Part Thirteen

XLVI.

Her husband looked much too smug for his own good.

They had been driving for hours, curling around the old, worn, country highways, inevitably getting closer to their destination, and, for the majority of the ride, they had remained in silence, not uncomfortable but mainly due to necessity. Because she was driving, Elizabeth had to pay attention to where they were going, both to navigate the trip properly and to circumvent and avoid the icy patches of pavement occasionally encountered along their journey, and Jason seemed perfectly content to just sit back, smirk, and watch her the entire time. He didn't adjust the heater's controls, he never once teased her or even made a single remark about the various radio stations playing continuous Christmas songs that she insisted upon listening to, and the thought of stopping to eat or even to go to the bathroom didn't appear to cross his mind once. He was the model passenger – aside from his arrogance, and it was driving her to distraction.

Fisting her hands tighter around the steering wheel, the petite brunette demanded, "you know where we're going, don't you? You figured it out, or you snooped through my itinerary, or you…"

"I wouldn't snoop," he interrupted her, his smirk curling into a crooked, lethal smile. "And, as for knowing where we're going, all I know is that it's obviously not the beach, and I'm thankful for that."

"Oh." It was all she could manage to say, for his response had taken her slightly by surprise.

There was no question of not believing Jason. No matter how much he could sometimes frustrate her with his calm and his self-assuredness, they were also just two of the many things she loved about him. And she didn't doubt the sincerity of his response either. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the former enforcer wouldn't lie to her. If nothing else was stable in their relationship – whatever that said relationship may exactly be, their trust in each other was. Plus, she herself had told him that they weren't going to the beach so he could pack appropriately, and their trip, thus far, had supported the fact that they would be staying in a snow ridden environment.

While still keeping both hands on the wheel and her eyes peeled studiously on their surroundings, the young artist tried again. "Well, then, you broke the rules, didn't you?"

"What rules?"

He really was too enigmatic for his own good, she realized in that moment. Sighing exasperatedly, Elizabeth clarified, "the rules we set about each other's Christmas presents."

He shook his head in denial, turned back to face the windshield of the SUV, and sat perfectly still, unfazed by her suspicions while, at the same time, appearing almost bored by her sudden inquisition.

"So, then, you didn't spend a lot of money?"

"I stayed under our budget… just like you requested."


"Hey," the twenty-three year old protested, swiveling her head towards him long enough to glare in his general direction before returning her attention to the task at hand. "You agreed!"

"Yes, because your stipulations already fit with the gift I had been planning on getting you."

She felt her eyes go wide with astonishment, and she could do nothing to mask her amazed disbelief. Jason chuckled. "You already had my present picked out?"

Looking even more conceited, the blonde answered, "both of them, in fact."

Without being aware of what she was doing, the college graduate started to pout. Apparently, while she had struggled for weeks, even before they had agreed to spend Christmas alone and away together, with her thoughts on what kind of gift to get the man she lived with, he had been worry free, sitting back, and probably laughing at her constant distraction and troubled expressions. It didn't really surprise her. The retired hitman seemed to never second guess himself, something she was quite adept… even talented… at, but, still, his ease annoyed her. After all, she was supposed to be the Christmas freak, and he was supposed to be the innocent bystander she had simply drug along with her through her holiday insanity. But, now, evidently, the student had surpassed the teacher.

Distracting her from her thoughts, Jason continued. "And I also wrapped your presents myself… like you said I had to."

Glowering at him, she defended herself, "it wasn't like that."

"I know."

"Then why say…" Her words trailed off when she saw her roommate smirk for what had to be, at least, the twentieth time in the past four hours. "Nevermind."

She returned to her driving, mentally figuring to herself the fact that they would be at their destination in a matter of minutes. More than she was looking forward to the idea of spending several uninterrupted days with her husband, more than she was even looking forward to opening her presents from him, Elizabeth was excited for the moment when she could watch him realize that they truly would be alone for the holidays.

Because she believed the onetime enforcer when he said that he had no idea where they were going, she knew that he was probably expecting some lavish, four star, pampering mountainside hotel, and, though he would never complain about anything she chose, the diminutive artist was well aware of the fact that the man she loved preferred his privacy if he had a choice. So, despite the fact that she would have enjoyed having a restaurant close by, would have delighted in going to a spa and having maid and room service, the fact that she had, instead, booked them into a solitary cabin was a gift to Jason in and of itself, and she couldn't wait to see his reaction to said gift.

