A/N: Before we get to this second to the last post, I will tell you that no one guessed correctly about who Jason turned to for help. Remember, Johnny was the one who was sent after Jason; he was the one who shot him on Sonny's orders and set this whole story into motion, so, for obvious reasons, Jason wouldn't be turning to his old co-worker for assistance. Also, keep in mind that this is not the same Jason as you know from the show. He was never as personally involved in the organization as we're used to seeing, so the other guards couldn't be an option or him either. As always, thank you so much for your amazing feedback. I enjoy reading each and every word of it, and I hope that you all enjoy this next post. Please keep in mind, though, that after this chapter, there will only be one more part remaining to this story, and, after that, this fic will be over. Done. Complete. Finished.
~Charlynn~
Part Sixteen
LVI.
It had been a long 48 hours for Bill Maloney.
When he and his less than congenial partner had arrived in Dovetree, they had been set on a clear course of action, one handed down to them from their superiors, and, after a quarter of a century in the bureau, he knew better than to question those above him. But Elizabeth Webber had blown their plans out of the water when she had announced her pregnancy.
Personally, he had been secretly pleased with the revelation. When he had first broached the idea of pairing Jason Morgan up with the young college graduate to his bosses more than six months prior, he had hopes that the two of them would be good for each other. Despite his reputation, the aging agent had seen something within the ex-enforcer that he liked, that he could appreciate. While the man was quiet and slightly more than a little uncooperative, he was also loyal, strong, and had a strange, practically ingrained sense of right and wrong… as oddly as that might sound. Yes, he had, at one time, killed people for a living, but he had never raised his hand in violence towards an innocent and even seemed to go out of his way to help anyone in need.
As for Elizabeth Webber, well, to be frank, she was the daughter Bill had never had but had always wanted. She was sweet and kind but strong enough to stand on her own two feet, and, though life had pushed her down, he could still see a vibrant spark for living underneath all the pain and guilt she carried around with her. And she was talented, too. Although he hadn't been able to see much of her artwork, that which he had been able to sneak a glance at had been impressive, and he had hoped that, by forcing the two witnesses to cohabitate together under the FBI's protection, they would eventually learn to heal and take strength from one another.
Apparently, they had managed to do that and quite a bit more. Sure, their timing could have been better, but he knew as well as anyone else did who had fallen in love before that such things could not be planned or choreographed. They happened when they were supposed to happen, and not even the FBI could control a situation enough to prevent two people from developing feelings for one another or conceiving a child out of said feelings.
So, while Houston had spent the last two days ranting and raving to their superiors about Morgan's defiance and about how the goon should be put down for assaulting him, he, on the other hand, had used their time holed up in the little out of the way motel to concoct a new plan, one that would ensure that, while they got to remain together, Jason and Elizabeth would also be safe. It had taken a lack of sleep, several heated arguments with his bosses, and a severe case of indigestion, but he was sure that he had finally managed to do what he had set out to do.
While Sonny Corinthos might have the power to infiltrate the Federal Bureau of Investigation, to break through their witness protection program, not even the powerful gangster could go up against the United States Military, so he had suggested – and had the suggestion approved – that the former hitman and the onetime artist should be squired away to a naval base so far out at sea that they were practically lost to civilization. They would be flown in, dropped off, and then picked back up the day the mobster's trial started, and, even if Sonny Corinthos managed to locate them, there would be no way he'd be able to take out an entire navy tanker.
In his opinion, the design was seamless, and he couldn't wait to tell the two people it was proposed to accommodate. While Houston had declined accompanying him to Morgan and Miss Webber's room, he wanted to see their faces when he gave them the good news. Sure, he could have called over on the phone, but the reaction just wouldn't have been the same.
