Note: It's hard to get back into writing when you've been gone for a while. :( Ai, ai, ai, no me gusta. Hope this chapter meets with everyone's expectations and/or approval. It doesn't have to be both; it can be one or the other. :b And I know this ends in a sickeningly sweet way, and I hate that, but just bear with me til the next chapter.

For birthday girls Kris and Tracy, and for my Amanda.

Chapter Twenty-Two

A man's home was his castle and at the moment, Johnny O'Brien felt like a lowly peasant come to ask a great boon of the king. He tossed his keys from one hand to the other – a nervous habit of his – before depositing them in his pocket and staring up at the newly built structure that stood at the end of the driveway.

Christ. Even Jason Morgan's house was intimidating.

Gravel crunched under his unpolished dress shoes as the newspaper editor took a reluctant step away from his Jeep. He should just get back in to the vehicle and drive home already; he had no reason to be here anyway. After all, he and Jason weren't friends and the only time he talked to the man was while they quickly snagged a cup of coffee at Kelly's – and even then, it was only a word or two of indifferent greeting. Yep, if he were a smarter man, he'd get his butt home to his wife and forget about this ridiculous mission he had imposed on himself out of some warped sense of nobility.

But he knew he couldn't do that. If he were honest with himself, Johnny could admit that he had every reason to be standing outside Jason Morgan's new home, and that there was a lot riding on his success in the endeavor.

Like most things in his life for the past few years, this all boiled down to one petite, loud-mouthed little woman. However, this time, that woman wasn't his wife but her best friend. Since he had first laid eyes on Emily Bowen, he had quickly realized that she and Elizabeth were a joint package. If he wanted Emily, he'd have to get used to Elizabeth as well. But he never had a single complaint about that little fact of life; Elizabeth Webber was intelligent, spunky, fun, and one of the kindest and most compassionate young women he had ever met. She had moved to Port Charles a couple years prior to that, and she and Emily had instantly clicked and were more like sisters than friends. And while it used to irk him at first that Elizabeth knew every detail of his relationship with Emily, he quickly got used to it.

After all, there was very little that Emily and Elizabeth didn't tell each other, if anything. And Elizabeth was always the one to talk some sense into Emily when she'd throw her tantrums, and she was always the one to give him advice when he did something to tick his girlfriend off. Not only was Elizabeth a very important part of Emily's life, but she had soon become an important part of his as well.

And now the girl was upset and for the first time in a long time, Emily had no idea what to do to help. She knew it was something that Elizabeth would have to deal with herself, she had told him, but she had also confessed to how helpless she felt that she couldn't fix the situation.

It had been almost two days since Emily's best friend had shown up on their doorstep in tears, and he couldn't take it anymore. This wasn't the Elizabeth he knew – she was miserable and reticent and lost – and if he could help rectify this mess in any way, he'd do it. It would be messy, but then again, he dealt with murders, explosions, and corruption in city hall every single day of the week – he could certainly handle this.

It would be like ripping off a band-aid, Johnny told himself as he strode resolutely up the driveway to the front porch. He'd say what he had to say, quick and without any fuss, and the sooner he did that the sooner he could get home. Things would work out for the best this way; secrets and cover-ups only produced more misery in the long run. He hated seeing everyone – his wife, his close friend, and even the surly mechanic that he didn't altogether dislike and even respected in a strange way – so upset. It was going to have to end.

It was a warm summer night and Jason had left the front door wide open to invite in the misty breeze. Taking a deep breath, Johnny jabbed the ringer and listened as the bell resonated through the house. He waited a moment but when there was no answer, he rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.

Still, there was no answer. Johnny had just raised his hand to knock once more when Jason's sandy spikes appeared from around a corner and the two men stood, simply staring at each other. The mechanic looked surprised to see him, not that Johnny could blame him, but welcomed the other man into his domain with a curt nod of his head.

Letting out a strangled sigh, Johnny grasped the handle and pulled the door open, stepping into the house. It was a simple establishment. The first thing he noticed was how plain and simple it looked – certainly not like his own house. Emily had covered every single wall with photographs and paintings, some of them crafted by Elizabeth's masterful hand, and had purchased decorative furnishings, the like of which could probably be found in the palace of the Sultan of Brunei. If there was one thing that woman loved, it was to waste his money on soft, brightly colored things for people to sit on.

But Jason's house was almost completely bare. Perhaps it was because it had only been completed two days ago, but he had a feeling that Jason was the kind of guy that didn't need a lot of plush, soft, expensive trappings around to turn a house into a home. His wife would do well to take a cue from the man.

