Part Four

XII.

His favorite moment of the day was lunch time. For a man that forgot to eat, felt that the old saying three meals a day keeps the doctor away held absolutely no credence, and, for that matter, thought that doctors were rather unnecessary unless one was practically dying from a bullet wound, it was a particularly odd sentiment. But it wasn't the fact that he got to eat that made Jason enjoy his lunch break every day at work. Instead, it was because those thirty minutes were the only time he managed to find himself any peace and quiet.

He'd find a shade tree to sit under or an out of the way corner of the house they were working on, and he'd read. It didn't matter what it was – travel guide, daily newspaper, trade magazine, he just enjoyed the silence and the solitude. Sometimes he would eat, especially now that Elizabeth was making an effort and insisted that she pack his lunch for him seeing as how a man wouldn't know what a proper meal if it smacked him in the face, but, when he wasn't in the mood to waste time on such petty trivialities such as food, sometimes he didn't.

The other men were pretty good about leaving him alone, too, which he appreciated. Sure, most of them harassed him about needing his personal time every day, but, after the first few jokes, he had quickly realized they were just being guys and that their pestering was their way of showing him that he was accepted. But sometimes they were unavoidable, sometimes they, too, wanted to sit outside in the shade where it was cooler, and he certainly couldn't begrudge them the very luxury he sought out for himself. On those days, when the other construction workers were nearby, he simply attempted to tune them out. It wasn't a difficult task, and, in fact, he was actually capable of listening to what they were saying, just to make sure nothing came up that raised a red flag, and minding his own business, reading, at the same time.

"It's my wedding anniversary this weekend," some guy named Gary or George or Garrett spoke up, sharing with the other men. "It's been five years since I signed my life away." Jason wasn't really sure what his name was, and he really didn't care to know. Instead, he knew that Gary or George or Garrett stood at just under six foot, weighing in at barely 160 pounds. The guy was all limbs, no coordination, no grace, no agility. He wouldn't be able to fight his way out of a paper sack let alone attack a former mafia enforcer and come out victorious. He was definitely not someone Jason had to worry about. "The wife's been going on and on all week about it, bugging the hell out of me about her present."

"Well," another co-worker asked, sounding curious. This one was the opposite of the string bean. Heavy, almost to the point of being corpulent, and short, the man Jason believed to be named Ray was far too out of shape to ever pose as a threat to him. "What did you get her?"

"A dishwasher. The damn woman always harps on me about washing the dishes, and I figured this way neither one of us really will have to now."

He almost snorted. Despite the fact that his current marriage was only for show, for protection, and despite the fact that it had been quite a long time since he was involved in a truly functioning relationship, the onetime hitman knew that no woman would want a dishwasher for her fifth wedding anniversary. Gary or George or Garrett was a fool, and, as he listened to the other men harp upon him, he knew that he wasn't the only one who thought so.

Ray went on to say, "you're supposed to do somethin' nice for your wife on your anniversary, Dipshit. Sweet talk her, butter her up with some good smellin' perfume or some ridiculous flowers. Or," he added, sounding sly and sending a look in Jason's direction that could only be taken for what it was: trouble, "if you had a Mrs. at home waiting for you like Martin over there," he nodded towards the silently reading blonde, "you'd buy her some real nice attractive lingerie, and you'd see just how long you could manage to keep her in bed with you."

Ignoring the comments about Elizabeth and all the thoughts, thoughts he should not be having about his wife that they brought to mind, he refocused himself upon the climatic information of Tibet before him in his book. The fact of the matter was that, since he had seen Elizabeth standing before him in just her thin camisole and underwear, he'd been able to think of little else but the woman he lived with. Add to that the fact that she was no longer ignoring him and was actually being nice… or as nice as one could be in the situation they were stuck in together, and he was having a hard time remembering that they didn't actually like each other, especially when he knew that the only reason he had ever resented the petite brunette in the first place was because she had always held a grudge against him. The truth was he had always found her attractive. He found her intelligence refreshing, her independence admirable, and was slightly envious of her passion for both life and art, for he had nothing that he was so zealous about except for maybe his pool table and beer, and Jason had a feeling those two things really didn't count.

