Alright, so first off, I've had a long bout of writer's block so this story is basically me trying to hop back in the driver's seat so don't expect a masterpiece of a story.
If the character's seem ooc, I apologize. I did my best to try and capture how I believe the characters are, which could very well be wrong.
I'm a huge Liason fan/stan and definitely have a distaste for JaSam. I was one of those kids who watched soaps because their mom watched them, but I only really started to pay attention to GH when the Hostage Situation happened. I've been a Liason (and also later JoLu) fan since. But when both of those ships sunk in like 2009, I pretty much stopped watching. I think the last thing I saw was when Franco tried to blow up Sam and Lulu back in like 2010 maybe, and I only came back to the show when Steve Burton returned.
Which brings me to my point: If some of the facts of Liason history in this story aren't quite correct, that's the reason. Although, I did do my best to scrounge up as much info as a I could.
Also, I'm pretty sure the ages aren't correct in this because Jake was like 10 when Jason returned in 2017, but he's like 11 in this story, so... *shrugs* The ages don't really matter too much in this anyway.
I hope you enjoy my rocky attempt at writing this super couple! *crosses fingers*
Prologue
Wednesday, August 12, 2020
Port Charles Docks
Elizabeth takes the last refreshing sip of her drink while gazing out at the gentle rolling waves of the harbor, when her phone rings. She lets out a quiet groan, dreading the possibility of having her break cut short. When she looks at her phone after digging it out of her purse, she's pleased to see it's her husband, Franco, and not General Hospital calling. Quickly accepting the call, she brings the phone up to her ear.
"Hey, where are you?" There's playfulness in his voice which makes her grin.
"Finishing up my iced tea on the docks. Why...?" she questions with teasing suspicion in her tone, even going so far as to peer at the stairs on either end of the docks as if expecting him to pop up. It wouldn't be surprising.
"Oh! I was actually hoping to meet up for lunch..." She can hear his mood deflating through the phone.
She slumps a little on the bench. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd finish up with your session so soon, otherwise, I would've had lunch at the hospital," she explains, then perks up. "Tell you what. I'll grab you a special at Kelly's and bring it to you. We might not be able to have lunch together, but at least you'll have something better than what they're serving at GH."
"Hmm..." he seems to think about it which makes her shake her head with a fond rolling of her eyes. "Deal. Thanks, Elizabeth." She can hear his grin through the phone.
She stands and heads towards the stairs on her right. "No problem. I'll be there soon."
"Okay, I love you."
"...I love you too." She ends the call, then stares at the screen for a moment before tucking it away in her purse with a sigh.
She climbs the stairs and starts the short journey from the docks to the diner. Already she can see the quaint tables dotted along the cobblestone in the distance, which is why, when her feet nearly fly from under her, she blames it on her focus being too fixed on reaching her destination. Luckily, she catches herself before she falls completely with the sharp clinks of the beer bottle she stumbled over announcing itself to be the culprit.
Huffing as she sweeps her brown locks over her shoulder, she bends to pick it up and feels awareness wash across her skin. It's a familiar tingling, one that has her heart going before she even looks. It's not a shock when she spots Jason Morgan in his black leather jacket, black t-shirt, blue jeans, and biker boots complete with the most breathtaking blue eyes she's ever encountered staring at her from the mouth of the alley leading towards the piers. It's also, unfortunately, not a shock to see Sam McCall, the petite, provocative, brunette with annoyed dark eyes, who also happens to be the woman he's in love with, standing beside him.
Elizabeth does her best to rein in her bucking heart as she straightens up, adopting her perfected aloofness in a blink. "Don't worry. I won't tell a soul I saw you together." It's kind of against the terms of Sam's parole for them to be together after all.
"Elizabeth, wait."
She does not wait. In fact, she picks up the pace especially after hearing that stomach fluttering thing he's always done with her name. No siree, she will not be waiting. But despite her best efforts he reaches her before she can reach the green door marking her escape. She stops long enough to note he's sans his top heavy girlfriend before trying to step around him without making eye contact.
