Elizabeth was wide-eyed at her own request. "I'm sorry. I have no right to ask that."

She turned her eyes from his, afraid of her forwardness, afraid he would agree. "Please forgive me," she whispered.

"No, it's all right," Sonny said, in that gentle way of his.

She let go of his forearm and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling the need to keep her hands occupied. She fidgeted when she was nervous—one of her bad habits. She also rambled excessively and bit her lip. At least she was exerting some self-control.

"I come up here to think," he finally said, after a long soulful gaze over the terrain.

A light drizzle of rain began again, coming down gently on the solid earth, digging small craters into it. Neither Sonny nor Elizabeth seemed to notice. Even when their hair wilted and fell against their wet foreheads, they were oblivious.

"It seems like a reasonable place to think," Elizabeth offered.

She stared down at the mouth of the cavernous cliff and held her breath. It was a long drop and surely no one would make it out alive if they ever fell. The thought sobered her and she remembered why Sonny was here.

"Do you miss her?" A look of dread passed her features and she nervously smoothed her hand down her cheek, surprised to find it wet and cold. "Oh God, I'm sorry that was—that was a horrible question to ask. Just a…a stupid thing to say, really. Of course you do What I meant was-" she sighed, frustrated. "I really don't know what I meant."

Taking a deep inhale of breath, Sonny's shoulders rose before slumping in defeat. "Her name was Brenda. She used to be a model," he said smiling proudly.

Brenda had been Sonny's wife. She was considered perfect to men across the world, but Sonny knew different. He knew each and every one of her flaws and loved her just the same.

"But…she wasn’t just that. God, she was so much more than I deserved. She was very young and very beautiful. I've never met anyone who could make me laugh like she did. We'd laugh for hours together. She was a kid when I met her, no older than eighteen, but she was so bright, so wise beyond her years. I don't know how it happened, but one day I was looking at her and it just hit me that I loved her. I don't think I've ever loved that hard in my life and it happened so fast. I wasn't even prepared." His smile was sad. His eyes darted over the marble grave, watching the water seep between the carved letters that spelled her name.

"We, uh...we got married in that little church at the monastery. It was just the two of us, a few friends, some family, but all I saw was her. God, she looked beautiful."

Staring off into the distance, almost able to picture her, it took him a moment to snap out of it and when he finally did, he straightened his overcoat and looked over to Elizabeth sheepishly. "She was my life. So kind and loving and she gave so much. A child, Elizabeth." Sonny faced her, looking like he didn't believe his own words. "She gave me a child."

Theirs had been a wonderful courtship, a fantastic wedding and a honeymoon tucked away on some island where they forgot about real life; made love on the beach, the moon lighting their naked bodies and the sound of surf tickling their ears--probably conceiving their son on one of those long nights on the sand. They should have known that nothing could stay that perfect for long...

Sure, there were times that seemed so wonderful, so magical, that it made up for all the hurt. The birth of their baby was one. Brenda gave birth to a beautiful boy with strong, dark eyes and features that were a combination of both parents. A tiny button nose like his mother and those same dimples of Sonny's that women tended to fuss over.

Elizabeth smiled. "I'm sure you must have loved each other very much."

She watched the emotions play on his face; knew he was beating himself up harder than the thunder that clapped in the distance. That if he could, he'd trade places with the woman he'd once shared a life with.

"She died because of me, Elizabeth. She gave me a child and I let them both die. I betrayed her." Sonny's eyes were red and raw when he looked back at her. They were a different brown than before. They were pure blackness, dark and dead.

"I..." Starting to speak again, he shook his head, covered his cheek with his shaking hand.

She stared at him in shock and with the greatest sympathy. She watched him rip himself apart. He was becoming desperate with his accusations about himself. Elizabeth could see the deep scars that tarnished his soul and realized not all wounds were visible or could be erased.

