything, Liz, but when did you start using the word neat?"

Lucky's eyes danced with mischief and it made Elizabeth and Trisha smile.

"I couldn't think of anything to say and neat just popped into my head," she explained.

The trio sat at a table finishing off the last of their unhealthy meal.

"So are we ready to talk about him yet?"

"Give it up, Harper, there is nothing to discuss." Liz rolled her eyes and bit into the pickle that she had been eyeing on Lucky's plate.

"Hey, that's mine!" Lucky fussed. "And what's all this about some mystery man that our little Lizzie is obviously obsessing over. Or maybe it's the other way around, maybe Harper's got it bad and Liz is the one the poor bastard wants. Am I right?"

"Shut up, Spencer!" Both girls said in unison.

"Man, do you think I take enough abuse from the two of you? Sometimes I have to go home to check and make sure I still have a goddamn dick!" He reacted, taking back the other half of his dill pickle and shoving it into his mouth.

"Look, Spence, it's not my fault you're always such a bloody pussy!" Harper jabbed, cutting him a hard stare.

"Real nice, Trisha. You're lucky I'm such a forgiving idiot otherwise I would be out of this chair so fast," Lucky threatened idly.

"Don't let us stop you," Harper continued sending him icy glares.

"Cool off now! The two of you are acting like you're in second grade. Now everyone shut up and let's move on to other subjects," Elizabeth said firmly, jutting out her chin to show how serious she was.

"Fine!" Lucky surrendered.

"Whatever!" Trisha commented, pouring a glob of ketchup on her plate.

Elizabeth sipped her hot chocolate that had long ago turned cold. The crystals had gathered at the bottom, so when she drank her lips were rimmed in it. She licked it away and turned her attention back to Harper and Lucky who were bickering again.

"So how's Bob?"

Both Lucky and Trisha stopped and looked at Liz.

"Bob?"

"Yeah, Bob. Mr. Human Sexuality?"

"Oh yeah, that's over. I'm on to Kent now," Harper explained smiling so wide Lucky winced.

"Kent? I give it two days," Lucky scoffed.

Trisha ignored him and pulled her attention back to Liz.

"So what's he like?"

"Well," she began, "he's a med student, has two sisters, great hair, green eyes, amazing pecs, oh and his butt isn't bad either."

Rolling his eyes, Lucky found it hard to mask his annoyance. After all the years of chasing Trisha she had never once commented or complimented him in anyway and he was sick of hearing about her latest boy toys. "Good to know what impresses you, Harper. Is there anything else you want to add?"

"He's thinking about growing a goatee--which I talked him out of." She smiled triumphantly and almost as an afterthought she added, "oh yeah, and last night we played doctor."

Elizabeth laughed and Lucky stormed off, straight out the door without a single goodbye to either girl.

"Aww, you shouldn't say things like that in front of him. You know he has a thing for you."

"Spence is not serious about me, Liz. It's just this game we play. He pretends he loves me and I pretend he's chop liver. It works out pretty well." She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of the coke in front of her.

"Maybe for you. I really think you hurt him just now. Maybe you should go talk to him," Elizabeth suggested.

Even if Lucky was a big pain at times, he was always there each and every time Liz needed him. And lately Elizabeth had been picking up these vibes from her two best friends. Something was up with them.

"He's fine. He'll get over it." Trisha smiled and dipped a fry in ketchup. "If not, we can always get a dog."

"You're such a heartless bitch," Elizabeth said, throwing her napkin at her.

"Takes one to know one, Liz. I don't see you giving Paul Callahan the time of day lately and you know he has a major crush on you."

"We're just different people. We went out a few times but we just didn't click. I need someone who can hold a conversation for longer than two seconds and for it not to be about football, baseball, basketball or some other God awful sport."

"Liz, you like sports," Trisha reminded her.

"Yeah, but that's just because I like to watch the men run around in those tight little outfits. What other reason would make women want to watch football?"

"Technical merit?" Trisha shrugged.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Gimme a break, you watch for the same reasons I do."

"Fine, I admit it. You know who would look really good all decked out in a football jersey and those tight little spandex pants?"

When Liz just looked at her blankly Trisha continued without further prompting. "Jason! Can you just imagine?" she said, a little too excited for Elizabeth's liking.

"Can we not talk about him again?"

"Who?" Trisha asked innocently batting her eyelashes.

"You know who."

