Eyes. Hundreds of eyes watching her every move and all she can think about is the fact that she is the sole living Webber to walk this earth. Other than her own immediate family, the last five generations of Webbers had chosen to be a one child family. Factoring in unforeseeable circumstances, natural disasters, old age, disease, and plain old stupidity, the already minute amount of Webbers has boiled down to one sole heir. Her.
And as she takes her seat in the front pew of the church, her grandmother's body mere feet from her spot near the alter, all she can think about is how unlikely this all this. How many people in all the world can say that they have no family. Literally. Not a single chance of a blood relative anywhere in the world. Its just unlikely. Somehow, someway, everyone has a blood relative somewhere in the world. But not her.
She can hear the whispers begin to spread through the church, many people interested in her story, just not the real version of it. For many years even she had questioned her own innocence, but the truth can't be changed. Not by anyone or anything.
Not even by guilt.
She wasn't responsible for what happened, no matter how badly the town wants to believe she was. For whatever reason, it happened, and she has chosen to accept it rather than allow it to swallow her whole. The amount of guilt that she had drowned herself in during the grieving of her family would have undoubtedly killed her by now if she hadn't made that choice. A choice she refuses to regret.
Just as the funeral mass begins, the double doors open, stealing the attention from Elizabeth for a brief moment. All in attendance share a collective gasp as Jason Morgan steps through the threshold, pausing by his sister to see how she was holding up before continuing his venture down the aisle.
A couple of women divert their gossip from Elizabeth to the fact that Jason didn't burst into flames the moment he stepped into the holy church. Like many had believed he would. Most referring to Jason Morgan as the devil's spawn. So much for that theory, though, since he wasn't struck down by lightening or worse. What's even more shocking is the fact that he has shown up alone. A first for a man of Jason's caliber.
"Do you mind?" Jason does his best to keep his voice low, as to not disturb the funeral proceedings anymore than he has already.
"No." was all she could manage with him being the first person to actually speak to her since she first took a seat within the church. "Do you?"
"No."
"Okay then." she voices simply, scooting a spaces over to allow him to sit down, regardless of the vast emptiness on the other side of her and the two empty pews behind her. "Have a seat."
Utilizing the space offered to him, Jason silently lowers himself down onto the pew, giving her a good ten inches of space between them. Chancing a glace at her, he watches as she settles back into the pew, physically spent with the entire situation.
He's never had to handle another person's affairs after their passing, but he surmises that its quite a difficult task overall. Especially since you would obviously had to have loved the person. Coping with their death while simultaneously having to handle their affairs would undoubtedly leave a person physically and emotionally spent.
The ceremony continues on with whispers upon whispers spreading rapidly through the church. With the two most talked about people in Port Charles sharing the same pew, the rumor mill has regained a new age of life, spilling out rapidly changing theories with every second passing.
Quite a few people take to the podium to voice a few words about the dearly departed for the the mere chance of a simple glance at the two seated together. Firm in their stature, they remain unaffected by the eyes, no matter how blatant the stares may be. It wasn't anything new for either of them. Nothing they haven't endured time and time again.
Though she has always believed she'd be saying a few words at her grandmother's funeral, circumstances prevent such a desire, leaving her with only one other option. Saying a few words in honor of her grandmother in the privacy of her own home. Away from the prying eyes and shameless gossip.
The congregation separately travel from the church to the graveyard to watch as the elder woman is laid to rest. Just as the priest calls for the lowering of the casket, Elizabeth steps forward as all wait with bated breath, curious of what she was about to do. Pulling a single red rose from the inside of her jacket, she whispers a soft I love you before tossing the rose into the hole.
Staring into the darkness that her grandmother has just been lowered into, she feels her strength begin to slip away, the true reality beginning to set in around her. Her grandmother's gone. For all her faults and all she lacked, she had been a beautiful soul. A beautiful woman inside and out. The realization that she would no longer walk this earth hits Elizabeth like a ton of bricks.
"Its okay." a voice whispers from behind her as a pair of strong hands hold together whatever's left of her. "You're not alone."
"Aren't I?" she counters, instinctively pulling his arms around her, needing the protection he seems to be offering to her. "My entire family...everyone I love...they're all gone. If that's not alone, I don't what is."
"Come on." he says as soft as possible, not wanting to startle her. "Lets get you away from here."
"Can't." she mutters, glancing over their shoulders at the collective paparazzi behind the barricade, held back by none other than Port Charles' finest. "It'll be hours before they leave."
"Trust me?"
"If not you, then who?" she replies simply, allowing him to sling his jacket around her before guiding her away from her grandmother's burial, still uncertain of why she was placing any form of trust in him. With everyone against her, she surmises that she just wants to be able to find a friendly face in the craziness that is her life.