Steeling his jaw and his resolve, Johnny followed Jason into the room he had come from. The dining room and family room were adjoined, forming one incredibly large, sprawling room, which Jason had 'decorated' the area with a large brown leather couch, a recliner, a thin layer of dust on the bare mantle over the fireplace, and a large pool table in lieu of a dining table. The corner of his mouth quirked up as Johnny's green eyes darted around the room. Hey, to each his own.

"Jason."

The mechanic nodded tersely again and took a quick pull from his beer bottle. The editor's appearance had surprised him, but he was at least happy that it was the Mister O'Brien instead of the Missus. Thank goodness for small miracles. "John. What are you doing here?"

Habit had Johnny clasping his hands and rubbing his clammy palms together as if he were just about to head up the weekly staff meeting where he divvied up stories and sent everyone out on assignment. "I'm not going to pretty this up in any way, Morgan. There's something you need to know."

They said that when Michelangelo was commissioned to paint the Sistine chapel, he worked days on end without getting any sleep. The great Raphael, when working on his masterpiece The School of Athens, was known to indulge in certain stimulants to keep himself alert. Marie Cassat, her own personal idol, would drink copious amounts of tea in order to stay awake and paint her Impressionist works of art.

And for the first time in her entire life, Elizabeth Webber could relate to the greats of centuries past.

After her near meltdown outside Emily's house almost two days ago, she had retreated to her studio and the security it afforded. She had been all mixed-up and confused, and instead of huddling under the covers until sleep claimed her, she found that she could do nothing else save paint.

And so she painted.

She didn't have any pending assignments; after all, she had completed her senior portfolio before graduation and was an independent artist now. She wasn't working with deadlines or a professor's whim and fancy this time. And she found it suited her better, because in the past forty-eight hours, she had created a work of art. Her first real work of art.

Her dichotomy of dancers, as she referred to her paintings of the dancing couple, had always irked her since its actualization. Her initial goal had been to capture the perfect passion that her imagined dancing couple exuded in her mind. The first one had been too soft and fuzzy; the second too angular and harsh. But time had simply run out, so she had submitted the two as they were to her professor, bull-shitting some half-baked proposal about how she wanted to show conflicting aspects of how dance translated into art.

Her professor had bought it, as she knew he would, and had given her exemplary marks for her work. But still, the paintings lingered in the recesses of her consciousness, flaunting themselves as admissions of her failure to be true to her vision.

It seemed as of late that she had all but forgotten how to be true to herself.

Emily had been a big help in that respect. She had been right to trust her best friend to be the one to kick some sense into her. She had been scared and scared when she showed up on the O'Brien porch; when she left, she was still confused. But she wasn't scared any more, and Emily played a big role in that.

She was in love with Jason Morgan.

And it wasn't scary anymore.

An emotional rollercoaster, yes. She had a lot to process after she came home that night, and instead of analyzing everything until it chewed her up inside, she had picked up her brush and poured her emotions out through a handful of brightly colored paints.

And that was when she had created it – her masterpiece. Her fricking David. Minus the nakedness, of course.

It was finally done, and she was in love with it. It was the vision that had come to her, that had inspired her so many months ago when she was contemplating her final senior project, the last bit of work she had to put into her portfolio to really showcase her honest-to-goodness talent.

Two dancers, ensconced in each other's arms, their bodies twined together in a gesture of passion and support, clinging to each other amidst a whirl of deep reds and fiery yellows. It was complete; it was true.

A soft smile curled her lips as she brushed her fingertips over the edge of the rough canvas.

It was Jason's.

When she pulled up to the house, only the lower level lights were on, twinkling like little golden beacons to assure the lonely voyager safe passage. She bit her lip, parking in one smooth motion and grabbing her painting before she slid out of the car. The night was warm and balmy with a cool, comforting breeze that made the wispy material of her summer dress flutter beautifully.

Stars shimmered from their lofty position up in the heavens as Elizabeth climbed the front steps. She was faint and jittery and excited all at the same time, and she continuously shifted her grip on the precious canvas frame.

The front door to Jason's humble abode was wide open, and Elizabeth made sure to ring the buzzer in fair warning before she pulled open the screen door and let herself in. The last time she had been here, Jason had kissed her and she had bolted like a scared rabbit. This time, there would be none of that. No running away, no excuses, no bailing.

No bailing.

Pale golden light fell into the dim foyer and Elizabeth kicked off her sandals before venturing further into the house. Jason had managed to decorate it in the two days since Max and the gang had packed up, and the place really suited him. She could see a comfortable looking couch, a soft recliner that already showed signs of use, and a dark, sturdy coffee table boasting a scattered pile of mail.

