[Prompt – With some people solitariness is an escape not from others but from themselves. For they see in the eyes of others only a reflection of themselves. – Eric Hoffer]

Chapter 21

"I don't like being followed," Elizabeth sighed exhaustedly, her duffel bag tucked under her arm as she stood at the edge of the docks.

She'd turned down his ride, explaining her studio was just across the docks, and that she definitely didn't want a ride from him of all people. There may have been some obscenities tossed in, and then Brenda came out the door to try and coax her back inside, and she stalked off, leaving Jason no choice but to follow.

Otherwise her friends were going to continue to harass her and that was the last thing she needed.

"I told you before that it was dangerous to hang around here at night," Jason replied, stepping up beside her.

"Why?" she asked flatly, tipping her head towards him, her eyes shining in the moonlight. "Why even bother to look out for me? You don't care." She rolled her eyes as she backed away from him. "It'd be a relief if something happened to me, wouldn't it? If you didn't have to worry about seeing me or hearing-"

"Stop," he grunted, turning around to face her.

"Stop?" she asked, laughing softly, the sound carrying in the soft night's breeze that blew off the water. "I haven't even gotten started yet, Jason."

She said his name so spitefully; every ounce of disgust she felt at the moment was aimed at him.

"Sonny called me and asked me to come to the diner. I didn't know what had happened until I got here," he replied, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "I, uh, I didn't know it involved you."

"He didn't tell you," she murmured, shaking her head as she looked out over the water. "I can't believe he called you."

Neither could Jason really. This didn't exactly pertain to work, and while he didn't like that Elizabeth had been hurt, he couldn't figure out what exactly he was supposed to do.

"I think he wanted to make sure you were okay." He shrugged, furrowing his brow. "Maybe," he added, confused.

She didn't say anything, just narrowed her eyes over the water, the bag still tucked beneath her arm. Her face was no longer flushed, her eyes no longert red rimmed and puffy; any pain, any desire to cry had been replaced by something else.

He tried to imagine what she was feeling in this moment, which wasn't an easy task. Most of the time he was torn between caring at all, but tonight, he couldn't help it. He kept thinking about how that man may have grabbed her, what memories filled her head, and how she probably thought it was going to happen all over again.

Did she cry when he grabbed her? Did she beg for him to let her go? Why did he? And most importantly, why did she stop walking long enough for Jason to catch up?

"Who told you?" she asked softly, her trembling fingers curling into the bag. He cleared his throat, unsure of what she was talking about, and she finally tipped her head towards him. "Who told you I was raped?"

His eyes widened and she chuckled in annoyance, shifting as she shifted the bag in her arms. "The way you looked at me outside Kelly's, even now. I knew someone had told you."

"Some of the guards were talking," he explained, rubbing a hand over his face. "Uh, Johnny – the guard who-"

"Found me tonight," she interrupted, hanging her head in defeat.

"Yeah, he told me you were – were…" He couldn't say it to her, worried that bringing it up, that even mentioning it would make her feel violated. And he'd probably done enough of that.

"Raped," she hissed, not even flinching as she said it. "I was raped." She closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side. "When that man grabbed me tonight – it was like I was nineteen again. The way he pulled me by my hair, touched my neck, even the way he lifted my shirt." Her eyes flashed open, locking with his, so dark and angry, something he'd never seen from her. Not even that night when she yelled at him in his room. "Thankfully, no one wants to rape a pregnant woman.…or at least he didn't."

"Elizabeth," he sighed, shifting his eyes to the water.

"You can't even look at me now," she murmured quietly, "and you always looked at me like no one else." She groaned and shook her head. "Well, you can go, Jason. I don't want your pity over something that happened before I even knew you."

He started to ask what exactly she meant – was she referring to Jason Quartermaine or Jason Morgan, but he already knew the answer. He just wasn't sure if he liked it.

"I said you can go," she repeated, angrier this time. "I don't need someone to look at me and see what happened before. I can do that on my own."

