A/N: So much time has passed, time that I do not have a good excuse for, since the last time I posted on this story. I had every intention of rereading all the back chapters before I started working on it again, simply to refresh my own memory of all the little character and storyline details, but I didn't have the patience to do so. There's something about rereading my own work that I just hate. I think that's why I'm such a bad self-editor, so, with that in mind, I just jumped into this post, rolling up my sleeves and typing away. If there are any inconsistencies, I apologize in advance, but, please, point them out to me, and I'll try to fix them. Other than that, I also need to apologize for my long absence and to thank everyone for not giving up on me, for being patient. While I won't sit here and say that I'm back for good, I do take this chapter as a good sign that my muse is returning full force, and, if so, it shouldn't take me too long to finish this story. After this post, there are only three more parts that remain. However, I'm not naïve enough to set an end-date for myself, especially with my current, unpredictable schedule. So, for now, just enjoy this chapter, and, hopefully, I'll be back with another one soon!
~Charlynn~
Part Fourteen
XLIX.
Elizabeth Webber snored.
It was just one of the many differences he was slowly beginning to notice between the woman he loved and Ellis Martin. The endearing noise wasn't constant. In fact, the brunette sleeping beside him needed to be positioned just so in order to, apparently, be comfortable enough to make the soft, whistling sound. She had to on her back, her head tilted slightly up, and her hands tossed behind her to rest curled up on her pillow. Her mouth hung open faintly, her lips just barely pursed and separated, and, if Jason didn't know better, just by glancing at her, he would believe her to be a young, innocent child.
But she wasn't. She was a woman, a woman finally comfortable enough in her own skin, finally comfortable enough around him to let go completely. Although they had been living in the same house together for months at that point, that particular morning was the very first one he had discovered her hidden talent. While, realistically, he knew it just might have been something he missed when the baggage of their pasts was still separating them, they had been sharing a bed for some time now, and never before had he heard the adorable sound. The realization told him that the former artist was finally and absolutely at ease with him; all her self-preserving guards and protective shields had crumbled, and, instead, she was lying before him perfectly defenseless and trusting that her vulnerability was safe with him. And it was.
Taking one last gulp of his scalding black coffee, the retired enforcer reached across the expanse of the bed he shared with Elizabeth and put the empty mug on his side table. He had been up for quite a while already that morning, waking early without alarm or provocation, perfectly rested after just a few hours of undisturbed slumber. He had dressed to go outside, shoveling and salting the driveway before the sun was even up. He had come back in, made a strong pot of black coffee, and proceeded to drink almost all of it by himself while he continued with his morning routine: showering, getting dressed for work, and playing a few rounds of pool. However, he cut his cue time short, instead preferring to spend the morning in bed with the woman he planned to someday marry, simply watching her as she slept the dawn away.
The indulgence was turning into an everyday occurrence, but, for the first time in his short life, Jason didn't mind the fact that he was becoming so predictable. The routine, the steadiness of life in Dovetree suited him, and, though he sometimes cursed the monotony of the town and his job, there were certainly advantages to living life on the straight and narrow. He didn't miss the gunshot wounds and the busted ribs that came with his old existence, and he certainly didn't miss being at someone else's beck and call, responsible for seeing to other people's every whim and wish. He liked the fact that, if he wanted to do nothing but tinker in the garage all weekend, here such a thing was acceptable, but, most of all, the blonde preferred having the chance to have someone special in his life without running the risk of them falling prey to his disastrous decisions when it came to his lifestyle.
As soon as they testified against Sonny and he was locked away for life, his organization dismantled from the top down, he and Elizabeth would be and safe to pursue any life they so desired. While chances were Dovetree would no longer be an option, some other small, rural, close knit community would be, and, if that was where she wanted to live, he would happily, contentedly join her there. Or they could relocate to a large city, perhaps one with a thriving art scene, and Elizabeth would finally get the chance she deserved to pursue her art career. The world would soon be at their feet, the possibilities endless, and, with every day that ticked by, the two of them got closer and closer to freedom. It was a surreal feeling.
