Part Eleven

XXXIX.

He knew that his wife hated to drive, that being in control of a vehicle, let alone their rather large SUV, made her nervous, and that her fear of the roads only seemed to increase when the weather conditions were less than optimal, but he made her drive anyway. It wasn't because he was mean or malicious. Rather, it was simply a skill that she needed to have while living in Dovetree… just in case. After all, he wasn't always with her, and, if she ever needed to get away from someone in a hurry, she couldn't take off on foot, and the small, rural town had no public transportation. No taxies, no buses, and definitely no rail system, and, if nothing else, for his own peace of mind, he needed to know that Elizabeth was always as safe as she possibly could be.

Plus, with winter now firmly upon them, he did not like the idea of her walking to work. Yes, the flower shop was only a few blocks away from their house, but the sidewalks were slippery and oftentimes covered in snow, and he knew that she chilled easily. Unlike himself, the brunette felt every single degree of cold surrounding her. It seemed to seep into her bones, chill her skin, and make her milky complexion almost translucent. And he hated to see her physically uncomfortable.

So, everyday, they had a new routine. After getting up at a similar time in the morning, Elizabeth would putter around the house while he got ready for work, drinking her ever-present hot chocolate, packing his lunch for him, and pretending to be watching the morning news while catching five minute catnaps. Once he was ready to leave, she would wrap herself up in her warmest winter coat and boots, complete with all the accoutrements that went with the seasonal garb, and take him to work, driving slowly, cautiously, with both hands on the wheel and the radio absolutely silent – not that he would complain about a lack of music, so that she could have the vehicle for whatever she might need it for. When his shift was over, she was always there waiting for him, the car unbearably balmy. No matter how many times he told her that he really didn't feel temperature extremes, the college graduate never ceased to fuss over him, questioning whether he had dressed warm enough, insisting that he take a thermos of coffee with him just in case, and, then, at night, cranking up the SUV's and the house's heat because she thought he might be cold from his long, hard day out in the elements.

But he didn't really mind too much. In fact, it wasn't the insane settings that the artist kept their surroundings at all times that made him feel feverish and sweaty, but, instead, it was the fact that she cared so much in the first place. Knowing that Elizabeth worried about him sent a pleasant jolt of awareness through the former hitman, a tingling sensation that he really didn't recognize or understand, and the oft repeated gesture never failed to put a crooked, knowing grin on his somehow still tan face. But he never said anything about her actions, and she never called him out on his reactions, so the pattern continued – over and over and over again with neither of them fully comprehending what the other thought about the situation.

Presently, they were in the car on the way towards his latest construction site. Because of the change in the weather, there were no more outdoor jobs. Roofs that needed patching or redone would have to wait until spring, siding that needed to be replaced would be kept in storage until the snow and cold of winter had passed for the more favorable conditions of the new year, and there was no way they could pour new basements or lay cement blocks to start and complete any new projects. So, in order to keep his men busy, Tom, Jason's boss, saved all their indoor remodeling projects for the winter, and, luckily, the people of 

Dovetree were understanding and even obliging.

And he hated it. He hated being trapped inside where the air was constantly clogged with dust and particles no lungs should breathe in. But that didn't mean that he wore a mask either like some of the other men. It wasn't because he believed them to be too feminine, but, rather, he simply didn't like the feeling of something covering his mouth and nose. It was smothering and made him feel cornered. Plus, he missed the sun, and the jobs they performed inside were even more mundane and thoughtless – painting, laying carpet, tiling, putting up new drywall. It was the same thing day in and day out, and he was ready for a break.

"You know, Christmas is coming up soon."

As he glanced over at the woman he lived with, the onetime enforcer wasn't sure who was more surprised by his quiet disrupting statement. As Elizabeth coasted slowly to a stop at the town's sole red light, she turned to face him, her normally smooth and wrinkle free brow scrunched up in question, the very same questions he was currently, silently, asking himself. With her head tilted to the side and her big, bright, and compelling blue eyes glancing up at him, his wife waited for him to continue, for him to explain just why he was bringing up the rapidly approaching holiday.