"Oh, my God! You can't even say his name! You've really got it bad."

"Whatever you're implying I don't “have it'” period, let alone bad. Now let it go."

"Why won't you talk about him? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Elizabeth unfolded her arms. "And we're back to this again! Okay, you want to know what's really going on? I'll tell you. I haven't been there for two days and I don't plan on going back!"

"What happened?" Trisha asked intrigued.

"Nothing happened. I just don't feel right going there all the time and not giving them anything back."

"You are such a liar! Did he come on to you?" Trisha asked and then sat up straighter. "Oh, did you come on to him? Is that it? Come on, Liz, don't leave me in suspense. Spill it!"

"I hate to burst your bubble, but no one came on to anyone.”

“That sounded dirty.” Trisha wagged her eyebrows.

Elizabeth stopped, reexamining her words. She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Besides how do you expect someone who doesn't speak to come on to me?"

"Two words: body language!" Harper said seductively. "So was he all rubbing up against you or was it the other way around? Is he a good kisser? He looks like he would be. He has that kind of mouth where you just want to devour those lips. God, how did you stop yourself form just biting him?! Oh! Or maybe you did bite him-"

"Stop!" Elizabeth gasped.

Trisha straightened and looked over at her friend whose face was two shades away from being identical to the ketchup on her plate.

"What? What did I say?" Trisha asked, feigning innocence.

"I kicked him," Elizabeth said, partially obstructing her face with her hand.

"You what?!" she gaped. "Where? More importantly, why?"

"I thought he was going to attack me." She shook her head at the look of horror on her friend’s face. "See, Sonny told him to walk me home but decided not to inform me and when I heard something behind me, my first instinct was to take my knee and hit him square in the balls."

"Oh, Liz." Trisha moved in closer, rubbing small circles over Elizabeth's back for comfort.

"And now I'm too embarrassed to face him. What am I supposed to say, “hey Sonny, hey Jason, oh and, by the way, how's your dick?”"

"Oh, hon, I'm sure he's over it by now."

Liz looked at her sternly. "You have brothers. You know they don't just get over it. Remember the time you kicked Travis there after he jumped out at us in that horrible mask last Halloween? How long did it take before he stopped wearing a cup?”

Trisha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but my brothers are all spazzes. Jason’s not.”

”He probably never wants to see me again. I can just picture it, every time I go near him he'll probably hold himself just in case he gets on my bad side and thinks I'm going to go for a second round. Hell, I've probably made him sterile!"

"Okay, now you're just exaggerating. It was a mistake. You know that and I'm sure he does too. Besides, you're not that strong."

"I work out."

“Yeah, oh-kay.”

Elizabeth stood and began to put her warm jacket and mittens back on. “Still, I'm not ready to face him yet. You ready to go?"

"Yeah. I guess Spence stiffed us for the bill again."

"Doesn't he always?" she said, shaking her head.

_______

Jason came in from a long exhausting run. His cheeks were chapped from the cold wind and his nose was red and runny. He pulled at the fabric of the tracksuit that clung to his body, dropping the sweatshirt and pants to the ground before entering the hot shower. The water was scalding and prickled when it met the contrast of his cool skin. But the heat felt good on his aching muscles. He closed his eyes and let the combination shampoo/conditioner residue drip down his body from the blast of the spray.

Elizabeth hadn't been by the house in two very long days. Not since the night she had maimed his nether region and he hoped that wasn't her reason for staying away. The truth was--if he let himself acknowledge it--she was really starting to grow on him. He missed seeing her tiny head darting out of the shrubbery while she searched the grounds for her next subject. He missed the smell of her soft-scented perfume that he had first found hidden in the fibers of his jacket. Ever since discovering it, he could pick it out anywhere. Most of all, he missed the sound of her voice. It swept over him like a warm wool blanket and heated his blood. And even more soothing was her laugh; soft in sound but big in heart.

God, she was just so beautiful. She was so fair and her skin was lighter than alabaster mud, and he was sure it would be just as soft. What he wouldn't give to allow himself to touch the softness of her cheeks, dip his fingertips onto the hollow of her throat and pull her against him to just breathe her in. But he wouldn't allow himself; shouldn't even be thinking about her like that and yet…he did.

