Title: Remembering Tibet
Author: Kat/Yuppiekat
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own...well, anything pertaining to GH.
Summary: AU -- The past haunts Jason and Elizabeth. In order to heal, they'll need each other.
Notes: There are a few things that you should know about this fic... This fic was started (I believe) in 2002, but time constraints and frustration about the show stalled the writing of this fic. I am in the middle of re-reading and revising all the chapters. I’m not sure how often I can post. I wish I had more time to work on this, but you’ll have to settle for a sporadic posting schedule. The character of Lucky is, well, very out of character. I’m aware of that. This is an Alternate Universe fic. (And, possibly, a strange one at that.)

Right hand cramping, stomach rumbling and underwear riding up in places it just shouldn't be. That was how Elizabeth Webber’s day was going. Served her right for not doing laundry the night before, therefore forcing her to wear the leopard thong she found in the back of her drawer—a birthday present she’d gotten last year and only wore on occasions such as this. Thongs were too impractical and just not her style. Besides she wasn’t looking to attract that kind of attention. She hadn’t been looking for that kind of attention for a long time now.

Sinking into the uncomfortable lecture chair her petite frame was swallowed by the threadbare cushions. She disappeared behind the lanky student ahead of her, Dexter Hamilton. He was her savior. If only he knew…

He had been her shield for more classes than she cared to remember. The guy was beyond tall, what she liked to call “noticeably tall.” Possessing the kind of height that people couldn’t help but stare at, he was awkward, to say the least. And the average passerby wouldn’t have much to look at. Because he was so skinny he could turn sideways and be mistaken for a light pole. So, it wasn’t coincidence that every class they had together she chose to sit behind him, even though she knew he would smell like a combination of camembert and tiger balm. He made her invisible and for that she sacrificed her nose…and ears. Not only did he have a rather unusual smell, he also had the horrible habit of cracking his knuckles every five minutes. God, she hated that sound! Pop. Pop. Pop. It was the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage being pushed in and out of normal position under tight flesh.

So, okay, he wasn’t exactly a pleasure to sit behind. Still, she had to give him credit. The man was a brilliant artist. A recluse and bordering on painfully shy, he always gave her his best smile, albeit forced. Often she wondered if it hurt him to smile. Artists were, after all, known to be of the brooding denomination, weren't they? Either way she was glad he was always around. Always shielding her and making sure she was out of sight. Even if he was too engulfed in his own private agony to ever notice.

She was listening to the lecture being delivered, even if it didn't look like it and even though the very sight of the man before her made her nervous and feeling less than adequate. She’d heard about this class. Heard the outlandish rumors she was just hoping had been exaggerated. She’d actually been dreading this very class since she first received her acceptance letter to the university and the art program. And those rumors? Not so far from the truth, after all. It was shaping up to be a very long year.

Scanning the tiles on the ceiling she wondered how long it would take to count the cracks and water marks on the dingy surface. That felt like a more worthwhile task than listening to the lecture that left her, not only confused, but annoyed. It was like the professor enjoyed torturing his pupils.

Turning to her left, just over her shoulder, she spotted her always-entertaining schoolmate, Trisha Harper. Trisha was…different. She was flamboyant and gifted and not afraid of her own sexuality. Not afraid of anyone’s sexuality, actually. She prided herself on being open and sensuous. She didn’t mind that people talked about her behind her back. That people labeled her and envied her and hated her. Trisha was the queen of sex; the sultan of stamina; the goddess between the sheets. Amongst Trisha’s extensive track record she was still most proud of boinking the principal of her high school just as the Mrs. walked in... There for the ride and lived to tell about it!

Trisha was the type of girl that was perpetually at the top of Santa’s naughty list and liked it that way. She didn’t live her life according to anyone’s standards and if someone disagreed that was their problem, not hers.

And to Liz, the classic prude, Trisha represented everything she could never be. Hence, the rejected leopard thing. Not to say that Liz hadn’t had her own experiences, but they were as different and misguided as any other teenager and she now prided herself on the simpler things life had to offer. She was finished being the “bad” girl. Besides, Trisha got herself into enough messes for the both of them. But they never clashed. They never compared. They just were. They accepted each other, not in spite of their faults, but because of them.

