Chapter Seven
Make, Break, or Shake Up?
She was changing, and, for the first time in her relatively short life, change didn't scare her. Before, to Elizabeth, change had always meant loss, grief, and insecurity. When her Mom died, her whole world had changed. She had moved to a different continent, she had met people who claimed to be her family despite the fact that she didn't know them, and she had existed without explanation as to why the one person in her life that she loved the most wasn't there for her anymore. At five, everything had changed again. The nanny she had grown to love and trust was dismissed, and she was sent off to her first of many boarding schools. Eventually, over the years, she adjusted to her constantly every-changing existence. She learned to never become too attached to or too comfortable in one place, because, just as she grew to look forward to her home and her life, her father and his family would swoop in, decree that she was leaving, and she would be back where she started – alone, dismissed, and miserable.
It had gotten to the point where the only thing that felt normal was constant change, but, instead of allowing her only parent left in the world to dictate what that change could consist of, Elizabeth took her fate into her own hands, leaving behind her only blood relatives to forge a life for herself out of nothing. If she sat down long enough to really and truly think about the world she had created for herself, she would have been forced to admit that the reason she moved to a new city and took on a new identity every year was because change was now comfortable for her. But it was forced changed, it was repetitive, and it was familiar. What was interesting, though, was that she was changing despite her best intentions and doing so without even a conscious effort. That was what made her willingness to reinvent herself so unique. She was doing it for someone else and doing so not because it was necessary but because it wasn't.
The biggest change was the fact that when the year was over, she wasn't planning on relocating as usual. Astonishing herself, the young brunette found that she liked the life she was making in Port Charles. She liked being near Sonny and his family, she liked her tiny, cramped, practically broken studio apartment, and, most importantly, she liked having Jason in her life. Wanting to be with Jason meant wanting to live in Port Charles.
Sonny, Lily, and their children were thrilled. Although, through the assistance of others, she and her boss would continue to expand their art galleries across the country, she wasn't going to be the one to steamroll the projects anymore. Instead, she would be giving the orders and remaining in the shadows as others did the work she once did herself. Of course, she would continue with her accounting duties, but, with the extra free time, those closest to her in life were pushing her to explore her own art at a more professional level, challenging her, daring her to share her creativity with the rest of the world. At first, their insistence – coming during an awkward yet touching dinner between her, Jason, Sonny, and Lily – had annoyed her, but, eventually, as more dinners occurred, she realized they were only pushing her because they cared.
It was an odd feeling to get used to, but, as she changed, as she grew as a woman and as an adult, she was trying to, and, in trying to, she was learning to care back just as much towards those who cared for her.
However, it was the smaller, more insignificant and perhaps less noticeable changes in her life that made Elizabeth smile to herself. First, there was color. Everywhere she turned, color seemed to suddenly be infused in her life. After a restless night of little sleep, she had greeted the day with a smile, determined to remodel her apartment. Sonny had forced her to take a week off, and, while Jason put in as many hours as he could at the hospital so they could have an entire weekend to be with each other, she had taken advantage of the time alone that June day months ago and had painted her studio a bright, cheerful shade of yellow. Suddenly, after her home was rejuvenated with a splash of color, her entire world became tinted in new, previously lacking hues. Her paintings seemed to become brighter, she experimented… only to go back to classic red with her nail polish, and she had even attempted to bring in some more color to her wardrobe, adding bursts of blue, green, purple, and red to her otherwise stark ensembles. Sonny had been pleased, Lily had been excited, and Jason had been turned on.
She liked her boyfriend's reaction the best.
She had also allowed herself to finally admit her feelings for Jason. The whispered words came during a spur of the moment confession, startling her more than they did him. They had been in the park with his daughter. Sydney had been running around the grassy meadow, playing with bubbles and ignoring the two adults, the man beside her had been a few seconds shy of falling asleep, and she had been simply mesmerized by the moment, by the sheer strength of her joy, that the feelings she kept to herself, buried deeply inside of her heart so that no one could see them or rip them away from her, came gushing forward, falling from her lips before she could stop them. But, after seeing the happiness her confession brought to Jason and after hearing him return the sentiment, she was glad for her momentary loss of control. It didn't happen often, but, when it did, obviously it was for a reason.