"Alright, I give up," she relented, physically supporting her surrender by, temporarily, tossing her arms into the arm in a gesture of futility and helplessness. "What have you been grinning about this entire trip?"

He laughed, obviously enjoying her distraction, before replying, "I knew teaching you how to drive would come in handy."


"That's why you looked like the cat that swallowed the canary all morning?"

The blonde smirked – again – in concurrence.

"That's what you've practically been taunting me about for the past four hours?"

Jason shrugged, but it was enough of a gesture for the twenty-three year old to take it as a concession on her roommate's part.

"That's why you've looked so pleased with yourself since we left the house?"

"Well, that's part of the reason."

She didn't say a word. Instead, she simply pulled into the private, secluded lane that would take them to the cabin she had rented for them. It, literally, was in the middle of nowhere. Miles stretched out between the place they would be staying and any other outpost of habitation in the mountain range. The retreat was in the middle of the woods, surrounded by virgin pines, and oaks, and maples, bare of their leaves but dense enough so that they would still feel lost in a sea of nature. The snow there was already deep and compact, perfect for afternoons of playing outside and evenings spent indoors, away from everything else, in front of a roaring fire with a loved one. And, as the path twisted for one final time and gave out to a clearing, their vehicle came to a stop in front of the rustic lodge, its windows bright with illumination and its chimneys already heated with the fires the owners had prepared for them.

"So," Elizabeth prompted, putting the car into park and twisting in her seat to face her husband. "What do you think?"

"It's not what I was expecting, but it's exactly what I would have picked myself."

It wasn't a passionate declaration of joy or even appreciation, but the brunette hadn't been anticipating such a thing from the retired hitman, and she wouldn't have wanted such an out of character response from him either. She didn't need Jason's words to reassure her that he both approved and liked the hideaway she had picked for them. Rather, she could see his admiration in his small but nevertheless sincere smile, and she could read his pleasure in his eyes, their normally sedate and relaxed corners quirked up in delight, and, in that moment, his happiness was everything and anything she needed or wanted for Christmas.

"Come on," the college graduate insisted, already climbing out of the SUV. "Let's go check everything out."

He followed her enthusiastic suggestion willingly, also stepping out of the car. Getting their bags from the back, he moved quickly towards the cabin, allowing her to fall into step behind him. It was exactly the opportunity she had been waiting for, and, taking advantage of it, she stopped in her tracks, bent down at the knees to gather enough snow into her bare hands to make a sizeable snow ball, and pelted it in the blonde's direction with as much force and accuracy as she could manage. It landed, with a resounding, echoing slap, square on his upper back, the ball flying apart only for some of the loose pieces to fall unnoticed to the ground while the others found their way under the collar of the onetime hitman's leather coat.



Elizabeth didn't even wait for the man she loved to react. Pivoting around on the toes of her snow boots, she took off in a dead run across the yard, weaving in and out of the closer trees until she reached what she believed to be the safety of the woods. But Jason was right there, catching up to her even before she had a chance to come up with the next leg of her plan, and, after being lifted and thrown over his shoulder like a naughty child, he carried her back towards the awaiting, inviting log house. But they never made it inside like she thought they would. Instead, when they reached a particularly deep snow drift, she felt herself falling, unceremoniously, to the ground and realized that her husband had dropped her on purpose. The powder fine snow saturated her clothes quickly, soaking through them, and, before the cold could even register in her mind, her entire form was shivering and her teeth chattering.

"Now," her roommate taunted her. "That should teach you how to play fair."

"Never," she laughingly pronounced, tossing back her rapidly curling chestnut hair in defiance as he lifted her back into his arms and, finally, carried her into their rented retreat. Despite the fact that he would soon be soaked, too, from holding her, Jason left their things, their suitcases, out in the cold, kicking the door shut behind him. Apparently, he had his own ideas of how they should spend the holidays, and who was she to argue with a man with a plan?

XLVII.

He was in trouble – big, serious, unfortunate trouble.

Before entering into the Witness Protection Program, Jason had been prepared for his life to change. One couldn't exist solely in a world of violence one's entire life… no matter how short that life may have been… and then become a regular Joe without encountering a few adjustments, but, perhaps naively, he had assumed those variations would be limited to his surroundings, his hobbies, and his behavior. The last thing the former enforcer had expected was to change as a person as well.