Beside Trisha, as always, was her lackey Lucky Spencer, otherwise known as Spence to close friends. The boy followed Trisha around like a puppy dog, hoping to get one scrap. Spence had given up his dignity long ago. Even though he knew Trisha was not interested in him, he still followed her around. Toting her things and acting like the perfect suitor. Of course, Lucky's idea of courting was a six-pack of beer and the playboy channel. So he wasn't Don Juan. He was still an okay guy. A little rough around the edges, but what human male wasn't?

Lucky was the first friend Elizabeth made when she moved to Port Charles. When she didn’t know anyone, Lucky was there to guide her. And, okay, he wasn’t always such a pain in the butt. Lucky’s background, despite being complicated, was what really bonded them. When you caught him being serious, he had a lot of really interesting things to say. He didn’t like to talk about it, but growing up, on the road with his parents, was tough on him. And even though Lucky wasn’t serious all that often, he was always there when she really needed him.

A faint smile passed Liz’s lips. These were who she called her best friends in the world. What did that say about her? From the outside looking in they were a disaster served up three different ways. Still, they fit. They complimented each other and who cared what the rest of the world thought anyway?

Besides, Lucky and Trisha built her back up when everything about her life seemed to be shattered and broken. They wouldn’t allow her to be the pile of rubble that she came to them as. Nope, they saw to it that she was whole again. Not to say that there weren’t still a few little cracks and taped up edges, but for the most part she was in one piece.

Attention wavering once again, she wasn't surprised when Harper held up a detailed caricature of two people in some pretty compromising positions.

When she didn't get the response she was hoping for, she simply went back to work, immersed in the drawing.

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth shifted her eyes back to the front of the class.

"I'm sick of boring architecture and pathetic landscapes," Professor Sharpy announced.

Ugh, Professor Sharpy. He was the epitome of pretentious bastards all across the world. He was the type of man who would nab a taxi from an old woman and not think twice. He was the kind of man that probably stole from the collection plate at church and had the audacity to question the need for public assistance for single mothers. He was not the kind of man that dealt with compassion, nor realized it existed.

"This term you, my little amebas, you will try your best not to bore me. Almost none of you will succeed. I imagine there may be some splashes of brilliance, but those moments will be fleeting." He surveyed the class, turning up his nose. "There is one purpose to this class and one purpose only. That is to weed out those of you who are not meant to be here. I suspect that will be most of you."

"Asshole!" Elizabeth mumbled under her breath.

"What was that, Miss Webber?"

She scowled.

"I didn't say anything."

Great. She’d just put herself at the top of the Professor’s hit list. Real smart, Liz.

"Right. As I was saying, this course is not for the weak."

Dr. Sharpy looked right at Elizabeth. Was it just her, or was this guy goading her?

"This course is a challenge and it has broken more people's drive for art than it has inspired. So ask yourselves right now: are you up for the challenge? Can you come here week after week with your mediocre work and be satisfied with yourselves? If you're not ready to make a commitment to this class, the door is right there."

The Prof turned and moved to the blackboard at the front of the room. In bold, capital letters he wrote NEW. He turned, leaning against the board and studied his pupils.

"You will make me see something in a new light or you will fail this class. I want you to take something and paint it in such a way that I'm seeing it for the first time."

The class sat in silence.

Elizabeth already had a headache from this man and she suspected that as the term went on it would only get worse.

"Any questions?" Dr. Sharpy asked, as cold as a piece of ice. When no one raised their hand, he continued. "Great! I'll see all those who are brave enough back here next week."

The class left the lecture hall with grumbling and moans of displeasure.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Elizabeth asked Trisha when she made her way up the few steps to her row.

"The head of the fucking art department, that's who!" Lucky barked from behind them, wrapping his arms around both women's waists.

"Get lost, Spence!" Trisha said, grabbing his hand and yanking it from her waist.

"Come on, Harper, you know you want me," Lucky drawled in a sing-song voice.

