Chapter Fourteen
Neither of them could sleep.
It was late, the wind was howling off the lake and swirling snow around her drafty windows like pieces of dandelion fluff, and the chillness of her studio made the prospect of snuggling down under an entire avalanche of blankets and going to sleep more than tempting, but, still, they both remained awake. In fact, she wasn't even tempted to close her eyes. After the long day she had experienced, she should have been exhausted. Normally working at Kelly's alone on a holiday was enough to make Elizabeth drag her feet all the way home and then fall into a slumber so deep she was dead to the world for at least eight hours. And that was before she calculated in a bomb scare. Her body should have been so grateful to be alive that it automatically took care of itself. Instead, she was wired. However, that energy did not spring from fear... as someone with a little more common sense would react... but rather from attraction. Desire. Need. Yes, she was a single woman, and, yes, she had survived a traumatic rape experience when she was fifteen, but that did not mean that she didn't recognize Jason Morgan for exactly what he was. And that was hot. Before that night, though, he had always just been her friend – that person she could go to and talk with when no one else in her life could be bothered to truly listen, that person who took her for motorcycle rides to nowhere and helped her to forget everything else in the world but the speed and the rush of his bike, that person who made her feel safe. However, that night, alone with him just inches away from her in her studio, Elizabeth felt anything but safe; she felt alive – really and truly alive – for the first time in a long time. Perhaps years. Realistically, she wondered if her reaction to Jason was nothing more than the pressure of adrenaline surging through her body. After all, she had survived what could possibly be considered a mob hit. Odd enough as that sounded to a girl who was primarily raised in the suburbs of Denver, Colorado, in Port Charles, it was like she was being initiated into some bizarre, surreal club. However, the fact that she could look at her brush with near death with such a blasé attitude told Elizabeth that her lack of rest did not spring from a newfound, sudden appreciation of life. Perhaps, though, it was another cliché that described her recently discovered attraction to the man laying beside her. Admittedly, she had gotten used to having Jason around. He was there when she left for work in the morning, he was there if she wanted to stop back in at her studio during her lunch break, and he was there when she got home at night. They could talk for hours whenever they wanted, or they could sit in silence while he read and she painted. Their arrangement in her studio while he was recuperating from a gunshot wound had been comfortable. Really, they had almost been a couple... just without some of the best perks of being in a relationship. Maybe it finally took Jason's absence from her every day life to show her what she really felt for him. He had to leave before she could realize just why exactly she wanted him to stay so badly.
While she lay there on her couch which also served as her bed, tossing and turning in a struggle to find sleep, Elizabeth wondered if Jason would have stayed with her if she had figured out her feelings for him before he decided to leave. But to think that meant that she had to believe that he was attracted to and wanted to be with her as well, and, while Jason's friendship had done quite a bit in the way of boosting her self-confidence, she wasn't that sure of herself. After all, she was so much younger than he was and certainly not his type. In the past, he had dated Robin – a strong, mature medical student. Robin had direction and drive, ambition, and she cared more for others than she did for herself. And then there was Carly, too... whatever she had been to Jason.
Then again, Elizabeth smirked and giggled silently to herself – maybe Jason didn't have a type, because surely Robin and Carly had absolutely nothing in common... besides being worldly whereas she was just a scared little mouse of a woman, barely capable of standing up for herself let alone confident enough to love a man like Jason Morgan the way he deserved and obviously wanted to be loved. That thought was sobering, and her noiseless humor melted away just as quickly as it had come upon her, but, still, common sense didn't banish her thoughts entirely. No matter what, Jason was her friend. That had to mean something. Even if he wasn't interested in her physically, he at least enjoyed her company, and, to Elizabeth, that was more important than anything else. Besides, that still didn't explain why Jason was awake beside her. While she knew exactly why she couldn't sleep, why couldn't he? He might have been staying awake to guard her, afraid that, since he and Roy had managed to diffuse the bomb in time, someone would return that evening to finish the job, but, given the fact that Jason was such a light sleeper anyway, that didn't make much sense to Elizabeth. As soon as anyone would step foot outside of her studio door, he would wake up, instantly alert for signs of impending danger. Plus, despite the fact that he had declared himself healthy and recovered enough to leave and move out again on his own, she knew that his wound wasn't one hundred percent healed, and any child of two doctors also knew that, when a body was healing itself, it needed more sleep. Whether he would protest the fact or not, she knew that Jason Morgan was tired. Curious, she slowly rotated her head around towards the floor beside her, intent upon catching a glimpse of her protector's face without him becoming wise to her surreptitious behavior. Though all the lights were off inside of the studio, between the light from the moon and the lamps that dotted the docks and cast off a web of illumination, the room was bright enough for her to see clearly. However, she should have known better than to think she would ever be able to catch Jason Morgan unaware. As soon as her gaze had traveled far enough to land upon him, his piercing eyes caught and held her own. They stared at one another for several quiet, intense moments before Jason broke the silence. That alone told her quite a bit about his frame of mind. "I've slept on that couch and know just how comfortable it is. Do you want to switch? I'll take the couch, and you can sleep on the floor." Half-heartedly, Elizabeth lifted the pillow from behind her head and tossed it in his direction. "Ha-ha. My couch isn't that bad." "Well, maybe not for someone who isn't normal sized." He was teasing her as well. Jason really was in a rare mood. If only she knew what that mood was, though. Rolling her eyes and playing along, Elizabeth pretended to be stung by his words. "Maybe I'm the normal one, and you're the giant." "Centuries ago, you would have been right," he admitted, sliding over to lay upon his side so that it was easier to look up and talk to her. "But, as human evolution advances, we continue to get bigger." "I thought you read travel guides." "I like history books as well."