However, as he rolled out of bed early that morning, long before the sun had even considered rising to greet the day, he knew he was no longer the same man. Jason Morgan, mob hitman extraordinaire would never leave a warm, nude body alone to trudge out into the woods in order to do something sweet and kind. If he couldn't sleep, Jason Morgan mob hitman extraordinaire would wake up his sex partner as well, forcing her to keep him entertained, and, once he was exhausted enough to go back to sleep, he'd do so, whether the woman beside him was ready to or not.

His former behavior, though callous, wasn't intended to be so, but, rather, he was just who he was – prickly personality, selfishness, and detachment all rolled into one cynical persona. He existed for himself and no one else… well, until Michael came into his life, but that had long since passed, and he expected those he came into contact with to live the same emotionally disconnected way. If not, then that was their problem and certainly not his.

But Jack Martin didn't live that way. He was considerate of others, he participated in society under the typical constraints present in every other person's life, and, the strangest thing was that Jason Morgan enjoyed it. Although he had been prepared to live a life as a different person, he had not expected to embrace it, to lose himself in it, and the blonde knew the only reason he had been able to was because of one petite, oblivious brunette beauty.



Elizabeth had changed everything for him. Because she was in his life, he could understand how the small, seemingly insignificant things could become so important. The mundane, the day-to-day became what he looked forward to the most when, just a year before, he avoided such trivialities. So, that was why he was awake and trekking through the woods surrounding their hidden holiday retreat, searching for one last surprise for his wife.

Together, they had decorated a tree at home before they had gone on vacation. Despite the fact that they wouldn't actually be in Dovetree on Christmas day to enjoy it, Elizabeth had insisted, and he had gone right ahead with her near-obsessive holiday cheer. It made him happy to see her so carefree and jubilant, and even he had to admit, if only to himself, that there were things in life much more horrible than making paper chains with the woman he lived – and, now, shared a bed – with.

But that tree, their first as a couple, the artist had deemed it, was going to die while they were away, so Jason was determined to give her a second one. Though nothing elaborate, he had hiked out into the forest, wading through snow as deep as his hips, to find her a tree he thought she would like. Choosing one from the Christmas tree lot had been an experience in and of itself. They couldn't get anything too big, because the twenty-three year old thought too big of trees were pretentious, but, if they got one that was too little, they'd have nothing to decorate. Plus, she had wanted a tree that wanted to be taken home… whatever the hell that meant, so it had taken them hours to decide and eventually get the dead piece of wood home. And, while he had foolishly thought that picking one out for her on his own would be simpler, several hours later and soaked to the bone, he knew the opposite to be true.

Trying to find an appropriate tree through Elizabeth's eyes had been more difficult for him than it had originally been for her in the first place, but, success or failure, he was returning back to the cabin with a small pine trailing behind him in one hand and the ax that came provided with the log bungalow in case they needed to chop firewood in the other, looking rather grim and much worse for the wear. He had meant to surprise her, to have the tree set up and ready to decorate by the time she woke up, but Jason knew it was much later than he had anticipated getting back to the retreat, so Elizabeth would be up, and, knowing her, probably worried about where he was.

Dropping his things, he pushed his way inside, the heat of the indoors instantly melting his sodden clothes. Wherever he stepped, he left a puddle on the pristine, hardwood floors, but the retired enforcer paid the mess he was making little mind. It would be the last thing Elizabeth would be concerned about, and, frankly, he could care less. What he wanted was a cup… or several… of strong, black coffee while he sat in front of the fireplace all morning, and afternoon, and evening with the woman he was in love with. The only question was what that woman would want herself.

She must have heard him returning, because, before he had even stripped off half of his soaking wet clothes, Elizabeth was back into the main room. Rushing to his side to help him, she ignored the snow her slipper clad feet were stepping on, put down the two mugs she was holding, and immediately set to work helping him undress. They worked in harmony, never awkward, and perfectly in sync. When he was down to just his boxer-briefs, she left the room, returning shortly with a pair of sweats for him to slip on. Dressed and comfortable, the two of them made their way to the couch, the artist popping up only seconds after sitting down to retrieve their forgotten hot drinks.

"It's coffee," she told him, handing over the mug. Before he could take it, though, she added, "do you want me to warm it up or get you a new cup?" But he silenced her by 

removing it from her fingers and taking a long, pleasant gulp of the rich liquid. Placated, Elizabeth took a seat beside him, curling into his side, her own mug forgotten in her hands. She did that a lot, though – held her drink for its warmth instead of actually drinking it, and he found the odd quirk to be both adorable and purely unique to his wife.