Once she realized how strong her emotions were for the only man in her life, Elizabeth permitted herself to feel more for everyone and everything else, starting first and foremost with the little girl who had so captured her attention and interest the first day she had met her but whom she had been holding herself back from, keeping her heart protected from the child that wasn't truly hers to love. But Sydney was impossible to deny. Her brilliant baby blue eyes, eyes so much like her father's, her infectious laughter, and her ability to take all the amateur artist's pain away with a simple hug quickly won over Elizabeth, and, before she knew it, Sydney was the second most important person in her life. At one point, the most important person to Elizabeth had been herself, but, after just a few months with the father and daughter pair, everything had changed.
There was that word again.
Smiling in recognition, the accountant gazed out at the waterfront. The view, to her, was priceless. The sights and sounds of the harbor meant one thing to her: home. From the windows of her studio, the studio that now not only housed her own belongings but also some of Jason's and his daughter's, she could see out over the water. During the summer, the cool breeze that blew off the lake offered her relief, and, now that winter had settled in with the first snowfall of the season, the still unfrozen water made her yearn for steaming cups of hot chocolate, wool socks, and someone to curl up with in bed. For the first time in her life, she had all three.
It was early morning, and, although she could have gone inside Kelly's to wait for Jason, she had decided, instead, to sit on her favorite bench on the docks. Bundled up in a new winter coat, her matching gloves and scarf on to keep away the frigid New York December air, she couldn't help but fidget. Not only did it help keep her warm, but the movement helped distract her from her nerves. The man she loved was coming off a shift at the hospital to meet her so they could go into the gallery together. There would be a holiday party in a couple of weeks, both to celebrate the season and to commemorate the new artists' work that was on display. A few of her own pieces, anonymously, of course, were now hanging up in the gallery, and that was why Jason was going with her to work that morning. He wanted to be the first one to see her paintings framed, matted, and exhibited, and, if she wasn't too embarrassed, she would admit herself that she wanted him to be first to see them, too. After all, his opinion… and Sydney's… were the only two that really mattered to her.
His signature steps coming across the wooden docks alerted her to his presence before she saw him. They were quick, efficient, methodical, born from years of pacing the hallways of General Hospital, and they always had the power to make her smile. Wordlessly, he sat down beside her, taking one of her tiny hands into both of his larger, ungloved ones, rubbing it furiously to help warm the small appendage. "You know," he teased her, his voice low so that, even if someone was passing by, they would be the only two to hear what he had to say. "You shouldn't be out here by yourself. The docks are dangerous."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the sentiment. While some things had changed, others remained exactly the same. He was still the same chivalrous, overly protective, constantly worried about her pain in the ass. And she loved him for it. "I can take care of myself, Quartermaine."
"Of course," he agreed, standing up and offering her his hand to help her up from the bench. "How could I forget? Smith and Wesson, right? It's probably right in one of those back pockets I love to watch so much."
Together, arm in arm, they walked up the stairs, moving towards the bike he had parked just down the alley. That was another thing that had changed. They no longer had to rent a motorcycle when they wanted to go nowhere. Jason now owned one. "Actually, no," the brunette contradicted him, her admission bringing their forward progression to a stop a single riser before they reached the top of the docks. "I decided to quit carrying my gun. Actually, it's packed away in a lock box, hidden behind some blankets in my closet."
Just by looking at him, she could tell that her words had taken him by surprise, that he hadn't been expecting that. Simply put, Jason asked, "why?"
"With you and especially with Sydney, I don't feel comfortable carrying it around anymore." With a self derisive chuckle, they, together, took the last step and proceeded to his bike as she admitted, "I guess I'll just have to settle for my American Express now… like most people."
Normalcy had never felt better. She, Elizabeth Imogene Webber, truly had changed.