Sighing, he walked into his bedroom and dried himself off. Dressing, he put on a pair of old, worn-in jeans that fit like a glove and a long sleeve T-shirt before he headed toward the kitchen. He immediately went to the window hoping to see Elizabeth somewhere, with her nose cherry red wearing her scarf over her mouth and her hat low, way past her ears. But she wasn't there and he was starting to fear she wouldn't come back.

"I guess Miss Webber has been busy the last couple of days," Sonny commented watching Jason's reaction closely.

Jason sighed. He wiped the fog from the window caused by his hot breath and shrugged.

"I'm going to take a walk up the hill to visit Brenda."

Jason nodded and turned his attention back to the window.

Hearing the door click, Jason knew he was alone. The house was silent and he hated it. Silence made him think and these days all his thoughts seemed to be consumed by Elizabeth Webber.

She was a sweet kid and that's why he needed to stay away from her. He could see she had been hurt before. There was something he couldn't place and he didn't know how deep the wounds went, but he knew he didn't want to cause her any more pain. The sorrow in her eyes, that she tried so desperately to hide, hadn't gone unnoticed and the last thing she needed was for him to add to it. He would keep his distance; act like he didn't care and hard as it would be, he would act like he disliked her. Maybe this time he could keep someone he cared for safe. Maybe this time he could even stop himself from caring.

Who was he trying to fool? He was already in too deep. Jason liked the female presence in the house… He liked to watch while she fussed and fumed when her sketches weren't going well. Loved the way she tugged on her bottom lip when she got into a groove. Wouldn't mind helping her soothe away the sting she caused herself when she bit down too hard on a sudden burst of inspiration.

What the hell was he doing? Jason was a man that could fast for weeks. He was able to meditate without distraction. He had the willpower to remain silent for years. And in spite of all of that, he was mooning over some girl.

No, Elizabeth Webber wasn't just some girl. She was unlike any other woman he'd ever known. She had such fire and bite and yet such sadness in those blue eyes of hers…eyes that haunted his sleep. Eyes that wouldn't let him think clearly or meditate properly or do anything the way he used to do well. Eyes that he imagined open and soft with his body atop of hers, moving against her in a slow sensual rhythm…

Shaking himself out of it, Jason moved to the front door and opened it. Stepping out onto the porch, he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. The air was crisp, a soft mix of fall and the arriving winter. The hint of late blooming flowers perfumed the air and the decay of leaves scattered the ground carelessly. The sky was a pale shade of blue. The clouds stroked the sky like frosting on a cake, spreading over the hillside and swooping down to the valleys of brush and trees. With the sun beaming on the cold ground sweeping the grass in punches of light, it seemed much later than it was.

Shivering in the doorway Jason remembered what it was like to be cold. To have the air ripped from his lungs and leave the skin of his face feeling plastic. Yes, Jason had been cold before and at times like this he felt the sting of remembrance creep into his veins. The strong flow of blood pumped through his system and all at once he was taken back to a time, a place that seemed so very distant. A time when his childhood was a happy memory, a safe state of mind, and not a frightening nightmare. A time when being chilled to the bone was still not a cause of worry. But now the cold only served as a reminder of a time he couldn't go back to, a place that didn't exist anymore, and of people that would never open their eyes again.

Death.

The cold reminded him of death.
_______

The chill in the air was getting more frequent and that meant winter was around the corner. Elizabeth Webber loved winter for all the reasons other people hated it. The snow and ice were beautiful to her and while others found the cold air annoying, she found it refreshing.

The lakes would freeze and the birds would head South and then she would paint the emptiness of the land. The barren trees, the crystal ice and bright white snow were all her favorite subjects. The best thing about the frozen world of winter was that it stayed still, unlike some of the other creatures of the spring and summer.

Still was safe.

Too long Liz had felt the sting of change and depended on the stillness to get her through.

Stepping onto the monastery grounds she wondered what it would look like in winter.

Her cheeks were wet and red from the small pellets of rain that were beginning to fall. Sprinting over to the big house, she noticed movement in the garage and headed that way. The door, that was normally closed, was open a crack and she wondered if Sonny was in there gathering preserves for something wonderful he was about to cook.

"Sonny?"

Elizabeth peered into the room. She met a pair of eyes, cold and frighteningly blue, definitely not Sonny's.

She shivered. "Oh!"

She pulled the hair from her face and took another step in. The garage was warm and even though it smelled like gasoline and oil it still provided protection from the outside.

"I thought you were Sonny," Elizabeth said quietly, scanning the space with her eyes.