Finally, she asked him, "where were you?"

"Couldn't sleep." While it was an honest answer, it also wasn't the entire truth, but Jason knew that would come eventually.

"You know, you could have gotten me up," the blue eyed brunette informed him, blushing slightly. Averting her gaze and making him smile affectionately, for she always seemed to get embarrassed still no matter how demure her reference to their newly discovered physical relationship was, the college graduate added, "I wouldn't have minded."

Giving her a slight squeeze, he admitted, "I know."

"So, what did you do," she inquired, twisting around to face him though still managing to sit in his embrace. Her legs were crossed underneath her, pressed up tightly against his left thigh, and his left arm was curled around her shoulders, absently stroking the feather soft skin of her exposed neck. It was a habitual, practiced caress, but, at the same time, he was, nonetheless, completely entranced be the mere touch of her.

Eventually, though, he pulled his attention away from her body and focused on her face, locking their gazes together before he answered, "for a walk."

"Down to the road, out into the woods, simply around and around the house," Elizabeth prompted, smiling at her own curious nature.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his own mouth hooking up in amusement. It occurred to him then just why the twenty-three year old got along so well with her garden club biddies… though he'd never tell her that. "The woods."

"You must have been gone for a while, because you were soaked, and, despite the fact that I know you claim not to feel the cold, you looked like you were."

The ex-enforcer shrugged. "Maybe a little bit."

"So, then, why didn't you come back sooner?"

Her brow was puckered in confusion, her lips pursed as she waited for a reply, and her eyes were alight with inquisitiveness and bewilderment, and, instead of wanting to answer her, instead of telling her all about his entire reason for going for the ridiculous walk in the first place, all Jason wanted to do was kiss her. But he didn't. Instead, he did what he thought Elizabeth would want him to do, and he told her what she wanted to know. "I didn't come back sooner, because I wasn't finished yet."

He could read her frustration in her expression, and that just entertained him even more. While he knew that his avoidance skills irked her beyond measure, he still enjoyed using them. So, he watched as she distractedly put her rapidly cooling mug down and then fisted her dainty hands on her curvaceous hips, the movement practically a challenge in and of itself. "Finished with what," she demanded to know.



"Your surprise." And, just like that, all ire vanished, and she immediately shot off the sofa like an impatient, criminally adorable child.

Rocking on the balls of her feet, Elizabeth asked needlessly, "you got me a surprise?"

Shaking his head in response, the retired hitman responded, "it's on the porch. Go and see for yourself if you want."

And she did just that. Running to the front door, she threw it open without thought to either the elements outside or the mess he had just made on the floor mere minutes before. However, her reaction to his gesture shocked the blonde, and he stood to confront her. Slowly, she shut the door, practically doubled over in giggles.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, Jason," Elizabeth sighed, crossing the room to take his much larger frame into her arms and wrapping herself up in his hug. After several moments, she pulled away, lifting her hands to frame his face. "I love that you did that for me – that you went out into the woods and cut me down a tree, but I'm afraid it was all for nothing."

"What? Why?"

"We don't have a tree stand," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "There's no possible way we can decorate it." Instantaneously, he felt his shoulders slump with defeat, and, when she rushed on to reassure him, he knew the artist could detect his rapid shift in mood as well. "Hey," she recaptured his attention, lifting up on her tiptoes to shyly press her own lips to his. "It doesn't matter if we can use the tree or not, because it's still the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Elizabeth…," he started to protest only to be interrupted.

"No, honestly, I swear," his wife insisted, innocently crossing her fingers over her shirt where her heart would be underneath – as if his protest was because he doubted her sincerity and not because of the fact that she had just called him romantic. "If it's one thing I wouldn't joke about, it's Christmas."

Sighing and rolling his eyes, he proceeded to ask, "now what?"

"Well," she replied, chewing on her lip. It was a dead giveaway that she was already concocting a plan. "There is something else we could do."

"And that would be what?"

"Didn't you tell me that you prefer trees in their natural environment?"

Tugging on his earlobe, Jason answered, "yeah," unsure of where the woman he loved was going with her current train of thought.

"Alright, so why don't we have one of your trees this year, too," the artist suggested. "My tree is at home in Dovetree, but we can have yours here." Excitedly, she clapped her hands together, running into the kitchen before he could protest. "We'll decorate one in the woods," Elizabeth exclaimed.