"Oh, I saw her at the game last night," a third man joined the discussion, weighing in with his two cents as well. "And let me tell you, I wouldn't mind going home to that every evening. No wonder Martin refuses to go out with us after work." The man who was talking, who was really starting to piss him off, was new to their crew. A young kid just out of high school, he was one of the only ones who had not gotten married yet. For some reason, the men in Dovetree all seemed to marry young. Jason had to wonder if it was due to boredom or just a heightened sense of the inevitable. After all, why fight something if you knew it was going to happen anyway? The kid went on, and he found it practically impossible to concentrate on the average amount of rainfall Tibet received every year. "Why, she was talking to old Miss Northam, and she was giving it back to that old bat just as fast as she could dish it out. And with those red nails of hers and that tight little…"

"Not another word, Adam," the retired enforcer growled, leveling the nineteen year old with his most lethal glare. The kid shut up immediately.

"Aw, come on, Jack," the string bean – Gary beseeched him. When push came to shove, he could always remember a name. "Not all of us get to go home to a wife like yours. Tell us some stories. After all, we share with you."

"I respect Ellis too much to ever talk about her and our personal life with you guys, and, if I ever hear you discussing her the way you were this afternoon…"

He let the threat end there, but Jason also knew that each and every one of his co-workers realized just how serious both he was and the consequences would be if they dared to disrespect Elizabeth again. His annoyance with their actions had nothing to do with the fact that he actually didn't have stories to share with them and everything to do with knowing the woman he lived with would not appreciate being talked about in such a manner. Easily, he could have swapped a story from his past with some anonymous woman from a bar and replaced the one night stand with his wife's identity, but that wouldn't be fair to either of them – himself or Elizabeth, and, frankly, any thoughts he might have about being with the 

beautiful brunette in that way were personal, so personal, in fact, he had a hard time even admitting them to himself, let alone sharing them with a bunch of overeager, rude, disrespectful men.

Picking up his stuff, both his uneaten lunch and his book which he closed haphazardly, not taking the time to mark his page, he made his way across the yard, determined to just go back to the house and start working again despite the fact that he still had twenty minutes left of his break. He didn't care that he wouldn't get paid for the extra labor. After all, the money was not the reason either he or Elizabeth had jobs in Dovetree. Instead, they were simply a part of their cover. He had enough money stocked aside to support the both of them in an extremely comfortable manner for several lifetimes.

"I heard what you said back there."

The words and the voice made him pause in his long strides. Turning around, he found his boss leaning against the trunk of a tree, his bare arms folded over his chest. Dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a cut off, thin dress shirt, Tom Patterson looked like any other construction worker. There was nothing about his appearance that made him stand out as the boss, as the owner of the business Jason worked for, and the younger man respected him for that… among other things. His employer was tall, slightly balding, and had merry, brown eyes. Despite his age, 62, he was still twice the worker than some of the younger men under his direction, and he would get just as dirty as anyone else. But his boss also seemed younger simply because it was obvious that he was excited about his life, that he lived each and every day to the fullest. It was just something else to admire about Tom Patterson.

"While they might come across as offensive," the older man continued talking despite Jason's silence, "they're all relatively good men."

"I know."

"I just didn't want what just happened to interfere with your job."

"It won't," he assured him.

"However," Tom continued, moving to walk back towards the house with his employee. "I can completely understand your stance on the situation. What happens between a man and wife is private, sacred even some would say. Most men these days just don't get that, and I'll be frank with you, Jack. I was impressed by your apparent respect for your wife."

The former hitman shrugged, brushing aside the compliment. "She deserves it."

"I'm sure she does, and, speaking of the lovely Mrs.," the balding man segued, "my own has been pushing me to ask you and Ellis over for dinner some time soon. She's heard me talk about you, and, now, she has it in her mind that she needs to meet both of you, especially," he added with an amused twinkle to his chocolate eyes, "since she heard that Ellis put Betsy Northam in her place last night. My wife has had it out for that old biddy since she was fourteen, so she automatically feels as if she and your wife will be kindred spirits." Realizing what he just said, Tom backtracked. "I mean, that's how she put it herself. I don't have any idea what the woman meant by such a foolish notion."

Jason soundlessly chuckled but found himself agreeing to the dinner plans quite easily. "I'll have to check with Ellis, but I'm sure dinner will be fine."


