Prompt: The heart may freeze, or it can burn. The pain will ease if I can learn. There is no future, there is no past. I live this moment as my last.

Quick Babble: First off, it's very hard to leave clues and have them be subtle and junk when the end result is so obvious, lol. Second, Denelle just rocks with the art knowledge; you are a worthy foe, m'dear. ;) Just kidding! Also, Noodle asked who Robert's friend was – the one that told him, "Her name is Elizabeth." That friend is Tanganeva, Robert's old aboriginal childhood pal from Australia with whom he has a psychic connection. Also, many, many thanks to Amanda for being a hep cat. Okay, here we go (I went a little over). This is going to be bad.


The Battle Of Who Could Care Less – 11

The average healthy, well-adjusted adult would get up at six-fifteen in the morning feeling absolutely terrible.

But then again, Jason mused as he padded into the bathroom and spotted a petite brunette brushing her hair in front of the massive mirrors, few people in their right minds would call Elizabeth Webber 'average'.

The movements of the hairbrush she forced through her tangled wet locks stilled the moment her eyes locked with his in the mirror, and Jason met her gaze as he moved toward the shower stalls that lined the entire far wall. His black towel was slung onto the hook on the divider, and for a moment, Jason was about to turn and walk toward her. He wanted to know why she bolted upright out of bed last night, why she stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights, why her movements were so quick and jerky today even though her expressive eyes were frantic with calm.

Her sapphire orbs, laced with suspicion, the fear of being caught, remained trained squarely on his and with a small sigh, Jason eased back a step and slipped behind the heavy green shower curtain to wash up for the day ahead – a day that consisted of little else than arguing with Robert and Luke, doing one-handed push-ups, and scarfing down a humble meal at noon. Oh, the charms of the simple life.

After a moment, his pajama bottoms found the hook next to his towel and he turned on the shower, thick steam instantly spilling out over the curtain rod and into the massive bathroom. Elizabeth sighed and slowly set her brush down on the counter, concentrating on doing so noiselessly. Her fingers flirted with the edge of the sink basin before she pulled her hands back and stared at herself in the mirror.

She looked like Hell.

But it was nothing compared to what she felt like on the inside.

The night had inched along with frustrating lethargy, and she had stared at the ceiling of the bunker for hours listening to Luke snore, Robert mumble, Lucky huff, Sonny whistle, and Jason simply breathe. Her epiphany was terrifying and had scared away all possibility of sleep, and she was operating on pure adrenaline and sheer will power alone right now. Her body hummed and jumped, every bit as turbulent as her thoughts as Elizabeth tried to convince herself that she was doing the right thing.

She wasn't going to tell them.

There was no way she could at this point in time. If she did, Luke would pull her immediately and try to find some other way, and in the time that took, they might very well lose the race. For once, she was the one on the inside, she was the one with the answers, and she was the only way they stood a chance. And as much as that scared her, the possibility of losing it all scared her more. She wouldn't let Luke and Robert down like that.

And so she just wouldn't tell them.

Jason's shower was still roaring behind her as Elizabeth picked up her brush once more to ease out her tangles. After a sizable bout, she set the brush down and grabbed her blow dryer, her mind still racing over her mission for the day. For the first time in about four days, she'd abandon her little room in the chapel and venture to the other end of the house – the wing that housed the living quarters for a fair portion of the Don's staff. Magda had a room there, as she often spent the night in the villa, and Elizabeth was fairly sure that her newest target did as well.

She eyed Jason's towel and sweatpants, hanging so innocently on the double-hooks, as she ran her fingers through her damp tresses and did her best not to linger on the fact that he was completely naked behind that flimsy green curtain. If she wasn't still upset with him – and if Robert and Luke weren't sleeping a mere fifteen feet away – she'd slip behind that curtain and show him a great way to start his morning right.

But something held her back. She wasn't sure now – more than ever – where she stood with Jason, or if they even had a realistic chance. They worked best when they were fighting off their feelings for one another; once they were actually together, neither really seemed to know quite what to do. Maybe that was what they got off on, and if that was true – it was a really sick way to live.

She didn't want to be mad at him. Hell, if she was honest with herself, she'd admit that she wasn't actually angry with him anymore. Being angry all the time was exhausting. And she had other things on her mind that somehow helped distract her from all of that. Instead, she was more hurt by his actions than anything else, and even that was beginning to fade. Now, what she wanted more than anything was to understand why he did what he had done. She had accepted it, to be sure, but she still wanted to know what led him to make the decision.

