The bartender nodded at the tall American man who was sitting on a stool at the bar. He had become a regular over the past few weeks. Mostly the man would come in, order three or four beers, pay his tab, leave a tip and leave again without causing any trouble.
The bartender, Sal, had been living in Rota for years. He'd seen his share of American tourists. For some reason, unknown to him, they were attracted to the city settled in the south of Spain. He couldn't explain it. The only reason he was there was because his father had worked on the naval base. When he'd been reassigned to a base in Germany, Sal chose to stay in Rota. That had been eight years ago.
Sal had to admit that he had made a pretty good life for himself there. He owned the bar, as well as his house. He even got to go home to a woman that he was absolutely in love with, had been for years. Life had been good to him, he had to admit that.
Sal slid another look at the American on the stool and had to wonder what his story was. He watched as the man fingered that wedding ring again. What had happened to make him so sad? And why did he get the feeling that one day, the man wouldn't come in and that he'd never see him again? Sal recognized something inside of the American, but didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was part of himself? A connection that strangers sometime have. Sal shook his head, poured the man another beer, and sat it down in front of him. He had customers, he didn't have time to psycho-analyze himself and a patron today.
Jason knew that the bartender had been watching him. It was a sixth sense that he'd picked up from working with Sonny all of those years ago. A sense that had saved his life on more than one occasion. He half-expected the man to speak, but instead he simply poured him another beer and went to take care of the other customers. Jason couldn't help but feel relieved. Not that he would have talked to the man to begin with, but he just didn't want to put up with the hassle today.
It'd been almost two years since he'd left her. And not a day had passed where he didn't think about going back. There had been mornings where he had to will himself to get out bed. Jason wasn't even sure what he was running from anymore. Elizabeth? Sonny? Abby? The way she looked at him with those big blue eyes after she was born? He silently wondered if she'd have a mass of chestnut curls like her mother by now.
The pain in his heart was still very real. But what was bigger than that—the pain that consumed him every second of the day—was missing Elizabeth. Jason couldn't recall the last time he felt like a complete man. The day that she agreed to marry him had been the best day of his life, he never thought he'd leave her side. From the moment that he kissed her, he knew he was born to love her.
But he was still here, in Spain, and she was still in Port Charles. Or was she still in Port Charles? He didn't know. Jason curled his fist around the platinum wedding band and wondered how things got so screwed up for them. He wondered how leaving her had seemed like a good idea. Even when they were living apart together, she was still there. The day after he left he realized that it was hard to breathe when she wasn't there. For nearly two years he'd been having that same problem.
When he closed his eyes at night, he could still remember the way she looked that day. Her hair had been cut short and he hated every second of it. Elizabeth was a beautiful woman with amazing hair, but she'd decided to cut it while they were traveling. He still couldn't keep his eyes off her, she was still his Elizabeth, but he missed clenching his fists in her hair when he kissed her. The way it would fan out over his pillow while she slept. Jason closed his eyes and silently wondered if she had decided to grow it out again. How long would it be now?
She'd been wearing a soft yellow t-shirt that day. He remembered that she had gotten up that morning and cleaned the house. The t-shirt was tucked into her jeans, her feet bare. Jason could still see the way she fell to the floor and he couldn't help but be yanked back to the time he watched her fold like cardboard when Taggert told her there was no way Lucky Spencer made it out of the fire.
Jason stopped and took a sip of the beer. It had warmed slightly just in the few minutes that he'd been sitting there. A guard from the base took the stool next to him, nodded an acknowledgement. Jason had seen the man before. Knew that he stopped there after he finished his shift. Jason knew the officer's name was Jim. Or at least that was what the bartender liked to call him. He had a wife and a little girl, but always stopped for a drink and to make small talk with Sal.
He slipped her wedding ring on to the tip of his pinky. It wouldn't slide past the tip and it reminded him how small and delicate she was. After Lucky died, Elizabeth complained that people liked to wrap her in cotton and treat her like a porcelain doll. She insisted she wasn't made of glass and wouldn't shatter into a million pieces. Jason dragged a hand over his face, winced when he noticed the cut above his eyebrow. When had that happened?
It'd been over a year since he put Lucky Spencer on that plane headed for Port Charles. Jason had no idea if he'd arrived safely or not. Hell, he couldn't believe the kid was still alive. Had no idea how it was possible–probably wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen him with his own eyes. For a moment he let himself ponder the idea that Elizabeth was with Spencer now. Would she have returned to him? Two years was a long time, surely she wasn't still waiting for Jason.