"Well, then, how does tomorrow night sound?"

He thought about it for a moment, mulling over in his mind whether or not he and Elizabeth had any plans, but it was a wasted effort. Of course they didn't have plans. Neither of them worked Saturday evenings, so they wouldn't have anything to do. "Tomorrow night sounds great. If you don't hear from me this evening, then my wife agreed. Do you want us to bring…"

"Nonsense," his boss interrupted him before he could even finish offering. "Amanda, that's my wife, would have my hide if I let you bring anything. Just make sure you and the Mrs. are there promptly at seven, and she'll be as happy as a kitten with a fresh bowl of cream."

The two men stood there then, awkwardly staring at one another, not sure what to say. It was obvious that neither of them were used to making social plans and that they both felt out of their element. Eventually, though, the blonde mumbled something about going back to start working again, and Tom left to round up the rest of his employees, leaving Jason in his solitude again. Sighing, he returned to his station of the house where he was hanging new siding, relieved to be alone. When his thoughts immediately turned to his wife, though, he almost sought out some company. Almost but not quite.

XIII.

It was a beautiful, late summer day, and Elizabeth simply wanted everything to stop, for her life to freeze in place for the moment. Sitting outside on a bench in front of the shop, she felt relaxed and at peace, all of her nervous energy dispelled after a six hour shift at work. Her past had been pushed to the back of her mind by Didi's constant chatter, and, for the first time since she had been forced to move to Dovetree, she and Jason had managed to make their way through an entire 24 hour time period without once getting into a fight.

But she knew the calm couldn't last forever.

So that's why she didn't want the day to progress beyond that point. If Jason never picked her up from work, then they wouldn't be forced to see each other, and they wouldn't inevitably end the unspoken truce that seemed to temporarily exist between them. If Jason didn't pick her up, then they wouldn't have to go grocery shopping together, presenting to their neighbors the picture of domestic bliss. And, if Jason didn't pick her up, then she could continue to close her eyes and pretend that she was still back in Port Charles, still a college student, and still faithfully believing that everything was right in her world; she could still, just for a moment, imagine she was happy.

"Would you mind some company, Dear?"

Peeking open one eye, the brunette observed the elderly woman beside her before smiling, scooting over, and fully revealing her bright, blue gaze. "I'd love some, Mrs. Shepherd."

"Please, Ellis," she corrected the younger woman. "It's Evelyn. If you insist that I call you by your first name, you must reciprocate the gesture."

Elizabeth nodded her head in acceptance before asking, "so, what are you doing here? The shop's closed already, but, if it's an emergency, I have a set of keys, so I could open it for you."

"Is there such a thing as a flower emergency," the elegant widow returned smartly, making them both laugh. "No, I'm just out taking a walk, but I appreciate the offer. It was very sweet of you."

"Well, you're one of my favorite customers," the former artist shared conspiratorially. "But don't tell anyone else that."

"It'll be our secret, Dear."

And it would be. Not only did she really like Mrs. Evelyn Shepherd, but she trusted her as well. While the aged woman appeared frail, Elizabeth knew that she had a kind of strength and resolve she could only wish herself to have one day. The elegant, always perfectly mannered mother of four still lived on her own in the house she and her already deceased husband had raised their family in, fully capable of taking care of herself without any outside assistance. Plus, despite her age which the young woman estimated to be in the late 70's, she was still quite beautiful. Slender but still womanly, she dressed fashionably but still managed to act and appear her age. Her long, practically white hair was always up in a simple bun at the nape of her neck, and her wise, insightful blue eyes sparkled with the knowledge only a woman who has been a wife and mother can have.

Shaking her from her thoughts, the grandmother inquired, "if you don't mind me asking, Ellis, why are you sitting out here?"

"Oh, I'm just waiting for Jack to pick me up," she answered easily, breezing off the older woman's question. "Normally, I walk home, but, because we're going grocery shopping this evening, that would just be a waste of time. So, I told him I'd wait outside the shop for him until he got off."

Evelyn laughed softly. "You two are quite the odd pair, do you realize that?" Moving on from the rhetorical remark quickly, she explained, "most young couples your age would be out having fun on a Friday night, not grocery shopping."

