A/N: I'm back! But just for a short piece. I hope you like it :).

A Killer Suitcase

Part 1

Such a long day it had been. With my usual luck, my flight had been delayed, more than three hours, leaving me with no other option but to restlessly wait at the airport terminal with not much to do but window shop and read fashion magazines cover to cover. Finally the Port Charles flight had been called for boarding and four hours later I was landing. As much as I had enjoyed taking a break to visit my parents for a few days, I was pretty glad to be home.

So glad I was to get back to my simple life, the life Mr. and Mrs. Webber had not failed to qualify as underachieving. "Elizabeth don't you want more for yourself? Look at your brother and your sister… blah blah blah." They had said to me, but I had mastered the art of pretending to listen to their well intentioned but destructive comments. I already knew I was considered the black sheep of the family, the one who had shamed our name by going on to study art and who was now working as a waitress to pay her bills instead of being more of a Meredith Grey saving lives in breakthrough surgery.

But honestly I was never fond of opening people up anyway; all I ever needed was a paintbrush and a blank canvas to make myself happy. And I was happy with my simple life, no matter what my parents thought of it.

I was waiting arms crossed for the baggage carousel to start moving. Finally it began rolling and luckily, the black suitcase I had borrowed from my dad after the handle on my old beat-up travel bag broke, was one of the first to appear. I struggled to pull it off the belt while I could swear it felt heavier than before but I attributed to bad memory.

In no time I was hopping in the underground and forty-five minutes later, finally home. I had missed my studio so much. It was tiny, had a bit of a humidity problem and I could hear all my neighbors' arguments but it was my home. I was very tempted to crash on the sofa-bed and just relax given it was already so late, but I convinced myself it was probably wiser to unpack first or it wouldn't get done for another week.

"Come on Liz! Don't be lazy." I told myself out loud to gather some courage and then went to open the bag. That's when I realized there was a lock on it. I never locked my suitcase, and could not remember my dad doing it for me before I took off for the airport. I double-checked the suitcase to make sure it was mine then looked for the airline tag only to remember I had trashed it at the airport.

"Oh shit!" I immediately exclaimed. Had I taken some random person's bag home?

"Crap!" I then said, as I inspected the luggage. I was a hundred percent sure it was the same bag in which I had packed my things earlier, what were the odds that someone would have the exact same suitcase? Maybe my father really had locked it and forgot to give me the key? That would be simply crazy I thought, but I wouldn't know for sure until I opened the bag. Just to be sure, I convinced myself.

I grabbed a hairpin and in a trick I learned from my thrilling teenage years I forced the lock. I was pretty happy to know I hadn't lost what I considered to be quite the useful skill.

I unzipped the bag, fueled with curiosity about what I would find inside and was quickly able to confirm that there had definitely been a mix up as I was in possession of someone else's belongings. Someone who very much fancied black, I thought as I gently looked through the dark clothes it contained.

Under the few neatly folded black shirts and pants was a locked case; which I could have sworn looked like a riffle case, like the ones you can see in spy movies. Or was it purely my imagination? In all fairness, it could also have been a music instrument. It was locked too, but I decided I had already gone too far in my snooping. Now what?

My best bet was to call the airline, which I immediately did, but was placed on hold interminably. I was stuck with someone else things while my clothes, which I happened to like very much, were lost out there somewhere. So I waited patiently, while I alternated between biting my nails and my lips, as I listened to the unnerving standby music. And suddenly a loud knock at the door startled me. It was past midnight and I wasn't expecting anyone.

"Who is it?" I yelled, knowing whoever was at the door would have no problem hearing me given how thin my walls were.

I didn't get a reply and thought now was not the time for whomever that was to play hide and seek with me. I had to figure out where my bag was and make sure the person who owned the black clothes could get their stuff back. So I hung up the phone and walked to the door. I looked through the eye but no one was there. So I opened to poke my head out and before I knew it, a man dressed in all black lounged at me and pushed me back inside my studio, closing the door behind him.

I had dropped the phone. My legs were shaking with fear.

"Wh… wh… who are you? What do you want?" I asked the tall man; that was just before I noticed he was holding a gun in his right hand. "Oh… oh ok…" I instinctively put my hands up.

"Sit down!" He firmly ordered me and I did what he asked without thinking twice, the gun was a very persuasive argument.