When he said nothing, she urged him by saying, "and…"

"And," the blonde shrugged, reaching up to tug distractedly at his earlobe, effectively blocking her gaze from fixating so forcefully on his own. "And I'm going to be having some time off."

"I see," the twenty-three year old murmured, gradually getting their lumbering vehicle moving once again.

Although she refused to tear her eyes off the road now that she was driving, her left hand perfectly positioned at the ten o'clock position and her right at two, he knew that her attention was solely placed upon him, further unsettling him. While just moments before he had been attempting to avoid her sight, now he craved it, for he wanted to read her reactions in her ever expressive eyes, and, while moments before he had believed it a good idea to bring up the upcoming holiday season, a fact that in and of itself was disconcerting considering that he had never really been one to celebrate Christmas or any holiday, for that matter, before, he now knew that the comment had been a mistake. Of course Elizabeth wouldn't want to do anything with him to mark December 25th. In fact, his mentioning the family oriented holiday had probably brought up memories from her past that she wanted to keep hidden, memories that she was yet ready to share with…"

"I have some time off, too."

And, with that simple, six word sentence, his anxiety disappeared once again. Knowing that he just needed to spit it out if he ever wanted to say what was on his mind instead of second guessing his every instinct, another personal first, the retired hitman squared his shoulders, turned to face his wife, and spoke plainly but yet succinctly at the same time. "I was thinking that maybe we could go away together."

The artist's rapid blinking informed him that his suggestion had surprised her, but, now that the thought was out there, circulating to and fro between them, he refused to take it back. "What… I… Where?"


"Doesn't matter," Jason answered, shrugging. "Wherever you want."

"But why?"

"Why what," he questioned her, narrowing his gaze. "Why am I letting you choose?"

"No," the brunette quickly dismissed, shocking him when she lifted her right hand off the wheel to distractedly wave the very idea away. "Why do you want to go away?"

Really, he thought that she might like to, so he was actually doing it for her. And maybe slightly for himself, too, for he always enjoyed putting a smile upon her beautiful face. However, the onetime enforcer wasn't sure if the twenty-three year old was ready for such a confession on his part, so, instead, he played it safe, simply admitting, "I thought it'd be good for our cover."

"Oh."

"I mean, we never talk about our family, no one other than the agents that one time have ever come to visit us, and it would probably look suspicious if a recently married, young couple spent the holidays alone. We could go away, leave the craziness of Christmas – the shopping, the decorating, the cooking – behind and just escape for a little while, drop the act of Jack and Ellis Martin and just… be."

"You mean, just be Jason Morgan and Elizabeth Webber again?"

"Yeah," he responded, nodding his head. When he noticed the light in her eyes dim slightly more, he rushed on to correct himself. "It'll, of course, be different now, though. After all, I think we've made peace with each other."

"We have."

"And I think that we're now friends."

"I think so, too."

"Maybe even more than friends," the blonde suggested, astonishing the woman he lived with.

"More than friends," Elizabeth prompted him, obviously wanting an explanation.

Suddenly nervous again, he felt his mouth go dry. "You know," he made light of his own pronouncement. Twisting his head to look out the window as he talked, not wanting the young artist to see his expression even out of the corner of her eyes, he clarified. "I was friends with some of the guys I used to work with in the organization, but I never really talked to them. I never told them things, private things. We'd go out, drink beer, play some pool, and that was it. With you, it's… more than friends." Though he knew he was simply repeating what he had said earlier, Jason really had no idea how else to explain what he felt for the college graduate. He just didn't have the words to express the sentiments. "Anyway," it was his turn to press her, pivoting back around in his seat away from the passing scenery. "What do you think?"

"Sure," she agreed readily, easily, if not almost eagerly. "I'd love to go away for Christmas… 

with you. But don't think you're getting out of the traditions," she warned him.

"What traditions?"

"Well, we have to get a Christmas tree, and you're going to help me decorate it, Mister."

Being contrary, perhaps even on purpose simply to playfully push her buttons, the former hitman stated, "pine trees look better in the woods covered in pine cones and snow."