"Well, we really need food." When her friend rolled her eyes, the recent college graduate went on, "plus, we're not the type to really go out. Jack likes to spend quiet evenings in the house playing pool or reading."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

Expanding upon her inquiry, the older woman pressed, "what do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Oh," the brunette breathed out, slightly caught off guard. Instead of thinking about her answer, though, she just reacted instinctively. "I like to draw." She knew she wasn't supposed to continue her art while she was in hiding, and she knew that the agents would be displeased with her response, but she figured it was pretty safe to tell some old biddy the truth. After all, it was highly unlikely that Mrs. Shepherd had contacts with the mob.

"So, you're an artist then?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Elizabeth denied, blushing slightly. "It's just a hobby at this point."

As if sensing the newlywed's discomfort, the grandmother changed the subject. "Speaking of hobbies, I've been meaning to speak to you about joining our garden club."

"I don't know…"

"Baloney," Evelyn waved off her protests without even listening to them. "Didi's already told me that you're slightly lonely, but that's to be expected when you're new in town, and, while, granted, hanging out with a bunch of old ladies probably isn't your idea of a good time, you do seem to have a knack for flowers… even if you aren't quite familiar with all their names." She had to giggle politely in that moment, feeling as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. It was becoming a well known and popular joke around the flower shop that she was hopeless when it came to being able to name the various blooms by their actual names. Instead, she referred to them by nicknames she made up herself or by their descriptions, and her older friend was always one to tease her mercilessly about the fact. "Plus, we really need some fresh blood, a young pretty face to offset all our wrinkled countenances, and, if you happen to talk that stud of a husband of yours into joining us as well, we'd probably wave your dues."

And that was another thing they always taunted her about. Apparently, every single elderly woman in Dovetree had a crush on Jason. She hadn't told him yet about his popularity. That was a piece of information she was saving for a day when her husband needed to be put back in his place. Plus, for the moment, it was nice to have the little anecdote to laugh at privately when no one else was around.

"Alright," she found herself agreeing and reluctantly feeling excited about, "I'll give it a try, but I'm not making you any promises. If I don't like it, then I'm not going to join simply because we're friends."

"And what about Mr. Martin?"

Elizabeth laughed again, feeling amused that the older woman just wouldn't give up. "Let's put it this way," the brunette hedged. "I wouldn't count on him becoming your first and only male member if I were you."

"So, you're saying there's hope." Standing up, the grandmother prepared to leave as an SUV pulled up to the curb. "I'll see you around, Ellis."

"Wait," she called out, stopping her friend from going. "We can give you a ride."

"Dear, my house is in the opposite direction of the grocery store."

"Evelyn, it's half a mile away. Get in the damn car." With a smile and a wink, the older woman obliged, climbing easily into the backseat without any assistance. Once they were both buckled in, the former artist turned to her husband to make introductions. "Jack, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Shepherd. She's both a customer from the shop and a friend. I told her we'd take her home, so I'll show you where to go."

She watched as Jason nodded in the rearview mirror towards the white haired woman, respectfully greeting her without saying anything. However, the same couldn't be said for the woman in the backseat. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Martin. Ellis has told me a lot about you. In fact, at this point, I almost feel as if I'm married to you, too. So, please, call me Evelyn."

Noticing the slight flare of discomfort in the onetime enforcer's gaze, Elizabeth cut in. "Stop flirting with Jack, Evelyn." Turning towards the man beside her, she corrected, "and I've barely told her anything about you. She just has an overactive imagination, don't you," she asked rhetorically, eyeing her friend with what could only be described as a playful glare.

The grandmother seemed to pay it no mind though. "So, tell me," she insisted, glancing back and forth between the apparent couple before her. "How did the two of you meet?"

For some reason, unlike Jason, the brunette didn't feel even a moment's uncertainty or hesitation with the question. Instead, she just jumped right into a story. "There was this little diner that I would eat at every day before I went off to classes in the morning, and, on the very first day that Jack was in town, he stopped by there to eat before he went to work. He sat down beside me, silently, but, after we displayed similar mannerisms while drinking our coffee, he started talking to me. Small talk, really, but, before I left for school and before he left for work, he ended up buying me another cup of coffee, and, now, just a few short months later, here we are."