Jason never moved, not even to blink. He stared at her like he was waiting for something to happen. Maybe he wanted her to leave. Or maybe he was trying to communicate something. Either way Liz did not get the message. She walked further into the musky space, nosing her way around.

Jason followed her with his eyes for a while before going back to his work.

She stepped close to him, brought her hand to his shoulder and pulled it away before she touched him. "Jason?"

He looked up at her, seemed surprised she was so near and then put the wrench he held in his hand on the ground and waited for her to continue.

"How's your--does your, um... Uh, forget it!" She threw her hands up and walked to the opposite side of the small space. God, she was an idiot! "I'm sorry about the other night, okay?"

His back was to her so she missed the slight smile that curved his lips. The other night when she had hit him, it had hurt. But he was fine now and even better now that she was here. All his suspicion that she was staying away because of him were now confirmed. And, in a way, he was proud of her for coming back even though she was obviously embarrassed.

As Elizabeth waited for some type of response she looked around the garage. There was a car and a motorcycle in the small space and from the looks of things Jason belonged to the bike. He cranked and twisted screws and bolts, tightening and loosening things as he fixed the machine with concentration and patience.

"So..."

Not wanting to be rude and totally dismiss Jason for Sonny, Elizabeth was making an effort to get to know the leather-clad rebel. She fiddled with tools, toyed with machinery until picking up a grease-stained part and holding it out for him. "What the heck does this do?"

With barely a glance her way Jason stood, taking the car part from her hand and setting it back on the table and then crouched down again, picking up another tool.

Huh. Okay. This was proving to be a little harder than she thought.

Moving to the corner of the dusty garage Elizabeth leaned against a mini-workshop that had been set up. Tiny spirals of oak shavings coated the floor and table. The soft white dust spilled over the counter while she moved toward it.

"Did you do these?" she asked looking over towards him, not surprised when he simply shook his head and continued what he was doing.

Admiring the craftsmanship of some of the carvings, she picked one up, studied it and then set it back down. Taking in a deep breath she wasn't prepared for the sneeze that erupted and shook her body. Her hands covered her face, preparing for another one.

"I'm allergic to dust," she said to Jason who was now looking at her.

Jason couldn't help himself, he smiled. Whether she realized it or not, Elizabeth had grease on her hands and when she covered her face some wiped off onto her skin there.

Trying not to let his sudden change in attitude throw her, Elizabeth smiled too. "What?"

Standing, he walked towards her. Keeping his movements slow and controlled so he wouldn't frighten her. Watching her tense, his hand lifted to her cheek so very softly she barely felt it, but the spark that came when they finally connected was hard to ignore. His fingers spread over the expanse of her creamy skin and his thumb brushed her nose. Once. Twice. Three times.

Elizabeth bit down on her lip—had to concentrate so she wouldn't close her eyes and ease into his touch. His hands were large, covering most of her cheek and even lingering past her jaw bone onto her neck. She felt his fingers move, sifting through the hairs at the base of her neck and it sent chills down her spine.

For the first time, she saw him as gentle.

Looking up, she met his eyes and they were intense, a vivid, expressive blue that made her body shiver.

He had been right. Her skin was silky smooth under his fingertips. He wiped the grease from her nose, but let his thumb and fingers stroke her skin longer than was necessary. God, she was soft. Even touching the wispy tendrils of hair was going too far, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself.

A tingle of awareness began to spread through her like wildfire. Driving heat shot through her body, warming her cheeks and flushing them pink.

Jason knew he should have let her go a minute ago. Probably shouldn't have even touched her in the first place. After all, he could have just tossed her a rag and let her wipe away the dirt herself.

But this way was better.

Sinful.

And he knew the more he touched her, the more he would want to… But the simple fact was she wasn't safe with him. The war of emotions finally got to him and he dropped his hand to the side, backing away from her.

Pulling back, she laughed quietly, a little embarrassed and a little confused. "Thanks. I'm always so messy."

Elizabeth watched him move away, toward the motorcycle he’d been working on, and bring his massive leg over the Harley.

"Is Sonny in the house?" she asked loudly when the bike roared to life.

Jason shook his head and looked at her. He motioned for her to come closer and then handed her a helmet.

Elizabeth took it in her small hands and looked at him in confusion. He waited patiently while she strapped the helmet onto her head and mounted the bike. At first, she didn't know where to put her hands and after a moment’s debate she moved them onto his shoulders, too afraid to wrap them around the bulk of him. The engine purred under them and it was a feeling unlike anything. Liz had never been on a motorcycle before, but she was excited and they hadn't even moved yet.