Rousing the onetime hitman from his thoughts, the woman beside him started to stir, her snoring ceasing as she twisted and turned, snuggling deeper into the mounds of blankets piled high atop of her as she tried to force herself back to sleep. But he refused to let her do so. That was another difference between the Jason Morgan of Dovetree and the Jason Morgan of Port Charles. Thanks to the brunette beside him, he had finally learned how to be selfish, and, on that particular morning, he decided to embrace that new aspect of his personality.
Sliding down so that he was reclined beside the woman he loved, the blonde simply propped his head up on one hand. Touching Elizabeth, though he always seemed to want to, wouldn't be necessary to wake her. Through practice, he knew that just looking at her would be enough to provoke the woman into opening her own eyes to stare back at him. And he loved that moment every morning, the moment where Elizabeth's unguarded, completely open gaze would meet his for the first time, her indigo irises cloudy with dreams yet bright and warm with love. It was the very image he took with him every day to work.
"Good morning."
Grumbling good naturedly, the former painter asked, "what's so good about it," her lids already drooping back closed. Despite her words, though, she moved closer to him in bed, curling against his side and resting her head against his t-shirt clad chest.
"You seem tired this morning," Jason offered as observation instead of answering her sarcastic question. Smirking arrogantly, he asked one of his own. "What has you so exhausted?"
The only response he received was a tilting back of the brunette's head so she could quirk a finely shaped brow in his direction, and he laughed in response. The woman he lived with seemed to always be tired, one of those people who needed more than the recommended eight hours of sleep per night to function properly the next day, but it was impossible for him to remain beside her in their bed all night without interrupting her slumber. Luckily for him, she never complained. Rather, she enthusiastically met his midnight advances, but, come morning, every morning, he would pay the price as she fought him tooth and nail when it came time to wake up.
"It's late," he informed her, softening his words with a brushing of a kiss across her crown, her unruly, curly hair tickling his lips. "I let you sleep in, but, if you don't get up soon, you're going to be late for work."
Elizabeth sighed dreamily. "I'm off."
"Well, then, I'm going to be late if you don't get up so you can give me a ride."
While turning over to face the opposite wall, the petite college graduate responded. "I'm running errands today with Evelyn. She's driving, so you get the car." Punctuating the end of her statement, the fluffy down comforter was pulled over her head.
The onetime enforcer snorted. "That should be scary. I think her sensible pumps are filled with lead. With the way that woman drives, I'd rather you were going shopping with Betsy.. nosing questions and all."
"Don't be cruel," the brunette returned, and he could tell by the sound of her voice, despite being muffled by the blankets, that she was grumbling. "Oh, and just to let you know, you being all cute and trying to make jokes, bad ones though they may be, won't get you what you want."
"Really," he queried, purposely sounding doubtful. "And what's that?"
"A goodbye kiss."
"Well," Jason conceded. "That would be a good start."
Instead of uncovering herself, the woman he loved just teased back, "now look who's going to make himself late for work."
"Trust me, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
This time it was Elizabeth's turn to grunt. "Too bad I'm too tired for that."
Sitting up on the bed, the retired hitman reached for his work boots, pulling them on and tying them as he spoke. "Well, then, I guess it's a good thing that all that snoring you did this morning didn't manage to put me in the mood."
The only response he received was a pillow to the head. Grinning to himself, he stood up, making his way towards the open doorway of the master bedroom. Just as his feet were about to cross the threshold, he heard the brunette behind him sit up as she called out his name. "Jason, wait!" Hiding his smirk, he did as he was bid. The beauty, dressed only in the sheet she had procured from their bed to wrap around her otherwise bare frame, smiled sheepishly and blushed. "I love you."
He crossed to her then, kissed her forehead, and then the corners of her eyes, her chin, and, finally, her nose before pulling back. "I love you, too. See you tonight."
"Yeah," the woman who would soon be his wife for real if he had anything to say about it agreed with him. Rolling herself back up in the blankets as she laid back down, she repeated his last word, its presence on her lips making it sound like a promise. "Tonight."
Jogging down the stairs, Jason laughed softly to himself. Knowing the two of them, they'd spend that evening exactly where they spent their morning: in bed.
L.