The cool metal on his small finger told him that she was. Elizabeth Webber had promised to love him forever and she had intentions of doing it. As long as she believed one day he would return to her, then she would hold on. It didn't matter that he'd been gone for two years. He could probably stay away for twenty years and she would still be there. It's what he loved the most about her. She was loyal to a fault. Too loyal sometimes. Even when they weren't married and were only friends, she'd defended and protected him. Lied to her friends and family to keep him safe. It was way back then that he started to fall in love with her.
Jason took another sip of the beer, but didn't allow himself to swallow it. This stuff was disgusting when it was warm. He held the glass up, tipped it toward the bartender who nodded his head. Jason knew that he'd have a fresh beer in another minute, but he wondered if he'd actually drink it this time.
Lucky hadn't remembered him. Didn't have a clue who he was when he picked him up off the streets of Finland. Jason hadn't even believed that it was him, until he saw his eyes. He had the eyes of a Spencer. Not just any Spencer–Luke Spencer. But the boy didn't remember being a Spencer. He'd never heard of a place called Port Charles. He'd been going by the name of Peter Tyson. Jason tried to assure him that he knew who he was and that he could trust him. After Jason stayed with him for almost two weeks in Finland, Lucky agreed to let Jason help him.
"So this place I'm going to, it's named Port Charles?" Lucky asked for the third time.
"Yes," Jason responded. He was really trying to not lose his patience with the boy.
Satisfied with the answer, Lucky turned back to the computer magazine lying on the console.
Jason smiled inwardly. Elizabeth had told him Lucky loved computers. She'd said computers were his passion. He wondered how she would react to the news. Would she be happy? Sad? Relieved? Would she run into Lucky Spencer's arms and would the life she shared with Jason just become a distant memory? The thought made him frown and he reached into his jean pocket, pulled out her wedding band.
"When you gave me that, it was to remind me that you'd always love me. I'm giving it back to you with the same sentiment. All I want is for you to promise to always remember me."
As if he could forget, Jason thought. His wife was one of the things on his mind most often. In fact, he could probably hand deliver Lucky to Port Charles and reunite with Elizabeth in the same day. He glanced out the window of the plane and sighed. It was September now, it'd been almost a whole year since he'd seen her. So why did he hear her voice all the time?
Lucky watched as he fingered the small wedding band and had a feeling of déjà vu. Why did he feel connected to the owner of that ring? He shook his head. He couldn't figure it out. Until two weeks ago, he was Peter Tyson and now this Jason person told him that his name was really Lucky Spencer. What kind of name was Lucky anyway? Had his parents wanted a dog?
"Was she special?" Lucky asked from his seat.
Jason glanced up. "Who?"
"The woman who that ring obviously belongs to."
"Oh," Jason murmured.
Lucky waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "See, I noticed that you were wearing a wedding band. But I've seen you pull that ring out several times and play with it. What I don't understand is why. If you're married, why isn't that ring on your wife's finger?"
How was he supposed to answer that? Did he tell this boy the truth? Did he tell him his wife and the woman that Lucky would soon remember as the love of his life are one and the same? He considered the question for a long time before he looked up and said, "It's a long story."
"I see." Lucky stared at the man and wondered what happened that had pushed him inside of himself so much. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"Not really," he snapped. Jason regretted it when he saw Lucky flinch, but he knew that it couldn't have been avoided. "Look, she's gone. End of story."
"Okay," he sighed. Lucky shook his head and then returned his attention to the magazine. Some people.
"Here ya go, buddy." Sal's voice broke into Jason's reverie.
Jason glanced up, nodded his head, and reached for the beer. Half of it was gone in one gulp.
The guard looked at the American as he gulped down his own beer. "Take it easy, fella," the officer suggested. Jim turned his attention to the wedding band that was lying on the bar. It was a pretty little thing. Obviously feminine and it seemed to mean a great deal to this man. He went to reach for it so he could get a better look at the initials on the underside.
"You touch it," Jason drawled. His tone was low and dangerous. "And I'll break your fingers."
"Whoa," Jim said. Raised his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to see it, I wasn't planning on taking it buddy."
"Sorry," Jason muttered. He stood, reached for his wallet and dropped some money on the bar. His every intention was to walk away without saying another word.
"You wanna talk about her?" Jim turned on the stool and called after him. He watched as the man stiffened and the tension tightened his body. He ordered the man another beer as Jason turned his attention back to him. He held it up, tipped it towards him. "This one's on me."
Jason considered walking away. The man really had no business prying into his life. So what if he wanted to be a grouch? The guard should just really let him be. But soon Jason realized that he had no where else to be, no one else to see. His decision made, he returned to the bar stool, took the beer. He finished the whole glass before coming up for air. "You got any kids?"