Smiling, Elizabeth took note. "Yeah, well, it's not my couch's fault that I can't sleep."
"No, I didn't think it was." Suddenly, the humor was gone from Jason's voice. "It's mine."
She blushed furiously. Surely, he didn't know how she felt... right? After all, she had just figured out her own feelings that evening. Had Jason known all along and that was the real reason why he had left – because knowing that she had a crush on him was too awkward for him to remain living with her? What had she done to give herself away? Did she look at him too long, gaze up at him with open, naked yearning, or had she said something in her sleep? Sadly, she was known to ramble even when locked into her REM cycle. "I know that it was scary... earlier, but I promise you, Elizabeth, that I won't let anything happen to you." Sometime during her brain's frenzied contemplation, without her realizing it, Jason had moved so that he was kneeling in front of her. While she was still stretched out upon the sofa, he was sitting at her side, looking down upon her. The arrangement made her feel nervous, suddenly exposed despite the fact that she was covered from toe to chin with a suffocating pile of blankets, so she pushed them aside and sat up as well. Unconsciously, she moved so that she was perched directly in front of Jason, her own legs tucked beneath her. "I know that," she said, surprised to hear how shaky her voice was. Shivering at his nearness, she whispered it again. "I know." "Elizabeth...?" Hesitantly, Jason leaned forward, shocking her when his arms came up to envelope her in a hug. For several seconds, she remained tense, uncertain, but then the lure of him being so close was too much for her to ignore, and she collapsed against him, burying her face in that perfect spot all men seemed to possess - between their neck and shoulder and, as unobtrusively as possible, inhaled the enforcer's scent. He smelled like soap and laundry detergent with faint hints of gasoline and stale beer. He smelled safe. The comfortable embrace only lasted for a moment, though, before Jason was gently pushing her away. Once they were nearly separated, he removed his arms from around her, his hands automatically going to cup and hold her face against his palms. He repeated her name. "Elizabeth...?" That one word possessed the same questioning tone, but, rather than asking if she was alright, it was asking her if she knew what she was doing. She didn't, but it felt as though there was no other way that she could possibly act. Or feel. They stared at each other for such a long time – neither of them blinking – that, when Jason finally moved, Elizabeth didn't register his actions right away. But then his lips brushed hers – once, twice, three times, and then she gasped in response, and all thought was lost. Gracefully falling backwards to recline upon his back, Jason pulled her with him, and she immediately settled, her legs going to straddle his waist, her chest melded against his own, her tiny, paint stained hands disappearing beneath his shoulders where her nails took purchase to hold him tight. Their mouths broke apart only long enough to remove clothing. Her pajama shirt was stripped off over her head, her pants wiggled out of, and his jeans pushed away into oblivion.
It wasn't slow and tender, but Elizabeth didn't want that. It felt as though Jason would disappear if she didn't hold onto him tight enough, if she ever let him go. Though the fire she felt for him had only been burning for such a short time, it was all consuming. He was the only person in her life that didn't treat her like a delicate, breakable flower. That shouldn't change just because their relationship had.
When he entered her, it hurt. She had known that it would. After all, though she wasn't a virgin, her only sexual experience had been years prior and non-consensual. She was small and petite, and Jason was much bigger than she was. And she was tight. But the pain was eventually eclipsed but something far more physically potent. Pleasure – pure, unadulterated, sinfully decadent pleasure, and Elizabeth gloried in its power over her.
Sex – at least sex with Jason Morgan – was even more freeing than a ride to nowhere.