"Why, yes, I can't resist you anymore. I need you! I want you!" She pushed him against the wall, palm pressed to his chest. "Let’s just do it! Right here! Right now!” She leaned in, inches from Lucky’s lips, about to kiss that dumb expression off his face.

Elizabeth could only watch the inevitable.

Lucky’s eyes grew in size, anticipating the feel and taste of Trisha’s lips against his own.

That’s when Trisha went in for the kill. Only millimeters away Trisha veered off-course, turning her cheek and just grazing her skin against the stubble of his chin. "Not in a million years, Spence." She laughed, slapping him playfully.

"Jesus, Harper, way to boost a guy's ego."

"Spence if your ego gets any bigger, we'll have to rent a separate car to carry it around."

"A car? Try something larger, like a forklift."

"That could work."

The women laughed, bruising poor Lucky's ego even more.

"Ugh! Not you too, Liz."

Lucky covered his face with his hand and shook it from side to side.

"Later, people! I’ve got to go. My human sexuality professor offered me some private tutoring." Trisha laughed, pumping her fist.

"There you go breakin' my heart all over."

"I think you need one in order to do that," Trisha called over her shoulder, skipping down the hall.

"When are you going to stop falling for that, Spence? She does it to you at least three times a week."

Lucky beamed. "She wants me."

"Right." Elizabeth stuffed her book back into her backpack and brought it up over her shoulder. "You have any plans for lunch?"

"Nah. I got two hours before my next class."

"Wait a minute, what were you doing in Professor Dickheads class anyway? You don't even take art," she asked, walking toward the cafeteria. "Never mind, don't even answer that. Lucky, let’s do a little reality check here, shall we? You've been chasing Trisha for what? Two? Three years now…? Don't you think it's time to give up?"

Lucky didn’t stop to consider Liz’s questions. He jutted out his chin proudly. "I think she's warming up to me."

"Okay, Spence? You've got a lot to learn about women.”

He was hopeless.

“C’mon, let's go. I'll even feed your ass." She smiled, tugging him along with her.

"Thanks, Liz. You always did know how to cheer a guy up." He rolled his eyes.

___________

He was tired.

More tired and more lonely than he’d felt his entire life. And, sometimes, he wondered how much longer he could go on like this. This life was killing him.

His feet were hitting solid ground with slight pain. The ground was a muddy, soggy mess and it splashed against his running shoes, chasing up his socks and pant legs, turning over in his wake and leaving behind scattered footprints. He didn't stop. The burn in his calves wouldn't stop him. The ache in his thighs nor the tightness in his chest would either. He wouldn't stop running until he was exhausted and could no longer feel anything.

It took a lot for that to happen. He knew from experience. He was a master of hiding from himself, and a master of self-torture and pain. He was either needing to feel alive or needing to feel nothing. So much so, it seemed he was dying inside. These were the rules he lived by: either he felt or didn't.

Today he chose not to.

Today he decided to ignore everything in him rioting for acknowledgement. He just wanted to forget, to leave the pain behind him in the soft, wet tracks.

Entering the gate that lead to his home, he slowed the pace. He waved to the men working on the grounds. It was a wonderful place to grow up he had to admit. Lush grass, abundant trees, rolling hills and the magical architecture… It all seemed so perfect, so…normal. Some place hidden with mysterious powers that were alluring, yet still not fully realized.

Sonny, Jason's best friend, watched from the window while Jason trudged the grounds. He knew what he was doing, even if Jason never told him. It was either punishing runs through the hills of the estate or midnight bike rides up the cliff road that acted as aids on how to read Jason. Sonny knew how to interpret things by now. It didn’t really matter what activity Jason chose, neither were done to derive any sense of happiness. Sometimes Sonny wondered if Jason even knew what happiness felt like.

Running and riding. Both were emotional pits that he dragged himself into at least twice a week. Losing his parents at the tender age of six and being raised by monks until he was twelve, then coming to live at the monastery, had made Jason a man with many secrets and much knowledge.

It happened in Tibet where his mother and father had been working, protesting the rights of the people. That experience had changed the young boy. Not only had he learned a discipline so profound while living there and studying, he had also made friends. People that would later die to protect him.

It seemed in his life that's what happened to anyone who got close to him.