"They do not," Elizabeth challenged, laughing slightly despite her feigned offense. "And we're going to bake cookies, too."

"But the only you can make is brownies."

"Well, you know how to cook, and, really," the brunette surmised, "how hard can it be? Between the two of us, we should be able to figure it out."

Lifting a hand to his face to cover up a smirk, Jason asked her, "anything else?"

"Yes," his wife was quick to respond, her voice growing more and more animated as she went on. "We have to sing carols."

"I don't sing."

"… and read The Night Before Christmas. We'll have to play in the snow, build a snowman and make snow angles, put cookies and milk out for Santa and a carrot for Rudolph."

"You do realize that Santa isn't real, don't you?"

She just continued to ignore him, though, much to the onetime enforcer's amusement. "Oh, and I'm going to have to go shopping soon for your presents."

"Presents?"

This time he received an answer. "Of course, presents," the college graduate replied almost indignantly, but, then, her countenance fell once again, and she frowned. "What? Don't you want to exchange gifts?"

"No, that's fine," he was quick to reassure her. "We can get each other presents."

And they would. He would do anything Elizabeth wanted him to do if it continued to make her smile like she currently was as she rambled on and on about the various Christmas traditions that she observed every year no matter what. Obviously, he realized, the holidays were important to the woman he lived with, even if she was now, technically, alone in the world without her family. However, as long as he was allowed to remain with her, she'd always have someone by her side, someone to harass and innocently guilt into following all her silly holiday rules and customs, and, even though he'd complain the whole time, teasing her, he'd do so willingly, for, in his opinion, that's what more than friends did for each other.

… Even if his own more than friend was a self-proclaimed Christmas freak and didn't realize the sacrifice he was making for her.

XL.

She really needed to start being more punctual. If it wasn't for the fact that Didi was too nice for her own good, Elizabeth knew that she would have been fired long ago. Not a week went by when she wasn't late for work because of some rather foolish reason, and, no matter how many times she told herself that it was the last time, there was always another. And another. She had tried setting her watch's alarm to go off fifteen minutes before her shift every day, but, just as she often forgot about the time, she also seemed to forget which days it was that she had to go into the shop in the first place. Random sticky notes placed around the house didn't help, and even jotted down little reminders on the palm of her hands were ineffective, for she simply washed those off in the shower or sweated the ink away.

In fact, at that point, it was pretty much a running joke between her and the ladies of the garden club. They had a pattern. She'd be running late again, getting lost in something – a new sketch, a batch of brownies, or, more often than not, thoughts of the man she lived with, and her boss would be forced to call her, reminding her of the fact that she was supposed to be there twenty minutes before. By the time she would arrive, at least one of her elderly friends would be waiting there to rib her - Evelyn the most common culprit. But the joking was all good natured, and, if that was all she had to endure in order to keep her job, she'd laugh and smile along with them, blushing at their innuendoes.

On that particular morning, however, she had managed to catch herself before her employer had to pick up a phone and dial her pre-programmed number. Sitting at the computer, chin resting lazily in hand, she browsed through travel sites, her mind completely focused on the idea of finding a place that she and Jason could escape to for a few days during the holiday season. She had ruled out the various, popular beaches immediately. Not only would those destinations inevitably remind her of Sonny and his private island, but she had a feeling that her husband would prefer something more private, and, if she was completely honest with herself, she, too, would rather be alone with him than surrounded by hundreds of other tourists.

However, in the middle of debating between snow and sun, she had just happened to glance at the tiny clock located in the right hand corner of the computer screen, jumping out of her chair so quickly when she realized just how late it was that she knocked it over. Without delay, she started to gather her things, leaving the computer on and running, while dashing towards the side door. Her winter clothes were hanging up in the home's entrance, dry and warm, just waiting for her, so she slipped on her boots, threw her coat on, and, simply ignoring her better judgment, skipped her hat, gloves, and scarf. The ride to the shop only took a few minutes, even with nasty roads and poor driving conditions, and, if she did happen to go into the ditch, there were plenty of homes she could go to for assistance or a full tank of gas to use up as she kept the SUV's motor running while waiting for help.

