My Heartache

By JasonElizabethMorgan

Author's note: Hey all. I know that this is short and can't even be classified as a fic but I am very pleased with it. Please let me know what you think. I've been wanting to write this since the day Elizabeth walked out but just didn't have the inspiration or the emotional drive. This is dedicated to Renee who wanted the heart-felt emotion. You finally broke my muse into writing this. And it proves that we are true Jason fan's. Enjoy.

Where did my life go wrong? Was it when I got into a car with a known drunk? Was it when I woke up and didn't know who I was? You would think that this would have broken me but it only made me stronger. There were two experiences that would change my life forever. Let me tell you of them…

I had a son, not a biological son, but he was my son all the same. I gave up my entire existance to care for him. The funny thing is I never minded. I would have done anything, still would do anything for my little boy. Until one day the woman I thought I loved ruined my life in one single moment. She betrayed me…she betrayed my son. For someone who claimed to love me she sure chose one hell of a way to show it. I told her that we were through and that I never wanted to see her or speak to her again…and I meant it.

I never got over the pain of losing Michael and I never will. But I met someone who helped lessen the pain. She captured my heart from the moment I laid eyes on her.

I saved her from herself and I comforted her in her time of need. Then I got shot and wanted to die. But she made me live. She's my guardian angel. We were never officially together but in my heart we were and always will be.

We shared so many memories (good and bad), dreams, and countless bike rides. Two kisses that made me realize how much I craved her, wanted her, needed her...loved her.

And then it happened she walked away. My then repaired heart once again shattered. That day haunts me, torments me.

Everyday I walk into my penthouse expecting to see her smiling face, and then reality hits me like a ton of bricks. Her afghan isn't strewn across the back of the leather couch. There are no sketchbooks on the coffee table. There is no singing, no art, no half finished game of pool. No sign of life…no Elizabeth.