[Prompt - You are marching into the unknown armed with – nothing. – You've Got Mail]
Chapter 10
End of January
"You're always so quiet," Jason muttered, shuffling his feet against the wooden planks of the docks as he looked over at Elizabeth.
She shrugged, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat, her head hangingung and her curls full of snowflakes. He already tried several times to convince her to go home, but she'd insisted she was fine, that she enjoyed the winter night air, though he really knew it was more about keeping him out of the house.
Thankfully, her complications with the Quartermaines hads ceased, probably because he agreed to stay at the mansion as long as he could come and go as he pleased, which usually meant coming and going with Elizabeth. He could see the way they looked at her, almost nervous, as if she was capable of doing something horrible, but Jason found it easier notthan to ask a lot of questions.
In the couple of weeks he'd been at the mansion, he'd learned the way their family worked – that they were used to getting what they wanted, and that Jason came before anyone else. He didn't understand why they felt like they were owed something simply because they were wealthy, and he couldn't figure out why they cared so much for someone who didn't remember them.
"I guess I never know what to say," Elizabeth replied, tipping her head in his direction, a timid smile on her face. "I just want you to get out of there from time to time. Nothing against your family, but they're a tad overbearing."
"Yeah," he agreed, clearing his throat as they approached the end of the dock.
It had become a simple routine; Elizabeth picked him up and drove him around town, explaining where things were and what building was owned by whom, and they ended every evening at the docks, where they stood side by side and looked out over the water. She talked so little about herself, focusing more on simply showing Jason thethe town, and not pressuringnot wanting himJason to remember, but mostly to show him what was there.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, continuing to look out over the harbor, not sure if he was really allowed to ask her things.
"You can ask me anything," she replied softly, swallowing hard as she narrowed her gaze, looking as though she was trying to find something, but couldn't.
"Why do the Quartermaines – why arewere they so mean to you?" he stammered, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
Her eyes widened as she sucked in a breath. "It's complicated, I guess," she sighed, turning away and walking over to the lone bench that was nestled comfortably between two bushes. "There's not much freedom that comes with being a Quartermaine. You're entire life is figured out before you even have it, and Jason – he fought against that, but eventually gave in. They're tricky people, who think that controlling the ones you love is love. Deep down, I think they mean well, and really, it's all they've ever known to do…"
"Except Lila," he said, walking over and hesitating to sit down beside her. She smiled softly and tossed her head towards the empty space on the bench, leaving him to and he wondered if she knew what he felt when he was close to her.
Safety.
Elizabeth was quiet and tender, and he found more solace in her presence than he had anything else since his accident. She was always on time to see him, never once cancelling their drives, and though it had only been a week or so since they'd been doing this, it had become the one thingwhat he looked forward to. Knowing what waited at the end of the day helped him ignore the Quartermaines fighting, their pressure to be who he used to be, and it settled some of the anger he felt.
"Don't tell anyone," Elizabeth teased, her smile widening, "but Lila's my favorite. She's been like a mother to me. I don't know what I would have done or where I would have ended up without her."
"You've know the Quartermaines for a while," he commented, the leather of his jacket rubbing together as he leaned back against the bench.
"Too long," she chuckled, her voice hitching like it always did when Jason started to ask questions, which was why he asked so few.
And why he hadn't asked the one that had been eating at him for the last few days.
"Can I ask you something else?" he asked, smoothing his hands over the thighs of his jeans.
Why did she make him so nervous?
"You can ask me anything," she repeated, adjusting her scarf around her neck when a frosty breeze blew off the water.
"Okay, two things," he replied, turning towards her, not surprised when she didn't look at him. "Why are you so patient with me?"
"And the other?" she asked, swallowing hard, her eyes hardening as theyit often did when they broachinged the subject of Jason Quartermaine.
"How did you know him?" he asked, noticing how her eyes flashed briefly and her smile instantly faded.
"I'm patient," she started, licking her chapped lips, "because you need time to figure out who you are and what you want." She tugged at her scarf again and let out a shaky breath. "Edward said you were looking for a job."
He nodded, almost grinning at how she'd not so subtly changed the subject and avoided his second question. "I want to make my own money. Move out. Get a place of my own. I don't like living with the Quartermaines – or rather off their bank account."
"You have all of that," she said softly, dropping her gaze when her eyes filled with tears. "Money. A place to live. But I understand that you want something that's yours."
"Yeah," he muttered, confused by her response, but figuring he'd asked enough questions for one evening.