So caught up in her thoughts was she that Elizabeth barely registered the fact that Jason had finished showering until the strong, spicy scent of his soap wafted over toward her. Turning sharply, her breath caught in her throat when she realized that the enforcer, clad in nothing but a black towel knotted at the waist, was standing next to her in front of the mirrors preparing to shave.

He said nothing as he lathered up a glob of white shaving foam and spread it over his jaw, neatly concealing every bit of tanned skin. Doing her best not to watch the fat water droplets race down his chiseled chest, Elizabeth picked up her blow dryer again and finished drying her hair.

Jason's cerulean eyes periodically darted over to Elizabeth's reflection in the mirror as he cleaned his razor and began to shave, but the older man said nothing. He was dying to learn what had scared her last night, but hoped that she'd tell him herself if it was something she needed to talk about. He wasn't out to interrogate her like Luke and Robert; forcing her to do anything had never been his style. He just had to hold on to the faith that she would come to him if she needed him.

They stood and worked in silence, and Jason finished shaving and was cleaning his razor at the same moment that Elizabeth unplugged her blow dryer and brushed her hair for the last time.

His shoulders slumped slightly, and Jason was sure that she'd turn away and walk out of the bathroom without another word. One step forward, two steps back. The brunette turned on her bare heel, her back toward the mirror, but instead of walking away, she surprised him.

"Jason?"

His hand stilled as he wiped the last bit of foam off his chin, and the end of the wash towel dropped to his chest. "Yeah?"

Her elbows rested on the counter, her hands clasped together in front of her bare stomach, and Elizabeth's chin was tucked down into her chest as she studied her toes. "Why did you do it?"

The enforcer stared at her profile, his lips parted. He knew what she was talking about, but it still took him a moment to formulate his response.

Mistaking his silence for a lack of comprehension, the brunette turned her face toward his and peered searchingly up at him. "Why did you lie about Sonny's death?"

His hand curled around the edge of the basin as Jason stared down at her, the muscle in his jaw ticking. After a long moment, he let out a slow, whistling breath and began to speak so quietly that she had to almost strain to hear him.

"Things were…bad when you moved in with me, Elizabeth," he started, scrubbing one hand over his jaw. "Sonny and I tried our best, but everything was falling down. One thing after another…it was all collapsing. He…He faked his death as a last resort; we tried everything before that, but nothing was good enough."

She was listening patiently but refused to let any emotion show in her sapphire blue eyes as he spoke.

"We worked really fast – we decided that he would do this, and we made it happen immediately. There was no other way. It had to go down quick and come out of nowhere – that was the only way that it would be believable. And when it went down, he was out. And there were so many more things to deal with – the transition of the business, mainly. He had to stay low while I…took care of things. It was one strike after another, and I…I thought it would be easiest on everyone close to me if…only a few people knew."

She pursed her lips together but said nothing.

"Benny knew. Out of the guards, only Johnny, Max, Francis, Enzo and Reynaldo knew, and that was because they were closest to it. It was impossible to keep it from Carly and Michael. Greg – the accountant-" His blue eyes searched hers, probed hers, when the brunette nodded with recognition. "Even he didn't know about it."

He knew from her eyes the moment that it sank in, and Jason unconsciously took a step toward her. "Ever since I got started in the business, Elizabeth, Sonny taught me everything I needed to know. The most important thing he taught me was that you use what you have – the power, the money, everything – to keep the ones you love safe. If you can't do that, you can't do anything. None of it is worth anything if you can't keep the people you love safe."

Her sapphire eyes were guarded at that word, that troublesome little word – love – and Elizabeth looked away as he continued to speak in that low, rusty voice of his.

"And I always…I always thought that meant…making a clear division between what was business and what was personal. You don't mix the two. You only make mistakes when you mix the two." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a humorless chuckle. "You mix 'em, and then someone's wearing a wire because she doesn't trust what the future holds."

She knew instantly that he meant Brenda, and Elizabeth wrung her hands together, still silent.

"It can be fixed later," Jason continued quietly, peeking up at her. "It can be explained…Every time Sonny had to do something, he'd do it, and explain it to Carly later."