She was halfway to the shop when she realized that, along with her accessories, she had left her cell phone on the kitchen counter, but she didn't turn back. No one ever called her. Basically, she had the mobile just in case of emergencies, and, since the road crews had already been out to plow and spread salt, she wasn't worried about wrecking and needing to phone for a tow. What was more important was getting to work as quickly as she possibly could, so she could, once again, apologize to Didi for her scatterbrained nature.

Pushing open the front door and stumbling in awkwardly, she quickly moved to close the air hole, savoring the warmth and inviting ambiance of the floral shop. The lighting was soft, the shades drawn down to keep the depressing sight of a grey, winter's day away and out of mind, and there was the welcoming tinkling of companionable laughter coming from the 

back of the store, the sound drawing Elizabeth towards her boss and good friend.

"Well, there you are, Ellis," Evelyn called out, winking towards the middle aged woman behind the counter. "We were getting worried about you. In fact, Didi had just called your house and your cell phone, but you didn't pick up either. Five more minutes, and we were going to close the shop down to come looking for you."

"Never do that," she instructed them, stripping off her coat and boots. Because she kept a pair of slippers at the store, she would wear them while working instead of her large, bulky goulashes during the day. "You know how I always seem to be running late."

"Yes, but why didn't you have your cell phone on you."

"Forgot it," the twenty-three year old answered her boss' question. "I rushed out of the house so quickly that I left it on the kitchen counter. But, anyway, I'm sorry that I worried you, but, even if I would have ditched the car, there's no reason for the two of you to go out there and risk accident or injury as well."

"Of course there is," the oldest of the three women insisted. "I'd rather wreck my Caddy than worry about you, young lady, so quit with this noble, gallant malarkey. I won't have it."

Smirking, she teased, "oh, you won't?"

"No," Evelyn replied as serious as the widow could possibly be. "Now, tell us," she insisted. "What had you running late this morning?"

"Was it a new drawing," Didi suggested helpfully, waving the stem of the flower she was currently putting into an arrangement as she talked.

"Or a rousing game of solo-pool, seeing as how you're determined to learn that bewildering barroom game?"

"Neither," the college graduate responded, taking her position beside her boss behind the counter and immediately starting to work. Not realizing what she was saying and how she was setting herself up for even more taunting, Elizabeth murmured vaguely. "Jack had me distracted this morning."

Didi snickered, and the only mother in their small group used a mock stage whisper to comment, "I'd like to be distracted by that man myself. Unfortunately, he seems to only have eyes for his you."

Snapping to attention, the brunette met both of the older women's gazes with large, owl-like, unblinking eyes. "No," she disputed, shaking her head rapidly in argument. "You don't understand. That's not what I meant. You see…"

"It's alright, Dear," Evelyn consoled, patting the artist's pale, petite hand with her own wrinkled and aged one. "We understand, and, as we promised you all those weeks ago, we won't say another word about it. Now, if you were so inclined to give two elderly ladies some steamy details…"

"Hey, speak for yourself," her employer interrupted, good-naturedly glaring in the grandmother's direction. "I am not elderly."


The white haired widow simply snorted in derision, rolling her eyes. Turning her attention back to Elizabeth, she pressed, "so, is there anything you'd like to tell us? Throw an old girl a bone, here, please."

"Sorry," the twenty-three year old apologized despite grinning wickedly and not particularly feeing remorseful. "But anything that I may or may not share with my husband stays between the two of us."

"And Betsy," Evelyn added, causing her young friend to grimace with abhorrence. "After all, she's always watching. She's just like the government, that woman."

Without meaning to, she felt herself tense at older woman's seemingly innocent comment, a comment that was said merely in jest but that touched a little too close to home for her to be comfortable. Shaking aside the anxiety, though, she smiled, laughed, and went back to the flower arrangement she was presently working on. Around her, the two ladies continued to chat about random topics, forgetting her and her distraction as quickly as it had been brought up, and the diminutive brunette was left with the opportunity to mull over her own thoughts on the topic.