"Every year, we always help the elementary school kids plant a flower bed. Betsy throws a fit, because the entire thing turns into a circus, and the children absolutely refuse to listen to her when she tries to sprout off to them about the virtues of a well planned garden. Instead, everything gets placed all hodge-podge, but, would you believe it, no matter what, those flowers always turn out to be the prettiest any of us worked on all growing season.
"Anyway, while school is still in session, we take turns going over to help the students weed and water the garden, and, once summer begins, the kids are supposed to follow a signup sheet they volunteered for to come and help us. Now, half of them never show up, for one reason or another, but those who do always work hard and appreciate the project. Once school starts back up again in the fall, we use the flowers to make arrangements for the teachers, helping the students place the buds in vases and teaching them all about the art of floral arrangement.
"Typically, Didi spearheads this project for obvious reasons, but we had lunch last week, and we were thinking that, since you only work part-time, Ellis, that it might be something you'd be interested in doing instead. Plus, being around all those children might put some ideas into that stubborn head of…"
Interrupting herself, Evelyn Shepherd stopped the slow yet gradual progression of her grocery cart and titled her head in question towards her much younger, brunette friend. "You do realize that you just picked up white chocolate, don't you?"
"Weird, huh?"
"I would certainly say so," the grandmother agreed. "In all these months that I've known you, Ellis Martin, you've never once eaten white chocolate, and, trust me, a piece of candy is never far from your fingers."
"Don't ask me," the newlywed shrugged, dropping the bag of sweets into the larger portion of the cart, her portion. Despite the fact that Evelyn only needed to pick up a few items at the store that day, she had insisted upon pushing the metal buggy, figuring the less her friend had at her disposal to offer distraction, the better. She and Jack had been back from their Christmas vacation for over a month, and she had yet to find out exactly where they had gone and what they had gotten each other for presents. The one thing that she didn't have to ask – what they had done to occupy all that valuable alone time, for it had been quite obvious when Ellis returned ready to rival any brightly illuminated Christmas tree, was the only thing the brunette would talk about, summarizing their entire getaway with a single sentence, claiming they had used the time to 'better acquaint themselves with each other.'
As if she didn't know what that meant. The two of them were so ridiculously in love. At first, when they had moved into Dovetree, they had seemed quiet and reserved, quite private, in fact, with their relationship, and, though they certainly didn't flaunt their intimacy, it was obvious that, the longer they lived in the small town, the more comfortable they became expressing their feelings for one another around their friends. They didn't just hold hands in public anymore. When they thought that others weren't looking, they would sneak soft kisses and whisper sweet nothings in each other's ear. And the looks the two of them would share sometimes… Well, if Evelyn didn't know better, she would believe they were the sole cause of global warming. Their stares were potent; the heat generated between them could cook an ant, just like the magnifying glasses little boys who were obsessed with torturing animals would use in the summer.
It – their marriage – was beautiful, and she loved seeing her dear friend that happy, and it was because of the couple's bliss that she had started to ever so discreetly drop hints to the younger woman that it might be time for them to consider starting their family. While she already had grandchildren that she adored, there was nothing that said that the widow couldn't adore and spoil honorary grandchildren just as much. Besides, even she was big enough to admit that she was dying of curiosity to see just how gorgeous a baby of Jack and Ellis Martin's would be.
Recapturing her attention, the brunette stated, "I've never really been a fan of white chocolate before. I mean, I don't dislike it, but, without thought, my hand naturally went towards it. You don't think I'm bored with my regular candy, do you?"
Trying to be helpful while still getting her two cents worth in, the elderly woman suggested, "maybe it's a craving." As she watched her friend pivot around and walk off, she laughed gleefully to herself, scrambling after the petite beauty. "Oh, don't get your thong in a twist. I imagine that would be quite painful." Even with the thought, Evelyn's face scrunched up in misery.
"My thong?"
"Well, yes," she defended. "I've heard that's what all you young girls where these days. You know, I'm not completely out of tune with the times, no matter how it might seem."
This time it was Ellis who laughed, and she couldn't help but return the young woman's wide, charming smile. "Alright, I concede," she agreed without being asked to do such a thing. "I will make no more baby or pregnancy references… at least until we get to the mall, because, I have to tell you, El, I saw this adorable bedding set last week while Cate and I were shopping, and I just know you're going to adore it. For now, though, let's get back to what I was saying earlier." As she continued to lead them down the candy aisle, the elderly woman pressed on. "What do you think about my idea that you take over the school gardens project?"