They died.

When there was no one left to take care of him, he was shipped back to America where he came to live with his uncle, a Catholic priest. It had been over two years since his death and he grieved for him every day.

For a long time he fought his friendship with Sonny, but eventually Sonny's charm and persistence won him over…and maybe his cooking had a little to do with it. They were friends and had common experiences with death. Sonny had left his life of luxury and turned in his mobster ways for a life less complicated. A life, that in so many ways, seemed to be even more fulfilling.

After his child and wife died of a blast from a car bomb, Sonny blamed himself. He shut down from the rest of the world. He didn’t need the money he’d conned over the years, developing a small criminal business into an outstanding empire. And what did he need with power? Power that had been so precious before fell by the wayside. Those things belonged to a world and time that seemed so long ago.

He let go of the world he had known and blocked out everything that lurked outside of the high spiked fences that surrounded this sanctuary, closing himself off.

Much like Jason had. To some degree still did.

It was fate and neither one of them ignored fate.

Religion was not a straight line for Jason Morgan. He lived in many places and had many different glimpses at how other people lived. Friendships and honor, even love, made the boundaries between religions blur. It didn't matter that he lived among Buddhist monks and now priests. He considered himself a free agent of sorts. He didn't let one religion tie him down, instead embraced none.

Believing meant feeling and feeling was too painful.

Sonny closed the blinds and smiled to himself.

Jason Morgan was a complicated guy. All he needed was a strong woman to get him out of the shell he so often retreated to.

Stripping off his shirt, Jason stretched, languishing in the last of the summer heat. Tingles shot down his spine. He felt the breeze shift into fall.

________

"You know what your problem is?" Lucky asked Elizabeth from across the table. He watched her play with her French fries.

"Oh, God, not another one of those famous Spencer talks. Keep your opinion to yourself. I'm in no mood to hear you rant about everything I do wrong in my life. Save it for one of those poor unsuspecting women you bring home and sleep with. There is no need for you to try to fix me," she said to him, barely looking up from her meal.

She didn't want to hear anything from Lucky today. Her mind was in other places and on other things. She had to find something to paint that would win over the humorless Dr. Sharpy.

"Come on, Lizzie. Don't be like that."

"How should I be, Spence? Indulge me with your great wisdom oh pathetic one," Elizabeth crowed, sarcastically.

"Jeez, Liz, what's got you wound so tight? Is this about that fuck-head Callahan? I'll kick his ass if he's not treating you right."

Lucky moved his chair next to hers and she almost laughed at the expression of violence and empty threats in his tone. Even if he went about it the wrong way, Lucky’s heart was always in the right place. "This has nothing to do with Paul. We're not even dating any more."

She took a sip of her drink and studied the other students around them. They seemed to be so oblivious to the real word.

So…unaware. God, forget Dexter, maybe she was the tortured one.

"You have that look on your face again."

"What look?" Liz asked defensively.

"The one you get when something's wrong. When you're all in deep-thought mode and shit. Come on, Liz, if you can't talk to me who can you talk to?"

"Spence, don't take this the wrong way, but that's not very reassuring. If all I have left is you to talk to, something must be wrong." She laughed, breaking the tension.

"Fine, if you don't want to talk to me, at least talk to Harper. If I'm such a bad friend, I wouldn't want to talk to me either," Lucky said.

It was obvious that she had hurt him. Why was she always taking out her problems on the people around her?

"I didn't mean it," Elizabeth said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's just this art class. It's got me all turned around. How the hell am I going to manage to impress that ass?"

"That's what you're worried about? Fuck, Liz, you're the best bloody art student in the whole goddamn school. That prick, Sparky..."

"Sharpy."

"What?"

"His name's Sharpy not Sparky," she corrected.

"His name can be Saint Fuckin' Nick for all I care. He still won't be able to deny the truckload of talent you pack in that little body of yours once he gets an eye-full of your work. So stop worrying; it makes bad karma," he joked. "Now are you going to tell me what happened between you and Paul or will I have to stalk Harper some more to find out?"

"I think you stalk her enough as it is. It's simple, really. There was just...."

"Nothing there!" They said in unison.