Maybe these were worse. Deeper. Hidden. Frightening, like a dark room for a child that fears the night and the demons that prowl when the sun goes down. Maybe everyone was a little scared of the dark even in broad daylight.

Tugging on her jacket, she pulled the sleeves over her palms, drew in the warmth. "Sonny?"

"I'm not as good as you think I am." His eyes were moist and his throat was tight.

Even the strongest of men need reassurances. Dragons, even the most ferocious fire breathing beasts; the ones that live in the deep caverns of one’s very being; the ones that steal your breath and raise the hairs on your skin, will eventually be slain.

It just takes time.

"She wasn't even twenty yet, Elizabeth. And my son? My son never even made it to his first birthday. I'm a monster and a sinner and I deserve to rot in hell for the things I put my family through. I wasn't always like this. I used to have to be in control. I craved it like a drug. I needed power to run through my veins like a heroine addict needs their next fix. Money, Elizabeth. It was always about money and the territory and making myself feel like a fucking God! I might as well have killed them myself. I'm the reason they died. I'm the reason my sweet little boy lies in the cold ground with his mother and I'm still here breathing air that I hate and living a life that's a lie. I did this to them and I'm still alive. How fucking ironic is that?"

Nothing lasts. Not the laughter. Not the joy. Not even the tears. All that was left at the end of the day was a broken man with a heavy heart and so much money he could have swam in it.

And all he wanted was to build himself a life, one different from the one he’d been so afraid of as a little boy. He swore he’d never be poor again and no one was ever going to lock him in a closet or beat him within an inch of his life. No. He was going to rise above it all. Make it so he was the one feared. And, oh, how he succeeded. Sometimes he even scared himself. But what good was that power and money to him now? Now he didn't have to worry because he swam in a pool of regret. A deep dark liquid of fear and pain and he couldn't seem to stay afloat. There were good days and there were bad; worse when he thought about them, much worse when he didn't.

It was hell.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stop the moisture from slipping down her cheek. "Sonny. You didn’t--”

“But I did. Don’t you see? If she’d never met me, she’d be alive.”

“But she did meet you and she loved you. I bet she's up there, in heaven, right now looking down at you. And Sonny?" she said, placing her hand on his shoulder and giving him a light squeeze, "she would be proud."

"Proud?" he questioned, his voice sounding very hoarse to her.

He wanted to believe her, she could tell, and she knew the next thing she said would have great impact one way or the other. They both ignored the tear that streaked down his face and mixed with the rain that still fell from the dark sky in loose rivulets.

Liz took a deep breath and then took his hand in hers. "You're a fine man, Sonny Corinthos, whether you want to believe that or not. I didn't know you then, but I know who you are now. You gave up something you knew was wrong and changed your ways. She would be proud of you for that."

"I wish," he began but stopped, pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the tears. "I just wish I could have done it before... before everything."

"I know," Elizabeth whispered, coaxing him into her arms. "I know."

She pressed her face against the scratchy fibers of his coat, smelling the masculine scent of him. Her eyes closed automatically and she couldn't help feeling that for the first time in a long time, she'd made a difference. She trusted Sonny and it had been a long time since she'd been able to trust someone so quickly, without restraint. Something made her think they could help each other and gain a life-lasting friendship in the process and that made her hopeful.

"I don't even have a picture of us as a family. That's how much of a bastard I was. I didn't have the time. I... I never had the time."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, realizing how trite it sounded.

Rubbing his back for comfort, she jolted when he pulled away suddenly.

"No, I should be the one saying sorry. I shouldn't have spoken so harshly. I shouldn't have unloaded on you. It wasn't right. I'm sure you have your own problems, you don't have to listen to mine." Wiping furiously at his eyes, he seemed ashamed for being so blunt with her earlier, telling her things he thought she probably didn't want to hear.

"I asked. I wouldn't have if I didn't want to know. I'm glad you told me," she said softly, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze.

He squeezed it back and smiled softly down at her. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

"Anytime."