Her path is blocked by six feet of muscle, his hands extending towards her arms before dropping to his sides before they can touch her. "Elizabeth—"
"What is it?" she cuts him off because her heart still hasn't stopped racing and she doesn't need her name on his tongue adding to it. Then she feels a little guilty for how rude she's being and decides, reluctantly, to make eye contact, "Do you not trust that I'll keep my word? Look, if you want to meet your girlfriend in secret that's none of my business." She realizes the irony of that statement silently, remembering that they used to meet in secret too.
But that was a long time ago.
He scrunches his brows together in genuine confusion. "What? She pulled me into that—It doesn't matter. I trust you. You know that," he states this like they're facts that don't need to be discussed, softening her towards him unwittingly. But then he goes on. "It's just-we're friends, aren't—"
"Friends," her wall slams back into place with added reinforcements. "Right," she draws out with the utmost of sarcasm before pivoting away from him and the flash of hurt in his eyes to grab the gold handle of the door.
One of Jason's features is he can be pretty persistent when he wants to be. Though she can't figure out why he wants to be now of all times. She exhales towards the ceiling as he appears at her side, then whispers at him so the patrons don't catch on. "Friends don't want their friend's husband dead." There's a very thin space of air between them that's stirring her blood a little too much, but stepping to the side might cause her to knock into one of the seated customers, so she deals with it.
"You know my reasons," he says back just as low, only his voice is colder and deadlier.
She does know. She even understands. But what kind of wife would she be if she voiced that understanding to anyone but herself? Instead, she takes refuge at the counter where she orders a special at random. She certainly hopes Franco likes the Hawaiian chicken with fruit sauce.
Jason orders a more reasonable burger and fries, staying at her side despite the go away vibes she's emitting. Eventually, his continued presence makes her snap. "Okay, so what? You want to talk to me now? The few times we've sat and tried to have a civil conversation, you go all 'Stone Cold' when it comes to Franco—"
"We don't have to talk about Franco," he says proving her right with his icy demeanor. "You don't want to talk about Sam do you?" he counters.
She looks at him with her chin raised and her eyes narrowed, aware that he has a point, but not wanting to admit it just yet. But he has an unfair advantage of knowing how not to give an inch in a stare down, so she turns away, defeated. She sniffs, "No."
Her eyes follow a waitress who isn't bringing her order which gives her nothing to focus on besides the man waiting patiently for her response instead of taking her silence as an answer. So of course this makes her want to spill her guts. "I still don't get why you're here Jason," she tells him a little desperate as she tries to gauge his expression.
He seems hesitant as he mulls over his words, but there's a determination that turns up the intensity of his gaze to the far end, then promptly breaks that dial. "You're the mother of my son and I've been thinking lately how you and I don't see each other as much. We used to be close friends. And I thought that—"
"You thought that what?" she interrupts with a barely contained viciousness as her heart wrenches in her chest. "You finally remembered in the near three years since you've been back that I'm more than just the woman Franco 'snowballed'? You thought that you'd finally give me the time of day?"
He rears back, his eyes displaying his emotions for her to see. Hurt, regret, and yes, guilt.
She scoffs, disgusted as she sneers. "Well, you can take your charity and shove it Jason." Snatching out a few bills from her purse, she tosses them on the counter and snags the bag from the startled waitress who just arrived.
She leaves Kelly's diner without looking back and Jason doesn't follow this time. A surgical nurse and a mob enforcer live two very different and separate lives. She decides it's best they stay that way.
—
Tuesday, August 18, 2020
Port Charles
Elizabeth turns her key in her ignition. Nothing. She turns it again with the same results. She slams her fists against the steering wheel as her frustration boils over. She'd just needed to get away for an hour or two after her fight with Franco, so of course this would be her punishment for being selfish and seeking out solace.
It's her day off, but instead of spending it at home and getting ahead on chores she had decided to surprise Franco at work. That was her first mistake. As a wife and mother of three staying ahead of things is a must.
Once there, she had caught him just after one of his art therapy sessions which meant he had about 45 minutes until the next one started. It wasn't hard to coax him into a less visited supply closet for a quickie. This was mistake number two. Sex at the hospital is never as great as Patrick and Robin had made it seem.
So her legs were around his waist and his hand was up her shirt, but right before they could commence, he had smugly told her, "This has got to be much better than anything you've done with Nikolas Cassadine."