"Come on, Lizzie, not even one spark?"

"Not a one." She sighed.

"Maybe you're a lesbian?" He laughed, almost knocking himself onto the floor when he saw the incredulous look on Elizabeth's face.

"Lucky Spencer, you are a complete jerk! Just because I haven't met the right man yet, does not make me a lesbian. If all men are even remotely like you, where am I supposed to find someone descent?" she spat, picking up her tray and depositing it in the trash.

"Liz, it was a joke." He laughed, crawling to her feet, wiping the happy tears form his eyes. "Forgive me?"

"Get up!" she begged. Oh, man. He was starting to attract attention their way. "Get up you little shit or I swear to God I will kick you square in the balls," Elizabeth announced in a hushed tone, tightening her jaw.

"Whoa, whoa! Let's not be irrational here." He picked himself off the floor and dusted off his pants. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're always sorry." She smiled in spite of herself. "Look, I have to go. Stay out of trouble."

"See ya, Lizzie!" he called after her, watching her walk away.

But she stopped. And he recognized that look on her face and that coy little smile. He was in for it.

"Oh, and, Spence…? You should really get that thing checked out. Genital herpes is really not something to mess with!" she called, walking away with a smug smile on her face. She heard Lucky curse behind her.

"What are you all looking at?" Lucky squeaked when people began to gawk at him. "Damn, people, can't you take a joke?"

____

Elizabeth’s head was still in the clouds when she began walking down a path to which she thought led to the park. Having stopped by her tiny apartment to grab her sketch book and some pencils, she decided to attempt to create a new way of looking at things and her best bet was to start at the park. The park always seemed to inspire something, if not a great sketch, at least an idea for one.

She stalled when she came to a gate at the end of the path. Had it been there before? There was a lock keeping it closed, but there seemed to be just enough room to squeeze through. It was times like this she was thankful for her short stature and modest frame. Hoisting her bag over the fence, she pulled the chain so she could maneuver her way under it and then slowly went through.

Her breath caught in her lungs, making her chest tighten, when she scanned the expanse of scenery that came into view in the clearing. It was magnificent! Tucked away amongst the lush bushes and evergreens, no one would suspect the gothic fortress that lay hidden. The magnitude and scale were unlike anything she had ever seen. If anything could make Professor Sharpy see things in a new light, it was this place. She could only wonder what the inside was like.

Why wonder, when she could sneak a peak?

Moving across the manicured lawn and garden statues, Elizabeth walked the long path to the tall building, only to find that beyond it lay more buildings of lesser size. An overhang of weeping willows lapped against the small pond in the centre of the courtyard, just beyond a fountain commemorating cherubs and nymphs. There was a small church she could barely make out in the distance. And, to her delight, the smaller buildings appeared to be abandoned. They weren’t run-down by any means. Someone took great care in looking after them. But they called to her. They hinted at secrets buried in their brick and stone walls, whispered inspiration as the light hit their tinted glass windows and scattered brilliant colors over the lawn and cobbled pathways. It was magic.

The smell of wood and leaves burning in the distance tickled her nose. She loved the smell; closed her eyes and breathed it in fully. When her eyes opened her jaw nearly dropped when she caught sight of a man standing only a short distance in front of her.

Taking in the sights, she had almost overlooked the one thing that now had her heart beating violently against her chest.

Barefoot and shirtless, wearing a dark pair of pocketed pants, a man stood doing what looked like Tai Kwon Doe, Karate, or some other form of marshal arts.

He was striking.

From the tips of golden hair soaked with sweat, to the rippling back muscles and tight abdomen, the man epitomized the term Adonis.

His fists cut through the air in sharp tight jabs, so fast and expert it was obviously not a fluke. This man was built and strong and for some reason an air of danger radiated from him. His shoulders were square and his massive legs were firmly planted on the ground. It seemed impossible to move this mountain of a man. Not that she would even try. He was perfect right where he was.

She looked down at her own small figure and knew, during a very strong wind, she had trouble walking. Not this man. Nature, the elements, God himself couldn't make this man move if he didn't want to.