"Is this about the bag?" I said looking towards what I considered must have been the reason for the sudden intrusion. "Look, it was a simple mistake, I promise. I didn't mean to steal your stuff... I mean not steal; steal is the wrong word… I…"

"Who do you work for?" He interrupted me. "What were you looking for?" I guess my rambling didn't go over so well. He then went to inspect the bag, which I had left opened. Stupid me!

"No one… nothing! I was just on vacation for a few days, I went to visit my parents they live in Colorado." I wasn't even sure why I was volunteering the hostile stranger personal details about my life.

"Stop talking. Just tell me, who asked you to take this bag?" He asked, as he made sure nothing was missing, the gun still pointed at me.

I wondered how I could stop talking and answer his question at the same time, but didn't want to piss him off, as the man seemed a bit paranoid. "No one, it was an honest mistake. I promise, I'm not part of whatever conspiracy you seem to think is against you." I said, while tears started forming in my eyes. I was scared for my life.

"And you opened a bag that didn't belong to you by mistake too?" His gaze was cold and unforgiving.

"That was just so I could figure out who owned the bag and return it to them, nothing else." I justified… or tried to.

"Right." He said then closed the suitcase.

I decided to use this opportunity to plead for my life. "I swear, I didn't mean to take your things. I was just on the phone with the airline to find my bag and make sure you found yours. Just take it and leave." My voice was breaking. "I won't speak a word of this to anyone... Look, I am a good person, there was only a time when I rebelled in high school but I haven't done anything stupid since then and…"

He turned back to fix me, and only then I really noticed the tall man had gorgeous blue eyes and an equally handsome face. At that moment I may have understood this whole Stockholm syndrome thing. "I believe you when you say this was a mistake, but unfortunately you've already seen too much."

My breathing started to accelerate, I knew what that meant; I watched a lot of TV series. "Please don't do this, don't kill me. I never thought I would die over a damn suitcase... Please, I will forget this ever happened as soon as you leave."

"You could always run to the police, tell them about this, about me being here." His tone kept calm when he spoke, he didn't seem like the kind of man who panicked... ever.

"I would never!" I promised, and I meant it, I didn't want any trouble. All I wanted was to get back to my simple life. "Please." I let out, almost in a whisper.

He looked down at me straight in the eyes again and I could feel that whatever I thought he needed to do, he didn't want to. I unconsciously let out a sigh of relief while I wished he would just put the gun down. "My name is Elizabeth. Elizabeth Webber, I'm a waitress, I live a very boring life here in Port Charles, I don't know many people and I beg you to please just go and let me pretend this never happened... I'm really good at pretending."

It worked. He finally let the gun down.

I nodded, a faint smile forming on my lips. We had made progress.

"You can help me."

"What? Help you? I'm not sure that's a good idea… look, why don't you just take the bag and go?" I told him, from the couch where I had been since he ordered me to sit.

"First you need to do something for me."

I cleared my throat as my heart beat vividly in my chest. It took me a few more seconds before I could say anything. "Alright… what is it that you need help with exactly?"

"You work at the Metro Court right?"

"How do you… how do you know that?" I stuttered in shock.

He didn't answer and just locked his striking baby blue eyes on me.

"You went through my stuff didn't you?" I asked, realizing it was the only way he could have known that. I slept in a Team Metro Court t-shirt all employees had received last year. "Unbelievable! And I was feeling bad for opening your suitcase!"

"It was unlocked. Who doesn't lock their luggage?" He dared to tell me.

"Well I don't have anything to hide!" I said outraged and wondering who would ever want to steal my dirty laundry and old clothes.

"Are you always so careless?" He asked with a straight face.

"Uh... Are you always so paranoid?" I retorted then pouted my mouth to the side. Seeing his face I had made a good point. I giggled, he smiled; he had a beautiful smile. "Besides, that lock you had on your bag was a joke."

"Alright, and where did you learn how to pick a lock?" He crossed his arms.

"I said I was a good person, but I have dated my share of bad boys in my youth, and they thought me all sorts of things..." I said then realized the conversation had diverged. "Anyway, what do you need help with?"

He shook his head then pulled a phone from his pocket and showed me a picture. "Is this man staying at the hotel?"

I stood up and took a quick look at the photo then crossed my arms. It was an older man with a head full of salt and pepper hair and matching beard, thick eyebrows and dark eyes. "I could lose my job for answering this question. We are supposed to respect the privacy of our guests so honestly I don't see one good reason to help you right now."

He pointed the gun back at me; the message was clear.

"Oh you totally would have shot me already if you really wanted to do that." I brazenly said, against all reason and strangely enough he smiled. His somber face illuminated instantly. I grinned, and didn't stay insensitive to his beautiful mouth, until my eyes fell on the gun again. I swallowed that grin.