She was supposed to have opened the gallery an hour ago, but, still, she felt no inclination to get up, to get dressed, or to go to work. The accountant was quite content to remain where she was, dressed only in her boyfriend's shirt, as they sat together in her leather desk chair. They weren't talking. At that point, words were unnecessary. They weren't too tired to get up, but they were quite comfortable, and, surprisingly, they were barely touching besides the fact that he was holding her in his arms. Both lost in thought, they simply existed together. Occasionally, she would allow herself the pleasure of gliding her fingers up and down his chest, but, most of the time, the two of them remained still.
Their breathing had long since settled, so the only sound that periodically broke through the silence of her office was the shrill ringing of the phone. Some numbers she recognized – mainly Sonny's various different lines as he tried in vain to reach her. Some numbers she didn't. But nothing except perhaps the building burning down around them would have enticed Elizabeth to move away from Jason, because it was in that moment that, for the first time in her life, she felt truly at peace. Being with him so intimately, being accepted by him so freely, made her feel as if she really did belong somewhere. Losing a few commissions and aggravating her boss was well worth what she was gaining by remaining hidden away from the rest of the world that morning.
After showing – and explaining – her paintings to the man she loved, he had done nothing but praise and compliment her. At first, she had believed him to be patronizing her, telling her what he thought she wanted to her, and the effort had pissed her off. As always, her fire had turned them both on, but Jason had been adamant. He had refused to even kiss her until she believed that he honestly enjoyed her artwork. Then his sincerity had made her embarrassed, a rare occurrence, and seeing her blush had made him tease her. After all, that was usually his territory. From that point, they had gone from playful to sweet to downright passionately tender, slowly making their way from the front display room, up the stairs, down the long hallway, and, finally, into her office where they had locked the door to keep anyone and everyone from interrupting them. It had been hot, and, just like when she had seduced him at the hospital, it had held a touch of the illicit, but, to Elizabeth, it had also been special, and she planned on savoring it for as long as she could.
"You know, my wedding anniversary is coming up."
And, just like that, just like a typical man, her boyfriend had managed to ruin the moment. Untwining herself from his embrace, the brunette quickly found her clothes, tossing back to him his shirt she had been wearing and slipping back into her proper business attire. Without a word and despite feeling Jason's gaze on her the entire time, she dressed, even going so far as to reapply a light dusting of makeup and fixing her hair before facing the man she loved and responding to his statement, his unexpectedly hurtful statement. Why, all of a sudden, the fact that he was married to another woman was starting to bother her, Elizabeth didn't know, but, nevertheless, it did. Despite the fact that she had known he was committed, at least legally, to another woman since the very first day she met him, hearing her boyfriend so carelessly discuss his wife and the things he shared with her bothered the young artist more than she cared to admit – more than she cared to show him, too.
Finally, she responded, "and this would concern me why exactly?"
"I don't know," the pediatrician shrugged, standing up to follow her lead and get dressed himself. "I guess I was just making conversation."
"And here I thought I was the one who lacked social graces." Sighing with frustration, Elizabeth glared at him. "Jason, you don't discuss your wedding anniversary with your mistress."
Forcefully, he argued with her. "You are not my mistress."
"Oh really," she challenged, hands on cocked hips as she fixed him with an unwavering, perplexed glare. "Then what exactly do you consider me?"
"You're Elizabeth. You're the woman I love."
"That may be," she agreed with him, doing her best to hide her irritation but failing miserably, "but you also can't deny the facts. You're married, I'm not you're wife, and you're sleeping with me - all of which, technically, make me your mistress."
With that, she unlocked the door to her office and proceeded to throw it open, wincing slightly when she heard the door handle connect with the plaster of the wall. The collision would leave a dent, and the dent would raise questions with Sonny, something she really didn't want to have to deal with even on one of her best days. As she stalked down the hallway towards the back staircase, she had hoped that Jason wouldn't follow her, but he did. She could hear his steps approaching from behind, gaining on her with every one of his long strides compared to her short, compact ones, and she could imagine the frustration taking over his body - his hands clenching, the muscles in his jaw ticking, and his back ramrod straight. He looked hot mad, but the fact that her mind instantly thought that only made the petite accountant that much more furious.
