Elizabeth glanced around the lecture hall searching for Trisha. There had been no sign of her since after lunch and Elizabeth wondered if she would even show up at all. Trisha wasn’t exactly a model student and skipping class wasn’t exactly a foreign concept. It occurred to her after only a few minutes that no one else was in the room. Huh. Strange.

Of course, her mind had been occupied by other thoughts…other people. Because no matter how much she tried not to think about Jason, he always seemed to be right there in the back of her mind trying to push his way through. It was becoming very annoying.

She checked her watch. The time was right, but she still sat alone, encompassed in silence. The only viable explanation was that she had wandered into the wrong room. While the likelihood of that was slim, she still made her way out of the class and checked for any postings on the door. Unfortunately, her class schedule was buried somewhere in her studio in what she liked to call the “organized chaos” filing system.

Shifting her painting to a more comfortable position, she weighed her options. Her art project was due today and since there didn't seem to be a class going on, one option was to wait until next week, after Christmas break, and lose twenty percent of her grade. The second, more practical but equally unappealing, option was to bring it directly to the man that marked them. The thought made her groan. Not wanting to miss any valuable percentage points, Elizabeth began the short jaunt across campus.

The air was brisk. She struggled through the slushy streets and down the icy steps to Dr. Shapry’s basement office. It figured he would choose such a dank location to reside. The latch on the door stuck and she nearly lost her balance pulling it open. The walls were stone, a deep gray uneven structure that gave off little light and smelled faintly of moist mildew.

The stairs inside were just as slippery as the ice-covered ones outside. She watched her step, doing her best to balance the weight of her painting while gripping the handrail at her side. Pushing through the next set of doors, she walked down a long hallway, noting with each growing step how much the place reminded her of a dungeon—some sort of weird torture chamber where art students came to die.

When she finally found a door with the correct nameplate, she was relieved that she didn’t have to search the whole building. It was starting to give her the creeps. She kept expecting a dragon or a serpent or some other mythological creature to jump out at her. She knocked twice and stepped back.

“Come in!”

She opened the door and stood there. Dr. Sharpy was behind his desk, arms folded around his abundant stomach, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, his hair drooping and lifeless, the bald spots hastily covered by long tuffs of hair, and ever-present was that shit-eating grin. It was like he had her right where he wanted her.

"Elizabeth Webber, right on time."

"Right on time?" Her voice was shaking. Maybe that whole torture thing wasn’t too far fetched…

"For your art critique. You didn't forget, did you?"

"Oh no, of course not." Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow hot. Of course she’d forgotten! Why, oh why, did she keep confirming Dr. Sharpy’s observations? No wonder he thought she was an idiot! "I brought along my painting and everything."

"Well, don't just stand there. Let's have a look."

Elizabeth took a few more steps until she was fully in the room, throwing off the old bed sheet that hid her work. She turned the painting so Dr. Sharpy could get a better look. He took the painting from her and set it on the stool beside him, turning in his chair to study the finer details. He didn’t just look at the painting, he got right up against the canvas, less than an inch away from the paint, pulling back and twisting his head, examining everything. Elizabeth felt a knot form in her stomach.

Needing a distraction, she looked around, trying to get a better sense of the man sitting before her. His desk was a mess with papers haphazardly strewn about; a small calendar with critical dates circled; sketch pads; art texts; a half eaten pastrami on rye; orange peels; a coffee-stained mug with Munch’s Scream on it. She had to hide her smile. It was just how she felt. She pulled her eyes from the desk. The floor was wood and when she moved a step, it creaked under her foot. Dr. Sharpy did not look up. She took another step.

On the walls there were posters from art exhibits, chronologically displaying the universities rich history with the art program. She read the names, felt her hand drift up, wanting to touch them, to rub off some of their magic. God, what she wouldn’t give to have one, just one, of her paintings in the end of the year art show. She’d been dreaming of it since she threw caution to the wind, avoiding her father’s warnings and her grandmother’s stab at practicality and entered the art program anyway. She’d been dreaming of it since she’d first picked up a crayon in kindergarten and drawn her very first work of art. And now, standing in Dr. Sharpy’s office, she felt as far away from her dream as she ever had.