Nikolas. Cassadine.
Mistake number three: Never discuss past sexual experiences right before you're about to have sex with your current partner.
Instantly, she had shoved out of his arms and began redressing. He must've been talking to Ava Jerome who had a thing for stirring up his insecurities. Nikolas was once a friend - now a mere acquaintance - and it had only ever been sex for her when it came to him. For Franco to bring that up.
He had of course tried to stop her. "Wait wait wait, don't go! I just meant t-that even though he's been trying to win you back you-you want me."
She had tugged her pants on faster.
He had tried again. "No, wait! Ava was telling me this-this funny thing about how you might be fantasizing about him while with me and—"
She had practically leapt towards the doorknob, but he'd caught her arm before she could escape.
"Wait! Are you really going to leave right now?"
Right now as in with his pants unfastened and his erection wrapped and ready to go.
Her grin had twisted into something vindictive. "I don't know. I might start fantasizing about Nikolas and we wouldn't want that." Snatching her arm out of his grip, she had stormed out.
She had drove without a destination in mind, but somehow ended up at the edge of town where a house she hadn't been to in years resided. After digging out the key from her glove department, she was shocked it still worked and even more so when she entered and discovered everything was exactly the way she remembered it - albeit a little dustier.
It being a safe house meant her art supplies weren't necessary, and yet, they had still been there. Canvases, paints, sketchbooks, pencils, paintbrushes, everything. And she had taken advantage. Sketching on the couch they used to cuddle on had been surprisingly freeing and allowed her fury to bleed away. Which of course would mean that the universe needed to do something in order to regain balance.
Stopping her car a quarter of the way back home would do just that.
This particular road is less traveled - it's heading towards a safe house after all - so she doesn't worry when she shoves the creaky door to her Toyota wide open and marches to the hood. Popping it open, she stares at what's under it in the glaring sunlight and discovers that no amount of will power is going to make the insides of a car make sense. Kicking her bumper with her wedged sandal clad foot, she walks back to the driver's side with slumped shoulders, dreading how much it's going to cost for a tow and to fix whatever is wrong.
As she fishes out her phone, she hears the thundering rumble of an approaching motorcycle and everything in her freezes. She knows it's him long before he nears - the odds of another motorcycle driving up this path are slim after all. She just prays he doesn't know where she was coming from. Hell, she hopes he just passes her on by. Outside of their son, Jake, she's kept encounters with Jason Morgan since that day at Kelly's to zilch.
But the universe is still seeking retribution, so, upon noticing her, he parks right beside her car. She sends a mental fuck you to the heavens.
Jason walks up to her side, looks towards her hood, then offers her a tiny, unearned smile especially with the thin look she's giving him. "Car troubles?" he asks unnecessarily.
She crosses her arms over her chest. "Yeah. You can leave. I'm going to call a tow service and have a mechanic look at it," she dismisses him.
His eyebrows bunch together and he raises his hands as if to halt her. "Why? I can take a look at it for you."
She huffs. "I don't want you to," she states the obvious and unlocks her phone, determined to get him to leave.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hands fall to his hips. "Okay… Can you at least tell me what you were doing way out here?" he asks in a gentle probe she is not expecting.
Her eyes flash to his as her mouth opens and shuts uselessly.
His eyebrows raise and what can only be described as a fond smile softens his mouth.
She feels her cheeks flush and blames it on the heat of late summer. Her heart skipping a beat she has no explanation for. To hide it, she locks her screen and gives him a petulant glare. "Fine. You can look at the car."
He nods and brushes past her, causing her breath to catch. The brief feel of hard muscle, and a whiff of leather and man overwhelms her senses. She physically can't move as she feels her flush spread and her belly flood with heat.
"Do you have any tools with you?" he calls out and she jolts, realizing she'd stopped breathing.
"Uh, yeah," she clears her throat. That sounds much too husky for her taste. "Let me get them." To the back trunk she goes where the untouched box sits. She hefts it into her arms and makes it all of two steps before Jason is there lifting it with ease from her arms.
He looks down at it, his eyes practically glimmering in the sunlight they're so bright. "What's in this? The whole auto shop?" There's laughter in his voice and smile.