She leaned back against counter, her hands gripping the edge as she tried to understand what he was saying. It was what he had been taught; the plain and simple dichotomy between business and pleasure that was never plain and hardly simple.

"I…I thought I could explain it to you," Jason finally spoke with raw earnestness. "I thought I could make you understand that I had to do it to keep everything from falling away; that if I stopped moving, acting, for one minute, everything would crash. But I couldn't, and you left."

Her eyes were distant as she stared at the showers, her fingers gripping the counter so hard that her knuckles turned pale.

"I thought you needed some time…away from me, so I let you go." He swallowed roughly, eyeing her as if he wasn't sure that she was even listening anymore. "I didn't think – I mean, I didn't mean-"

"The need to protect people clouds our judgment," she murmured, tipping her chin up and staring at the sparkling tiles. "We think that we have the answers, that if we can just get through this period of questionable choices and shady decisions, that we'll be okay. That we can make everything be okay."

He stared at her, confused, but didn't interrupt.

"And sometimes we're right, and sometimes we're wrong. But all we can do is act. All we can do is go in there and do what we think is right, and that's what we have left to stand by when everything is said and done." She swallowed, feeling slight tremors race through her limbs. "Even if we're wrong. Even if we might be making a mistake."

She tapped her nails on the edge of the counter before releasing it and pushing herself away. Jason watched her, feeling lost and hopeful at the same time as Elizabeth walked rigidly out of the bathroom, still mumbling softly under breath.

"…Even if we might be making a mistake."


If she had thought last night to be interminable, it was still nothing compared to what her day had been like.

Elizabeth had arrived at the house at sunrise with the rest of the girls and went about her normal chores. She had seen the librarian – that creepy Marco – on his way to his designated wing for the day's work. She wasn't quite sure what he did all day. Sure, he kept the books ordered and ready for the Don at his disposal, and kept the old man's periodical subscriptions up to date. He dusted and shelved, and sat around on his butt all day drinking lemonade. And that was apparently all.

She tried all day to escape her various posts, but the Don's guards kept proving that difficult. They always seemed to be underfoot, ignoring her entirely but making it impossible for her to sneak away to the wing where she so desperately needed to be.

It wasn't until after lunch that she got her chance. Under the pretense of helping Magda sweep out the hallways, she followed the young woman to the living quarters of the staff and began to search. After what seemed like forever, she finally managed to locate the room of the librarian and slipped in, unseen.

His room was as neat as a pin, except for the various glass bottles casually resting on the table, the windowsill, in the corner by the wall. Vodka, tequila, wine. Rubbing her palms together, Elizabeth glanced at the clock and swooped down on his personal belongings. The bed was clean, nothing underneath the mattress or the pillow or the frame. She searched his desk carefully, taking great care not to misplace things as she looked for something – anything – that would corroborate her worst fears.

Her eyes carefully skimmed every line on the little bits of paper he kept in his desk. She pulled out his daybook and found nothing incriminating – little reminders to pay the meager rent to the Don, to buy new shoes, to celebrate the holidays, and even a touchingly simple note to call his mother.

Snorting, she tossed it back and continued looking. There was one drawer in the desk that was locked and it took her only a minute to jimmy it, using the metal hairpin she had slipped into her dark tresses for that express reason. The pin, once she had learned how to use it, worked remarkably well every time – from now on, she'd leave the credit cards to Sydney Bristow.

Thinking that she had hit the jackpot, Elizabeth was disappointed to see that the drawer contained a few national currency bonds and some money, along with a silver pendant bearing the likeness of the Virgin. Good grief, her resident God-boy was too good to be true.

Frustrated now, she stamped her feet and continued searching. She went through his bookshelf and looked inside the little wooden boxes that decorated the shelves. She pulled the liner out of his almost-empty waistbasket, hoping to find something, but came up empty-handed. She searched the pockets of his pants and shirts and gave the rest of his closet a thorough perusal. She even pulled up the simple throw-rug to see if there was any sort of compartment underneath.

Absolutely nothing.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Elizabeth struggled to stay calm and maintain her composure. Kicking things across the room would not do at all. Instead, she took a few deep, cleansing breaths and tiptoed to his door. She opened it slowly, peeking out to see if anyone was around, and quickly slipped out, shutting the door behind her. Glancing over her shoulder every so often, the brunette quickly scurried out of the living quarters, tapping discreetly on Magda's door to let the other woman know that she was done.