Reaching the lower level, she strode confidently towards the front door and opened the gallery for business. "I think you should leave."
"Well, I don't, Elizabeth," the doctor argued with her, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think we should talk about this."
"Alright." Crossing her arms and displaying her well known stubborn streak, she demanded, "talk."
Releasing a harsh breath, Jason visibly deflated before her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned my wife, and I certainly shouldn't have brought up our anniversary."
"Then why did you," Elizabeth asked, finding herself drawn to him when he held out a hand towards her, silently requesting her to stand closer to him. Once she complied, he led them towards a rather secluded couch in the far corner, lowering them both until they were sitting right next to each other, thighs brushing intimately against one another.
"I guess I was just thinking out loud."
Finding her rage dissipating only to be replaced with her ever undaunted sense of humor, she joked, "that's a nasty habit, Morgan."
"I know."
"And may I ask where this thought process was leading you?"
Locking his striking eyes with her calmer, more restrained, but still just as ardent blue ones, he confessed, "I want to ask her for a divorce."
Now that Elizabeth had not been expecting. Wrinkling her brow in thought, she queried, "what about Sydney? I thought that she was always why you held back in the past."
"She was my reason for staying in my marriage, but she's older now, my wife has never really had any real interest in her, and, when I think about it, wouldn't it be healthier for her to be with at least one happy parent than two miserable ones? In the long run, I think that staying married to my wife would cause Sydney more damage than any divorce ever could."
"That makes a lot of sense," the brunette conceded, smiling up at him with pride in her eyes. "But do you really think your wife will be willing to just give up this perfect life she has created in her mind for the three of you? You're her ride to social success, Jason. Without you, she's just another wealthy divorcee. By you leaving her, she'll lose all her power."
"Unless I make being a wealthy divorcee more appealing than staying married to me." When she cocked her head in confusion, he continued, chuckling softly at her bewilderment. "Right now, I'm still following orders; I'm still living up to my end of the bargain, but, if I suddenly refuse to do what I'm supposed to do, if staying with me will not only make her lose her power but also ruin her reputation, then getting divorced, leaving me behind, and getting a second chance at world domination… or at least Port Charles society domination… will quickly become the more appealing option for my wife."
Eagerly, she demanded to know, "what exactly do you have in mind?"
Instead of answering her though, the pediatrician simply stood up, grabbed his coat, and chucked her playfully under the chin. "A man has to have some secrets, Elizabeth."
Quickly, she stood up to follow him, scrambling after his retreating form. "Where do you think you're going? You can't just leave it at that. You have to tell me what you have planned."
"No I don't."
"Damn it, Jason," she snapped, stomping her foot. "This is not fair."
"Do I need to remind you that you keep secrets from me, too," he asked as he opened the front door to the gallery, letting in a strong, whistling wind. It made her shiver. "First, there was your tattoo. Then you wouldn't let me see the paintings you were working on this summer. Plus, don't forget all those secrets you and Sydney tell each other and keep from me. And, then," he added with a saucy grin, "we can't forget about last week. You kept me in the dark for months about that blindfold and set of handcuffs you were hiding."
"That's different," the artist protested, following him outside into the freezing December morning. "None of that stuff was important. My secrets aren't big like yours."
"Oh, Elizabeth," he mocked, shaking his head in disappoint. "I'm offended. If you don't consider our sex life important or big then we have more problems than I thought."
With that, he went to leave, walking down the sidewalk and humming to himself the entire time. As he moved away, she simply stared daggers at his back, wishing fervently for a Jason shaped voodoo doll despite knowing better than to believe that the witchcraft staple would actually work. But, surprising her, he stopped suddenly, turned back around, and faced her.
"What do you think of me buying my wife one of your paintings for an anniversary present? I could ask her for the divorce after she unwraps it and I explain that my mistress made it."