Knocking twice, briskly, the balding man practically rocked on the balls of his feet. It had been a long time since he had been this excited, especially about work. After so long in the bureau, he knew that he had become somewhat jaded towards his job, simply putting in his time until he could retire with his full, well-earned pension, but there was just something different about the Corinthos case, something different about Elizabeth and Jason, and, despite the fact that he knew better than to make his work personal, he had done so anyway, and it had made the long hours, and the sacrifices, and his wife's disappointments when he had to cancel on her suddenly worth it.
After nearly a minute of waiting, he knocked again, this time louder. While the motel rooms might be better inside than they appeared on the outside, they certainly weren't a suite at the Ritz, so he was a little unnerved by the fact that it was taking Jason and Elizabeth so long in answering the door. Although there were things that might have been keeping them busy, he really didn't want to contemplate such thoughts. After all, while he might support the idea of the former enforcer dating the twenty-three year old, actually thinking about how the brunette beauty had ended up pregnant wasn't exactly on his list of favorite things to do.
Changing his simple knocking to pounding, Bill called out, "alright, you two. Enough's enough. Just answer the door, will 'ya? It's freezing out here, and Miss Webber's already expecting. I really don't see why you must insist upon doing… that… at the same exact time that I need to talk to you." Pleading slightly and realizing it, the agent added, "come on, I swear. It's good news this time."
But, still, the door never opened for him. "Alright, that's it," he warned, digging in his pants pocket for the key that would let him into the couple's motel room. "I hope the two of you are covered, because I'm coming in whether you are or not."
Just in case, though, he shielded his eyes, narrowing them to the point where they were practically just slits. After hearing the tumblers in the lock turn, he pushed the door open, surprised to find the motel room dark and undisturbed. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he grumbled, ambling his way towards the closed bathroom door. "They're showering together? And if they dare say that it was just in an effort to save water, while I'll…"
But the closer he got to the bathroom, the quieter the room seemed to get, and he realized that Jason and Elizabeth weren't doing any such thing. There was no light coming from underneath the en suite's door either. "Well," he mumbled to himself, reaching for the knob. "Maybe they're taking a bath instead… in the dark."
Even while he tried to tell himself that, though, Agent Maloney knew the idea to be false. The bathroom was dark because there was no one in it, and, because there was no one in it, that meant that Jason and Elizabeth had somehow managed to find a way to sneak off. While he had been busting his tail trying to brainstorm up a way to keep them together, they had broken his trust and ran away, leaving him to pick and clean up the mess. His partner would only say 'I told you so,' of course being of absolutely no help, and, at that point, with his two star witnesses missing, he could pretty much kiss his case against Sonny Corinthos goodbye, and who knew what such a blow to his record would do to his career.
Needing to see for himself, though, that he was right and that both Morgan and Webber were gone, he entered the bathroom, swearing under his breath when he discovered the empty sight he had been expecting, "son of a bitch."
Slumping against the entranceway, his eyes automatically searched out the motel room only to land upon a folded piece of paper situated advantageously on the bed, no doubt put there so that, if someone were to look, they would easily find it. Crossing the few feet that separated his spot from the note, Bill picked up the flimsy stationary, noticing that it was that which was provided by the roadside motel.
Opening it, he read out loud, "Since you couldn't protect them, I'm taking Elizabeth and the baby somewhere that they'll be safe. Don't bother looking for us, because you'll just be wasting your time. Thanks for trying to help, but I knew better than to depend upon someone else to take care of my problems. It's time I handled Sonny my way. It's the only way I'll be able to keep my family safe." Closing the missive, it was simply signed, "Jason."
Crumbling up the paper, the balding man shoved it deep into his pocket, already stomping his way out of the motel room. After slamming the door behind him, he turned to head back to his own rented room, pissed off and worried all at the same time. "Son of a bitch," he swore again, kicking at the snow dampened brick wall. "Son of a fucking bitch."
LVII.
There had been three things that her husband had forced her to memorize before they had parted ways a week before, and, yes, Jason was technically and legally now her husband.