"Jim's the name," the naval guard supplied. He reached for his wallet, pulled it out and flipped to a picture of a blonde little girl. "This is Brenda. She'll be three next week. October 11th, 2002."
Jason tensed when the man said the date. That'd been the day that Abby had been killed.
"Elizabeth!" he called when he entered the house. "Elizabeth!"
She came racing from the living room with Emily on her heels. "Did you find her?"
Jason dropped his head, let it shake. How was he supposed to tell her that Abby was dead?
Elizabeth reached for his jacket coat, ignoring the soot on his face and the stench of smoke that lingered on his clothest. "Jason? Did you find Abby? Is she okay?" She looked past it him, as if expecting someone else to be standing there. "Where is she Jason?"
"Elizabeth–" he started. His hands began to shake and pulled her to him, hugged her tiny frame to his.
"Jason?" she asked. That's when she noticed the soot and the smoke. "Jason what happened?" She reached her hand up, to wipe his brow clean. Her fingers came away black. "Where did this come from?"
"Elizabeth," he whispered, "I tried. I did. You know that right?"
A sob broke her lips and she stared at him. "No," she whispered. "No! You're lying! No!"
"Elizabeth–honey. Look at me. Elizabeth, please look at me."
"No!" she yelled. "You're lying!" Elizabeth ran past him, slung the living room door open. "Sonny!" she yelled into the street. "Sonny, you can come out now. Make sure you bring Abby with you!"
Sonny never came.
Jason caught her before she hit the floor. He swept her up in his arms, sat them down on the couch ignoring his smoke damaged clothes. "Emily, go get me a cool washcloth." He watched as his sister made her way to the bathroom.
"Elizabeth, honey. Come on," he whispered. He gently slapped her face. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't crying. She wasn't moving at all. "Please baby, please. Come back to me."
Emily returned with a washcloth and handed it to him. She took a seat beside him on the couch and cradled her friend's head in her lap. "Elizabeth," she whispered.
"Baby, please talk to me. Please?" he pleaded. But she wasn't talking.
"Please?" he begged.
Jason watched as one tear after another spilled out of her eyes. He felt her arms come around his neck, holding onto him for dear life. He heard her whisper 'no' over and over again into his shirt.
He wished it wasn't true. He wished they could just wake up and it would all be over. That the nightmare would be over. But, no matter how much he hated it, he knew it was true. Sorel had killed their daughter.
"Hey buddy!" Jim snapped his fingers in front of the American's face.
Jason snapped out of it. He shrugged off the memory. That was not something he needed to deal with today. He let his finger linger over the face of the officer's daughter and looked up at the concern the man wore on his face. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's just, I had a daughter once."
"Had?"
Jason shook his head. He reached for the fresh beer and took a swallow. "Yeah. Abby. She died on the day your little girl was born."
Jim touched Jason on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know."
Jason shook his head. "It's okay, there's no way you could have known."
"Did your–" he started, not knowing how to approach the subject. "Did your wife die too?" He looked down at the wedding band and back up to the man's face. "Is that why you keep her wedding band?"
"No," Jason replied. "She didn't die. We separated about a year later."
"Oh, did you get married because she was pregnant?"
Jason's head shot up and he felt the desire to take the man's head and slam it into the bar. How dare he disrespect Elizabeth like that. "No. That's not what happened at all."
Jim pointed to Jason's wedding ring, his eyebrow cocked. "But you still wear your wedding band?"
"When I let her put this ring on my finger, it was because I knew that I'd love her until the day I died." Jason reached down and patted his chest, his arms. "Last time I checked, I still qualify as living, so I wear the ring."
"Oh." Jim didn't know what else to say. He plucked a peanut from the basket, cracked the shell, and popped the nut in his mouth. Reached for another even as Jason stood and reached for his jacket.
"How much do I owe you?" Jason asked, pointing towards the half empty glass.
Jim shook his head, waved him off with his hand. "Nothing. I got this."
Jason nodded. "Thanks."
Jim watched as the American prepared himself to leave before he asked, "Will you be back again tomorrow?"
"No." Jason smiled at him, reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm going home to my wife."
Jim smiled at the American and laughed a little. "That's good, buddy. I'll see ya."
"Yeah." Jason turned and began to walk away.
"Hey, fella!" Jim called after him. He waited until Jason turned around and asked, "What's her name?"
Jason's smile was small, but you could see the love in his eyes even in the dimly lit bar.
"Elizabeth."
And he turned, without another word, and walked out the door.