"Don't you even think about it," she warned him. "I don't want that woman to ever have another piece of me. She already has you… at least in name. She can't have my art, too, Jason."
Instantly, her words sobered him. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized hastily, moving back towards the gallery and her. "It was a stupid idea," he pressed on after taking her into his arms and pulling her into a hug.
"However," she teased him, pulling back to grace him with one of her rare, too bright even for sunglasses smiles. "I wouldn't be against the idea of you buying her someone else's painting or giving her a gift certificate to use here. After all, not even the Quartermaine money is too dirty to be laundered by my hands."
Shaking his head in amusement, he kissed her cheek before walking backwards away from her. "I'll see you later," he called over his shoulder as he retraced his steps back down the sidewalk.
And he most certainly would.
"We need to talk."
The sharp rap of bony knuckles on his open bedroom door along with the crisply spoken words startled Jason slightly, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he remained cool and collected, never once looking up from the desk he was sitting at to formally acknowledge his wife's presence. Her sudden appearance was not a welcome surprise. He had wanted to be perfectly poised when he faced the blonde bitch, he had wanted to have his speech prepared, his face schooled to seem impassive and determined, and he had wanted to make sure that their daughter was safely off to school just in case their discussion turned into an argument and things were said that no child should hear her parents saying about each other or her. However, as he heard her take several uninvited steps into his private suite, Jason had to admit that he was just thankful for the chance to get the inevitable over with so quickly, for, once he asked his wife for a divorce, he would have the rest of his day free to do whatever he wanted. He would have the rest of the day to celebrate with Elizabeth.
"And she willingly steps into my bedroom," he said out loud in a mocking, disbelieving tone. Finally turning to face the woman he had so foolishly married, he quipped, "what is it, a special occasion? If this is your idea of an anniversary present, save it. I'm not interested."
"Please," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she glanced down and smiled appreciatively at her perfect manicure. "Don't flatter yourself. I just wanted to tell you that there will be no divorce, Jason."
"How did you…?" Shocked by the fact that she was already several steps ahead of him - as always, he couldn't even finish his question.
"If you were seriously trying to catch me off guard with a legal separation, you shouldn't have consulted the family attorney. You know that your Grandfather and Mr. Pierce have lunch at the club once a week. Well, as soon as Edward got wind of this silly little idea of yours, he came to me, and I assured him that I would take care of it… and you… before anything got out of hand." Holding up a lone finger to stem off his next argument, she told him, "and before you go sprouting off about attorney-client privilege, keep in mind that Mr. Pierce is on retainer for the entire Quartermaine family, but it is your Grandfather who pays his rather large stipend."
"I can't believe this."
"I can," his spouse stated with conviction. Taking a seat on a small settee set adjacent from his desk chair, she lounged across the sofa in a confident yet carefree manner. "You might be an intelligent man, Jason, but you're too straightforward, too honorable to ever truly succeed at anything you attempt to do. If it wasn't for me, you'd probably be off in some third world country, exposing yourself to horrendous living conditions and even more horrendous diseases trying to save those who can't save themselves."
"Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Some people," he retorted harshly, glaring at the woman he had shared his life with for most of the last decade, "need the help of others."
"It's called survival of the fittest, Jason," she snapped, returning his frosty glower. "If someone can't take care of themselves, then they're not supposed to be able to survive."
It wasn't the first time in their relationship that his wife had managed to stun him into silence, but it had been quite a few years since she had last managed to. He thought that he had seen her at her worst, that he knew already of her low level of concern for anyone who didn't benefit her small world directly, be he really hadn't. "Who are you?"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," the blonde scolded him, standing up from her reclined position to take a firm stance just a few paces to his left. "Besides, right now is not the time for us to be having this theoretical debate. I came to see you with a purpose, to tell you that you will not be divorcing me, and, now that I've accomplished what I set out to do, I'll be leaving now."
"Wait," the pediatrician stopped her from walking out of his room. "You can't just dictate to me what I can and cannot do."
"Why not? I have in the past."
"That was then; this is now, and things have changed."