Two months ago, at the very idea of her fellow garden club members believing that she was late because she and Jack had been intimate with each other, she would have been embarrassed and even, in her own way, slightly ashamed. But, now, oddly enough, the idea almost appealed to her. That was why she had let their assumptions pass without too much argument on her part, why she had teased her friends, and why, now, even minutes later, her body still felt alive and deliciously aware as images of what those distractions would look like, feel like, even taste like assaulted her imagination. It was a surreal experience but one that she wouldn't trade for any sense of normalcy or emotional comfort.

XLI.

It was late that afternoon, and Evelyn was still there with them. At that point, Elizabeth thought that they should have just given her an official position at the store, figured out a way to pay her a decent wage. The other ladies had all stopped by, too, well, except for Betsy who she was pretty sure what attempting to break into the house she shared with Jason to plant bugs. Cate had stopped in while out about running errands and stayed to have lunch with them, and Renee had dropped by to pick up some poinsettias for her house, exchanging her usual bright and cheerful floral arrangements for something more seasonally appropriate. But she had left an hour earlier, and the three of them remaining, between serving customers and taking orders over the phone, were still talking about the upcoming holiday.

The only mother of their little group had shared about how, when she was just a child herself growing up in the depression, her family had been forced to not give each other gifts for several years. They still went to church and had a modest Christmas dinner, but she received no new dolls or pretty dresses, and Didi had followed that up with stories of what Christmas was like growing up in her home with just her and her mom. With no siblings and her father dead, their holiday affairs had been rather somber, understated, until she had gotten older and her mother had gotten past the loss of her husband. But then they had turned to her, asking the brunette about her childhood memories, and amazing herself, she was actually willing to reveal what it had been like growing up as a Webber in Colorado.

There were no spasms of pain as she reflected upon the family she no longer was a part of, 

no errant tears when flashes of her brother's antics on Christmas morning popped into her mind, and, actually, it was nice to recall good memories rather than bad ones for, perhaps, the first time in months. Smiling wistfully in recollection, she launched into an account of days long since gone by, pausing in her work to focus on what she was saying.

"Christmas was always my favorite time of year. My parents didn't work as much, I didn't have to go to school, and my grandmother always flew out to see us. For just a little while, I could forget that I was the black sheep of the family, and my Mom, Dad, and sister seemed to forget the fact as well."

"Oh, I don't believe that," Evelyn waved off, casting a skeptical glance in the artist's direction. "How could anyone not find you absolutely adorable?"

"Let's just say that I was unique."

The two older women laughed, and, then, Didi asked her, "but what would your family do to celebrate?"

"We always got a big tree and would decorate it together, and there were numerous holiday parties to go, whether friends or coworkers of my parents. I hated the frilly dresses they made me wear, but I loved the hot chocolate and cookies."

Together, in sync, her two friends replied, "some things never change," to which Elizabeth merely shrugged.

"What can I say? A girl knows what she likes."

"No, she doesn't," a fourth voice argued, joining their group.

"Aw, Betsy," the widow complained, frowning and narrowing her gaze combatively towards her oftentimes rival. "It's always a displeasure to see you."

"Evelyn," her employer chastised, but, despite herself, she snickered. "Ladies, play nice."

"We can't," Elizabeth's neighbor informed the twice divorced florist. "It's against our nature, and you know that you'd be bored without our constant bickering. Anyway," she drawled out, continuing. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted." She paused long enough to pinch her adversary. "A girl never knows what she likes… or wants. That's why most of us end up alone and unhappy in our old age."

"Well, not Ellis," Didi defended the twenty-three year old. "She knows exactly what she's doing, and she already has Jack. No woman in her right mind would mess that marriage up, and I happen to know for a fact that our young friend here is of both sane mind and body."

"Care to make a wager?"

"I'm warning you, Northam," Evelyn started to threaten the old maid, standing up from her chair, but, before their dispute could escalate, and, really, how it had even started she wasn't quite sure, the college graduate interrupted.

"So, what can we do for you today, Betsy?"