"Look, Elizabeth. You're funny and you're right, I don't want to hurt you so just answer my question and you'll never have to see me again."

I let out a deep sigh. "If I tell you what you want to know, will you really give me back my bag?"

He nodded.

"Ok." I said. "Yes, he has been staying at the hotel since a couple months ago at least, and he's a particularly rude guest and a really bad tipper if you were wondering."

"I wasn't." He told me with a straight face and then added. "Thanks Elizabeth."

"You're welcome… hmm…" I stopped mid-sentence, as I still didn't know my charming but incredibly intimidating intruder's name.

"It's Jason." He told me. I wasn't expecting him to tell me.

I felt lucky so I went for it. "So what's your deal, Jason? Are you a spy or something? An undercover government agent, or a plain old criminal?"

"I'm not going to answer that." He told me, and I could swear I saw another grin form on his lips. He really seemed to like my sense of humor after all.

"I mean, you clearly live a dangerous life, you carry a gun and you've got some pretty unusual things in your suitcase. By the way, does TSA really let you fly with that stuff?"

"Not of your concern." He said and then went quiet. My curiosity was running high, I was pretty convinced that the bag contained some serious artillery. My unwanted guest's demeanor and the fact that he didn't have access to proper law enforcement resources to find out if someone was booked in a hotel made me presume he was more on the illegal side of things.

Then a thought came up to me. "You know what, that guy you showed me… I've always been curious about who he is, because he is always surrounded by bodyguards, even when he comes up to have his usual nightcap. I always wondered if he was part of the mafia or something... is he?"

"He's a pretty dangerous man. The less you know, the better."

"Dangerous… like you?" I asked, fixing my gaze on Jason, observing his beautiful features in details, determined not to let go until I got a reaction out of him. Instead he looked away.

He went to pick up his bag and tucked his gun in his back. "Thanks for the tip." He said then turned around to leave.

The next few words rolled out of my tongue before I could even think them through. "Wait a second!" I called out.

He turned back around silently.

"I… I… before you leave, I could really use a hand actually." I told him while one of my hands played with my hair.

"You need help with something?" He looked perplexed.

I nodded. "Yes… my pipes… Under my sink, they've been acting up for weeks and you actually look like the kind of guy who knows a thing or two about tools… not just guns…"

"You want me to help you with your plumbing?"

"Can you?" I asked, not missing an opportunity. "I mean, I'm sure you have more important business to tend to but that would really, really help me out actually. Plumbers don't come very cheap these days... plus I just risked my very well paying waitressing job to help you so it's only fair you give me a hand."

He looked at me with a puzzled look for a few seconds then dropped his bag on the floor instantly and walked to the sink to inspect the damage.

I could never have imagined how the next half hour transpired given how Jason had barged into my studio gun in hand and looking as if he wouldn't have hesitated one second to pull the trigger on me. This man was now chuckling at my funny comments with his head tucked under my sink. I talked while he tweaked the pipes.

Jason didn't speak much, and avoided answering most of my questions like where he had been traveling to, saying he couldn't tell me for my own good... whatever that meant. He was very concentrated on the task at hand, and would only offer the occasional follow up question like: "Did that really happen?"

"Oh yea! It's a five star but some really weird dudes come into this hotel, I'll tell you that." I answered.

"Then why do you keep working there?" He asked, while he emerged back from under the sink and let the water run to check his handy work.

"The tips are great. Plus unfortunately Port Charles doesn't have a big art scene so my degree won't take me very far here." I told him then smiled. I watched him wipe his hands with a kitchen towel then decided to change the subject. "Quick question, did you really think I had taken your suitcase on purpose? Who would do that?"

He shook his head. "I realized instantly that it was an honest mistake, but you're never too careful. Plus I saw a link with the Metro Court and went for it. Sorry if I scared you.

If? Certainly he knew he had almost made me pee my pants. "And sorry again for taking your bag, I really should be more careful… and what about my stuff?"

"You're bag's outside your door." He told me with a grin then held my tiny hand in his. My heart was pounding in my chest. He finally let go and said. "Take care, Elizabeth."

I didn't know why but I felt compelled to ask him to stay just a bit longer, but I let him walk out, my eyes lingering on the door and my heart still beating vividly while I wondered if I would ever see the mysterious Jason again.

Will Elizabeth see the mysterious Jason again and if so in what circumstances? What's your guess? Find out soon in part 2!