Thank you all for your continued support! It really means a lot!

2

Location Unknown

When Elizabeth regains awareness, the first thing she notices is how chilled she feels. It's much colder than a typical early fall evening. Upon dragging her eyes open and seeing darkened beams stretching across an unfamiliar roof above her, the floodgates of her memories burst open.

She bolts upward into a seated position looking over herself in the gloom to see the navy blue scrubs and long sleeved undershirt wrinkled, but still in place. Not yet satisfied, she internally searches for any aches or soreness that could indicate one of her greatest fears having happened again. Other than the pain in her inner elbow, she feels nothing of the sort, causing her heart to calm enough for her to focus outward.

There's a warmth beside her, luring her gaze to Jason's prone form. She turns towards him with a gasp, feeling cushioned springs dip under her knees. Pressing her fingers to his neck, his heartbeat reaches out to her steady and even. She slides her hand down to his chest, feeling it expand and contract as well. She feels some of her tension fade, until she recalls he was struck at least once.

Leaning up towards his face she mutters, "What I wouldn't give for a little light," as she wishes to check his pupils. Instead, she sets about slowly guiding her fingers along his skull. The soft locks of spiky hair easily part for her inspection and in no time she feels a lump at the back of his head. Her mind reels at the feel of it however. It isn't large and inflamed like it happened within the past few hours, more like it's had a few days for the swelling to go down. She feels a little dizzy.

How long has it been?

Shaken, she carefully draws back, but freezes at seeing piercing blue focused on her. Her pulse ticks upward and words fail her.

He studies her in that achingly familiar way like he can peel back her exterior and not only know what's on her mind but understand her too. "How am I?" His voice barely disturbs the air between them.

She leans away from him, feeling a blush nip at her cheeks, and does her best to remember she's a happily married woman and fought hard to get that ending. "You tell me. Any dizziness, blurred vision, or confusion?"

He sits up, seeming to consider her question as he tilts his head from side to side. When he meets her gaze, he gives a faint shake of his head. "No." He proceeds to roll up the sleeve of his navy blue shirt, exposing his inner elbow. She leans close to better see, running her fingertips along the inflamed area. "But I do have this."

"An injection site. I'm pretty sure I have one too," she whispers. Flicking her gaze up to his, a hint of fear tinges her voice. "Jason, what happened to us?"

He climbs out of the bed and pulls out the gun from where he keeps it tucked against his back, checking the magazine and some of her worries spill free. "I mean, I know we were kidnapped, but they tried to kill me first. You and I are rarely seen together nowadays, so why would an enemy of yours try to kill me?"

The weapon is hidden once more as his eyes settle back on her. "I think Cyrus Renault was behind this."

"The kingpin that just got out of prison..." That at least makes sense.

She scoots to the edge of the bed, wanting to explore their surroundings, but his next words halt her in her tracks. "And I don't think you were the intended target."

Slowly climbing to her feet as something reaches into her chest and begins to twist, she faces him, trying to read his expression through the gloom. "What do you mean?" she phrases her words carefully.

He rubs his brow where the faint scar from his accident ends - an old nervous habit. She knows his answer before he admits it. "They most likely mistook you for Sam."

She gives a sharp nod of her head. "Right, so I was kidnapped, leaving my kids and husband undoubtedly worried sick because I was mistaken for your girlfriend who you're not even supposed to be seeing!" she exclaims with a tinge of hysteria to her voice. She thrusts her fingers up into her hair and squeezes her eyes shut as she visualizes each of her boys and how scared they must be for her.

At the heavy thud of his biker boots approaching, she drops her hands and shoots a fierce glare his way.

Jason rightfully halts where he stands with his fingers flexing and his eyebrows creased with guilt. "I'm- I'm sorry."

She turns away from him, refusing to let the sincerity of his tone sink in just yet as her anger continues to bubble and boil beneath the surface. She chooses to ignore him in favor of examining the room on her side of the bed. From what she can make out, it's a tiny cabin of some sort, a very dilapidated one at that if the termite eaten gaps between the boards nailed across the windows is anything to go by. At least she knows where the chill is coming from.

"The day you and I argued, I told Sam we shouldn't see each other anymore outside of Danny, that we should honor the terms of her parole," he goes on, filling her silence. "She was obviously upset, but you were right. Scout and Danny are more important."

Her anger is beginning to wane not that she'll let him in on that fact quite yet. So when she shifts from peeking through the gaps in the window at the darkened thicket of trees to brushing past him to search the other side of the room, he follows her.

"The day we were kidnapped I went to the hospital to apologize to you, but I guess we missed each other."

She briefly stops searching the kitchenette of just cabinets and a sink as her heart swells against her will. He wanted to apologize to me for jumping down his throat. Typical Jason.