"Oh, I just stopped by to see if one of you fools has some information about the accident 

that was just called in a few minutes ago?"

"What," her boss challenged good naturedly. "Did the batteries on your scanner die on you?"

"Of course not," the busybody defended, taking her own seat diagonal from her older garden club counterpart. "They just weren't very forthcoming with the information, and, seeing as how Ellis here is married to one of Tom's employees, I thought she might know what went down on that construction site today."

All three sets of older eyes turned in her direction, and, while she could read curiosity in her neighbor's, there was thinly veiled worry in both Didi's and Evelyn's. "What do you mean went down?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, now, would I?"

"Just give her a straight answer," her boss instructed the older, contrary woman. "We haven't heard anything."

"Oh, well, according to the 911 call, there was some kind of electrical mishap. One of the guys' hearts stopped beating."

She felt as if she was going to faint and cry all at the same exact time. Reaching blindly for something to hold onto, Elizabeth, instead, felt her friend and coworker's hands encircle her waist as she guided her towards the stool that was always kept with them behind the counter. Her breathing was erratic, choppy, and she could feel her own heart pounding at an uneven, scary tempo in her chest. Instantly, her palms became clammy, and she could literally feel all the blood drain away from her face and hands.

"Sweetie," Evelyn stated, the only mother of their group using her maternal instincts in an attempt to both sooth and calm her. With the elderly woman's hands gently cupping her face, she brought their gazes together, all the while talking to her softly, reassuringly, compassionately. "Hey, Jack's okay. He's fine, Ellis. I promise you. If something was wrong, Tom would have called you himself, but no one's called in the last forty minutes. The phones have all been quiet."

"But my cell phone…"

"It never rang, Honey."

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally splashed down onto her trembling nose and lips, their salty taste shocking the college graduate from her moment of inaction. Standing up, she pushed aside her friend's embrace, pacing and dashing around as she tried to both collect herself and her thoughts. "It's at home. Even if someone would have tried to call me, I wouldn't have been able to pick up, because I wouldn't have known."

"Surely," Didi suggested, interjecting helpfully, "they would have called here. Everyone knows that you work for me during the days."

"But they might not have," Elizabeth retorted practically hysterically. "If there wasn't time, if things had gotten too chaotic…" Reaching under the counter for her keys and purse, she started towards the door, not even bothering to put on her coat or to switch her slippers for her winter boots. "I have to go."


"Ellis, you're upset," Betsy, ever the practical one, pointed out. "You shouldn't be driving like this. What if your husband's alright, but you get in a wreck on your way to see him anyway? You're not being very smart about this. Just let one of us drive you."

But she didn't listen. Hell, she didn't even stay long enough to hear the rest of her friends' arguments. Instead, she raced down the slippery sidewalks outside of the flower shop and jumped in the SUV she shared with her husband, starting the ignition and pulling away with slush spitting forth from her back tires without ever once checking for oncoming traffic or stopping long enough to clean off the windows from the snow that had been falling sluggishly all day. Rather, she simply turned on her windshield wiper blades, hoping that between their efforts and the speed of her moving vehicle, the obstructing snow would eventually fall off the car. If not, well, then, so be it, for nothing was going to stop her from getting to Jason; nothing was going to stop her from getting to the man she loved.

XLII.

Outside of the construction site, it was a veritable melee – people swarming about, attempting to either look busy in order to hide their own personal unease over what had happened that afternoon or attempting to merely blend into the background so no one would take notice of them, emergency workers trying to organize what was otherwise mass pandemonium, and the red and blue lights of the local rescue vehicles, their bright, swirling illumination refusing to allow anyone to forget the near fatal accident they had all witnessed. Cars were blocked in, voices were loud and strained, and all he wanted to do was leave, but, because the woman he lived with had their only vehicle, he was stranded until she arrived to pick him up at five or someone took pity on him and offered him a ride home.