"Let's get going. I don't want you catching cold from this damp weather we're having."

"Sure, Sonny. Let's go," she said, attempting a smile. It was best to let him assume the role of caretaker, since it seemed to fit him so well.

As they walked back, her hand went to her coat where she had stuffed the drawing. She thought of giving him the drawing, but for some reason she couldn't depart with it.

"You're being awfully quiet," Sonny pointed out while they strolled the grounds back to the house.

"I'm having my first critique soon. I guess I'm just a little nervous," Elizabeth explained.

Sonny watched her from the corner of his eye. She swept the hair away from her face and kept walking even when his pace slowed.

Sonny shook his head. "No. No, that's not it. It's Jason, isn't it?"

Elizabeth whipped her head around to face him. "This has nothing to do with Jason. I told you, I'm just nervous about having my art looked at."

Her hand brushed her skin unconsciously touching the spot where Jason had touched her earlier. Her cheeks flamed at the memory.

"He doesn't mean to make you feel bad. I mean, he doesn't do it intentionally. He's just trying to keep his distance and keep you safe even if he goes about it the wrong way."

"Keep me safe?" Her eyebrows arched up and she stopped walking. "What would he need to keep me safe from?"

"There's a lot you don't know about him, Miss Webber. There are things I don't even know. I'm going to tell you this, even though I probably shouldn't--in fact, I know I shouldn't. Jason likes his privacy and I respect that about him, but I think if you knew a little about him, you might look at him a little different.

“Jason came here when he was twelve-years-old. He's always been shy, quiet, keeps to himself most of the time… I think the reason for that, though, has a lot to do with his childhood and the things that happened to him. It made him skeptical and cautious.”

"W-what happened to him?" she asked, shivering from the cold winds that swept over her saturated skin.

"A lot of things, but I'll get to that. I want to explain to you where his head's at. Why he thinks he needs to keep himself so closed off. Why he keeps you at a distance, even though I know he likes you and wants to be near you."

"Don't be silly. Jason keeps his distance because he thinks I'm insane. He doesn't like me. If he did, he wouldn't find every excuse under the sun to go away whenever I'm at the house. Not that I blame him, I've done some pretty crazy things to him. First, I yelled at him the very first time I ever met him. Then I ogled him naked," she said, laughing when she looked at Sonny and found him completely confused. "Well, not completely naked. See, he'd just gotten out of the shower and I got lost. Anyway long story short, I stared at him like he was Sunday dinner and I hadn't eaten in a week. And to top it off, I kicked him."

"Yes, I heard about that one. He wrote me a long note about never making him follow you home again and if I was concerned for your safety I should go myself," Sonny said amused.

Elizabeth's face flushed.

"There's no reason to be embarrassed. I should have told you I'd be sending Jason along with you. And I agree he shouldn't have scared you like that. But really, I'm to blame. I hadn't heard about the naked incident though. I'll have to ask him about it later. Sunday dinner, huh?"

"Oh, God, please don't. If our friendship means anything you'll just keep that one to yourself!"

"Of course, my lips are sealed." Sonny chuckled.

Looking through her eyelashes, she barely met his eyes, speaking softly. "I just...I don't know how to relate to him. He's unlike anyone I've ever met."

"He's...different, but different doesn't always have to be bad. He's just really guarded. He doesn't trust people easily. When I came to live here, it took him six months to stop scowling at me. He was still a teenager and still very scared and to some degree alone. He's lost a lot in his life. Jason's lived all over the world. I bet you wouldn't have thought that."

"At this point I don't know what to think. He's not typical to say the least. He wears a leather jacket and rides a motorcycle, does karate on the lawn and has been silent for years! How many other people do you know like that?"