Silence greeted her.
"Ellis," she questioned, elbowing her friend lightly. "Are you even listening to me?" When she still received no answer, the grandmother started to worry. "Is something wrong? Are you feeling…"
"Do you hear that?"
Caught off guard by the odd inquiry, Evelyn glanced around the practically soundless store. Finally, she responded, "I really don't hear anything," and, oddly enough, she found her voice to be a matching whisper to the younger woman's beside her.
"Exactly."
"I'm sorry, dear, but I'm not following you. Why is a quiet grocery store such a bad thing?"
"It's bad because it's unusual, and, if there's one thing I know about danger, it's always silent right before something really catastrophic happens."
"Oh, El," the older woman dismissed, laughing softly. "That's preposterous. You're just paranoid."
"Am I," her young brunette challenged. "Think about. Right before a tornado strikes, they always say things get eerily quiet. The eye of a hurricane is always still and foreboding. And if someone is trying to harm you, to sneak up on you, they're not going to be loud while doing so. Something is wrong; something is not right, because a store is never this quiet, even when it's practically empty."
In horror, Evelyn watched as her friend picked up her purse out of the cart, her wide, scared blue eyes dodging rapidly back and forth around them. "Stay here. Don't follow me," Ellis warned, her words of advice coming across more like orders than cautions. "And, whatever you do, do not say that you know me. From this moment on, you've never heard of Ellis Martin… or Elizabeth Webber."
"Who," the silver-haired matriarch asked, but, before she received an answer, her friend was gone, disappearing out of sight into another, far away portion of the grocery store.
LI.
He hated the radio.
It wasn't so much the constant noise, for, after working on a very talkative construction crew for more than half a year, he was used to the chatter; it was the sheer loudness of it, the ear-piercing wails of the guitar, the head pounding thump of the drums, and the screechy, fake laughter of the DJs' that got on Jason's nerves. However, the other men seemed to enjoy it. In fact, some of them even sang along or took breaks in their work to make themselves look foolish as they, as he had been told, played the air guitar. But all he wanted to do was tell his coworkers that they were supposed to use the tools to get their job done and not try to act like one. Not that anybody would listen to him… even if he did decide to break his usual code of silence while at work.
While the other guys seemed to like talking to him, he really didn't say much in return. Instead, he would just nod his head and, sometimes, offer a word or two of mindless agreement, and that alone seemed to be enough to keep them appeased. He was known as the listener of their group. Whenever someone had problem at home with their wife or with their kids, they would come to him, offering their grievances in return for his advice. He didn't tell them anything, though; instead, he simply allowed them the space and time to work their issues out on their own, barely even acknowledging their presence let alone their complaints.
And Tom, his boss, was no different. He always seemed to gravitate towards the former enforcer, choosing to work side by side with his employee rather than stand tall and intimidating as he watched over his hired help. Jason respected him for that. However, that didn't mean that he listened any more to the older man than he did anyone else, and such attention wasn't really necessary anyway. He didn't ignore people out of spite or even rudeness; it just was simply who he was.
Besides, Tom usually talked about the same subjects everyday anyway, either his racecar or how Amanda had been pestering him to invite Jack and Ellis over again for dinner. The invites he would dodge, and the engine talk he would absorb, once again allowing his friend to come to his own conclusions without Jason's input. Such lax attention skills allowed him to zone out, to think about other things that were actually important to him, namely Elizabeth, and that particular day happened to be no different.
As his boss rambled on and on about how it was never too early to start building one's new engine for the upcoming race season, insisting that, no matter what, he'd get Jack's help on his pit crew team that year, Jason worked on, continuing to lay the small, geometrically square black and white tiles along the shower stall of the master bathroom they were remodeling that day, his mind constantly drifting to the woman he loved.