It was rather odd what he was feeling in that moment. While he was relieved that he had been uninjured, he felt sympathy for Gary and his family, knowing that if the EMT's had been just a few minutes later to resuscitate the other man, he would have died. And, although he was no stranger to death and had a fine sense of his own mortality, Jason hadn't been expecting the sheer strength of his emotions afterwards. Maybe it was because he was now away from the mob and the lifestyle he had existed under all those years while working for Sonny, or, perhaps, it was because, for the first time in months, he actually found himself caring whether or not he survived the current battle he was waging with his former employer, but, whatever the reason, he was thankful that he wasn't the one who had been electrocuted, that it wasn't his heart that had stopped beating, and that, when he went home that night, Elizabeth would be there with him.

They'd have dinner together and then settle down for a quiet night in. Whether they played pool, watched a movie, or simply relaxed with one another in bed, he knew that she would listen carefully and with interest if he wanted to confide in her about the day he had experienced, or, if he preferred to simply exist in silence, she wouldn't fight him, allowing him his privacy and time to sort out his own thoughts in his own way. And the quiet between them wouldn't be awkward either, for, now, it never was. Sometimes, it would be laced with humor, camaraderie, or, occasionally, if he didn't know better, he'd even say that there were strains sexual tension on both of their parts, but, no matter what, it was always enjoyable and never uncomfortable.


So, if he wanted to confess to her that, as he watched his coworker be administered to by the paramedics, he had, briefly, seen himself motionlessly lying there, he knew that he could. Or, if instead, he just wanted to hug the petite brunette and keep her close to him, she would allow that, too. And that was just another reason why he…

Fleetingly, he saw a tiny woman push and shove her way through the crowd, from the fluffy pink of her slippers to her whirling chocolate tresses, every single inch of her tense frame reminding him of his wife. "What the hell," the former enforcer muttered to himself, following the woman's path, weaving and bobbing his way through the people she had just rudely bulldozed through. Several minutes later, he came to a stop when he saw her standing by herself in the middle of the throng, allowing his eyes the chance to really and truly take her appearance in.

Sans coat and proper dress, she was shivering from the cold but appeared oblivious to the discomfort. Standing up on her tiptoes, he could tell that she was scanning those around her for something or, more likely, someone, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Wringing her hands together, he observed as she ignored the dripping signs of emotion coursing their way down her blotchy, red face, choosing to, instead, play with the simple, gold band decorating her left ring finger. But he couldn't approach her; he couldn't take a single step closer to her, so, feeling foolish for inactiveness, Jason called out to her, his voice breaking with feeling and sentiment.

"What are you…? What are you doing here?"

She was already turned around and running towards him before the mumbled, awkward sentence could find its way free of his mouth, and, reacting instinctively when she launched herself into his arms, he pulled the brunette tightly against him, crushing their chests together. Her feet were dangling up off of the ground, her arms around his neck, when she moved in to kiss him, joining their lips together in a breathless, desperate, deafening embrace, and, despite the fact that he was soon breathless, the onetime hitman refused to release her. Rather, he deepened the kiss, pried open her mouth with his own, and, then, slipped his tongue in to slide against and taste her inner, unique palate.

When neither of them could last a single second longer, he separated them, burrowing his face into her chilly, supple neck in order to remain as close to her as possible. Needing to know, needing to understand the truth even if it had the potential to hurt and destroy him far more than if he had been the one to have been electrocuted that day, he asked, "Ellis?"

Her tears were dripping down his face, too, when she responded, nodding her head no in a rather emphatic, frantic gesture of resistance and contradiction.

But he needed, craved more. In a noticeably incredulous voice, the blonde asked, "Elizabeth?"

However, the only answer his wife was capable of giving him was another kiss, less 

desperate in nature but just as sweet, just as addicting, just as completely mind numbing as the first. It was also the only one he needed as well. Blindly, he walked them towards the street, determined to find the vehicle she had driven there and ultimately left running in her haste to make sure he was alright, and was completely oblivious to the fact that, technically, he was leaving work without informing his boss. Not that he would have cared even if Tom had forbidden him from going home. After all, Elizabeth was kissing him – Jason Morgan and not Jack Martin, and, in that moment, that was all that mattered.