"Oh, really," the mother of his child challenged, smirking wickedly. "Is that what the slut who has been warming your bed for the past nine months has been telling you? Is this her idea?"
"First of all, I wouldn't recommend throwing verbal stones that could cause your own glass house to come shattering down around you," he warned. "And, secondly, no. For your information, I made this decision on my own, and you're not going to waltz in her and make me change my mind. We will be getting a divorce."
"Alright then." Her quick, no fuss acceptance of his announcement made Jason wary. "If that's what you want, after a long, drawn out, miserable court battle, you can have your divorce, but, before everything is said and done, I'll take your daughter from you."
"No judge in their right mind would ever grant you custody. At best, you're an unfit mother; at worse, you're inhumane."
"We live in a town where mobsters freely walk the streets. If Sonny Corinthos can buy a judge, so can I."
"Yes," he found himself agreeing with his wife's statement, "but, you see, the problem is that you have no money of your own. You blew through your dowry within the first year of our marriage, and, since then, you've been living off my family's money. While they might not want us to get divorced, when push comes to shove, you're just an outsider who married into the Quartermaine name; I was born with it, so they will support me, both with their actions and with their bank accounts, when our divorce does get ugly. As for your family, when exactly was the last time you spent anytime with them? Oh that's right," he answered for her, "it was my birthday. If you fight me for custody, you will lose."
"Maybe so, but, then again," she contested, "maybe not. While I might have had affairs in the past, I was discreet. Can you say the same thing? While I might have had many different men in my bed over the years, none of them have spent time with our young, impressionable daughter. Can you say the same? And even if you would get custody of Riegel after I air all your dirty laundry in court, I would still have visitation – weeks a year to ruin your relationship with our daughter, weeks to poison her mind against you, weeks to mold her into the child she should become."
Pressing on, the mother of his only child continued. "And don't forget about the long hours you are forced to put in at the hospital because of your job while I have been a devoted, stay at home mom since the day Riegel was born. When the judge takes this into account, he might give us joint custody. That means I would have our daughter half the year, Jason – six out of the twelve months a year. With that amount of time with her, I could definitely groom her into the future Quartermaine heiress that she should be while still actively looking for a suitable, future match for her." Laughing maliciously, she taunted him. "And then there's the little fact that despite our ever changing, politically correct society, the courts still very much favor the mother. Imagine what would happen to your precious baby girl if I won full custody. Can you say hello boarding school?"
"You think you have everything figured out? You think that you know everything, don't you?"
"Of course not, dear," she feigned innocence and modesty, smiling at him sweetly. "I just know a hell of a lot more than you do." Pivoting around on her stiletto heels and marching out the door, she tossed one last remark back over her shoulder towards her husband. "Oh, and before I forget, thank you for the anniversary present. Since we won't be getting a divorce and I won't be able to meet your whore in court, you somehow managed to get me exactly what I wanted: a chance to meet my competition, a chance to size her up, and a chance to tell her precisely what I think of her cheap and vulgar self. Your stupidity and ineptitude continues to amaze me, Jason, so thank you. Thank you for proving my point for me; thank you for giving me the perfect anniversary present."
From a back storage room, Elizabeth could hear someone enter the gallery. Despite the fact that she was distracted, waiting for Jason to pick her up from work that afternoon with, hopefully, good news of his impending divorce, she knew that she needed to focus, that there were several more hours left to her work day, and that the customer who had just arrived deserved her full attention.
"Coming," she called out to them, pausing briefly before a mirror in the hallway which would lead her out into the gallery to check on her appearance, making sure that it wasn't too scattered. "I apologize," she announced as she made her way into the main room. The customer – a woman - was turned so that her back faced her, hiding her countenance from the brunette's view. "I was just wrapping up a painting that's getting picked up later today for another customer. How can I help…?" As the blonde turned around to confront her, the words fell away from the young artist's lips, leaving her stunned, apprehensive, and slightly timorous. There were only five people still living in the world that could make her feel that way, and one of them was standing less than twenty feet away from her.
"You," she breathed out, the slight hitch to her voice betraying her nerves.