"Not many," he agreed. "Before he came here, he was in Tibet. A lot of things were happening there, political uproar, forms of Apartheid, religious differences. It was a lot for a boy to deal with and then tragedy stuck. There was a fire, a big one. It ripped through the village, nearly destroying everything. A lot of people died in that fire. Not Jason though and I guess to some degree he feels guilty he's still alive. Survivor’s guilt, I guess.

“That little boy watched his friends die all those years ago. What you have to understand, Miss Webber, is that Jason isn't like most men. He's seen a lot. Seen things no one should have to; especially not a little boy. Jason grew up fast and never really knew the love of parents or the protection they provided."

Her heart sped. Her eyes misted. Her breath grew erratic. "What do you mean? Why not?" Elizabeth gasped and her breath misted in the cool air.

"They died when he was just a boy. He didn't have anyone and then he grew to love and trust the people he was staying with, but that all changed after the fire. It's hard for him to trust because he's afraid he'll wind up hurting someone."

"How would he hurt them?" she said softly, reigning in those emotions that were coming so close to the surface.

"Everyone he has ever cared for has died and he has always carried the burden that he is to blame. Can you imagine being six-years-old and thinking you’re responsible for your parent’s deaths?"

Elizabeth's chest tightened. She knew exactly how that felt. For years she thought her mother had died because of her.

"He was finally stable here. He had finally found a home and a family. His uncle was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father and when he died Jason just shut down. That's when he started his vow of silence. He held the body of his dying uncle, watching his eyes become hallow and his chest cease to move… It was…awful.

“After that he had no reason to live. And he's not. Not really. He's going through the motions, Elizabeth, but something's started to change in him. I've seen it. When you're around, I see a light go on in him. I think you're what he needs."

"Me? Oh no, that can't be. Jason doesn't need me. He doesn't even like me!"

"I think you're wrong."

"And I think I'm right, so I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one."

Elizabeth couldn't even let the possibility roll around in her brain. It was too much to get her hopes up and not enough to allow herself to dream.

"Time will tell," Sonny said, smiling a wide, dimpled smile down at the young woman. "Time will tell."

They rounded the bend and the house was in sight. Elizabeth could faintly make out Jason's shape crouched down next to his motorcycle cleaning the exterior. She cocked her head to the side, really studying him. After what Sonny had told her she saw him in a new light, maybe he wasn't being cold and mean, maybe he was being guarded to protect himself. He'd been hurt and so had she.

Maybe together they could heal.

Suddenly Elizabeth felt very guilty. “Sonny?”

“Yeah?”

“I did something stupid,” she said, sheepishly.

“What?”

“Well, the other day, I sort of…sketched him in the church when he thought he was alone.”

Sonny chuckled. “I’m guessing from your reaction it didn’t go over too well.”

Elizabeth sighed, remembering their confrontation and the look on Jason’s face. “No, it didn’t. I mean, I understand why he was so angry. I’d hate for someone to watch me if I was trying to be alone. I feel like such a creep.”

She watched her feet, taking smaller steps to slow her pace. She didn’t want to look at Sonny, afraid of his reaction and ashamed of her actions. But she felt his hand circle her shoulders. They halted their movements.

“Hey,” he said, “don’t get all shy on me now after everything we’ve talked about today.”

“It’s not… I just feel really stupid, you know? I mean, why didn’t I just leave when I saw him? Why did I insist on watching him? I invaded his space and took advantage of him. I just…I should have told him I was there.”

“Well… He probably knew you were there.”

“Yeah? How? Since he doesn’t speak has he, like, developed some kind of super-

sensitive hearing or something? Eyes in the back of his head?” she said, sarcastically.

“Not exactly. Squeaky doors.”

“What?”

“The church doors. I noticed he was oiling them.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing.

“Relax, Elizabeth. Jason doesn’t hold grudges.”

“I don’t know, Sonny. I might have to disagree with you there. I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but he's always looking at me. Even when he thinks I don't know, I can feel him doing it.