They had managed to get married while escaping from FBI custody. While it had not been the most romantic of weddings, Jason's proposal at Christmas had more than made up for the rushed but no less desired nuptials, and she had simply been impressed by all that he had managed do in such a short time frame. Besides, seeing as how neither of them knew when the next time would be that they would be able to set foot on US soil, if they were going to be ever be married legally as Jason Morgan and Elizabeth Webber, the impromptu ceremony had been necessary.
After knocking out one of the plain clothed cops at nearly two a.m. when the man had been doing his rounds, checking up on both them and the motel's security, Jason had carried the man's body to his unmarked car, taped his mouth shut, tied his hands and feet together, and dumped him in the trunk. Using the man's government issued cell phone, they had called and gotten two tickets out of the country under their alias' names, driving like a bat out of hell to the nearest airport to make the fight. Once they were there and waiting in the terminal, Jason had used the phone to make another phone call, one that was of a much more secretive nature.
Although she now knew who he had been in contact with, at the time, she had been in the dark, but that hadn't bothered the onetime artist. She trusted the man she loved implicitly, and her faith in him had been rewarded when, just before their plane was to take off, a judge had arrived to marry them. The ceremony had taken less than five minutes, they then signed the marriage license Jason had been carrying around with him for weeks, and, as they boarded, the judge went back to his office to file the necessary paperwork to officially make her Mrs. Jason Morgan.
She had been so happy with the surprise turn of events that she hadn't even noticed that the court official had not questioned the fact that they were marrying under different names than their flight seats were booked under. But, now, looking back, she realized that the judge had been in the man's pocket who was currently hosting her at one of his many foreign villas, not that the stranger was actually there with her.
Besides a few staff members to help her keep up with the expansive home and ground's upkeep, she was alone, quietly planning for the eventual arrival of her son or daughter. Her days stretched by slowly with the help of cleaning, receiving cooking lessons from the estate's chef, and decorating the bedroom that had been designated as her child's future nursery. Whether or not she and Jason would actually be living there still when their baby was born, Elizabeth didn't know, but she wasn't worried.
No matter what, her husband would be by her side when their child entered the world, and that was all that mattered to her besides making sure that the life growing inside of her was healthy, happy, and strong. And, while it saddened her that the former hitman was missing some of the early months of her pregnancy, she understood that such a sacrifice was necessary on both of their parts if it meant that they would never have to be separated or in danger again.
Switching the basket she had brought with her into town that morning as she went to market to pick up some fresh produce for lunch and dinner to her other arm, the college graduate went over once more the three things that Jason had practically ingrained in her mind. First, there was Necesito para utilizar el cuarto de baño, por favor. This, asking politely to use the bathroom, had already come in handy with the locals. While she might have only been in her first trimester, Elizabeth was amazed by how rapidly her body was already changing with her pregnancy, and what was even more amazing was how often she now had to go to the bathroom. If she wasn't so thrilled with the idea of having a baby, she probably would have been annoyed with the inconvenience.
Secondly, just to be on the safe side, her husband had taught her how to say that she was pregnant and in need in a doctor, but the former painter sincerely hoped that the words 'Ayuda. Soy embarazado, y necesito a doctor' never had to pass by her lips. Lastly and most importantly, he had drilled into her mind the expression 'Soy una amiga de Señor Lorenzo Alcazar.' Where she was staying, at one of Lorenzo's homes in Caracas, Venezuela, his name was the most feared, most respected two words that could be uttered, and no one would approach her much less deign to actually insult or injure her unless they wanted to face the wrath of the most influential crime lord in South America.
The room she had chosen for the baby's room was actually the one meant to be the master bedroom, but it overlooked the pool and gardens, and the idea of what a mural would look like with all the rich, golden light spilling in on it from the wide open windows was too much for her to resist, so she had the gardener help her move her own things into a smaller bedroom, satisfied with amenities provided there within. To thank the somewhat shy yet always helpful man, she had baked him brownies, and, suddenly, he was always asking her if she needed help.