When they made their way out of the garage and onto the paved path, Elizabeth's grip tightened. The wind whipped by them, so loud and strong she couldn't hear or feel anything.

Jason took the turns fast, driving the bike so hard, Elizabeth feared they would crash.

They didn't.

He had control and power over the large machine and something about the ride made him seem utterly sexy. Feeling more relaxed she slipped her hands around his waist and pressed her face against his back. The feel of leather and rain enveloped her. The drops began to come in heavy droves. But by the time they made it around the bend and up the cliff road the rain had all but stopped.

Jason helped her off the motorcycle, taking her hand in his and supporting her weight when she slid onto the gravel.

"That was incredible!" Elizabeth gasped louder than necessary while she readjusted to the feel of land beneath her feet.

Her body trembled and her knees buckled, but Jason caught her before she hit the ground. He held her elbow and steadied her. As soon as she was stable he took his hand away like it burned. Elizabeth tried not to let the frown show on her face when she turned back to him.

"I've never felt that alive before! It was like a total rush. The wind was whipping by so fast and everything just sort of blurred together. I could get used to rides on this thing!”

Her cheeks were rosy and her breath misted in the air. She straightened out her coat and Jason tried not to notice how incredibly cute she looked. She smiled at him showing off her clean white teeth and it was like no one existed but the two of them and the great expanse of space.

Looking at her, he knew he could watch her the entire day and never be bored and that's what he wanted to do more than anything. She was getting too close, though. He couldn't let himself care. So, instead he moved away and straddled the motorcycle, tucking the helmet in the back.

Elizabeth watched him curiously. "Where are you going?"

Jason pointed over her shoulder past a clearing in the trees where a great formation of rocks stood above a high cliff. She could make out a figure and guessed Jason had brought her to Sonny.

"Sonny?"

He nodded and started the engine.

He was down the road and out of view before she could protest. Jason just left her there whether she wanted to be or not.

She wasn't mad, not really, more annoyed that he never wanted to spend time with her. She could have waited with him until Sonny came back to the house, but that's not how Jason's brain worked. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible and she felt like she should be offended, but a part of her was relieved. Because it seemed the more she was around him, the more she wanted to be and she didn't need that kind of hassle in her life right now. She had given up on men and was certainly not going to let Jason Morgan change her mind without even trying to.

She stepped onto the path and tried to avoid crunching the brittle leaves underfoot so her presence wouldn't be known. Realizing only when she got close enough that beyond the stones was a grave. She guessed it belonged to his wife and child. Her first thought was that she shouldn’t be here.

She watched Sonny pace around the marble stone. Fresh flowers that he had obviously brought were laid in front of the grave. He seemed to be mumbling to himself and gesturing to himself, like he was conversing with someone who wasn't there. Elizabeth felt odd. It was wrong to watch, wasn’t it? Well, she knew it was. And it was wrong to even be here.

She wondered what had made Jason take her to him.

Quietly she slipped her backpack off and took out her small sketch pad. Knowing words would not be enough for a man who was grieving, Elizabeth let him be alone. Continuing to watch, Elizabeth began to sketch him.

Sonny crouched down and touched the marker.

Even though it was an invasion of privacy and even though she might regret it later, she started her drawing by outlining his face on paper. The lines by his eyes were harsh and wrinkled. He almost looked like a person she had never seen before. Gone was the carefree smile and the gentle gleam in his eye, replacing it was a face littered with pain and defeat.

For a long time Sonny stayed in that same position, head bowed, arm outstretched, knees bent. Liz had finished her sketch long before he stood and moved from the grave to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the canyon. He wiped at his eyes and Elizabeth waited another minute before she approached him.

"Sonny?" she said slowly.

He turned to face her. He seemed to be in some sort of trance. He didn't recognize Elizabeth at first and when she said his name for the third time he finally slipped out of it.

"Elizabeth, how did you-"

"Jason brought me," she said quickly, adding, "on his motorcycle."

"I see." Sonny ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame some unruly strands to no avail. "We should get back. It's getting cool."

He started to walk away but Elizabeth reached out and took his arm in her small hand.

Her eyes were filled with sympathy and understanding when she looked at him. "Tell me about her. About them."