After the disappointing search, Elizabeth returned to the chapel and spent several hours there, alternately pretending to sweep out the rows and searching through the heirlooms. But without the clues that she had been hoping to find, her search was every bit as fruitless as it had ever been.

And that was why she was going to search again.

She had probably overlooked something, something so blatant and crucial that was just under her nose the whole time. The first search had gone well enough – better than she could have hoped for, in terms of not being discovered – and Elizabeth had already managed to convince herself that she could do it again. If she still couldn't find anything…well, she'd worry about that when the time came.

Leaving the chapel, Elizabeth headed out to the verandah to have tea with Magda and the other girls as she usually did. Robert's words repeated softly in her head. Be methodic. Be invisible. She stuck to her routine and made sure that nothing in her demeanor was out of the ordinary. The librarian still gave her those come-hither looks when he came out on the verandah to drink his lemonade and enjoy the sunset, and Elizabeth still gave him a warm, oblivious smile. She chattered on with the girls as usual about nothing at all, but her mind remained on what she was after.

The sun had already set by the time she was finally able to make her way from the kitchen to the living quarters. She was late and the men might worry, but she had to do this. They'd understand. She'd find what she was searching for, which would lead her to the artifact, and then they'd all be able to move out of that ridiculous bunker. Robert's colleague from the World Security Bureau was en route to Calvillo and would be able to help the party oust the Don and set up a war tribunal, and eventually establish a new government. She just had to do this, and everything would be all right.

Everything would be all right.

And after this was done, she'd talk to Jason. That is, she'd really talk to him. She didn't know if it would lead to anything – if it would lead to them getting back together. She wasn't sure at this point that she was ready for that again. She loved him, she knew deep inside. She did, but that didn't mean she didn't have the right to be a little gun-shy. And even if they didn't get back together, it would be good to clear things between them. He was still a very important person in her life; he had helped her up during her worst days and supported her. Even if they didn't work romantically, she still wanted him to be someone that she could talk to. She never wanted there to be any bad blood between her and Jason. Once this was done with, she'd do her part and listen to him and fix this.

Everything would be all right.

The hallway was quiet as she crept down toward the edge, staying close to the wall. Most of the other boarders were getting ready to eat dinner now, so most of the rooms lay open and empty. This would be even easier than it had been this morning.

But as she crept toward the librarian's room, Elizabeth's heart sank. His door was almost completely closed, and a thin strip of golden light fell onto the polished hardwood in the hallway.

He was in there.

Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, the brunette crept forward despite telling herself that she should better leave. There was nothing she could do if he was in there. Still, she couldn't resist taking a little peek anyway.

He was standing by the desk dressed in his loose black pants and his pale green shirt. His table lamp made the tequila in his right hand glitter and dazzle, and the man was singing. He was singing.

She wrinkled her nose, tiptoeing forward to get a better look. He didn't have the greatest voice, and he was kind of drunk, but at least he was singing in English so that she could pick up a couple slurred words.

There was something in his hand that Elizabeth couldn't quite make out, but she did see a book on his desk that she had passed over in her search – the Holy Bible. It had been opened to an arbitrary page marked by a bookmark – the picture in his hand. Her fingers curled around the doorframe as Elizabeth nibbled her lip, squinting at the glossy photo he held in his hand.

"..in the day and in the night! Through the years, the end of my life!" He was singing still, utterly oblivious, and paused only to take a swig of his tequila. With his arm raised, Elizabeth had a better view of the picture in his hand, and her eyes instantly zoned in on the large ruby necklace set in silver with multiple smaller rubies to balance out the design.

That was it – that was the artifact!

She backed away from the door with her hand over her mouth, afraid that she might let out a squeal of excitement. The artifact wasn't a statue or a piece of pottery – it was a necklace! A ruby necklace! It just had to be. And she had seen that exact necklace several times in the little room behind the chapel, stowed away in a porcelain urn. All that was left was to recover the necklace and that would be it.

…Everything would be all right.

He was singing again, and the baritone drawl pulled her from her trance. Elizabeth was about to leave but something struck her at that moment and she leaned closer, trying to pick up the words. The song had just ended, whatever little ditty he was singing, and now he was speaking to someone – or something. As she listened, it became clear that he was speaking to the photograph in his hand.

