Chapter 17

Without Jason ever knowing it, Elizabeth had kept his hospital bracelet. She'd been there the day he was released from the accident, and she was the one who cut it off as they were standing at the nurse's hub, tucking it safely into her pocket, secretly holding onto the last piece of Jason Quartermaine that existed.

Now, sitting in her studio as she turned the bracelet around in her hands, she wondered why she'd held onto it, or rather, why she'd held onto anything. Like so many people who knew Jason Quartermaine, she buried him away, tucking him safely into the farthest corner of her heart, knowing that she'd never be given the chance to love him again.

She never once looked at Jason Morgan and saw the boy from her childhood. The doctors had prepared them for the worst, but that didn't stop her from holding vigil at his bedside, his hand in her's, and hoping Jason to come back to her. After a few months, even his family backed away, but she waited, telling herself that he had made a promise to always be there and always be with her. Just when her hope grew stilted, when she worried that she couldn't hold on for one more day, he opened his eyes.

From the very second he first looked at her with his deep, piercing, blue eyes, she knew Jason Quartermaine was gone, and in a way, so was she. The moment was forever seared onto her brain; the sound of the nurses in the hallways, the smell of the hospital room, and the way his hand smoothed over the sheet covering his chest as he asked who she was. Instead of crying or breaking down or becoming erratic, she'd swallowed her tears and softly told him that she was Jason Quartermaine's best friend and that he was gone. His eyes softened and his lips twitched into a heavy frown, gestures that had become all too familiar to her in the days since the accident, and he apologized for her loss.

It was only after she excused herself from the room, relieved that he hadn't asked why she was there, that she'd collapsed halfway down the hallway and cried, really mourning Jason Quartermaine for the first time.

Of course, his family flooded his room, telling him all kinds of things about how he was Jason Quartermaine, and he insisted that he had no recollection, and when Elizabeth finally slipped back into his room after the chaos had subsided, he asked why she didn't tell him who he was. She shrugged, curled up in the chair beside his bed and told him because he wasn't.

He was kind to her at first, and she imagined he just liked having someone to talk to, but he quickly took to Johnny over her, and she found herself on the outside, for once wondering if O'Brien ever felt that way around them. She was patient, understanding that he saw her the same way he did everyone else, and was just another person who was desperate for Jason Quartermaine to come back.

It'd be a lie if she said she hadn't thought about it, that for months after, maybe even the entire first year, she pined for him to the be boy he was before. Sometimes she felt guilty, knowing it was wrong to want him to be someone else, but she didn't know how not to.

Eventually, Jason warmed up to her, and she lost any desire to have Jason Quartermaine back. He was patient and kind, and over time, she learned that he would do anything for her, but it wasn't until their last year together, without Johnny as a buffer, that she truly believed it. Between him and Johnny, they had been there for her in every possible way, but Jason had been there simply because he was with Johnny, and now he was there because he wanted to be.

Sighing, she leaned forward on the frumpy couch that had been in her studio since she was a teenager and tossed the bracelet back into the large square box sitting on top of the coffee table. She placed the lid on it and pulled it down onto the floor to slide it safely back beneath the couch, the one spot she knew Jason and Johnny would never find it, but stopped when she saw the sleeve of a jacket sticking out.

Against her better judgment, she removed the lid yet again and grabbed the sleeve, carefully pulling the old Port Charles High jacket into her lap. Jason had left it in her car the night before the accident, and she'd held onto it for months, soaking in his smell and the safety of having something that belonged to him. Gathering it in her hands, she buried her face in the material, missing the smell of his cologne and the safety that she used to find there. She'd tried to give it back to his parents, but his mother insisted that she keep it, that Jason would have wanted her to have it.

Monica had given her lots of things, countless items that she knew his mother wanted to hold onto, but wasn't sure if she could. Like his ratty, leather wallet that was so worn around the edges that he lost money more times than they could count, or his copy of Gray's Anatomy that she'd read to him at his bedside.

Flipping through the book, she smiled softly at the notes he'd made in the margins, his handwriting like chicken scratch whereas now it was way more readable. She almost laughed aloud when she continued to flip through the pages, stopping on a diagram of the female body that Johnny had obviously taken a pen to. Even the post-it was still stuck between the pages, a note from Jason telling O'Brien to buy Playboy and leave his shit alone.

She closed the book and gently placed it back into the box, her hands grazing over photographs and movie ticket stubs, stopping on a framed picture that Johnny had given her from prom night. She was seated on the hood of Jason's grandfather's Bentley, wearing a very gorgeous red dress, with Jason beside her in a neatly fitting tux. Nestled between them was a tiny flask that he'd probably slipped from AJ's stash. His arm was around her waist, resting at her hip, and his lips were against her ear, her mouth wide open as she laughed, one of her hands resting on his thigh. And in one of the corners was the blur of Johnny's thumb, the poor guy never capable of taking a decent photograph. She teased him so much about it that he'd given her the photo along with a note that said he'd finally gotten one right.

She let out a shaky breath and slid the lid back over the box, leaving the jacket nestled in her lap. She wondered how many other people kept Jason Quartermaine tucked safely away in a box with their lost dreams and faded memories. Sometimes she wondered if she was the only one and worried what Jason or Johnny would think if they ever found it. More so Jason, because she'd worked so hard to gain his trust and convince him that she wanted him in her life no matter who he was.