All of the staff members were friendly, inquiring about her needs and the baby's, seeking to make her as comfortable as possible, and she got the impression that they were just glad to have someone to finally take care of. Before she had moved into the pastel pink, stucco house, she had been informed that it had been vacant for quite some time. With so many properties, most of which were much more prestigious than the one she currently inhabited, Lorenzo very rarely stayed in the relatively small, Caracas home. Sometimes his men would sleep a night or two there, but that was all the company the cook, the gardener, and the cleaning lady typically received besides each other, and Elizabeth could tell that they were lonely. Plus, she didn't doubt the fact that it was much more relaxing to take care of her than it was to cater after a formidable gangster, even if they would speak fluent Spanish as opposed to her butchered version of the foreign language.
Really, her only complaint about living in Venezuela was the fact that Jason was not with her, and, while she missed the ladies of the garden club back in Dovetree, she tried to focus on the positive and forget about the things that she couldn't change. Somehow, her husband had promised her that they would find a way to contact Evelyn once they were all safe and Sonny had been dealt with permanently. Though they'd never be in the elderly woman's life again, the former hitman seemed to sense her need to communicate with her older friend the fact that she was still very much alive, quite happy, and expecting their first child, and his promise to her was enough.
Besides, with most days, by the time she fell asleep at night, she was just too exhausted to worry about anything. Between working on the nursery, learning how to cook, and continuing to re-explore her own artwork, the house's study serving as her new studio, Elizabeth drifted off into slumber with little to no fight every night. It didn't hurt matters either that the cook insisted upon her eating so many large meals.
Every morning, she and the three permanent staff members would sit down and eat a gargantuan breakfast, despite the Spanish customs. Instead of just a cup of hot chocolate, seeing as how she couldn't drink coffee as was typical, and some kind of pastry, it was suggested and then insisted upon that she eat at least one magdalena, something that the twenty-three year old would describe as a lemon flavored cupcake, several churros which tasted like lightly fried donuts flavored with either sugar or honey, and at least two helpings of torrija, which was Spanish bread pudding topped with sugar and cinnamon or rich honey. Plus, there'd be a wide assortment of mild, soft cheeses, ham, and toast with butter. However, she didn't complain much, because the food was new and delicious, and she liked making the cook happy by eating it all. Plus, the baby seemed to like it, too.
Then, at noon, on the dot, all four of them would break from whatever they were doing to have a snack before lunch. Raul, the gardener, would have a few bottles of beer, Teresa, the maid, and Marie-Carmen, the cook, would drink wine, and she would have juice, and they all would all eat tapas or, as she liked to call them, funny looking yet tasty finger foods. However, the biggest meal of the day was, by far, lunch, and it amazed Elizabeth that, after just a week in Venezuela, her stomach had already stretched to accommodate eating so much food.
No matter what, no matter how busy everyone was, lunch in Marie-Carmen's kitchen always consisted of soup and or pasta dish, salad, a meat and or fish dish, and then dessert. Apparently, though, it didn't matter whether she was cooking or an actual chef was, because dessert was still Elizabeth's favorite part of the meal. While she enjoyed the traditional flan, she preferred the homemade sorbet that the cook made, and, seeing how much she enjoyed the treat, Marie-Carmen served it almost every day. For drink, because of the baby, she was forced to drink both a tall glass of milk and a tall glass of water with her lunch, but she didn't argue. Instead, she focused on the dessert.
After lunch, everyone always returned to their tasks, and she was no different. Typically, the afternoon was her time to work on the nursery and paint in her studio, but Marie-Carmen never failed to interrupt her at exactly 4:30 for a snack or, as the native called it, la merienda, not that she complained. After all, the cook always brought her pieces of chocolate along with bread with chorizo, ham, or salami on top, and Elizabeth never turned down chocolate, especially since her new friend seemed to sense that she was currently craving the white variations of the classic candy. Following her snack, she would go back to work, and Marie-Carmen would return to the kitchen to prepare dinner which they would traditionally eat at nine every evening.