"It won't be long now," he murmured, tossing the picture back on the desk. "I'll find you. I know you're here, and it won't be long before I get to you at last. And then Madame Cassadine shall at last have everything she wants."

And there it was.

She had known it ever since she saw the librarian's magazine with its Greek lettering. She had known since then that whatever Roy was after, Helena Cassadine was after it, too. And that was why she hadn't told Luke and Robert about what she was thinking. Luke was already overprotective about her when it came to the Cassadines, and if she so much as mentioned his favorite Dragon Lady he'd have pulled her out by the seat of her pants and come up with something else.

Her reason for staying wasn't that she was a glory-hog, or desperate to prove a point to Jason and Sonny. She was hardly that selfish. Her main driving reason for sticking with the mission despite the newest discovery was that she was the one that had an established 'in'. She had familiarized herself with almost every part of the Don's house. His men knew her – hell, even Buenaventura himself knew her – and she had a feeling that she could waltz by them with an Uzi stuffed under her skirt and they'd hardly give her a second glance. If she were to step back, they'd have to start back at one, and she had every reason to believe that it would be twice as difficult to get back to where they were.

And now she had it. She had everything she needed. There was no way she'd be able to get to the hidden room tonight; it was fairly unusual for her to stick around the villa this late, so she was already putting herself at risk. The best thing to do would be to get back to the bunker and return in the morning. She'd come back, eat breakfast with the girls, take off with Magda to pick roses and trim the hedges, run back in for some water and then sneak off to the chapel. Then she'd make some excuse about not feeling well and would skip off to the bunker with some roses or grapes in the pouch of her skirt – along with the artifact.

She had just settled on the plan and turned to make her exit when the door flew open and the drunken librarian stumbled out. He was actually in need of the bathroom, but when his dark brown eyes landed on the brunette a few paces away, a certain other primal need made itself known.

Elizabeth backed away a step, and then another, and stumbled over her own feet as she turned to run away. But the librarian was quicker and she had barely covered a yard before his imposing form blocked her, easing her back toward the wall.

Panic took over as she looked into his glittering orbs. He backed her up toward the wall slowly, a jungle cat cornering its prey. His scent – filth and citrus – washed over her, making her gag, and the stench of tequila wasn't helping matters any.

"Well, we meet again," he chuckled, lifting a finger to stroke the line of her jaw.

Elizabeth ground her teeth together and braced one foot flat against the wall, her right hand slipping down to the slit in her skirt. Emmanuel had shown her how to protect herself with the dagger – with her foot braced against the wall, she could push off and add additional strength to her momentum. Her fingers brushed against the strap that held the knife secured to her thigh when the librarian struck.

She barely knew what was happening as he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, stretching her arms. He hadn't realized what she was up to; this was just an enticing position for him. She shivered as his free hand skimmed up her side, caressing the smooth skin of her bared stomach before teasing higher.

His thumb brushed against the underswell of her left breast, skirting the lush mound as the corner of his mouth hooked upward in a dastardly smirk. "To what do I owe this visit?" he inquired, cupping her now with his hand and squeezing her wrists painfully when she struggled. "Perhaps you'd like to join me for a night cap, señorita? What's the lady's pleasure? I hope it's tequila."

He was close – alarmingly close. He nuzzled the side of her face, moving lower to her neck as his hand continued to roam her body. His fingers swept through her hair, pulling her wispy locks from her careless bun. She whimpered and struggled against him, trying to tear herself from his grasp but the only thing that tore was the shoulder of her blouse.

He snarled and gripped her legs, trying to stop her frantic kicking. His rough hand painfully squeezed her thigh – thankfully, not the one that had a knife strapped to it – and he grunted at her pathetic attempt to knee him. She wasn't in the right position to do any damage that way, and now they both knew it.

Impatient now, he slipped his hand under the slit of her skirt and did a little exploring, ignoring her enraged yell. Squirming a little to the left, Elizabeth found that she could twist her body at a good angle to get her legs free – and she did. The freedom allowed her a better shot, and this time when she tried to knee him, the man did more than grunt. His face contorted in pain but his grip on her wrists remained tight, and Elizabeth barely registered the fact that he had torn her skirt.

She reared back to do it again when he blocked her, crushing her petite frame to the wall with no room left for movement.

Bending his head, he stared her directly in the eyes. "What are you going to do now, sweetheart?"