He wondered if she was up yet or if she had decided to cancel her plans with Evelyn and, instead, just lounge in bed all day. While he knew which of those options he preferred to think about, he also knew that Elizabeth wouldn't do that to the elderly woman, so, then, his thoughts veered towards what his someday wife might be doing – if she was grocery shopping or having hot chocolates at the local diner. And he wished that it was he who was accompanying her around town that morning and afternoon while she completed her errands, all the while drowning out the blaring drone of the radio while halfheartedly listening to his friend.
"You know, I thought I might switch up my paint job for my car this year," Tom told him, sounding excited about his idea. "I've always gone safe in the past – white with my sponsors being applied in color, but I'm feeling lucky. I'm feeling like this is the year for me to win it all, and, if I'm right, shouldn't I do so in style?"
Halfheartedly, he asked, "what did you have in mind," but his boss never seemed to notice his lack of interest in their current conversational topic.
"Bright orange," the older man answered. "Amanda will hate it, but I'll just tell her it'll help her keep a closer eye on me while I'm on the track. And I was thinking that I'd keep my sponsors' logos to coordinating colors – reds, yellows, a little black and white. What do you think, Martin?"
"I'm thinking that I can't believe you just said the words 'coordinating colors.' What, are you planning to give up the construction business for interior design?"
"Very funny," Tom deadpanned, punching the onetime hitman in the shoulder. Continuing on, though, despite not actually receiving an answer, he said, "and I was thinking that we'd give away sunglasses with my name and racing number on them, telling people that they would need the things as they watched my car blow past the other drivers."
Contradicting him, the younger man asked, "we?"
But Jason's employer just laughed, going back to his own work – installing the new electrical fixtures along the bathroom vanity – while the blonde resumed his tiling. He couldn't focus, though, couldn't really get into a pattern of activity that would make the job that much easier and more proficient. Although it was a rare feeling for him, he knew that he was distracted. Something, and he didn't know what, just seemed… off. It was almost as though he had a bad feeling. But he knew better than to give voice to his worries. Rather, he just hoped that his boss wouldn't notice his lagging work skills that day.
Twenty minutes later, though, when Tom climbed down off his short ladder, he realized that he would have no such luck. "Jesus, Martin," the older man swore, coming over to glance at his work. "You're slower than molasses today. What gives?"
Vaguely, he replied, "just distracted."
"Aw, I take it the little missus has your mind far away from your job, doesn't she?"
Normally, Jason would have just agreed with the man to silence him. Though he didn't appreciate the guys referring to Elizabeth as 'the little missus,' as the months had passed, he realized that they didn't do so out of disrespect. That was just simply the way they talked, even about their own wives. But, on that particular day, he was just too anxious; his sense of apprehension was just too strong, so the younger man found himself giving vent to his concerns, filling Tom in on his fears.
"I just… I have this feeling that something's wrong."
Before his friend could reply, one of the other guys walking past the bathroom yelled out a quip for all the other men to hear. "Get this," Gary taunted. "Martin, here, thinks he's a fortuneteller now. All he needs to do is grow his hair out long and start wearing flowing robes, and he could be Dovetree's own personal gypsy. After all," his coworker teased. "He's got the cheekbones to pull off the look."
"Cheekbones," their boss returned the ribbing, gawking in the younger man's direction. "Would you listen to this fairy? The next thing you'll know, he'll want us all to start getting facials with each other, manis and pedis, too, on our days off."
All the men laughed, going along with their employer as they continued to goad Gary, but Jason couldn't care less. He turned his back to them all, not even bothering to thank Tom for standing up for him. After all, what did he care if the guys thought he was crazy? If there was one thing in the world Jason Morgan believed in it was his instincts, and, in that moment, they were screaming at him that something wasn't right.
"Listen, man," his boss tried to reassure him. "I'm sure everything's fine. If it wasn't, Ellis would call you. Your cell phone hasn't…"
Quieting him, the blonde turned towards the radio, readjusting the volume dial in order to better hear what the emergency news bulletin had to say.
"Sorry for the interruption, folks, but we'll get back to the music in just a minute. Word just came across the wire that the local town of Dovetree appears to have a hostage situation on their hands. An armed man, just moments ago, stormed the community's grocery store. Early reports claim that the attack was not random, that the gunman is after an intended target. Police have not been successful, so far, in either gaining further information or infiltrating the building, and no demands have been set. As more information comes our way, we'll be sure to tell you, our loyal WXYR listeners, all the breaking…"
"Jack," Tom tried, once more to bolster him, even going so far as to walk across the bathroom towards him. "Ellis is fine. What are the chances that she's even in that place right now?"