She stepped further into the room and saw the pool table that graced the dining room, and that was when her nervous blue eyes fell on the tall, brooding man leaning against it. The lamplight fell against his broad back, cloaking his face in shadows, but she could make out his piercing cerulean eyes even in the dim light.

A muscle in Jason's jaw ticked as he watched her shift her weight from one bare foot to the other. To say that he was shocked to see her was an understatement, and for the first time in a long time, he was less than thrilled to see her. Twenty minutes had passed since Johnny had left and for those entire twenty minutes, he had stood completely numb by the pool table, unmoving. His beer warmed to room temperature, ignored on the pool table, as he had tried furiously to comprehend the mess that Johnny had just dumped on his lap.

Elizabeth had used him. She had used him from the beginning and he had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

And now she was here.

He didn't move as she came closer, her bare feet not making a sound over the clean hardwood. He just stood, stoic and silent, as she inched toward him with that tremulous, hesitant smile on her lips.

Elizabeth was growing increasingly uncomfortable under his intense but icy blue eyes, but then again, she should have expected this after what happened two days ago. He had kissed her and she had bolted and hidden from him. She had some serious bridge building to do before the night was over, that was for sure.

"Hi." He barely moved at the sound of her voice, the first tentative greeting and olive branch. Swallowing, Elizabeth forced a bright smile to her face. "I, uh, bet you didn't expect to see me this late." Still, no response. "I thought at first that it might be rude to show up, but I knew you'd be up and this couldn't wait." He barely blinked, squandering her hopes for acknowledgment. "I-I like what you've done with the place. It's very you. The pool table, the couch – somehow, I know those didn't come from Ikea."

Nothing.

Her palms began to itch and she shifted her grip on the canvas, which she held close to her body. His steel blue eyes were on her as she fidgeted nervously, then worked up the nerve to turn the canvas frame around.

"This is for you." When he made no move to take it, she extended her arms and practically deposited it in his. Her sapphire eyes probed his features for any barely perceptible reply as Jason slowly turned the frame around in his hands and stared down at it, his fingers gripping the edges firmly.

After a deafening silence, he looked up at her and finally blinked. "What is it?"

Elizabeth was so relieved to hear his voice for the first time that she readied her enthusiastic reply instantly, almost missing the next words out of his mouth.

"-Another one of your games?"

That made her stop. Blinking, she stared up at him, noting his tense features and flexed jaw. "I…what?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked and Jason just shook his head once before turning to set the painting on the pool table. He turned his back on it swiftly, crossing his arms over his solid chest. "Johnny was just here."

The gears were beginning to turn in her head and Elizabeth could slowly feel the world falling out from under her. "O-Oh."

He steeled himself against the timidity in those expressive sapphire orbs and clenched jaw. "Quiet guy – except when he has something to say. And trust me, he had a lot to say."

Her face was flaming, burning hot all of a sudden, and a tremble ran through her fingers as she raised her hands to her cheeks. "Jason-"

"You used me." Each word was terse and clipped, laced with bitterness as Jason all but spit them out at her. "You used me from the very beginning."

"No, I-"

His intense eyes flashed dangerously and Jason had to grip the edge of the pool table with his large hands. "And I had to find out from someone like John O'Brien."

This was not happening. She had seen him angry before, and had even felt it when his anger was directed at her, but this was completely different. Not only was he angry, but Jason was bitter and hurt and it was all her fault. "Jason, you have to believe me, I didn't mean for this to-"

"Believe you?" He was quirking one sandy brow at her and making her feel all of two inches tall. "After hearing all this, you want me to believe you?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this!" she burst out, not even bothering to hide the tears in her voice. No, none of it was supposed to happen like this. She wasn't supposed to hurt him, she wasn't supposed to fall in love with him to begin with.

"Then how was it supposed to happen?" he flung back, gritting his teeth together. "You got angry that I blew you off in the kitchen-"

Her cheeks flamed again at the reference to that first morning, but Elizabeth could do nothing as Jason raged on.

"You made me think you wanted to be my friend-"

"I do wa– Jason, I am your friend-"

"You practically tricked me into moving into Kelly's, you led a line of guys around under my nose, you let me tell you things I've never told anyone before, and you-" He looked away for a moment, his grip on the pool table so tight that his knuckles were turning white from a lack of circulation. "You let me kiss you and then you walked away."