“And he does things just to spite me, you know? Like today! He brought me to you, because he couldn’t stand to be in my presence until you got back. He just had to get rid of me as soon as he could! That, to me, does not exactly sound like a guy that doesn’t hold a grudge. And, okay, I don’t really blame him. We’ve been over the list of things I’ve done to him. But, come on! It wouldn’t have killed him to spend ten minutes in the same room with--”

“Elizabeth?”

“…me. Because, God forbid, we actually get along for once!”

“Elizabeth.”

“I mean, he’s just so…so infuriating!”

“Elizabeth!”

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I do that when I’m--”

“Nervous,” they said in unison.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said, covering her face with her hand.

“He means something to you, doesn’t he?”

“I…”

“You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable.”

“It’s not that. I just… I don’t know what’s happening. He gets under my skin. I want to know things about him and be around him and I don’t even really know why. Everything in me is telling me to run, but I just can’t. It makes no sense.”

Sonny smiled a knowing smile.

“It will. Give it time,” he said, softly.

“Sonny?” Elizabeth said, meeting his gaze. “Don’t mention any of this to Jason, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed.

__________

Elizabeth was nervous and if she didn't have to be sitting in the large lecture hall waiting to have her art critiqued she wouldn't have been there at all.

She could see the smug smile on Professor Sharpy's face while he stood at the front of the class, setting his briefcase on the wooden desk and then taking his seat. The little bastard enjoyed this part of his job more than a masochist enjoyed being struck with a wooden paddle. The thought made her smile, perhaps Sharpy was a kinky perv who enjoyed leather whips and torture as much as he hated his students’ art. Ick! Too much information!

She shook her head to clear her brain. God would have to strike her dead before she would have thoughts like those again.

"And who shall be my first victim today?" the pudgy man barked, cracking his knuckles and scanning the room.

This was the part that got to most of the students. Having to stand in front of their classmates, while their asshole Prof ripped apart their work, was not an easy task. Embarrassment was too kind a word for how it felt.

"Miss Harper."

Sandwiched between a lightly-snoring Lucky and Elizabeth, Trisha embraced the latest feminist rock CD she had just purchased, while sipping on some hot coffee, totally oblivious to the call from her Professor.

Liz nudged Harper in the side. It was harder than she intended but it did the trick.

Trisha's eyes sprang open and she glared at Liz. "What?!"

Her voice carried through the lecture hall and everyone turned to look at her. Elizabeth pointed to the head of the class and smiled politely at their waiting Prof.

"Oh, right." She pulled the headphones from her ears and sat up straight.

"Miss Harper, come to the front and bring your art with you."

"I don't have it," she told him nonchalantly, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Excuse me?"

Dr. Sharpy's nose turned up and he watched his young pupil.

Harper had no remorse and would not stoop so low as kissing the old fart's ass. She didn't have her work there was no point to lie about it."I -said-I-don't-have-it," Trisha said loudly punctuating each word.

"And why not?"

"I didn't feel inspired," she said flatly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"You weren't inspired? Did you all hear that? Miss Harper was not inspired! It must be such a great challenge to live in that head of yours. Not inspired!" he scoffed.

"Yeah, well, maybe this class has drained the life right out of me." She didn't even attempt to whisper.

Liz looked at her and shook her head, begging her to stop.

"If this class is such a bother for you, Miss Harper, you might consider not coming back." He frowned, pulling his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"No, I think I'll stick it out." Replacing the headphones to her ears, she cranked the volume up and pulled out a magazine from her book bag.

"If there is anyone else who wasn't “feeling inspired” to quote Miss Harper, then they might as well leave now. This class is not a joke, people. Most of you are in your last year. You know, and I know, this class could be the difference between graduation and the unemployment lines. At the end of term I'm sure Miss Harper will see where her lack of inspiration gets her, as will you all if you don't shape up. Do I make myself clear?"