Placing a single phone call, Jason had his men at the cemetery within moments, making a barricade of their own while simultaneously making a walkway for them to leave without being bombarded by flashing lights and eager paparazzi. As she passes through the opening, she's unable to fight off the urge to look into each and every one of the men's eyes, finding a look within them that leaves her feeling, above anything else, safe.
"You live here?" she questions in a tone that's not familiar to him, making a small turn to take in the living room. "Strange."
"How?"
"The man I remember..." she turns to meet his eyes straight on. "This place just doesn't seem like a place he'd stay."
"You remember me?"
"It had been a very brief moment...but yes." she shakes her head. "I remember you."
Winter at its lowest peak, your breath visibly thick with every exhale you make, it had been one of the strangest times to be out in the cold air, but there she was. Making her way through the deep snow in nothing but a plain white t-shirt and blue denim jeans, she walks through the foliage until she comes upon an abandoned boxcar. Clearly noting that no one was around for miles, all that could be heard was the wild life in the area, all visibly searching for warmth and shelter from this bitter cold.
Utilizing whatever strength she possessed, she yanked open the freezing cold boxcar door, swiftly hopping up onto the flooring. Dangling her feet over the side, she slips her hand into the back of her jeans to grip onto her favorite most prized possession, the gun he had received from the president himself.
Its supposed to remain in her father's study, never to be used, but times have changed. Staring down at the piece, she takes a deep breath, building up the courage to finally put herself out of her misery. With her entirely family ripped from her grasp, she just couldn't see a reason to keep living. She just didn't see anything left for her in this world.
Then, in a bloody stupor, he stumbles his way into her world, causing every last thought of killing herself to disappear from her mind. All her concern focused upon the man that has found himself in her orbit, near death, from a bullet wound of all things. Setting down her father's gun, she rushes to his aid.
After following his every instruction, getting him the help that he had so desperately needed, she takes her place yet again in the doorway of that abandoned boxcar, staring down at the gun that had been resting in her hands moments before. From the gun, her eyes travel to the blood that has begun to dry upon her white t-shirt, imagining for a moment that it was her own blood.
"Hello?" she answers her cellphone, her eyes still focused on the blood.
"Its me." he voices. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm okay." she replies offhandedly barely paying attention. "I hope you will be, too."
"I know what you were going to do." he admits, shocking her to her core and forcing her attention. "Don't. Its not worth it."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I just am." he says simply. "Trust me."
And just like that, with those simple words, Elizabeth's thought as of suicide is squelched for good, leading her to meet with a therapist in order to deal with what is later labelled survivor's guilt. For someone in his condition to take the time to tell her to stay alive, it was like a message from the God's. A miracle, if you will, and she refused to ignore it.
"Some way to meet a guy, huh?" she chuckles in spite of the pain she feels, slowly lowering herself onto his couch. "I worried about you, you know? Up until I saw you on my way out of town, I had no idea if you survived or not."
"I meant to call again." he finds himself confessing, sliding his things out of the way before slightly sitting on his desk. "I was going through some stuff."
"We saved each other." she waves off his guilt. "Nothing we did warranted a follow up call."
"I..."
Before he could finish, a knock sounds at the door, stopping the words that had threatened to fall from his lips. Giving her an apologetic look, he rises to his feet to see who has decided to grace him with their presence.
Admittedly, he probably should have known it would be his sister. Always the one to get the latest gossip, regardless of whether or not it actually pertains to her. One of the few things that tests his patience about her.
"Emily."
"Jason." she replies, meeting his eyes. "Are you going to let me in?"
"I'm heading out."
"Where's your jacket then?" she counters, looking at him with suspicious eyes. "You never leave without it."
"I never said I was ready."
"So, if you're not ready, you have time to let me in."
"Emily." he states firmly. "I know why you're here and its not happening."
"But..."
"Go home." Jason says plainly, placing a soft kiss upon her forehead. "Don't you have a date to get ready for?"
Gesturing for Marco to escort his sister back downstairs, he closes the door, refusing to continue the back and forth with her. Something in his eyes gives Elizabeth the sinking feeling that the entire encounter was about her. She wants to question it, but she doesn't. Instead, she rises to her feet and gathers her things to leave.
"You don't have to go."
"Actually, I do." Elizabeth counters, walking up to him before kissing his cheek. "Thank you for what you did for me today. Goodbye, Jason."
"Look..."
"And about your sister...apologize." she says as she pulls open the door. "We both know you lied and I'm not going to be the reason for it. Your kinship is important...cherish it."
Watching her walk out of the room, Jason reaches for the phone, knowing that he had every right to turn her away, but also knowing that Elizabeth was right. So, in the spirit of making things right, he'll make plans with her, but he draws the line at apologizing. Because he wasn't sorry. Not in the least.