Dinner at the house in Caracas was less formal than lunch but still just as delicious. They would have some kind of meat served with either fried potatoes or rice, a green salad or some kind of vegetable dish, and, for a lighter dessert, Marie-Carmen would serve the fresh fruit that Elizabeth picked up every morning at the market. But that was certainly not the last time that she ate all day. Rather, right before she went to bed every evening, Marie-Carmen would bring her a fresh churro and another mug of hot chocolate, the perfect thing to sooth and calm the younger woman after a hectic not to mention full day.
At just the thought of the chef's delicious food, Elizabeth's stomach started to grumble, and she laughed, reaching her free hand down to rub against her still flat abdomen. "You cannot be hungry already, baby," she teased the child growing in her womb. "We just had breakfast, and it's still several hours before tapas." But her stomach just growled some more, and she giggled again when she looked inside her basket underneath the towel Marie-Carmen always sent along for her to cover the fresh fruit she purchased daily and found several apples and a few pieces of rich, imported chocolate. "I am going to eat Señor Alcazar out of house and home," she confided to her unborn child, knowing full well that such a thing for a man of Lorenzo's wealth would be impossible.
Choosing a ripe, crimson piece of fruit, she bit into the juicy treat as she approached her first of many market stands. Although she typically only purchased food, that didn't stop Elizabeth from perusing the other goods sold on the city's bustling square. She enjoyed the energy of the lively businesses and relished in the vivacity and vigor of the market. It was so unlike anything she had previous experienced in her life back in the states, but she loved it nonetheless.
"Buena mañana, Señora Morgan," one of the venders greeted her. The woman was a usual at the market, and, since she had started coming into town every morning, she had started to stop and talk with the elderly lady. Luckily for Elizabeth, the woman she knew as Ernesta spoke English. "And how are you and the little one doing today?"
"Very well, thank-you," she responded, genuinely happy to be talking to the local. "But hungry," she added as an afterthought. "Always hungry."
"So, when are you going to bring your husband to market with you?"
"Soon," Elizabeth answered, hoping she was telling the truth. "Soon."
LVIII.
"I want you to know that I appreciate you doing this for me. You had no reason to help me, but, when I contacted you two weeks ago, you immediately went into action. I'll never forget that."
"Please, Mr. Morgan," Lorenzo contended. "Arguably, it is I who is actually benefiting more from this arrangement the two of us have worked out. All I have done for you is provide your wife with a safe place to live, agreed to take care of your dirty work for you, and have promised to help you, your wife, and your unborn child fake your deaths. In return, I'm doubling my empire and holdings. A man of my power and place in the world would do just about anything to close that kind of deal. My only question is whether or not you have any rules for how I am to go about accomplishing what we both want."
Shaking his head to refute the Spaniard's query, Jason honestly answered, "I don't care what you do to Sonny Corinthos. Just make sure that it's permanent and that he can never come after Elizabeth or our child again."
"While I can't say that I understand your willingness to just give all this up." To emphasize his point, the older man swept his arms outward to embrace the wide, panoramic view they were taking in of the Port Charles skyline. "I do admire your dedication to your family."
"It has nothing to do with loyalty, Mr. Alcazar. I love my wife and our unborn child, and, selfishly, I want out of this life so that I actually have the chance to watch my son or daughter grow up and to spend the rest of my days with the woman I married." Walking away from the balcony, he strode further into the plush hotel room. "When I first went to work for Sonny, I didn't understand the consequences of my actions. Even when I was laying face down in the snow after he sent someone I believed to be my friend after me with a gunshot wound throbbing in my side, I still didn't realize what I had gotten myself into. It wasn't until I heard of a little boy's death, a little boy that I had raised as my own son for more than a year, that I realized that I wanted out. For good.