Her skin grows warmer as he moves closer behind her. "I ran into Sam though," he tells her quietly. "I didn't know she would be there. She tried to get me into a room to talk to me, but I refused. She sent me a message before I could even reach the parking garage. Said there was something important she had to tell me. I guess she got held up. But Elizabeth," he pauses and the growing remorse in his tone doesn't sit well with her at all. "If I had just left instead of waiting—"

She turns around shaking her head, determined to absolve him of his guilt. "It sounds to me like I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." When his lips purse with clear disagreement, she holds up her hand to stop his protest. "Look, if you want to play what ifs, I could've skipped making myself hot chocolate after work and been gone long before any of that stuff could've happened," she reasons.

But when he still doesn't look convinced, she does her best to swallow her despair and says what she knows will get through to him. "You're in love with Sam. You'd walk through fire to be with her. If she said she had something important to tell you, I don't blame you for waiting. I get it."

I get that I was never worth fighting that hard to be with. I get it. I really do.

She turns away before the stinging behind her eyes overwhelms her and starts opening drawers and feeling inside them to distract her from her choking sorrow, feeling foolish. She just needs a few moments to get it under control. Her hands slide through two bare drawers before finding an old box of matches. Her breathing is still choppy much to her frustration and he hasn't said anything. Why hasn't he said anything?

She squats down and yanks open a stuck cabinet. She thrusts a shaking hand into the darkness where her fingertips graze over curved metal just as a small click sounds.

She's jerked back as the deafening slam of metal colliding rattles in her ears. She's frozen for all of a second before terror seeps through her, shaking her frame from head to toe. Was that a bear trap?

Jason pulls her into his lap, his warm, rough hands sliding over the one she nearly lost. "It would be a shame if you lost your artist's touch." He's trying to be light for her sake, but so close she can make out the keen fright sharpening his gaze.

When her vision blurs, she doesn't fight it. Tucking her face into his neck, she gratefully accepts the warmth and security of his embrace. And, for a little while, as she sheds tears while he strokes her back, she can take comfort in the delusional fantasy that he feels as deeply for her as she always has for him.

After a time, she feels herself calming and knows she has to pull away, both emotionally and physically. She savors the feeling of his pulse against her cheek, his heart beating against hers and his large hands pressed to her back before gathering the threads of her composure. Edging back with a sheepish smile, she doesn't have it in her to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry I got you all wet." She uses her sleeves to wipe at her eyes, undoubtedly smearing her makeup. I probably look like a hot mess by now, she groans internally.

He touches her under her chin for an instant, but it's still enough to shock a gasp from her, bringing her gaze to his intense one. "I don't care about that. Are you okay?"

Thankful for the night for hiding the burning in her cheeks, she answers softly, "Yeah, I'm fine." She twists her fingers together so she doesn't do something stupid like brush her knuckles over his cheek. She takes a deep breath, "Thank you."

He nods minutely, his eyes never straying or losing their skin tingling intensity. "No problem."

When it feels like she might drown in the mesmerizing swirl of his emotions if she stares for a moment longer, she forces her gaze down at his arms still encircling her. Her hair slips around her, further hiding her flustered reaction. "I was being reckless before. We're not on vacation. This Cyrus guy is trying to kill us. And from the look of things, slowly and painfully," she says with a wry twist of her lips.

"Renault is ruthless."

She feels his muscles tense and she starts to move so she can get to her feet. Her stomach swoops when he surprises her by lifting her and placing her on the bed.

"Which is why I'm going to check the rest of this place out on my own. You stay put," he orders with a stern stare.

"Jason... I know to be more careful now. I can help you," she argues with a deepening frown.

"You can help me by going over what we know so far." He doesn't budge in his decision, and she doesn't fight him as hard as she normally would because her most recent brush with danger still lurks under the surface of her skin.

After he collects one of the many pieces of lumber scattered about and heads back to the cabinets, she mentally gathers the facts. "Renault tried to send a message to the Corinthos-Morgan organization. Maybe Sam was supposed to be killed and you kidnapped, but when things didn't go as planned, I guess they changed tactics. We've been out for at least a few days, judging from that bump on your head, where they've had the time to bring us further up north maybe. And now we don't know where we are or what he has planned for us." Giving their situation a little more thought, she nods satisfied with her answer. "That sound about right?"

Jason emerges from the cabinet sans the bare trap, but holding what looks like a lantern which he sits beside the matches she discovered. "Yeah. We just have to figure out his plans now." The match hisses as it comes to life, the tiny flame throwing light across his features and the lantern caked with dust. He lights the wick inside and she ignores his order to stay put by moving closer, feeling more at ease at their dimly lit surroundings.

He turns to her, transferring the tarnished golden handle to her hand. "If the dust has been disturbed on any of these, leave those alone. I'll check those out, okay?"