Evelyn could be heard sighing dreamily from the backseat. "Married, in love, and crazy about each other."

She chuckled. "I guess that's one way to put it."

"Well, this is me," the older woman called out as Jason approached her driveway. "Just let me off down here," she instructed them. "I still have to get my mail. Thanks for the ride, and I'll be in contact, Ellis, to let you know more about our next meeting." As she was getting out of the SUV, she reminded her, "and don't forget about what I told you about the dues…"

"I won't," the twenty-two year old reassured her, shaking her head in amusement.

It wasn't until they were a few houses down from Mrs. Shepherd's that the blonde next to her asked, "what was all that about?"

"Oh, she told me that if I got you to join the garden club as well, she'd wave my fees."

Jason snorted. "Why the hell would I join a garden club?" She didn't respond. Instead, she just shrugged her shoulders before glancing back out the passenger side, tinted window. Breaking the silence, her husband stated, "and you don't drink coffee."

"Not anymore, but, when I was still in college, sometimes I did just so it would help me wake up… and stay awake."

He became silent for another few minutes and then said, "what made you think of that story about how we met? I was lost as to what we should tell her, but you didn't even blink an eye."

"Well, that comes from years of experience with lying to my parents when I was kid, but the story was actually from a movie." Grinning secretively to herself, Elizabeth reassured him, "don't worry. It's not a movie Evelyn's very likely to be familiar with, and, even if she did stumble across it one day, it's a simple enough first meeting that it could be explained as a mere coincidence. Besides," she added, laughing, "after that initial first scene, the guy dies in the movie."

"What," Jason yelled, slightly swerving the car and making her laugh even harder. "I got killed off?"

"But you get to come back at the very end. Death gives you a second chance."

"This sounds like the most ridiculous movie ever," he complained, mumbling slightly with a furrowed brow. If Elizabeth didn't know better, she'd think he was pouting. "I can't believe you picked this movie as the one to base our entire fake relationship upon."

"Wow," she teased him, refusing to look at him. "Who would have imagined you were this sensitive? And here I thought you'd be more offended by the fact that your character had frosted hair."

Jason's immediate reaction – a whole deluge of swearing, words that made her cheeks stain a pretty shade of pink, had her giggling uncontrollably to herself the rest of the ride to the grocery store. Realizing how entertaining it was to make fun of the retired hitman, the brunette decided that she would make fun of her husband more often. If nothing else, at least his presence in her life could prove to be amusing. Plus, laughing at Jason was much better than constantly thinking about him, thinking about things she shouldn't even be considering with him in mind. Amusement was much healthier, must safer than attraction.

XIV.

With a credit card that essentially had the Bureau's name on it, Elizabeth was showing no restraint when it came to their purchases. Tossing into the cart anything and everything she could ever want to eat herself or he could ever imagine consuming, their buggy was quickly filling up with enough perishable and non-perishable items to feed them for at least a month's time. It seemed as if she didn't care how much of the FBI's money they spent, and he certainly had no qualms about what was going to be an extravagant bill. All he needed was some of his favorite beer, and he'd be happy.

As he pushed the cart up and down the rows, Jason found himself breaking the easy silence that had been surrounding them since they got to the store by stating, "there's something I have to tell you."

"That sounds ominous."

The blonde contemplated his wife's statement as they turned up into another aisle. Finally, he responded, "no, not really," and immediately he could tell that his reassurance calmed her nerves. Although he hated to see her so jumpy, at that point in her young life, he also knew that Elizabeth needed to be prepared for anything. It was the only way she would manage to stay alive and one step ahead of everyone else, especially her enemies. While she grabbed various items off the shelves, piling in paper towels, toilet paper, Kleenexes, and cleaning supplies on top of their already heaping pile of purchases, he went on to explain, "my boss invited us both over to his house tomorrow night to have dinner with him and his wife."

"That was nice of him," the former artist replied.

"I told him we'd come. I hope that's alright."

She shrugged. "I don't see why not. It'll be good for us to spend time with some other people. Do they want us to bring anything?"


"Actually, Tom, that's my boss' name," Jason informed her, "told me he'd probably get in trouble with his wife if we dared to bring anything but ourselves, so no."