"Lizzie," Sarah greeted her, sneering the childhood nickname she abhorred, knowing that it would make her angry. "I'd say that this was a pleasant surprise, but that wouldn't be true, and you were always the liar in the family."
"It's Elizabeth," she corrected her, steeling her back and straightening her shoulders in preparation for a battle with her half sister. "As for which one of us is the more proficient liar, that would be you. I just got caught while not even your parents could detect when you were lying straight to their faces."
Nodding her head in appreciation, the older woman sighed gratefully. "It is a talent, and it takes more finesse than you ever could manage."
"What are you doing here?" Not in the mood to toss pointed barbs back and forth with a sibling she didn't love and had never wanted anything to do with, the accountant got straight to the point. "How did you ever find me, Sarah?" However, before her sister could even answer, she saw the gift certificate in her hand, the gift certificate that could only have been purchased by Jason because it was the only unredeemed gift certificate they still had out, the gift certificate that Jason had purchased to give to his wife for their anniversary. "Oh my god."
"It's fitting, don't you think? From the moment we met, you always wanted everything that I had. You wanted my father's attention, my nanny's affection, my place in my family."
"I never wanted anything that was yours," Elizabeth argued, taking several threatening steps towards her older sibling. "All I wanted was to be wanted, to be loved."
But Sarah pressed on as if the brunette had not said a word. "And, now, here we are again. You're trying to take from me what's rightfully, legally mine – my husband and my daughter."
"Like you even really want them," the artist snapped back, accompanying her words with a furious glower. "You treat Jason with thinly veiled contempt and disdain. You ridicule him at every chance you get, you use him for his money and power, and you make a mockery of the vows you took with him years ago. And don't even get me started on your relationship with Sydney."
"It's Riegel," Sarah interrupted, correcting the younger woman.
"She prefers Sydney," Elizabeth countered, "and you would know that if you were any kind of mother, but you're not. You're just like Carolyn. You're cold and emotionally distant, and you use your child as a pawn in your games and schemes designed to achieve social supremacy. Congratulations, sister," the brunette mockingly lauded her sibling. "You're the perfect Hardy. I imagine you make Jeff, Carolyn, Stephen, and Audrey extremely proud."
"Something you've never been able to do," the wife and mother taunted, smiling wickedly at the accountant, "but we can just add that to Little Lizzie's long list of incompetence."
"I'd rather be loved by your husband and your daughter than have the support and approval of the people you consider your family."
Suddenly turning sober, Sarah nodded her head in agreement. "I'm sure you would. Unfortunately for you, you're not going to have that for much longer either."
"That's what you think," the shorter of the two women challenged, tilting her chin up at a proud, haughty angle. "I take it you haven't talked to Jason recently?"
"Actually, you're wrong," the older sibling disagreed. "We had a very enlightening conversation this morning… in his bedroom, and we came to an understanding."
"So you agreed to the divorce?"
"Of course not," Sarah dismissed the idea with a snide laugh. "I used my many powers of persuasion to make my husband understand that we would not be separating anytime soon and certainly not for the likes of you."
"You're lying," the accountant disputed, backing away from her sister and crossing her arms against her chest to ward off the hurt and pain the blonde's sexual innuendos and callous words caused inside of her.
"Am I?"
"Jason can't stand you, he loves me, and, most importantly, he wants you nowhere near his daughter."
"That all may be true, but did you honestly think his leaving me would be that easy? Oh, Lizzie," Sarah ridiculed. "Not even you are this naïve, are you? Haven't you learned yet that I always win, that I always get what I want? If our childhood taught you nothing else, surely it taught you that."