A little grin shapes her lips at the trust he's showing her. "Okay."

He nods once, then strides across the room from the bed towards what could be the front door, but she focuses on her task at hand. In the end, she finds that other than the places they touched before, the few remaining drawers and cabinets on the bottom are barren.

At the abrupt drop in temperature and the creaking of the door as it's opened, her gaze snaps to Jason. She sees his gun in hand, but he doesn't look like he's about to go head to head with gunmen.

"The door's unlocked and there are no guards," he states as if feeling her silent question, his focus still trained outside. "It's not going to be as simple as walking out this door and finding our way home. That would be too easy. There was a reason he dumped us here," he insists sounding certain as he shuts the door.

She bites her lower lip, considering this. "Even if we tried to leave, it's too dark to risk getting lost in the woods. So at the very most, morning is when we should try to have a concrete plan. Right now, we can continue to search this place for any clue as to why we were left here," she concludes as she turns to lift the lantern towards the upper cabinets and spots a white folded paper stuck to its bottom. Pulling it off as he comes to her side, she begins to unfold it. "Or we can find one right here."

With the lantern on the counter she angles the paper so he can read it as well.

Mr. Morgan,

As you've probably guessed, I've decided to let Ms. McCall live at the happy discovery of Mrs. Baldwin. She would've made a nice substitute being the mother of your first born. But then I thought a game might prove more fun in displaying exactly why I am not to be crossed.

Astute as you are Mr. Morgan, I'm sure you've noticed your seeming freedom and are facing quite the conundrum as to why I would go through all the trouble of kidnapping you only to let you live, as well as allow you to run free. You are right to wonder, and the answer lies in those injection sites you're both sporting.

There are a lot of drugs that are known and have been researched, and a great deal more that are largely unknown. Did you know there are even some that can kill a person without any symptoms or traces within a matter of days? My, it would be quite unfortunate if one of you were exposed to such a drug. Luckily, the consumption of one full vial of the antidote negates this drug's effects. Though, from what I understand, those vials are quite rare. You'd be lucky to get your hands on just one. You and Mrs. Baldwin are fortunate you don't have to worry about such business.

But if you did, I'm certain a vial would be closer than you think, and that you would know just who would be in most need of it.

Best regards

Her knees become gelatinous and her vision swims as the paper flutters to the ground. "Oh god, he—!" The bed appears beneath her as she tries to pull in oxygen to her suddenly starving lungs. He's going to kill one of us. No, not one of us. Jason. There's no reason to kill me and let him live. Her throat tightens and her face contorts. She allows herself just one moment where she gives into the terror and heart rending agony of losing him again. She feels a hollowness in her chest threatening to crack open and suck her into a place where no one can reach her besides her boys. Wrapping her arms around her middle and curling into herself, tears run hot down her cheeks, a sob burning past her throat.

Then she hears a crash and jerks her head up to see splinters of wood scattering from the plank of wood Jason hurled against the wall, sees the wild fury oscillating with stark panic in his vivid eyes, and forces her own reaction down. She needs to be strong.

Rising to her feet and drying her eyes, she approaches him, eying the way he paces like a caged animal wanting to do anything but stay put. Wetting her lips, she stands in his path forcing him to meet her eyes. "Jason, we need to find that vial."

He nods instantly, a hand falling to his hip as he bows his head and rubs a thumb across his brow. He clears his throat and tells her slowly, his words soft, "Yeah, we need to find it... so you can take it."

"What?" She blinks, lifting a hand to her head, certain her mind is running at a snail's pace because she can't process his words. "Either of us could be poisoned. I'm pretty certain it's you, so I don't understand—" But she does. The granite set of his eyes as he watches her unwavering. His tone had said it all. She swallows back the urge to be sick. "You don't care at all if him killing you is the logical— the right answer. You're not going to risk it."

He drops his hands to his side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looks away for a beat before turning pleading eyes on her. "Elizabeth... Your boys need you. I- I can't risk this. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I got you killed. Do you understand?"

Taking a short breath as she cements what she has to do, she nods. "I do." She really does. More than he seems to understand.

He takes a step closer, hesitates for a second before his fingers slide over then curl around her arms like embers to her icy frame. "So you'll let me do this?"

Steeling herself, even though her eyes become wet she manages to keep her emotions at bay as she croaks, "Yes."

His eyes flood with relief and she's encircled in a strong embrace in seconds. One hand rubs up and down her shoulder blades as he breathes, "Thank you."

She closes her eyes, absorbing his comfort and presses her cheek deeper into his chest as her lie sours in her stomach. She had promised him she would never lie to him again, but this time is justified. His kids need him. She needs him alive. And when she finds that vial first and finds a way to give it to him...

When they both come out of this, maybe he'll understand why she had to deceive him.