When she realized she was staring, Elizabeth felt her face flush, but continued to stare. He seemed so focused, so unaware of her presence. She saw no reason to make herself known.

When he turned in her direction with a roundhouse kick making the air whistle from the movement, Elizabeth stumbled back. Not quite from fear, but from surprise.

His eyes were fixed on her. Eyes so blue and unrelenting, she felt her stomach flutter from the sheer nakedness his stare brought.

"Hi, I'm Elizabeth Webber," she offered to the cold glare he shot her way.

She received nothing in return. Not even a blink of acknowledgement.

And since awkward silences had never been her thing, she felt compelled to speak.

"Do you live here?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

The man did not answer her. He simply continued his rotations and punches to the air.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Okay, so he had completely dismissed her. But she wasn’t going to let that thwart her. He obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with. Why were men such complete idiots?

"See, this is where you say: “hi, I'm…”--and then you insert who you are."

The silence grew thick and the minutes ticked by. Yep, remaining quiet was definitely not her thing.

"Look, I can see you’re busy and I’m obviously bothering you, but chill, okay? I didn't mean to interrupt you. And, yeah, totally impressed by the karate chops and all… I mean, you’re obviously very into, uh, physical fitness…which is totally cool. Me? Not so much. I nearly knocked myself out with a tether ball in gym class once…which, is completely besides the point… Anyway, I thought I knew my way to the park and I just stumbled on this place," Elizabeth said by way of apology.

She took another look at the impressive landscape and…well, the impressive man in front of her.

Oh, boy. That was a mistake. Because he was staring at her again, sizing her up and then slowly and ever-so-subtly his eyes dropped to her mouth. She could almost feel the shift. That was it. She was now in a tailspin. A tangent was inevitable.

"It's really quite beautiful here. I had no idea it even existed. Even in all the years I've lived in this town. Which is weird, right? I mean, you’d think I’d have stumbled on this place sooner or later. It’s not like this huge secret or anything, is it? ‘Cause you’d think a secret garden would be a lot more…you know, secret. But I guess I did kind of stumble upon it…

“I'm kind of rambling. I don't mean to do that. It's just when I get nervous I tend to talk and talk...and talk. Spence and Harper --uh, those are my best friends-- anyway they tell me that one day they are going to time me to see how long I can stay silent. The going guess is two minutes. I'm pretty sure I can last more than two minutes, but...”

Her focus had been on her hands, twisting them out of habit, and when she looked up, meeting an indifferent set of eyes, she got the message, loud and clear.

“…And you really don't care." She stopped, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I really just wanted to sketch this place, but if it's private property or I need special permission or something... Could you tell me where I could find the owner or something?"

Elizabeth stepped back and waited while he reverted back to his exercise, or whatever the heck it was he was doing, and stared right at her-- through her, was more appropriate. Her patience was beginning to wane and no matter how handsome the man before her was, she wasn't going to take the silent treatment from anyone, especially not after the day she'd had.

"Look, pal, you don't have to be rude! If you want me out of here, just say so. You don't have to stand there and pretend I don't exist while you do your little karate kicks or whatever the hell it is you’re doing. Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to stare?" She saw him flinch at that and for a brief moment she felt guilty, but then she remembered what a jerk he was being and it was game-on again.

Her eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "Fine, be an asshole. I won't bother you any more,” she all but yelled and stormed off, only to run straight into something hard.

"Shit! You scared me!" Elizabeth said, clutching her chest to slow the fast beat of her heart.

"I'm sorry, Miss..."

"Webber. Elizabeth Webber. And you are?" she asked, cocking her brows at him.

This new addition to the ever-growing list of people whose sole desire seemed to be to drive her nuts was clad in dress pants with slick lines and a tailored finish, a light blue button-down and an apron. Huh. Interesting combination. Somehow the look worked from him. It was like he was pulled from a special cooking addition of GQ.

"Sonny Corinthos," the man said, flashing a dimpled smile and sparkly brown eyes at her. "I'm the chef here."

Liz nodded, faintly impressed. Okay, so maybe she could take Sonny off the list. He seemed harmless enough. And at least he answered her questions.