In that moment, the past came rushing back to the brunette in striking, haunting clarity. She saw herself ignored, criticized, and scorned by the very people who should have loved her. She saw herself handed off to nannies and disregarded as a heartbroken toddler who only wanted her Mommy and didn't understand why she wasn't there anymore. She saw herself pushed from one boarding school to another while Sarah and Steven remained at home with the father all three of them had in common. She saw herself excluded from family photos, lied about to family friends, and practically erased from the family history. She saw birthdays forgotten and hand-me-down clothes when her half siblings only wore the best money could buy. She saw a childhood and adolescence completely void of any kind of love or even kindness, and, with the memories, any confidence she had managed to build inside of herself disappeared with just a single conversation with her older sister. With that reminder, her self-protective shield of indifference and emotional unavailability was back full force, stronger perhaps than ever before because the cracks that Jason and Sydney, Sonny, Lily, and their children had caused in it had been mortared and bricked over once again.
"What do you want from me, Sarah? Why are you here?"
"Well, I came here initially to find out who exactly my husband was cheating on me with and to nip that little affair in the bud. Finding you and getting to remind you just how worthless you are, once again, was just an added bonus."
"Isn't it too bad for you then that I'm going to take away some of your fun."
"Excuse me," Sarah questioned incredulously.
Flippantly, Elizabeth walked away and started to straighten various things around the gallery while she talked. "You see, I have this rule that I live by. I never stay in one place, in one city for longer than a year. When a year's up, I move. I pick up my life, say goodbye to anything and anyone in my old home that once mattered to me, and I start all over again. It keeps me on my toes, and it keeps things from getting stale. I got to Port Charles in January, so, in just a few short weeks, I'm going to be leaving again – with or without your blessing, approval, or insistence."
"And what about Jason?"
"What about him," the artist countered, twirling around to observe her sibling with absolutely no reaction to her inquiry. "Jason's a part of my life in Port Charles. When I leave this city behind, I'll leave him behind, too."
"Just like that," the blonde wondered. The doubt she was feeling was evident in her tone.
In response, the younger woman snapped her fingers. "Just like that. Now, if you don't mind," she changed the subject, dismissing Sarah, "I have a lot of work to do. We have a big holiday party next week. I'd say see you then, but you, big sister, weren't important enough to make it onto our guest list. So, if you'll excuse me…"
"What about my gift certificate," the wife and mother protested, waving around the scrap of paper.
"One of my assistants will help you," Elizabeth answered, never deigning the blonde with a single glance. "I have better things to do."
With that, she flounced off, head held high, poised nose in the air, shoulders straight and unforgiving. A few moments later from the back room where she went to reign in her emotions, to grieve for the life she had wanted so badly but that had been taken away from her so easily, she heard the sister she had not seen in years leave the gallery, hoping it was the very last time she ever saw Sarah Hardy Quartermaine or any of her so called family members for that matter. Because of her pain, though, she never saw the tall, familiar figure lurking in the shadows – a figure who had overheard and listened to the entire conversation she had shared with her older sibling, a figure that was both astonished with the revelations the two women had divulged and destroyed by the brunette's pronouncement of her imminent departure from the city. If she had, the knowledge of his presence would have made her cry just that much harder.
But she hadn't noticed him.
However, what she did know of was the fact that, despite her thoughts to the contrary, things had not really changed in her life. Outside forces, mainly her family, were still controlling her life; they were still dictating the changes in her life, and, to Elizabeth in that moment, it seemed as if they always would be unless she went somewhere so far away, so foreign to them, they would never be able to find her again.
So, it looked as if she was moving again, as if she was going to have to find a new place to live, a new identity, and a new existence for herself. She knew that Sonny would help her, that, despite the fact that they would miss her presence in their lives, that her two friends, the closest things she had ever managed to find to real parents, would support and understand her decision. Although she would miss them, loneliness was preferred to constant reminders of a life she would never really be able to have in Port Charles, to constant reminders of Sydney, the little girl she had grown to love like her own, to constant reminders of Jason – the only man she had ever allowed herself to truly fall in love with. The only problem was that she was, once again, scared of change. Had she ever really stopped being afraid of it, or had she simply fooled herself into believing that she wasn't? After just a few minutes in her estranged sister's company, Elizabeth found herself doubting everything she had previously believed about herself, and it was a feeling she would do anything to make sure she never felt again… even if she had to do the unthinkable.