Collapsing back down onto the couch, the retired gunman could only grin in amusement. Already lost to her idea, he could hear the brunette moving about the kitchen, popping popcorn and talking to herself. He would do whatever she wanted – even if that meant decorating a tree outside which he found even more absurd than putting one up inside and decorating it, and, by the time his roommate returned with string, needles, popcorn, and cranberries, he was resigned to the fact that he would be helping with her ridiculous project. As long as it put a smile on Elizabeth's face, he was game, and that was the main reason why being in the Witness Protection Program had changed him so much. He no longer lived for himself, doing whatever he wanted to make sure that he was content and as comfortable as possible; he now lived for the woman he loved, doing whatever was necessary to make sure that she was content and as comfortable as possible. It was surreal, really, but he liked the changes in himself nevertheless.

They had been working for several minutes in peaceful quiet when, out of nowhere, Elizabeth started giggling uncontrollably beside him. He watched her, then, going from interested to bemused to downright baffled when he couldn't figure out what had the brunette laughing so hard. Finally, when he couldn't take the suspense any longer, he blurted out, "what's so funny?"

"You," the twenty-three year old stated, wiping at the tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "I guess what they say is true," she continued, explaining herself. "You can take the man out of his life a crime, but you can't take the criminal out of the man." Snickering again, she teased him, "I can't believe you went out into the woods and cut down a tree. Jason, do you realize how illegal that is?"

He didn't, and he hadn't, but, again, like all the felonies he had committed before, he really didn't care, so, to shut her up, he picked up a handful of popcorn and threw it at the college graduate, distracting her. But that was just another difference about him, for, a year before, Jason Morgan would never have started a food fight, and he liked that change as well.

XLVIII.

No matter what she did, Elizabeth could not stop fidgeting. As far as Christmas and presents went that year, she was of two distinctly different mindsets. While she was practically bursting with anticipation when it came to what Jason had gotten her, she was timid and downright embarrassed to give him his present, because, truth be told, she had been utterly clueless as to what to buy him. Jason was the type of guy that, if he wanted something, he just went out and bought it for himself. The only thing she knew of that he desired but couldn't have was a motorcycle, and she very well couldn't go out as Ellis Martin and buy her husband a bike. Besides being unpractical on her small, part time salary, it was also something they were forbidden from doing by the FBI.

So, she had settled for something cheesy and corny, something that, when she was a teenager she had found to be unbelievable cute and endearing, but, now, as an adult, she had to wonder just how high up in the clouds her adolescent self had been hiding. But it was too late to worry about the former enforcer's reaction now. The closest shopping center was over an hour away, and it wasn't like she could just drive down there on Christmas morning, demand that they open the mall for her, and then take her time to peruse the various wares offered by the overpriced stores. If she wanted her gift, and she really, really did, then she was just going to have to suck it up, find her courage, and give the man she 

loved what could possibly be, in her estimation, the very worst Christmas present on record.

However, that didn't mean she wasn't going to do so without warning. "Before I give you this," the brunette artist cautioned, her roommate's present hidden safely behind her pajama clad back, "I want to apologize."

"For what?"

"You probably got me some unbelievably wonderful gift, and there's no way that mine is going to measure up."

"Elizabeth," the blonde spoke up, his voice meant to be soothing and reassuring, but it only seemed to set her nerves into overdrive. "I'm sure whatever you got me is fine. In fact, you didn't even have to get me anything. This – being with you, being with you here, alone…. Really, that's all I need… or want."

"Well, you may say that now, but just you wait…"

"I'm not going to change my mind," he informed her, catching her stubborn chin in his hand and holding her head still so that he could look her in the eye. "Now, relax," Jason told her. After several deep breaths on her part, he asked, "do you want me to go first?"

"No," she was quick to contradict him, yelling out her response. "Nice try, buddy," the college graduate added with a teasing lilt to her voice, "but that's not going to happen." Squaring her shoulders, she began again. "Anyway, about your present, I really had no idea what to get you. Do you know that you're impossible to buy for?"

The retired hitman shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't know. No one's ever really gotten me a gift before."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Elizabeth exclaimed, becoming frustrated. "This just keeps getting worse."

"How do you mean?"

"So, not only am I going to make a fool out of myself because what I got you is completely lame, but, now, you're telling me that I was unwittingly trying to make up for years of present disregard? This is unbelievable!"