She scanned the scenery again. This was definitely a place she could transform onto a canvas. There were secrets whispering to her from the trees, she could feel it as surely as she felt the cool fall breeze against her face.

"Let me ask you something, Sonny. What is this place?"

"A monastery."

No! No, this was not happening.

"A what?! Just my luck," she moaned, slapping her forehead. "So that guy over there on the lawn is a priest? Shit!"

Her eyes widened realizing she'd just cursed. Could she be a bigger idiot?

"Oh, God. I'm sorry about the language."

"It's not a problem." He smiled. "Now, what guy?" Sonny peered easily over the young woman's head seeing only Jason in the distance.

"The one over there doing all the kung foo crap. Tall, blonde, muscular," she murmured.

She didn't mention devilishly handsome.

Sonny laughed. It was deep and rumbled through his chest. "Jason? No, of course not."

"Thank God! I don't think I'd be getting into heaven with the way I talked to him if he was a priest," she said, laughing anxiously. "If he's not a priest, then who is he?"

"Jason Morgan. He's the maintenance man. We live over there." Sonny indicated to the large house on the outskirts of the property.

"Oh, and he wouldn't talk to me because…? I mean, I know I'm not the most holy of people but I'm okay, aren't I? I don't seem like some kind of psycho freak, do I?" She examined herself. She looked presentable enough.

"Well, of course not. That's just Jason. He's taken on a vow of silence out of respect."

"A vow of silence? I bet the guy is a real barrel of laughs." She snorted.

Sonny's lips quivered and he cleared his throat to stop the laugh that would have escaped. "He's a good man. A little quiet, but you get past that."

"Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Corinthos. Look, I'm an art student and I really only came here to see if I could paint the place. Is there anyone I should ask or can I just go ahead and set up right here?"

"You should talk to Jason about that."

"What do you think I was over there doing?" Elizabeth laughed. "The arrogant jerk looked at me like I had three eyes."

"That's just Jason. He's not very good with women."

She rolled her eyes and hoisted her backpack up higher on her shoulder. "That's an understatement. Tell me something, Sonny. How long has it been since he's talked?"

Sonny looked up at the sky trying to remember. "Well, let's see, it started back in June..."

"June? My God! How can anyone not talk for months?!" she interjected astounded at the sheer willpower it would take for someone like herself to last that long.

"Not this June, Miss Webber. He's going on two years and a few months."

Elizabeth cringed. "Oh, Jesus, and there I was babbling about how I can't stop talking. He must think I'm a total ditz."

"I'm sure it's fine. Jason's not the type of person to judge someone. I'm sure it'll be okay if you sketch the grounds. And if you're still here by supper, stop in and join us," Sonny offered, smiling widely.

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary. I don't want to put you out."

"Really, it's no trouble. We serve in the dining hall and then the staff eats in our own house. You'd be a welcome edition."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Corinthos. It's very nice of you," Elizabeth commented, flicking her hair off her shoulder and sauntering toward some of the more historic statues littered across the lawn.

____________

Jason hurried inside, grabbing a quick shower and a change of clothes before he came into the kitchen to sit with Sonny. The room appeared empty. Moving to the window he looked over his shoulder making sure he was alone.

He’d been completely taken aback. He hadn’t expected something like this. Because he’d taken precautions and had shut himself off from these kinds of chance encounters, avoiding going into town as much as possible and keeping himself busy. He wasn’t looking for female companionship.

But then he saw her…

And it was as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

She had been talking to him…and then yelling at him and he couldn’t seem to focus long enough to offer some sort of response. The only way he kept his sanity was to continue his workout as if she wasn’t even there. Hell, at first he’d thought he had imagined her...

But she was very real.

He studied her through the thick pane of glass, swallowing the desire that flitted to life inside him. Her face was flawless…a soft, creamy white, so youthful, yet pained, troubled. Although she seemed to hide it well. It bothered him that someone beautiful, like herself, would be susceptible to such expressions of displeasure.

Sonny came into the room quietly. He smiled slightly when he noticed Jason looking longingly out the window.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Sonny asked Jason, while stirring the large pot of spaghetti sauce.

Jason nodded absently, letting the red hue creep onto his cheeks against his will.