"She's there," he responded, his tone empty and dead, completely void of emotion as he started to map out his next moves. Standing, he simply walked away, knowing that his boss was hot on his heels. "She was running errands today with Mrs. Shepherd."
"Well, then, they could be anywhere – the diner, the mall, the post office, the…"
"I know that she's at the grocery store."
"Even if she was and I'm still not saying she is," the older man commented, running after him as Jason quickly exited the house. "There's nothing you can do over there but get in the way. Don't do this, Jack; don't go playing the lone ranger and think that there won't be consequences for you walking off the job like this. We might be friends, but I can't show you any special treatment."
"I'm not asking for it," the blonde refuted. "And I'm going whether you approve or not. Fire me if you have to. I don't care. Eliza… Ellis needs me, and I'm not going to let her down, not this time."
As he reached his SUV, he unlocked the doors with his remote, reaching into his back pocket for his cell phone all in the same action. "Take this," he ordered his employer. "I need you to call Agent Maloney. His number's listed in the directory."
"Ag… agent," Tom stumbled over the word. "What the hell is going on here, Jack," he demanded to know. As Jason opened the glove box and removed two fully loaded glocks, shoving one into the back of his jeans while keeping the other firmly encased in his left hand, the older man pressed on, "if that's even your name. I just… I don't understand…"
"Tell him about the hostage situation, and he'll know what to do." With one last glance at his boss, the former enforcer once again stated, "call him," and, with that, he pivoted around, slamming the car door shut, and he ran to the opposite side of the vehicle. Without even bothering to glance at his surroundings before he pulled out, he left the job site, fully intent upon getting to Elizabeth.
Suddenly, he loved the radio.
LII.
Really, in the end, it had been quite easy getting into the grocery store. Once he had avoided detection by the police, choosing to cut across to the building from a side alley rather than approach it from the front where all the cop cars were uselessly parked, Jason had climbed onto the roof and entered the secured premises through the ventilation system. The general hum of the refrigerators and the behind the scenes appliances helped to mask his approach, and he used the sound of the gunman's voice to carry him towards his intended target.
The effortlessness of his actions, though, in infiltrating the hostage situation only increased his lack of respect and general dislike for all things law enforcement related. If the police would just once take a proactive approach to solving a crime, he knew they would be rewarded for their efforts with actual success. Instead, though, they were merely reactive, allowing, in this particular case, to let the gunman dictate their actions. Fortunately for Elizabeth and all the other hostages, Jason Morgan was not a man, unlike the cops, to sit on his laurels and simply wait for a resolution to come to him; he went after what he wanted, he took care of any obstacles standing in his way, and he did so with the attitude that the consequences be damned. Some called him reckless, other called him a menace, but, when push came to shove, the only reason they were left talking was because he had taken the initiative to do the unexpected, the frowned upon.
"For the last time," he heard the gunman shout, his voice reverberating through the onetime enforcer's head as he crawled through the ductwork. "I'm not fucking around here. I will shoot every single one of you mother fuckers if I have to. The only way you can save yourselves is if you bring me Elizabeth Webber… or, as she likes to call herself now, Ellis Martin. She's the only one I want."
Just hearing her name on the stranger's lips set Jason's teeth on edge and made him clench his jaw. Elizabeth had been hurt far too much already by his former world, by his former boss, and there wasn't a shred of doubt in his mind that the hostage situation was on Sonny's doing. While he didn't know how the kingpin had found them, he wasn't altogether surprised either. In his old life, nothing was impossible, including getting around the FBI and the Witness Protection Program, but what compounded his anger was the fact that he had gotten so comfortable, that he had let his guard down as he just enjoyed life on the outside with Elizabeth. He knew better than to ever relax, but it was not a mistake he was going to make twice, and he would be damned if the woman he loved had to pay the consequences for that mistake now.