She pinkens further which is understandable of her pale skin in the sunlight. But to make sure there's no misunderstanding, she crosses her arms and says rudely, "My husband made sure I had everything I needed in case I ran into someone who knew what they were doing."
His humor fades, but he doesn't ice off like she expected. He gives a short nod. "That's smart."
She blinks, staring at his back as he rounds on the front of her car. Then she makes a show of looking around as if expecting something to jump out.
He pauses with his hands braced on her car. "What is it?"
"I'm trying to see if the world is ending because you just agreed with Franco."
He shakes his head, chuckling. "Brat."
She giggles unexpectedly at the affectionate term she hasn't heard since she was well 18 and a brat. The smile is hard to remove from her face even when he looks at her with a touch of accomplishment slanting his grin. She winds up leaning against his bike and idly stroking the leather seat, momentarily pulled back through time when he used to take her riding on the cliffside roads. She peers at him from under her lashes, feeling her hair trickle over her bare shoulders. "Do you think you can fix it?"
He's already tinkering with something inside her car, but pauses at her question. He looks up and seems to think about it with a blank expression. "Yeah," he says simply before turning his attention back downward.
She snorts unable to hold it back and sees him fighting back a grin. God, he knows she loves his dry remarks. She swears he only does it when he wants to make her smile.
That sobers her up real quick.
He almost made her forget herself, but she refuses to be swayed by attempts at humor. Pulling her hair up in a messy bun as the heat starts to fester, she redoubles her efforts to give him the cold shoulder.
"How have you been?" He disregards her plans, breaking the silence.
She considers ignoring him, but her eyes land on quite a distracting sight: the hug of his jeans to his rear. He's bent over further under the hood and it's in prime view, begging to be ogled at. No matter how much she tries to remove her gaze it lingers, and she finds her tongue stumbling over her words, perhaps to aid in her sinful deed. "I, um… Jake has been enjoying the-the art day camp he's been attending this summer. And… Aiden he—"
"No."
Her eyes so snap to his face at this, feeling beads of sweat rolling down her nape as she worries he's caught her leering.
He's not looking at her with reproach, but with a gentle light in his eyes. "I mean, I want to hear about them too, but I meant you. How have you been?"
Her stomach swoops, and she starts fanning herself with her hand.
He points at the bag attached to his bike. "There's some water in there."
She gives a quiet thanks and quickly turns away to get it. There is water, already opened. Though it doesn't really help her cool down in the slightest to have her mouth touch where his has before hers. She's used to defaulting to talking about her kids with that question - people usually want to know about the family unit. It's so nice to be seen as an individual.
She rubs her knuckle against her moistened lips and edges closer to him. "Work has been a pain lately. There's this new nurse, Teà. She's exotic and talented, and has picked me to try and prove she's better than in order to impress Epiphany," she grumbles and starts pacing. "It's stupid because I know it won't work, but I can't help but find it really irritating."
"That's understandable. You're the best surgical nurse GH has to offer. She should know she's wasting her time," he says in an almost distracted tone.
But she turns to find he's anything but distracted. His focus is on her, his eyes filled with something her mind can't decipher but her body recognizes in the way her thighs press together. She physically turns to face the road ahead, convinced she's seeing things. He's in love with Sam after all.
She laughs off his statements though it comes out a little nervous. "I cannot wait until fall comes. You're lucky," she points out, not seeing a drop of sweat on him. "You hardly even register it. Me, I look like a sweaty mess right now."
"You look beautiful."
She faces him with wide eyes and her heart in her throat as he stands free of her car. His expression is shy, even hesitant, but clearly honest.
Her brain sputters, trying to make a connection with her mouth. She's relieved when something intelligible springs free. "A-are you done with the car?"
He looks down, relinquishing her from his hold to close the hood and put the tools he used back in the box. When he lifts the box and heads for her trunk, he appears uncertain about something. "Yeah… I was finished about five minutes after I started."
No, not uncertain about something. Uncertain about her reaction. Being doused in ice water wouldn't make her feel as cold as she does now. "Five minutes?!" she repeats in strained disbelief, chasing after him. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me?"
He shuts her trunk, not looking at her. "You didn't ask," he mutters and his jaw visibly tenses.