Elizabeth sat there watching student after student being picked apart by their bird-brained Prof. She was dreading her turn. She hoped that by slouching down in her seat, he might forget about her. Where was Dexter? Why did he have to pick today of all days to get the flu? Still, she held hope she would be forgotten.

No such luck would come to her and when her name was called, Harper took off her headphones and woke Lucky up with a smack to his thigh. "Wake up, idiot! Liz is up."

Lucky rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed a quick sip of Trisha's coffee before she pulled it away from him.

"Get your own!"

"You're nasty in the morning, but I forgive you, only because I know you've got all that sexual tension for me and it comes out as anger." He winked at her and grabbed the back of the chair in front of him, watching as Liz made her way to the front of the class.

Her canvas was covered in an old bed sheet, but they had been privileged to see it before class. It was a landscape of the grounds at the monastery. Both Lucky and Harper had been impressed, but would the professor?

Elizabeth was actually happy with her work and thought the effort would shine through. She unwrapped the painting and presented it to Dr. Sharpy. He took it in his hands and studied it.

"Mediocre work, Miss Webber. There is nothing new or original about this. I expected more from you." He set the painting down and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes and then returning them to his face. He then took the class list from his table and read from it. "Robert Young."

"What?" she asked quietly, losing the automatic response of anger to dejection.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked rapidly. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of making her cry.

"We're through, Miss Webber. You can go back to your seat."

"But I... Is that all you have to say? You're not even going to give me some suggestions or guide me to the right path?" Her eyes grew large and the anger returned to her. How was she supposed to do her best when she didn't know what he wanted?

"I can't tell you what to paint, or how to do it, for that matter. At this stage of the game if you can't figure that out maybe you should quit. Robert Young."

"I won't quit!" Elizabeth said quietly.

"What was that?"

"I said I won't quit." This time the statement held more gumption. She believed her words and wanted him to as well.

"That’s fine, Miss Webber, now go back to your seat. The rest of the class is waiting." He motioned with his arm like he was shooing away a fly, waiting as Robert, the next student to be critiqued, made his way to the front of the class.

"I won't quit and you can't stop me from doing what I want. Just because you're a bitter hack who couldn't make it, doesn't mean you have any right to bash the rest of us." Her voice rose and her nostrils flared.

"Jesus, she's gone nuts," Lucky whispered to Trisha from their place in the lecture hall.

"That's enough, Miss Webber! Go back to your seat now or get out of my class!"

Elizabeth scanned her eyes over the class, watching her friends holding their breath. What was she doing? She was so passionate about her art and to be dismissed in a few seconds had done nothing for her confidence. She was pissed and she knew she had taken it too far. Picking up her painting, she walked past Robert and went up the aisle until she was out the door.

"Come on, Spence!" Trisha grabbed Lucky's jacket and made her way out of her seat.

Lucky followed Trisha.

They rushed out the door.

"Liz?"

Harper and Lucky walked over to Elizabeth who was seated on a bench. Her painting was thrown in the trash bin and her face was streaked in tears.

"I let him get to me," she said quietly.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Trisha said, taking Liz's hand.

Lucky grabbed the painting from the trash and followed the women silently.

______

Lucky opened the door and directed them to a table at the back of Kelly's. He hated to see girls cry. There was nothing he could do or say to make them feel better. It was at times like this he wished he had paid closer attention to his mother. She was always telling him how girls were supposed to be treated, but did he ever listen?

Elizabeth wiped her eyes and settled onto the chair. The waitress came over and took their order, leaving the trio alone.

"He's a jerk!" Lucky burst into the silent conversation when he couldn't handle the quiet, tentative looks any longer.

Trisha looked up to silence him. "Lucky."

With a look of determination on his face Lucky continued, "No. No really, he is! If he can't see how talented you two are...well, then, he's nuts!"

"Thanks, Spence," Elizabeth sniffled, taking the napkin he offered her.

Trisha frowned. It was times like this that their differences really shined through. Where Trisha was laidback and unaffected by the grumpy Professor, Elizabeth was torn and hurt.