Glancing over at the petite woman next to him, he saw her bite her plump bottom lip in what could only be construed as a nervous habit. "Do you think they'll like me?" Before he could reply, she rushed on to add, "I mean, he's your boss. It would probably be bad if his wife hated me by the time the evening was over."

"Tom's a pretty cool guy, so I imagine his wife is, too. Don't worry so much, Ellis," he told her, moving the cart along so they could continue with their shopping. "Besides, it's not like you're an unlikeable person."

Elizabeth seemed to glower at him after that particular gem of a statement. "Yes, because you like me so much," she hissed in annoyance.

"We're an exception to just about every rule out there," he argued with her, believing himself to be making a rather insightful point. "And, if you really want to know the truth, I don't hate you - far from it, actually. We just… there's a lot of history between us, most of it bad." The tip of her head had him correcting his previous admission. "Alright, so it's all pretty much bad, but, still," Jason contended, "you're a friendly person. You and Amanda, that's Tom's wife's name, will get along fine. Stop worrying so much."

He knew she responded back to him, probably something smart and sarcastic knowing Elizabeth, but he couldn't hear her. Blindly, foolishly, they had been making their way through the grocery store without any awareness for what was going on around them, and the carelessness with which he had been conducting himself had finally come back to bite him. Whenever he had to buy food, he always made sure he skipped one aisle on purpose. Seeing the things it contained, being around those items that took him back to the only time in his life he was truly at peace, truly happy, never failed to break him down for just a moment until he managed to snap himself out of his memory induced stupor. But it was too late. They were already there, standing amidst row after row of baby food jars, diapers, and various other baby necessities. Without meaning to, his attention immediately zeroed in on a jar of Gerber's peas, and, just like that, he was lost.

Unwisely, he had agreed to go out with his girlfriend for the evening. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy spending time with her, because he honestly did. She made him laugh, and she was fun, but they had two very different opinions about where they should be seen, or, rather, she cared about those types of things, and he didn't. While he would rather stay at home and just spend time with their family or go out to Jake's for a few games of pool and a couple of beers, Carly liked the finer things in life. She liked to spend his money, look good while doing so, and let everyone know just how much money he had in first place. They truly were opposites.

On that particular night, she was demanding dinner and dancing at The PC Grill, ignoring the fact that he hated his family, abhorred fancy food, and couldn't dance to save his life. Plus, she was making him dress up, and, if there was anything worse than feeling out of place, it was feeling uncomfortable while doing so. The mother of his son was going to make him put on a suit, and a dress shirt, and a shiny pair of pinching shoes, and he hated it. He only drew the line, though, at wearing ties, and, luckily, Carly knew better than to insist.

However, he, too, knew how to offer ultimatums. While she threatened him with fits of rage and promises to leave if he didn't cooperate, he made her behave like a mother first and his 

girlfriend second. Michael was his first priority in life, and he did everything he could to make sure that their little boy was Carly's as well. Sometimes he failed, but, on nights like the present one, he felt as if he was succeeding.

She had gotten ready earlier while he gave Michael a bath, but, since their son would need fed before the babysitter arrived and before they could go out, he had bargained with Carly, asking her to feed the little boy while he showered and changed. Wanting to leave as soon as possible and not wanting to fight about what he was wearing that evening, she had agreed, putting on a robe over her barely there, extravagant clothes. She had sworn to make sure that Michael ate each and every single bite of his peas and peaches before they left, no matter what.

Coming down the stairs, Jason realized just how seriously, or perhaps it was flippantly, she took her assurance to him. Instead of tossing out the peas, one of their son's least favorite vegetables, before he could catch her letting Michael get away with not finishing his dinner, his girlfriend was eating them herself. Knowing just how much Carly hated anything remotely healthy for her, he could only imagine how much she detested the baby food. However, her screwed up face did give him somewhat of a hint. But he couldn't find it in himself to be mad at her. It was just such a Carly thing to do, and it made him realize just how much she wanted to go out that night with him, making the fact that he was about to spend the next several hours in a suit, sans tie, at a hotel the Quartermaines owned dining and dancing a little bit more bearable.