"Did you really go to one of the warehouses?" she asked, pushing herself up from the bench.
Sometimes she cried when she thought he wasn't looking, and he worried that being around him was hurting her, butand he couldn't understand why. He didn't know who she was or how they were connected, and he may have been brain damaged, but anyone could figure out that there was something more here.
"I saw an ad in the paper," he replied, grimacing as he recalled how awful Edward had acted when he learned his beloved grandson had gone looking for a job with a mobster. "It pays well and I think I could be good at it. When I met Sonny yesterday, he didn't look at me like everyone else."
"How do they look at you?" she asked, turning around and looking him in the face for the first time that night.
"I can't explain it," he shrugged, getting up from the bench and walking over to her. "It's like they see things – things that I can't."
**********
Groaning, Jason tossed his keys down on the desk by the door of his room at Jake's, painfully fumbling for the switch to the lamp.
"Need some help?"
Swearing under his breath, he looked over his shoulder to see Carly sietting on the bed, silhouetted by the thin stream of moonlight that poured in through the window. She was wearing tight jeans and a low cut shirt like she always did, and he couldn't fight the almost primal desire that ripped through him. He was torn between being relieved that she could help him forget about this awful night and throwing her out on her ass for being in his room. "How did you get in here?"
"I have my ways," she murmured, easing herself off the edge of the bed and walking over to him. "I thought you'd be around tonight. You know, play a game of pool and then…You never showed up, so I asked Coleman if I could just wait."
"And you couldn't wait downstairs?" he asked, tensing up at the thought of her being in his room alone. He didn't have very many things – nothing incriminating -, but this was his place.
"I didn't know how long you would be. I got impatient. You know I don't like to wait," she purred, swaying her hips as she walked over to him. "Coleman said you might be staying at your penthouse. I couldn't believe it. Jason Morgan has a penthouse."
"I don't stay there," he muttered, easing his gun from the back of his jeans where he'd carefully nestled it just as Sonny showed him. He flicked the safety off and opened one of the desk drawers, looking over to see if Carly saw what he'd done.
If she had, she said nothing about it.
The meeting in the city hadn't gone exactly as planned, and Jason was feeling the aftermath. As Sonny expected, the Five Families weren't receptive to his deal with Anthony Zacchara, but they had learned what happened if they spoke out against the fiery Cuban. Instead of arguing with him during the meeting, he was ambushed on the way out. Gun shots ripped through the alley behind the building, and almost instinctively, Jason had reached for his gun as he shoved Sonny into the limo. He didn't feel anything afterwards, no sense of regret or anger, or even worry ied that he would be caught for what he'd done. It came easily, naturally, as if he was made for this, and he wondered if Sonny had known that about him all along.
His boss was quiet the entire way back until they reached the city limits, and he turned to Jason, sincerely thanking him for saving his life. He said he expected something like this, but didn't believe the Five Families would turn on him, and Jason didn't want to believe it either. It was clear in the meeting that the men disliked his choice, but they respected Sonny, trusted him even, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was a set up from a larger power.
"Moving up in the business?" Carly asked, stepping up behind him and sliding his arms around his waist.
She had seen him.
"I'm tired," he muttered, hissing when her hands roamed over the muscles of his stomach and kneaded them against her palms.
"And a little beaten up," she whispered, gently pushing his shirt up, her hands skimming over the dark bruises that had already started to appear. "Maybe you should get checked out, Jason. These look-"
"I'm fine," he replied, pulling her hands away from him and turning around so that he was facing her. "If you want to help, you know what to do, otherwise…I'm tired."
She arched her eyebrow, and for a second, he thought he'd offended her, but then he remembered that wasn't possible. The first night he met Carly she'd walked over to him and interrupted his pool game, and five minutes later, he'd taken her upstairs and this had started.
It was far from the normal kind of relationship that men and women had, but he learned it was common at Jake's. Two lonely people finding one another over a few beers and making the best of it. He'd slept with other women at the bar, but none were as good as Carly. She got that he wanted a quick fix, one of them would leave soon after, and maybe the next time he saw her , he'd buy her a drink.
There were no expectations between them – unless gritty, satisfying sex counted – and he liked that he could get what he wanted and go. And Carly didn't look at him like the other women had; she wasn't afraid to touch him, to make demands, or take control, and she didn't mind just letting him lay there while she took care of things.
And that was just what he needed – wanted – tonight.