A fresh wave of tears assaulted her as Elizabeth called herself every wretched name in the book. His voice was low and rough, but there was no mistaking the hurt she heard in it. Sniffling, she inched closer and hung her head.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words sounded so pitiful and sorely lacking in meaning that she almost wished she hadn't said them. What did her regret matter in the face of what Jason was feeling? He had every reason to think that she was the absolute worst person in the world.

He rolled her shoulders and turned his head, not interested in her sorry. It was so hard for him to be mad at Elizabeth, which was why the ferocity of his anger now scared him. The feelings he had for her were still so strong, but vitiated now to the opposite extreme. It scared and confused him because he had never felt this way about anyone before; he had never been so in love with one person only to have it all turn out to be meaningless, and the sudden one-eighty had him lost and disoriented.

Elizabeth was watching him through wet lashes, noting how the vein in his forehead throbbed and the muscle in his jaw ticked. Clearing her throat softly, she averted her gaze and continued to nervously wring her fingers. "I-What I did, I know it was wrong and I have no excuse. I have no excuse for hurting you, Jason, especially when you've never purposely hurt me."

He flexed his jaw and shifted against the pool table but did not move away, and she was thankful at least for that.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." The words sounded hollow even to her own ears. "It wasn't supposed to go this far. Things just snowballed out of control and I got scared and you were caught in the middle and-"

"All for some game." His strained, lethal voice cut through her remorseful ramblings. "Just a meaningless game of revenge."

Her heart broke in two at the self-loathing in his voice, as if he were to blame for getting sucked into this mess. Tucking her hair behind her ear in a jerky motion, Elizabeth tried vainly to get Jason to look at her. "Jason, please, you have to listen to me for a minute-"

The older man let out a breath of air and his shoulders sagged. He put up his hands and shook his head, resigned. "I don't want to listen."

Sucking in a deep breath, Elizabeth took a brave step forward and gripped his forearms with her small hands, holding him in place. Jason tensed at the gesture and made no move to return it, simply standing still and rigid with his fingers curled away from her arms. "I know you don't want to listen. You have no reason to listen. But if you give me one shot to explain, I promise, you won't have to listen to me again if you don't want to."

He said nothing, just stared blankly down at her, and Elizabeth knew this was her one chance to put everything out there. This was not the time to protect her heart or worry about getting hurt; she lost the right to do that the minute she put Jason in this position of feeling so much pain because of her.

She began slowly, in a low voice that still resonated in the quiet house. "Yes, I was…hurt from the way you dismissed me that morning at Kelly's. Mainly because…I really liked you before that and thought…maybe that it was what I wanted. And when you backed away like that, I was pretty angry."

His eyes were still hard and unreadable, so she quickly continued.

"I decided that it would…serve you right, I guess, if you got to know me better. Like, if I showed you what you were missing." She could barely suppress the urge to cringe at the utter idiocy of her words. Good Lord, she sounded like a preschooler. Jason noticed how her inflection changed, how her voice grew tinier with each mortifying word, but quickly regained his stony façade before she could notice.

Elizabeth wasn't even mindful of the fact that her hands were still gripping his meaty arms; she was focused solely on putting her entire case out there and then asking for his forgiveness. "But…then I got to know you. Big mistake," she added under her breath, shaking her head and missing the flicker of surprise that ran through Jason's intense eyes. "You were even greater than I thought. And every time we talked or ate lunch together or worked a shift together, I found myself liking you more and more."

Try as he would, he didn't have any reason to doubt the truth to her words. He could always tell when Elizabeth was telling a lie, and something deep within him began to warm at the thought that this wasn't one of those times.

"I never thought we'd become real friends…that you'd become one of my best friends." Her voice had dropped to a rusty whisper and fat tears clung to her lashes as she peered solemnly up at him, begging him with her eyes to accept her words. "And it scared me. Things changed, and it scared me that I liked you so much, that you were so important to me. You were there for me when I didn't make the Albany program; you met my brother at graduation. The most important day of my life, and I got to share it with you. And it scared me that I really, really wanted to."

He could feel himself being pulled in by her wide, dark eyes but Jason still resisted.

"You have every reason to believe that it was meaningless, Jason," she choked out, her fingers tightening around his muscles as if by their own volition. "But it meant something to me – it meant a lot to me. No one's ever taken care of me when I was sick since I was eight; no one's ever looked at me and told me I was perfect; no one's ever made me feel as good as you did. All of that stuff, Jason – it was very meaningful."