"Really, Liz, don't let this upset you. He tore up almost everyone's art." Harper attempted words of comfort which to her ears always came out wrong.

She was good at being a friend even if she didn't know it and Liz recognized her attempts.

"I know," Liz confided, wiping her eyes and cheeks with the starched cloth napkin. "But no one else called him a hack and stormed out. I'm such a complete idiot!"

She laughed and it sounded bitter even to her own ears. Running her fingers through her hair, she was not pleased with the tangled knots her fingers separated, causing mild pain.

"You're not an idiot," Trisha said softly, rubbing her back.

"Not an idiot?" She laughed again, this time harsher. Her face was red and her eyes were raw, and the thing that was broken the most was her spirit. The fire and energy that was all Elizabeth Imogene Webber was forgotten for the time being, taken over by self-pity and loathing. "I just ruined my only chance of getting a recommendation from one of the top art professors in the country; I'd say that makes me an idiot."

"Hon, no one likes to be told that something they've worked very hard on is mediocre. I'd say you took it quite well considering some of the other tantrums you've had in your life."

Elizabeth smiled and looked up into the eyes of one of her best friends. "I do throw quite the good tantrum, don't I?" She laughed softly.

"Liz, you own the patent on great tantrums!" Trisha affirmed reassuringly.

"Some of the best," Lucky interjected.

"Thanks, guys." Elizabeth smiled and wiped her face. "I'm starved. Crying really takes a lot out of a girl."

"Tell me about it!" Lucky sighed.

__________

Elizabeth was in a good mood--no a great mood. Her time at the monastery had been so inspirational. It seemed every time she went there she was struck by plenty of ideas. And after the disappointment with Dr. Sharpy, she really needed some inspiration.

Sonny had become such a good friend to her. He was like the big brother she never had. Even though, technically, she did have a half-brother who was the product of an extramarital affair on her father’s part. But he was much older and a jerk, so she never did see much of him. Besides he was always the golden child. And she hated being in his shadow. Blood relations did not always dictate how you would get along with someone and it was definitely true for Liz and her brother. All he ever did was tease her when they were kids and now that they were adults she'd had little to no contact with him for years.

Then there was Jason.

Big, strong, Jason Morgan. Just the thought of him made her face flush and her heart beat quicken. Those damn eyes of his were going to be the death of her! And his hands. Such large, beautiful hands. She giggled softly to herself, remembering the way he'd touched her face and how alive it made her feel; how much she wanted him to touch her again and not just in a friendly way. She smiled, thinking of all the wicked ways he could touch her, even though it had been so long since she'd wanted to be touched. Jason was a mystery she wanted to solve and would do her damnedest to coax him out of his shell, maybe even get him talking again.

So Sonny fit the bill of big brother more than her real one ever had and she was enjoying it.

And Jason... was nothing like a brother.

Sonny had fed her so many times over the past week she thought she would surprise him with a special treat. Using her small oven, that had been a gift from her grandmother, she slaved all day making cookies and brownies in her cramped studio. She wrapped them up in cellophane, stuck them in a metal container and completed the package with pink ribbon, creating curls by pulling the strings taut and then running the blade of her scissors over it. She felt a little Martha Stuart like; it was a good thing she didn't own any stocks.

Sticking the package into her backpack, she threw in her small sketchbook and some pencils before she zipped it up and lugged it over her shoulder.

__

A light snow was just beginning to fall when she knocked on the door.

Elizabeth stood motionless.

Jason, casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, stood face-to-face with her. Blue was a good color on him. It made his eyes pop—those incredibly intense eyes that were now focused solely on her.

"Hi, Jason," she said, surprised to find her voice steady. Her chin wobbled from the icy chill that had her frozen to the bone and her smile felt a little crooked.

Jason shifted out of the way, permitting her entrance into the toasty house. It didn’t take a genius to see she was freezing.