Sliding further towards the front of the store, he heard the gunmen ranting once more. "Look, look around you," he ordered his audience, his captives, "and see what your refusal to cooperate has accomplished. Absolutely fucking nothing," the man answered for them. "People are shot and bleeding to death because you all refuse to give up one stupid, disloyal bitch. Do you think she'd do the same thing for you? Hell no," the stranger refuted his own question. "She's hiding… like a fucking coward, letting the rest of you take the fall for her actions, allowing all of you to suffer for her selfishness. All you have to do," he tried to coax them once more, "is tell me where I can find the little unfaithful cunt…"
Rushing, because, quite frankly, he couldn't stand to listen to the gunman's words any longer, Jason raised his glock and fired off three hasty shots all in the hostage taker's direction. The barrel of his gun fit precisely through the grates on the ductwork, allowing the bullets to pass through freely without hindrance. The first one struck the man's shoulder, propelling him around so that his face ended up towards the ex-hitman. Although surely painful, the wound was certainly not debilitating. However, the second shot hit its target squarely in the chest, and, as the gunman dropped to his knees, the third bullet landed in the gunman's left eye socket. He was dead before he even hit the ground.
Kicking open the grate, Jason dropped to the nearest shelf, using the hanging metal of the opening to ease his distance down the multistoried space. Jumping off the perch, he immediately started jogging through the store, completely oblivious to the shrill questions and frenzied, heartfelt thank-you's from people who had witnessed the results of his actions. But he could have cared less about what they thought or what they wanted to know from him. He didn't care that they wanted to were curious as to how he had gotten into the building, and he certainly wasn't concerned about their inquiries into how he knew how to fire a weapon so expertly. The only thing he cared about was finding Elizabeth, and, as he searched for her, he forced himself to ignore the carnage surrounding him, to ignore the unknown faces of the petite brunettes he passed by, all of them wounded to various degrees, some of them probably unlikely to make it out of the situation alive.
In the candy aisle, he found a shell shocked Evelyn who was clutching her grocery cart, unmoving, as if her very life depended upon maintaining control of the metal buggy. However, her friend and the woman he loved was nowhere in sight, despite the fact that they were supposed to be at the store together. "Mrs. Shepherd," he greeted her cautiously, softly, knowing that he couldn't startle her in fear that such a thing would cause the woman to shrink inside of herself even further. "Do you know where…?"
But she surprised him. Despite her rather listless appearance, her eyes were still bright and very much aware, and, in answer, she raised a trembling hand towards the far end of the store, pointing a delicate finger in the same direction. "She ran that way." He started to follow her given route, but she called out for him, stilling his movements. "Jack… or whatever your name is…?" Although he was in a hurry to find Elizabeth, he paused long enough to, once again, face the elderly woman, for it was what his wife would want him to do. "Just… take care of her, of Elizabeth." Smiling crookedly, tears seeped into the aging grandmother's bright blue gaze. "The name Ellis never did quite suit her, did it?"
It was a rhetorical question, he knew that, but the blonde found himself responding anyway. "No," he agreed, "it never did." And, with that, he took off running through the grocery store once more, going up and down every aisle, yelling, screaming the woman he loved's name, her real name, as loudly as he could. Never before had he ever felt so desperate, not even when he had received the overwhelmingly painful news about Michael.
Just when he was about to give up, he heard a shy, timid, yet, at the same time, confident voice as Elizabeth called out to him. "Jason!"
In disbelief, he watched as she pushed aside cases of pop to reveal herself and her hiding place on a bottom shelf. Crawling out from the tight space, she kneeled on the floor for just a moment before pushing herself up into a standing position. The beautiful, crazy, distracting woman had done exactly what he had told her to do if anything bad ever happened to her in Dovetree: to find the most secure location she could and wait there until he could get to her, and her faith in him just made him love her even more. She had survived a mock-hostage situation and a gunman who had been sent to kill her without a scratch… or so it seemed, but, as he moved towards her, frantic to feel her safe and secure in his arms again, he watched in disbelief as she crumbled before him, her captivatingly emotional eyes rolling up into the back of her head as she fainted.
Just as he had promised himself, though, he was there to catch her… like he always would be… as long as she was still alive and in his life.