Jackhammering awake and sitting up all in the same motion, it took Elizabeth several minutes to collect herself, to once more become aware of her surroundings. She wasn't that sweet, naive teenage girl anymore, and she certainly wasn't lying on the floor of her studio with Jason Morgan buried inside of her. She was alone in the hospital on-call room, cold with the clammy sweat of remembrance, and as dead inside as one could possibly be and still manage to survive.
Curling up onto her side into a small, tight ball, Elizabeth Webber cried herself back to sleep.
} ~ {
She was tired, and she was beyond irritated, and she was...
… walking into the brunt of destruction from a powerful tornado.
Totally oblivious of her entrance, Maxie continued to toss and throw clothing with absolute total disregard for their hotel suite's appearance. Never hearing Robin behind her and certainly not stopping, her cousin obliterated every ounce of order and cleanliness from their temporary home. It was late. After leaving the hospital, she had wandered around Port Charles, walking in an ineffective attempt to calm down, so she knew that her daughter had long since been put to bed. That was the only reason why Robin didn't lose her temper. Instead, she took several long, deep breaths in an effort to relieve stress before addressing her wild, whirling dervish of a nanny.
Still, her words came out harsh and clipped. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Maxie?" There was no escaping the fact that she was pissed. Not even someone as knowingly self-absorbed as her cousin could hide from the blunt edge of her anger.
"Working."
The younger woman's response was so matter of fact that Robin was taken aback momentarily, but it didn't take her long to find her annoyance once again. "Well, that's funny, because I could have sworn that I paid you to care for my daughter and not to act like a child yourself."
"Whoa! Someone had a bad day."
"We're not talking about me right now, Maxie," Robin snapped.
In response to her piqued tone, Robin watched as her cousin shifted so that her hands were petulantly poised upon her slender hips. The pose read confrontation. Finally, Maxie asked, "so, what's his name?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, it's obvious that someone put you in a mood, and I highly doubt Alan Quartermaine can get your blood pumping like this... no matter what drugs he jacked you up on, especially since, if either of us were going to go after an older man, it'd be me. Hello, sugar-daddy! So, that leads me to the conclusion that you met someone, and, judging by your increased respirations and the blush stealing its way across your face as we speak, I'd say that he was super hot, super sexist, and quite the player. One day back in Podunk Port Chuck, and you've already met your match. Wow."
At that point, Maxie started to giggle, and Robin exploded. "You have no idea what you're talking about, so just shut up, clean up, and start packing. We're leaving in the morning."
Instantly sober, her cousin said, "twenty-four hours ago, I would have kissed you – maybe even with tongue if you really wanted me to – if you would have said those words to me."
Shoving aside a pile of clothing from an easy chair, Robin sat down abruptly with a decided oomph. "What's changed? Does it have something to do with why every single outfit and shoe you own is strewn across our sitting room?"
Happily, Maxie folded her petite limbs, sat down on the floor before the doctor, and sighed. "I met someone, too, but he didn't get my engines running on all cylinders. He did, however, give my brain and ambition a jump start."
"I really don't think they ever stalled."
Ignoring Robin's grumpy remark, the younger woman continued. "I was in the park today with Cate when this random stranger totally struck up a conversation with me out of the blue. We made small talk, I thought that he'd maybe ask me out or something. He was kind of cute... if you go for dark, brooding, and dangerous, but then he suggested a business partnership." Proudly, Maxie announced, "you are currently gazing upon the future best up-and-coming fashion designer. All I have to do is put together a proposal, impress John Zacchara enough to make him want to write me a check, and then I'll officially be on my way. I just can't decide on my label name. I'm not sure if I want to go by Maxie Jones, or just Maxie, or maybe just Jones. Androgynous names for women are so in vogue right now, and I'm afraid that Maxie will just make people think of their periods, and what woman wants to be reminded of..."
Interrupting what was sure to be a five minute soliloquy about Maxie's favorite subject – herself, Robin questioned, "did you say John Zacchara?"
"Yes. Why?" Becoming panicked, her cousin sat up on her knees and asked hurriedly, "he wasn't the man who got you all hot and bothered, was he, because, if so, first of all, damn, and, secondly, you go, cougar! He's like totally younger than you are, Robin."
"Hey, I'm not that old," she protested hotly. Why her age – something that she should be proud of given her HIV status – was suddenly such a testy subject for her, she didn't know.
"Whatever," Maxie dismissed with a causal flip of her manicured hand. "I'm still not giving him up. Flirt with him, sleep with him, marry him, he's still going to bankroll a boutique for me."