Her heart withers in her chest and her words turn toxic as she spits, "A lie by omission. Why am I not surprised?" She tosses his water bottle at him, wanting nothing more to do with him.
He snags it from the air and explodes. "It was the only way to get you to stay, damn it!" He leans into her space, heated and unyielding. She doesn't back down. "You're making this difficult," he continues quieter, but just as earnest, "And I deserve it. But I won't quit. Your friendship is worth fighting for Elizabeth."
The jagged ice inside her melts at his words, but she doesn't let him know. Instead, she backs away from him, and slowly makes her way to her car in what seems like a daze. She gets in, feeling off centered and unsure about everything. She sees Jason move to his motorcycle and watch her through her window. There's a tinge of sadness in his eyes, but his tiny smile is brimming with kindness and understanding.
She starts her car up without an outward reaction, trapped in quiet introspection.
By the time she gets home, she's drained but privy to one thing: In spite of everything, Jason is close to tearing down her walls again.
And that terrifies her.
—
Thursday, August 27, 2020
General Hospital Rooftop
Elizabeth leans against the edge, the rough texture harsh against her bare arms, but she doesn't move. Her hair tickles her cheeks as it sways gently in the tepid breeze. She takes in the sea of buildings that make up the small city. Their black silhouettes clipped by fiery orange extending into pasty blue, creating a sunrise that resonates inside her. She feels like she's on the cusp of something just like this new day, only she won't achieve it in a matter of minutes. Even so, this feels like something worth waiting for, whatever that something may be.
Her eyes don't stray from the dawn of a new day nor does the distant sounds of traffic or wind change, but she knows she's no longer alone in the way her skin prickles. "I like to come out here in the morning sometimes. It's peaceful," she tells him softly.
He takes the spot beside her, his elbow creating little sparks against hers as he leans on the edge. No leather jacket today, she muses.
He doesn't say a word, just existing with her in this moment, not pushing for anything more than her company. It makes her throat tighten with emotion, because she's missed him in her life more than she's allowed herself to think or feel.
Before she's swept up in tears, she goes for a distraction. "What I wouldn't give for a canvas and paints right now," she confides, half serious while turning to look at him for the first time.
Jason meets her eyes and his expression is familiar, filled with keen fascination as if every minute thought, feeling, or word she speaks matters. It takes her breath away. "What's stopping you?"
"I have a full time job and three kids," she tries to explain away.
"You have a husband too," he points out, not meanly or with scorn, just as a simple fact. She has a partner who should be able to help and support her interests.
When she feels the stinging of tears at the backs of her eyes, she walks a little ways from him in what she hopes isn't too suspicious. "Well, it doesn't really matter. It's not like I was ever a real artist or anything," she says in a passably even tone.
She feels him close the distance between them again, but she keeps her head turned away. "Who-who told you that?"
"No one." Franco. She bites her lip and prays her eyes don't appear too wet, because eye contact is a must if she wants him to believe her half-truths. "It's true, I was never really able to create art that really expressed how I felt," she shrugs and pastes on an unbothered smile.
He remains unfazed, seeing inside her the way no one else can. "What about The Wind? You have so much potential Elizabeth—"
"You were the only one I showed that to and you can't really see it, so how do you know that's true Jason?" she demands not at all taking a dig at his brain damage, but rather stating a simple fact as well. She needs to put an end to this, because she's too exposed to him right now, and she can't be that way with him. It's too much. Her heart will want more.
But she's literally backed into the corner of the roof and he's inches from her, not giving up on her. "Elizabeth, you helped me see it. You help me see a lot of things I normally wouldn't," he tells her gently, casting his gaze to the skyline for a moment before finding his next words. "Your dreams are just as important as anybody else's... And I still believe in them."
Two tears fall down her cheeks before she can even blink, and she wants nothing more than to fill the space in his arms where she knows in her heart she belongs.
But she can't.
"I'm sorry, I-I have to go," she gasps, pushing around him and running away. Away from the way he makes her feel. Away from what they mean to each other. It's impossible for them to be just friends. In the beginning, that's what they were, but after she found him shot in the snow all those years ago, there's always been a want for more between them.
And she's been forced to learn the hard way that more with Jason is not in the cards.