"I just – I – I haven't been gentle with you," he stammered uncomfortably, sucking in a breath. This wasn't easy to admit and he wasn't sure how to apologize for something like this. "That day at the penthouse…"

He thought about it often, especially when he saw her; remembering how rushed their bodies and mouths had been, the warmth of her mouth, and how he had tried so hard to take something from her that day.

And now his biggest regret now would be that maybe he had.

"Don't you dare," she snapped, turning towards him, her eyes so dark they were almost black. Her chest heaved and suddenly she flung her bag at him, and he let it hitm him in his chest and fall to the ground. "What you did to me – what we did – it is not the same as what happened to me. Don't you ever compare the two to one another."

"Seriously," she hissed, rubbing her forehead with both her hands as she paced, suddenly lunging forward and punching him in the chest. Her fists bounced against him, the air feeling filling with the sounds of their tiny thuds. He made no attempt to stop her and eventually she pushed him away in disgust. "Where do you get off, Jason? I don't understand it. One second you're telling me that you want me to stay away and the next you're coming to my rescue. And then apologizing for – for raping-"

"I didn't say that," he interrupted angrily, shaking his head at her. "I was rough with you – t, that's all. I wanted to make sure-"

"You've always been rough with me," she cut in pointedly, raking her fingers through her wild curls as she backed away from him. "Always. And I was pregnant the entire time, so maybe you should apologize for that – for the way you threw me out of your room that night. For all the times you-"

"I get it," he muttered quietly, every accusation hitting him so hard they made his stomach churn.

"Good," she replied, folding her arms over her chest and taking a deep breath. "I – I don't want an apology."

"Not like you'd believe it anyway," he hissed, leaning over and snatching her bag from the ground.

"No, I don't want one," she corrected, reaching for her bag, but her fist clenched, and she dropped her hand back to her side. "What we did – it may be hard for you to understand, but I – I wanted you that day. I don't want to know if you're sorry or if you want to take it back…And besides, it's not like what happened to me tonight or all those years ago."

She sighed, cradling her face in her hands as she swore. There were so many things she wanted to say, but didn't know how. He could see that much in every movement, every emotion that flicked in her eyes, and he didn't know how to help her. And strangely enough, for once he wanted to listen.

Maybe this was why Sonny had called.

"What did Johnny tell you?" she asked quietly, scuffing her beat up sneakerd against the docks.

"Just that you had been…raped," he replied, ducking his head as the word escaped his lips. It was never something he could get used to, especially around her. "That it happened a long time ago."

"Nine years," she murmured, closing her eyes as she folded her arms across her chest, smoothing her hands up and down her bare arms. "I'd had a fight with a friend. He was supposed to meet me in the park so we could talk things over." He cringed, knowing she meant Jason Quartermaine. It was a natural reaction when his former self came up, one he couldn't hide or break if he wanted to. "I waited and waited and then…"

She shrugged, trying to let go of that place, where it hurt more than she would ever admit. When she wasn't trying to hide them, her emotions were so present; in her eyes, her gestures, even the tone of her voice.

"Everyone in town knew. They all looked at me like I was some kind of freak. Some people thought I made it up. Some people just liked the gossip. It was everywhere – discussed at every town function, in ever headline in the paper. Everyone looked at me differently." She let out a shaky breath and looked over at him. "I hate being stared at or followed…or someone coming up behind me. I've let go of most it, but that feeling of knowing someone is there – that you want to turn around, but you can't, that they're touching you – that never goes away."

"Did, uh, did they catch him?" he asked, scratching a finger over his brow.

"Yeah," she nodded, rolling her eyes. "It was a trial that I didn't think was going to end. He'd raped two other girls. We were all in different counties, and well, third time's the charm or something."

She shrugged, closing her eyes as she pushed the memories away, to a safe place that wouldn't have to be opened for some time. He knew that feeling – that desire to ignore what had happened, to shove it somewhere in to a place where it wouldn't be felt.

"Even then, everyone thought they knew what was right or wrong and tonight…" She scowled and tossed her curls over her shoulder, shivering when a breeze blew in. "I don't like being talked at – when people don't hear me." She nibbled her lip as she looked at him. "It's why I was so frustrated with your fam – with the Quartermaines. I know what that's like."