Closing her eyes, Robin took several moments to both realign her thoughts and to center herself. Finally, when she felt composed once more, she met her cousin's aquamarine gaze with her own much richer one and said, "no, I did not spend time with John Zacchara today, not that I'm admitting I spent time with any man nor that I am all 'hot and bothered' as you put it. The reason his name gave me pause is because I recognized it. Jax has told me about his family. John's sister works for him – legitimately, but the rest of the family... Well, to be blunt, Maxie, they're in the mob. Anthony Zacchara, John's father, is one of Sonny's biggest rivals."
"So what," the younger woman replied flippantly. "What does that have to do with me opening a clothing store?"
"You'd be using dirty money!"
"Yeah... along with just about every other business in this town. Think about it, Robin," her cousin persisted. "The hospital runs on Sonny's money, Kelly's has been linked to organized crime for years, and practically every single job down on the docks is supplied by revenue generated from organized crime. Mac and everybody else around here might lament the crime rate, but take it away, and Port Charles would be a ghost town. I'd be an idiot to turn down John Zacchara's offer just because his dad is less than ethical when it comes to his business dealings."
"Or legal!"
"Hello," Maxie drawled out her protest, rolling her eyes. "We're talking about the fashion industry here – sweat shops, child labor law violations, and anorexic coke whores abound. What's a little dirty money in the midst of that hot mess?"
"You're hopeless," Robin accused, leaning back with an exhausted huff. "You really don't care that John Zacchara's family kills people for a living."
"No."
"Well, then, I guess it's a really good thing that we're going back to Paris tomorrow and that you won't have an opportunity to get yourself into trouble. Again."
"You might be running out of town tomorrow with your tail tucked between your legs, but I'm sure as hell not," Maxie argued. "I'm staying right here, I'm taking full advantage of this opportunity if it pans out, and I'm not going to think twice. While you might be willing to live your life based upon decisions you made in fear, I'm not."
"I'm not leaving because I'm scared," Robin defended herself, standing to pace agitatedly back and forth across their hotel sitting room. "I'm leaving because it's the right thing to do for me, and for Cate, and for you; because it was stupid to come here in the first place, and there's no way that I'm going to work at General Hospital for Alan Quartermaine if he really thinks that hiring such a man is a good idea!"
"Ha! So it was a hottie who got your granny-panties in a bunch!"
"Maxie, I do not wear granny-panties!"
Standing up as well, the younger woman moved across the room until she could reach out and grasp Robin by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. "Listen to me," her cousin instructed. "Go to bed, get some sleep, and things will look better in the morning, I promise. Right now, sure, that other doctor seems like a giant ass, and he probably is one, but you're not about to let someone like him – someone who's immature, and chauvinistic, and definitely not as smart as you - chase you away from something that you really want, are you? No. Tomorrow, you're going to wake up, put on your most killer suit, and go back to the hospital and demand that Alan give you the job of your dreams, and, then, when you get back, we're going to celebrate. While I might hate this town more than I hate acid washed jeans and clogs, I think we both need to be here right now. You were right, Robin. We were both in a rut, and we needed a change." Smiling in her always charming manner, Maxie added, "and enjoy your victory, because I'm never going to admit that I was wrong ever again.
More than anything else she had said that evening, Robin believed Maxie's final statement. When a reluctant half smile upon her face, she went off to bed... just as she was told.
Her last thought before she fell asleep: that selfish, soulless, spineless weasel of a Doctor Drake had no idea what he was about to face.
} ~ {
Taking a deep breath, Sonny braced himself. He was about to enter his wife's penthouse – no matter what Alexis said in protest, she was his wife, and that's how he thought of her – and apologize, no small feet in and of itself when considering the personality of his pregnant spouse. Add to that the fact that Alexis was a Cassadine, illegitimate or not, and he knew better than to simply walk into her apartment unprepared. He had to face any conversation with the lawyer as though it were a court battle. It was important to have all his wits about him and a placating smile on hand. While his dimples didn't work on her quite like how they did on every other woman he had ever slept with in the past, they weren't ineffective either. And smooth charm and honeyed words were going to have to do the trick, too, because he sure as hell wasn't going to admit that he was wrong. It was one thing to apologize, but it was an entirely different and far less appealing concept to accept blame.
Confident and believing himself ready to face anything that Alexis might be prepared to dish out, Sonny pushed his wife's penthouse door open without regard to her privacy. After all, they were expecting a child together. Knocking seemed ridiculous. But, when he saw the future mother of his child locked in the embrace of another man – Jax, of all people, a man he hated more than anyone else in the world due to the candy-boy's obsession with Brenda, he saw red. Backing away from the entrance, he shut the door just as silently as he had opened it, the two of them never made aware of his presence. Before the door could latch, though, he heard his wife whisper, "thank you for coming so quickly, Jax. You have no idea how much I needed you."
Stomping back to his own penthouse, Sonny fumed. He'd be damned if he'd apologize now!