He looked down at their arms, twined together, as if he were noticing their position for the first time. Elizabeth sensed him shifting and tightened her hold on him, refusing to let go until he heard all of it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Jason," she whispered, not bothering to wipe away the tears that coursed slick trails down her porcelain cheeks. "That was the last thing I wanted. I think I knew that eventually, given what was going on, that I would hurt you, and I pretended that if I ignored the problem, it would go away. But it didn't. You got hurt, and I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am."

His palms brushed her elbows as Jason's index fingers skimmed a faint path over her smooth skin.

"But I have to try because I messed up and I can't blame this on anyone but me," she continued in a rush, her eyes closed as the words tumbled rapidly from her lips. "You were so g-good to me and I ruined you and it was stupid and childish and unfair because you didn't deserve that, and I don't have any right to expect you to forgive me but I have to ask because I'm sorry and I love you and I can't stand it when you're mad at me!"

Jason's jaw practically fell to the floor as he gaped at the slim wisp of a brunette that stood barefoot and teary-eyed in front of him, doing her best to stifle a sob. So much information had been thrown at him in the past thirty minutes that he was surprised this last revelation didn't send him toppling. "I-What did you say?"

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, as if realizing right at that moment what she had actually said. This wasn't exactly how she had planned to tell him, but there was no backing out now. She had pledged tonight as she made her way to his house that she would tell him everything, and that meant the most important declaration of her life, as well.

"I love you."

Jason blinked at the soft, simple announcement and stared at the brunette who was half in his arms, completely bewildered. An awkward, stunned silence stretched between them and as the second hand ticked audibly, Elizabeth's face became increasingly florid.

Her eyes dropped down to her fingers, which were still curled around his meaty forearms, and her plush lips fell open on an "o" of surprise. She hastily withdrew her arms, instantly missing the warm of Jason's hands, and took a small and wobbly step back. In all of her anxious predictions about tonight, she should have prepared herself for this: the very real possibility that Jason Morgan just didn't love her the way she loved him.

Her cheeks were flaming in stark contrast to her normally pale skin as Elizabeth sniffled with embarrassment and let her gaze dart around to anything but him. "I, uh, I didn't mean to – You don't have to say it back. That's not why I said it. I just…just wanted you to know. And now that you know, I'll just be-"

By this time, Jason had recovered from his near-cardiac arrest and stopped her mortified babbling by gripping her chin in one hand and tilting her face up to look at him. "Why?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself staring into his turbulent blue eyes, stormy with a myriad of emotions she dared not name. "Why?"

He nodded once – quickly – repeating, "Why do you love me?"

It was the most ridiculous question she had ever heard, which surprised her because Jason didn't waste time with ridiculous questions. That, of course, could only mean one thing: that he genuinely wanted to know. "I-Do I have to have a reason?" she asked breathlessly, searching for the right words.

Confusion – or skepticism – flickered through his intense eyes as he absently stroked the cute little cleft in her chin. "Don't you?"

Well, this wasn't getting them anywhere. "It's not just one reason." He only blinked back at her and Elizabeth licked her lips, trying to find a suitable way to put all that she was feeling into words. "It's a puzzle, and it's about how it all fits together. It's about what you give me, what you show me, what you make me feel. There's no one reason for it – it's the whole package, everything about you."

This time, the skepticism was clear in the way he looked at her and Elizabeth shook her head to herself with exasperation. This definitely wasn't getting them anywhere. Taking one brave step and closing the distance between them, Elizabeth lifted her hands to frame his face and stared deep into his eyes, hoping to openly betray the conviction and depth of her words.

"I'm in love with you, Jason Morgan. And for once, it is as simple as that."

This time, she could clearly feel the relief as it coursed through his body, relaxing his tense muscles. She could also feel the heat of his hand as it bled through her summer dress when Jason brought his palm against the small of her back, holding her in place.

He hesitantly raised his other hand to her face to wipe away her tears, and was encouraged when he cupped her cheek and she leaned in to his touch. His fingertips feathered through her soft chestnut hair as Jason slowly inched closer, relishing her warmth.

She sniffed away the last remnants of her tears and nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked up at him with wide, earnest eyes. "Can you forgive me?"

It took him a moment to answer, due only partly to hesitation and more to the fact that he had just rediscovered how easily he could lose himself in those deep sapphire orbs. Swallowing, he slowly nodded his head and watched as her eyes pooled with tears once more.

"Why?"

The question was soft, with a hint of laughter to alleviate the gravity that shrouded the moment. Jason's thumb tickled the underside of her jaw and he was so close that his nose actually bumped into hers as he whispered his answer over her lips.

"Because I love you, too."