"You know," she said, nudging him towards the bed as she tugged off his shirt, "that I am always here to take care of things." She gently shoved him onto the bed, straddling him as she pulled her shirt over her head, and he wasn't surprised to find that she was without a bra.
That was another thing he liked; she came around with as little clothes as possible, so they could get things done and over with, and he could go back to work. Or playing pool. Or whatever the hell he felt like.
"Just lay back," she purred, skimming her hands over his chest as she pushed him back against the mattress, wiggling her hips against his, and purring when felt him harden between her legs. "That's it."
She continued to murmur her appreciations, whispering the dirtiest things he ever heard from a woman's lips as she eased off him long enough to undo the snap of his jeans and slip her hand in his pants. His hips bucked the second her fist closed around him, and he couldn't understand how she could make him so hard, so ready to explode, with the touch of her hand.
"Mmm," she groaned, pumping him in her hand as she stretched to brush her lips over his. "You like that?"
"Yeah," he grunted, skimming his hand up her bare back to her head, fisting it in her messy blonde hair. He tugged gently at first, then harder, and she took the hint and eased her way down, pulling her hand away from him to shove his jeans to his knees, before smoothing her hands over his thighs. His hips bucked off the bed when she finally took him in her mouth, and he tightened her hair around his fingers. "I like that better."
**********
Sonny had very few regrets in his life, having learned long ago that the business he was in didn't allow them. To be in his position was to make quick, clean cut decisions that were precise, often cutthroat, and sadly, they could never be taken back. There was no room to play around with what-ifs and question what might have been, which was precisely why he couldn't shake the sinking regret that swirled in the pit of his stomach.
Tonight, he'd asked Jason to do something life-changing. It was something Sonny had once been asked to do, and the moment he picked up that gun as a teenage boy, his entire life had changed. It was why he had the wealth and power he did now, and it had taken a lot of lives to get him to where he was, and now, he was easing Jason into it, and he wondered if the boy even realized what he'd done.
Sighing, he leaned forward and took a sip of his coffee as he watched Elizabeth wipe down the counter into the diner, looking up every now and then to talk to his father. Sonny really owed Mike for being so generous with Elizabeth. When he'd gone to him and explained the situation, his father had immediately promised to do whatever he could for the young woman, but wasn't sure how much Elizabeth would allow.
"Long day?"
Sonny looked up to see Mike making his way over, a cup of coffee in hand. "I had some meetings in the city."
"Ah," he replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from his son, knowing that something had happened tonight that may or may not requirewhere Sonny to need an may or may not be an alibi, and that was why he was here. "How bad was it?"
"Bad," he muttered, ignoring the worry that flickered across his father's face. "Jason saved my life."
Closing his eyes, he replayed the moment in his mind,; remembering how Jason had pulled the gun from his back, his arm outstretched and reaching for Sonny. He hadn't thought for a second about his own life or the people that loved him, and he'd put himself in the line of danger without thinking twice.
Why couldn't he have hesitated?
"Jason?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as he stirred cream into his cup, letting out a heavy sigh. "I thought he was working in the warehouse."
"He's too smart for that," Sonny replied defensively, knowing that his father would be on the same side as everyone else. He was the head of organized crime that had preyed on an unsuspecting man, but it wouldn't have been fair of him to turn Jason away. "He's a natural for this business – reading people, understanding them more than they probably understand themselves."
"He's been working for you for a month," Mike pointed out, clearing his throat as he looked over his shoulder to see Elizabeth carrying a bus bin to the kitchen. It was propped against her side, and both men sighed as they thought about the baby that was hiding beneath the apron. "And she trusts you – so does he."
"I can't make decisions for Jason," he said firmly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I told Elizabeth I would look out for him, but if he wants to move up in the business and make something more for himself-"
"He may be a good right hand man for you," he argued gently, shaking his head, "but that doesn't mean it's good for him. He respects you Sonny, looks up to you, and obviously would lay down his life for you."
"I know," he replied quietly, tightening his hands around his coffee mug as Elizabeth reappeared from the kitchen, looking exhausted. Sometimes when he looked at her, he saw his mother, working hard to keep it together, and desperately loving a man who didn't love her back. It wasn't fair. "She needs to rest. It's not good for her to work this hard."
"It's not work that's hurting her," Mike sighed, getting up from the table and clearing their dishes. "And this – when she finds out he's picked up a gun, that he's serving you and not packing coffee beans – it's going to hurt her more."