Sneaking up on her, he leaned over her shoulder, tilting her face towards his own as he kissed her, thoroughly surprising Carly and making her jump from shock. "Um, peas," he moaned playfully, making her blush, "my favorite."

She laughed nervously, evading his gaze. "You caught me, and you're probably mad, but Michael was not eating them, and I said we wouldn't leave until they were all gone, and…"

"It's alright," he reassured her, reaching around her to lift their son from his highchair. "I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

She stood up beside him, and, astonishing even himself at how lighthearted, how carefree he was being, he kissed her again. "I'm not. I promise."

Theirs wasn't your typical relationship. While, yes, they were technically dating and had a son together, they both knew that he was not in love with Carly as she was with him. Although he considered her a good friend, Michael had been conceived on what was supposed to be a one night stand. However, when a very pregnant and scared Carly showed up on his doorstep eight months later, Jason had taken her in, provided her with a home and more money than even she could spend, and they raised their little boy together. She constantly tried to make their relationship more than what it was – two parents cohabitating for the sake of their child, and, occasionally, like that particular night, sometimes he crossed the line and actually treated her like someone he was dating, but they were never going to get married, never going to share a bedroom on a full time basis. Despite her complaining about the matter, Carly seemed to easily accept the fact that Jason simply didn't see her that way, and, at least for the time being, their setup worked for them… even if no one else seemed to understand it.

"On second thought," she flirted, wrapping her slender arms around his neck to hold him 

close to her, "maybe we should just stay in."

Without saying a word, he agreed, nodding his head in acceptance. He'd sleep with Carly again, especially since she knew, in the morning, their relationship would go back to how it was before. Besides, he really did not want to go out, and, this way, they both got what they wanted.

"I'm just going to put Michael down for the night. Will you…?"

"I'll be waiting down here," she promised him.

Taking the stairs two at a night, Jason made his way towards his son's room as quickly as he could. To say it had been a while since he had been with a woman was quite the understatement, and he found himself both eager and ready to enjoy…

"I don't know what's wrong with you right now, but people are staring."

In his mind's eye, he could still see his old penthouse, could still smell that clean, unique baby scent of his son, but, at the same time, the retired enforcer was well aware of the fact that he was standing in the middle of a grocery store with Elizabeth Webber, of all women in the world, in his arms. She had her face pressed up intimately against his neck, whispering soft words into his ears, and, despite the fact that he wanted to break free of the past, that he really wanted to enjoy the moment he was currently sharing with his wife, he found that he couldn't. The memories were just too strong. But, then, he felt the beautiful brunette who was holding him kiss his neck, and, immediately, his own arms came up to wrap around her.

"I'll help you, okay," she told him. Slowly, more and more of their surroundings came back them, and he noticed several customers, all of them with children in the front seats of their carts, watching him and Elizabeth with open curiosity on their faces. "We're just going to leave the cart here. I'll come back and get groceries by myself tomorrow afternoon," she murmured so only he could hear her. "Now, when I let go of you, I'm going to take your hand, and I want you to follow me out of the store. Can you do that?"

Jason nodded his head, just once, but the onetime artist seemed to accept it without doubt. Just like she said she would, she unwound her arms from his neck, and he instantly felt the loss of them. Taking his hand, she led him out of the baby aisle, towards the front of the store, and out to their SUV. It wasn't until they were half way home, Elizabeth driving, that he completely came out of the daze he had been under. Glancing across the center console to the women who had just saved him in a way, he saw her in a new light. While she might be fighting demons from her past, so was he, and, eventually, if they wanted to survive the mess they were both currently in, they were going to have to talk about what was chasing them, what was haunting them.

"Thank you," he offered her sincerely once she stopped at the one light the town of Dovetree had to offer.

Meeting his gaze, his wife observed him carefully before admitting, "you'd do the same for me, Jason."

And he would, but, before he could tell her that, the light changed again, and they were on their way. Silence descended over the car, but it wasn't uncomfortable, and, in it, he realized that it was redundant to tell her something she already knew. However, he liked 

the fact that she had a little bit of faith in him, that, when the chips were down, she trusted him to take care of her. It wasn't everything they would need to get through the next several months together, and it certainly wouldn't help them become friends, but it was a start, and, really, at that point, that's all he needed from her.