"Do I like the danger; do I like the adrenaline rush that comes from living on the edge and thinking on my feet?" Shrugging his shoulders, Jason answered truthfully. "Yeah, I do, but not enough to die for the excitement. And I know that watching my son or daughter be born will be more exhilarating than any ambush could ever be, and celebrating my fiftieth wedding anniversary with Elizabeth will be more rewarding than gaining a new piece of territory or taking down a rival mobster. Maybe I'm not saying this the right way, or maybe you just don't understand, but…"
"No, you're wrong," the Venezuelan arms smuggler interjected, stopping Jason's words. "I understand. In fact, many years ago, I attempted to do what you're doing right now, but I couldn't get out. When you're born into this lifestyle, escaping it is much more complicated. Plus, looking back now, I'm not sure if I actually wanted to get out or if I was just doing so because I thought it was the right thing to do. Either way," the older man sighed, glancing over his shoulders at the ex-enforcer, "for your sake and that of your family's, I'm glad that you're doing this, Jason."
"Thank you."
"And, now, back to business," the dark haired man suggested, reaching into the breast pocket of his expensive, Italian suit only to pull out an imported cigar, lighting it before he continued speaking. "Do you have any preferences as to what should happen to Sonny's men?"
"Honestly, I think that's your decision to make, but, if I were you," the soon-to-be father recommended, "I'd allow some of the guys to be folded into your organization. Even when I was still working for Sonny, not all of them liked the way he ran things. There was definitely some contention among the ranks, and I would only assume that it has gotten worse since I've been gone. Weed out the ones that are too loyal to Sonny, send them to prison or get rid of them however you see fit, but keep the ones that can be useful and loyal to you alive. At least, that's what I would do."
"I'll consider what you have to say, Mr. Morgan."
"And, now, I have a few questions of my own," the blonde stated.
"Certainly," Lorenzo allowed.
"I'd like to know what you have planned to fake our deaths?"
"Oh, it's all quite simple really. We'll leak information to the feds, telling them that Elizabeth has been staying in one of my homes in Caracas hours before we blow it up. Of course, by then we'll have you, your wife, and your unborn child moved somewhere else, and the two of you can go about building a new life for yourselves. As far as the rest of the world will be concerned, Jason and Elizabeth Morgan and child will all be dead, and I will arrange it so that it'll look like Sonny caught up to you and took you all out right before he himself perishes. At that point, I'll help you procure new identities, and, per our agreement, under those names, the two of you will be set up for life quite handsomely, nowhere near a fair price for what your share of Corinthos' empire would be worth but, still, plenty for you to support your family for several generations to come."
"You know I really don't care about the money."
"Yes, I do," Alcazar commented, frowning slightly. "And, for that, I think you're a fool. If it were just you, I wouldn't fight you on the issue, but it's not, and there's no reason why you or your wife should have to worry about finding jobs right away or, really, ever having to work. After everything the two of you have been through, travel, see the world, just enjoy life together and with your child… or, eventually, children. Besides, it's not as if you technically didn't earn this money yourself by working for Sonny before the feds froze your accounts. Don't be so stubborn, Mr. Morgan," the older man chastised good-naturedly. "It'll age you prematurely, and then that pretty wife of yours will want to find herself a new, less-wrinkled husband."
He knew the foreigner was teasing him, but Jason couldn't help but protest. "I don't think so. That'll never happen."
"See that it doesn't, Mr. Morgan. While I might not have spent much time with your wife, that which I did told me that she is one of those women that a man should hold onto no matter what. Now, if you'll excuse me," the native Venezuelan made his formal pleasantries. "It's late, I have a busy day ahead of me, and you have a long flight back to Caracas." Holding his hand out after snubbing out his cigar, Lorenzo said, "it's been a pleasure doing business with you, Jason."
The blonde simply nodded. It was his way to say that he agreed, although he wasn't sure that he would necessarily call their dealings pleasant. "Goodbye."
And, as he walked out the door of Alcazar's penthouse, he knew it was the last time he would ever see the mobster, and, for that, he was thankful. Soon, very soon, he, Elizabeth, and their unborn baby would be free and, more importantly, safe, and he couldn't wait to share the good news with his wife.