He snickered, making her frown. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Says you," she scoffed, "the man who probably managed to get me the best gift I've ever received in my entire life."

"Well, your gift will be that for me as well," Jason pointed out.



"Yeah, but only on default!"

"Look," the former enforcer pointed out. "There's only one way to find out. Why don't you quit stalling and just give me your present. Let me be the judge of just how lame it is, alright?"

"If you say so," the artist agreed, removing her hands from behind her back and shoving a heaping pile of cards into his own open palms. They were all decorated according to the holiday and detailed with beautiful, graceful, flowing calligraphy, but she could tell by his expression that the man she loved had no idea what they were. That was, until he started to read them, at first, silently to himself, and, then, to her utter mortification, out loud.

"'Good for one free win during an argument,'" Jason said so that both of them could hear, the words coming directly from the pages off the card he was holding. Glancing up at her, he taunted, "I sure hope there are several of these in this pile," only for the twenty-three year old to respond by shoving his shoulders.

Quickly, he made his way through the pile, choosing to point out several that he particularly liked. "'Good for one non-traditional, physical serving of dessert.' 'Good for one night with your choice of my sleepwear, no matter how minimal said choice may or may not be.' 'Good for one sketching lesson. You get to pick the subject.'"

On and on the blonde read, further humiliating her. There were 365 cards, one for every day of the year to come, and Elizabeth couldn't believe the fact that her roommate insisted upon reading through each and every one of them. By the time he finished, she was as red as the Christmas decorations they had hung up in the house in Dovetree, and he was so amused, she couldn't have wiped away the grin that illuminated his face even if she tried.

"I think you're better at this whole present thing than you think, Webber," the onetime enforcer teased her, leaning over to kiss her lips tenderly. Although it was a simple statement and an even more simple, almost habitual gesture for the two of them at that point, both things combined managed to inform her just how much her gift had meant to him, and, with that realization, her discomfort disappeared, only to be replaced by excitement at the prospect of her own present, once again. Jason seemed to sense her anticipation, for he leaned over in bed and pulled out her wrapped gift from his nightstand drawer. "And I think you've been patient enough," he told her, laughing when she didn't even wait to rip the paper away.

She tore frantically, unbelievable curious, and what was awaiting her underneath the packaging didn't disappoint. Reverently, the artist removed a framed marriage license and gasped when she read the names printed on the thin yet unbelievably significant piece of paper. "Jason and Elizabeth Morgan?"

"Obviously," he explained, "it's not real. Yet. I got a blank license from the courthouse and did the rest myself, but I just wanted to show you that this… what's happening between us, I'm not taking it for granted. I WILL marry you, Elizabeth Webber, someday, and, when I 

do, I'm going to be doing so as Jason Morgan, not Jack Martin, and not some other made up, fake person. That's a promise."

"And it's a perfect one," she replied through a wide smile and glittering, tear studded lashes. "This is… this is amazing."

"That's not all, though," he informed her, reaching over for a second time to his nightstand drawer which she noticed was left open. After pulling out a second gift, a smaller package, he closed the wooden table, turning back around to face her. This time, she slowly unwrapped the present, taking her time, for she wanted to savor every second. Finally, what was revealed was a simple, unpretentious jewelry box, and, upon opening it, the twenty-three year old found two matching, gold wedding bands, one small and petite and obviously meant for her left hand and one much larger and rather masculine, and she knew the it would someday rest upon the hand of the man she loved.

"The rings we wear now are Jack and Ellis Martin's rings," the onetime hitman explained, allowing his fingers to caress the white gold band she wore, "but, when this is over and we someday return to our normal lives, I want to replace those rings with ones of our own. That is," he stumbled with his words for the first time that morning, "if that's what you want, too."

And she did.

While it was insane and rushed and unbelievably impulsive, the only thing Elizabeth wanted when she returned to Port Charles was to be with Jason. She couldn't imagine her life without him in it – as her husband, as her partner, as the man she woke up to in the morning and slept next to at night.

As the father of her children.

So, wordlessly, she accepted her husband's unconventional marriage proposal, realizing that their first – and only – Christmas as Jack and Ellis Martin would also be their first of many as Jason and Elizabeth Morgan. Whether they were already legally married or not, she thought of them as being that way, and she knew that the man she loved felt as if she was his wife already as well. And that – that knowledge, that reassurance, that promise, was what they really gave each other for Christmas that year, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, they would never be able to give each other a better present no matter how many times in the future that they tried.