"It's getting cold out," she said absently, squeezing past him.

Unconsciously, even as she tried to block it from her brain, she inhaled and an undercurrent of something spicy, almost like cinnamon only not quite as strong, invaded her senses. She found herself leaning into Jason, trying to get to the source. And then there was something softer, something lighter beyond the smells coming from the house and oven and beyond the crackling fire. There was Jason.

After what Sonny had told her, she wasn't quite sure how to act around Jason. Now that she knew he had a reason for keeping his distance, she felt weird. He wasn't just the big ogre that made her heart race anymore. Now he was the wounded soul that had a reason to be angry and distant…but that didn't make her heart race any less. Deep down, she wanted to take care of him. If he'd let her.

Jason nodded and closed the door, brushing off the snow that had fallen onto his shoulder in the short time. He stood there looking at her until she shifted and he sensed he was making her uncomfortable.

"Is Sonny around?" She waited, watching his eyes flicker with some emotion before the mask of indifference was back in place.

"Did someone call my name?" Sonny asked, slipping into the kitchen, darting looks between his best friend and the girl he'd come to adore. "Elizabeth, I'm glad to see you! Here, let me take your jacket."

Jason turned, went back to the kitchen table and picked up the pad of paper he'd been calculating expenses on.

"Hi," she said, not able to hide the smile that lit her face. She handed Sonny her coat.

"Yesterday was the big critique, right?" Sonny began to tie his usual apron around his waist. He faced her, waiting expectantly.

"If you could call it that," she said tightly, trying to hide the bitter sting in her voice.

"So what did your teacher say about those wonderful paintings you've been doing?"

"My professor didn't like my work." She frowned.

Sonny was at a momentary loss for words. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I know it wasn't my best work, but I thought he would at least consider the effort I put into it. I'll just have to try harder." She sighed and shook her head. "The problem is I really am giving it my all. I'm starting to doubt myself. Maybe I'm not good enough, Sonny."

Sonny came around the counter and patted her shoulder lightly. "Miss Webber, I think you are very talented and I don't like to hear you talk so negatively. Is being an artist what you really want?"

Jason glared at the pair and could barely stand the closeness, not only physically, but emotionally. They seemed to have a bond and for some reason it made him feel sick. Elizabeth never talked to him about her art; didn't talk to him that much at all for that matter. Not that he'd made himself accessible or would be able to answer her back. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did.

"I want it more than anything!" she declared.

"Then go for it. If you want it bad enough, you will succeed. Now stop doubting yourself and go draw something."

He smiled and pulled her against his side for a short hug.

"Thanks, Sonny. Here.” Elizabeth presented him the container with the brownies she had made. “I made these for you."

"Oh,” she said, pulling out more containers, “and these are for Johnny and Francis. I know Johnny has a real sweet tooth," she added, handing him two smaller packages with tags printed in calligraphy and just as neatly wrapped.

Then her face dropped.

"Oh, I-I forgot about Jason." She turned to Jason and frowned. "I'm sorry."

How the hell had she forgotten about a man who'd occupied her dreams more times than she cared to remember? She watched him, saw the frown on his face and felt just awful. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Sonny opened the package and took a bite of the brownie. "They're very good," he told her after he'd swallowed.

"Here, Jason, try one."

Jason shook his head and went back to writing.

"Oh come on, just try one. I'm not trying to poison you, if that's what you’re worried about…although that does give me a good idea." Elizabeth laughed, taking a brownie and bringing it towards him. "Just try it."

He looked up just when the brownie began to make its descent against his mouth.

Elizabeth’s fingers brushed his lips and it warmed her through. She could feel the hot burst of air against her skin and the surprising pleasure that came with it.

Jason felt it, too. His lips tingled from her touch and they ached to taste her skin; her lips; other parts of her body. His eyes widened in surprise. He spared a glance at Sonny who was smiling like he'd set the whole thing up himself.