He grimaced and shook his head, not wanting this to turn into something about him. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Of course not," she said, her face hardening. "You don't want to talk about anything. I'm surprised you're still standing here." She stepped forward and snatched her bag from his hand. "You can take your pity and go. You can even tell Sonny you did the job he asked you to – that's probably why you're here, right?"

He wasn't going to try and explain something he didn't exactly understand. How could he explain that he tensed at the mere possibility of her being hurt? That every time he saw her cry, he couldn't stop thinking about it for hours afterwards? That he wanted to find out who'd done this and he wanted to fix it?

All of which made him so fucking angry he wanted to tear the damn docks apart with his bare hands.

"Just go," she hissed flatly, her voice void of any emotion. "I'm tired of you looking at me like that."

He bucked, contemplating whether to leave her here or at least get her to her building, and his hesitation infuriated her even more.

"What the hell is your problem?" she cried, dropping her bag to the ground as she lunged at him again, shoving him away. "I want you to go away and leave me alone. Just stop this, Jason. You're nothing. I'm nothing. We're nothing to each other. Got it?"

She hit him harder, her firstone of her fists hitting him hard in the corner of his mouth. He gently grabbed her wrists and pushed them away, pulling her against him at the same time.

Staring up at him, she swallowed hard, her eyes still filled with fury, and he knew if he let go, she'd hit him again. "I'm tired of this," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. "You think you're the first person to be angry, Jason? To lose everything – no, to have something taken from you? Do you?"

"What happened to you is very different than what's happened to me," he replied, loosening his grip on her wrists. "You still know who you are, Elizabeth."

"I know what it's like," she whispered, her hands falling limply against his chest, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt. "To lose yourself…who you are…who you're supposed to be. I lost everything that I was because some man – some stranger from another state held me down on the ground in the middle of winter, and he ripped it away from me. He took something that wasn't his, a part of me that I will never get back."

"You're angry, Jason," she continued, stepping back and pulling her wrists from his hands that fell limply to his sides. Something was happening here, something he couldn't explain, and he was afraid for her, of her, and what exactly all this meant. "You want to know why this happened to you, why nothing makes sense anymore, and why the only thing you feel is a stirring – a churning so strong in your stomach that sometimes you throw up just to make it stop. I know what that's like. I know it better than anyone else you know."

Leaning over, she grabbed her bagck and shook out the strap, and then tugged it over her shoulder. "I know about being angry – about wanting to hide and to smash things and hurt the people who love you – the people who make you feel things. I know about it all, except the only difference is I learned to live with it. I learned that anger is the strongest, most consuming emotion, and if you let it, it'll define you, but if you let it go…" Her hand slipped over her belly, the small swell peeking through her shirt as she looked at him. "Llife can be pretty amazing."

Her hand slipped over her belly, the small swell peeking through her shirt as she looked at him. "You can tell me how you feel, Jason. How you really feel – not that you're angry and that you hate everything – be honest and real. Tell me what hurts. I'll listen and I won't say a word."

His fingers curled tightly into his fists, his stomach churned, and he fought the desire to run, to push her away like he always did, but he couldn't tell her anything. What he felt, what hurt, and what drove him to the point that anger was the easiest of emotions to feel – she just couldn't understand and he didn't want to hurt her anymore tonight.

"It's late," he muttered thickly, dropping his eyes to the ground and, counting wooden planks in his head until his breath steadied. "You need to get home."

"That's it?" she asked, shaking her head. "Didn't you just hear a god damn word I said to you? Let me help-"

"You need to go," he repeated, glaring at her. "If you don't want me to take you, fine, good luck. I hope that guy isn't-"

"Go to hell," she interrupted, backing towards the stairs as she pointed a slender finger at him. Her eyes were dark again, all the understanding, the desperation she had to connect with him was now gone, and it was almost a relief. "I'm through, Jason." Her tone was spiteful again, full of open disgust, the kind of reaction he often cravedwas used to. "I don't want anything to do with you. Go back to Jake's and drown yourself in booze and whores – it's where you belong, you worthless, son of a bitch."