As odd as it may have sounded, that much was true. When Jason woke up from his accident, she buried any feelings as much as she possibly could, and she welcomed Jason Morgan. Maybe it started out as obligation or empathy, needing Jason in some form and feeling sorry that he basically woke up to nothing.

For all these years, everything had gone smoothly. She and Jason co-existed without her ever wanting or pining for him to be who he was before, and even in the last year, as they grew closer and closer, she never saw him.

Until tonight.

She and Jason had only danced a handful of times before, usually because Johnny was off trying to pick up some woman at the bar, and it took begging to get him out onto the floor. Tonight, he had offered, sure it was to cheer her up, but still he asked. And between the kisses and the flirting, something had changed, and it scared the living hell out of her. She never imagined that in pretending to want him and pretending to be attracted to him that she would find a familiarity she'd let go of,and suddenly it was like she was a teenager all over again.

It was hard not to look at him sometimes, seeking out traces of his personality or face that linked him to the past, and she found herself focusing more on all the ways that Jason Morgan was different. The little things were obvious; his neatness, the quiet, reserved attitude, and how he addressed nearly every situation in a calm manner. She had the ability to make Jason Quartermaine's head spin around with just the right phrase, and now, it was like he half-expected her shenanigans from the start, usually having a plan to clean them up before she realized they had blown up in her face.

He lived more dangerously; unafraid to say or do what he wanted, and he rode that damn motorcycle everywhere without a helmet. He hated suits and parties and drank to soothe that hatred, and he'd much rather be in a place like Jake's as opposed to the MetroCourt. In high school, they would barter their souls to get Jason Quartermaine to sneak inside, and he hated pool, calling it the trashiest way to pass time.

She almost wondered if this was one big dream, a funny joke gone wrong, or someone trying to really get in a good laugh. What else could explain the drastic change to becoming everything he ever hated?

Yeah, there were good things too, like his incredible love for culture. He traveled more than anyone she ever knew, mostly when he'd first woken up from his accident. He expressed his need to get away, and Johnny's father loaned him the money, telling him he could work it off in the business once he returned. It was before Jason ever started to help Johnny run the business, and Elizabeth sometimes wondered if that was why he cared so much for it.

She appreciated his world knowledge and was fascinated that he could name every country in the world and a ton of facts to go along with it. Jason Quartermaine always boasted about having a photographic memory and how it was going to make medical school somewhat easier for him, and she never asked, but imagined it was something that had carried over.

It was difficult to miss him when she'd gotten someone just as amazing in return, but tonight she wondered if she had pushed their friendship too far. Her lips still tingled and her hands went clammy as she thought about his mouth against her's, and the way he looked at her…

She supposed she particularly liked men who were unavailable and could probably blame the accident for it. She took well to men who wanted more than she was willing to give and men who would never want her entirely. She thrived on their distance; emotionally, physically, and mentally, and with just one kiss, despite what either she or Jason thought it meant, she felt like she was being given everything she wanted. Or worse, she was projecting old feelings onto him, and it had meant nothing, but the look on his face…

It had meant something.

For the longest time, it was difficult enough to be around him and not think of Jason Quartermaine, let alone to find herself in a situation where she could actually feel something for him that was so similar to the way she used to feel. It was all too complicated and confusing, and she just wanted to go back to pining after Johnny and forget this ever happened.

Or that she allowed this to happen.

In a way, despite it all, he was her constant, and she refused to risk that, especially for some poorly misconstrued evening. It had to be hormones, the need for sex, and not the fact that she wanted him because it really was just a ridiculous thought all around.

And it made her miss him.

The comfort of Jason Quartermaine; his promise to be there and to be with her, and she supposed in a way he was. Maybe that was why Jason took her to her so well, why they got along and laughed and always had each other's backs.

Even though it was entirely too much to think about, she found herself wondering if, despite all that had happened, just maybe Jason Morgan and Jason Quartermaine did have something in common; a soft spot for Elizabeth Webber.

Suddenly, her phone rang somewhere inside her purse, and she reached for the bag, dumping the contents out on the coffee table. Jason's name flashed brightly on the caller ID, and she contemplated answering it, but knew that in his drunken state, he would call repeatedly.

"Hello?" she answered quietly, sitting back against the couch, her hand smoothing over the stitched lettering on the front of the jacket.

He hesitated, his breathing heavy on the other end of the line. "I'm home."

"Did you-"

"I got a cab," he cut in, and she could hear the sound of his boots being kicked off onto the floor.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine," she interrupted, tracing his – no, Jason Quartermaine's name, continuously with her fingertip.

"Elizabeth," he said quietly, her name sounding so natural on his tongue, like it belonged there. "About tonight-"

"There's nothing to say," she replied, fisting the name on the jacket into her palm as if she could crumple it up and make it disappear. "I used you."

"Don't-"

"I did," she said firmly, refusing to let him argue with her. "I used you and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She closed the phone before he could reply and tossed it down onto the couch beside her. Burying her face in the worn out varsity jacket, she allowed herself to do something she hadn't done in years; mourn Jason Quartermaine all over again.