"Hmm."

His voice startled her and she whipped her head around, straining the muscles in her neck beyond their capacity.

Their eyes connected and Elizabeth didn’t like what she saw shining through.

Dr. Sharpy held his glasses against his chest and let out a low whistle through his nose. "The shading's perfect, the play of light and dark on the trees is impeccable. I like the reds you've used in this one. Nice use of detail on the water’s edge. It's good, but so what?"

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asked, dumbfounded.

So far the words Dr. Sharpy had used were the kindest and most compassionate he had the courtesy of espousing for any of her paintings. Words like dull and lifeless had been common, however. So, to say she was a little taken aback was a gross miscalculation. All she wanted was just one encouraging sentence. One phrase so she knew she belonged in this program.

“Why do you think people hate art, Miss Webber? Why do people protest it?”

“Um…”

“Um?”

“Well, I guess, sometimes art scares people." She surprised herself by speaking so quickly and was even more surprised that he'd heard her tiny voice over the thumping of her heart.

"Why do you think that is?" Dr. Sharpy pulled his handkerchief from his suit jacket and took off his glasses. He began to methodically clean the lenses while he listened.

"Because…you can't hide imperfections." She looked up for approval, but his eyes implored her to continue. "Let's take a portrait for example, the paint's going to pick up those small imperfections that people try so hard to hide. You can't fool a canvas; it sees what it wants to see. People don't always come out perfect."

He was intrigued. "And people want to be perfect?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "People want what they can't have, so yeah, they want to be perfect. If they didn't, there would be no such thing as liposuction or Botox. People wouldn't pay good money for boob jobs. Um, you know, those kinds of things." She looked up again, a little embarrassed to have used the term “boob” in front of such an educated man. "See, people hate art because it shows them who they really are. It's honest. It's the most honest mirror you'll ever have."

Dr. Sharpy smiled. Actually smiled! And it was without malice or smugness. "That's a very good observation, Miss Webber, but how is it that you've never applied this knowledge to your own work?" The professor put his now-clean glasses back on.

"I-I don't know." Elizabeth took her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down a little harder than she meant to.

"Miss Webber, you've been a student here for, what, four years?”

Elizabeth nodded, confirming.

“Right. So, you know I expect all of these things…the shading, the lighting, et cetera et cetera. You have good technique, but that's not what I'm interested in. I want to see energy and life," he said punctuating his points with broad sweeps of his hands in the air. "I want it to pop, to stand out, to blur and confuse me... I'm not saying I want it to be sloppy, but I want you to learn that it's okay to paint what you feel, to paint with your heart. You paint these landscapes and they’re fine. They’re okay, you see, because there’s nothing behind them. No…soul. There are trees and grass and clouds, but there’s emptiness everywhere else. And I don’t mean in the landscape.”

Elizabeth felt her world shattering around her. She’d worked extra hard on this project, stayed up many late nights just to finish, and this is what he had to say? “I don’t know what you want from me.” Her voice sounded very far away even to her own ears. And she hated, absolutely hated, that she always regressed in his presence. She shrank and became unsure and doubted everything. And she hated that.

His smile was wry, almost condescending. “That’s just it. I think you do. You do, but you’re afraid to go there, afraid to show yourself. I want to see you. I want to know what it was like…I don’t know…the first time you saw snow! Show me a heart break! A-A moment! A moment in time when you felt something so intensely, so irresistibly compelling that you had to share. Show me something! Anything!”

Elizabeth stood, visibly shrinking while her professor watched.

Dr. Sharpy was pensively watching her. He decided to take pity on her. He noticed her face smeared crimson. He was very well aware that Elizabeth Webber did not like the spotlight and that, under all the layers of shyness, hidden was a wonderful artist who just hadn't tapped into her reserves of depth yet. "Explain to me why you paint so many landscapes. Tell me why you always paint things that are beautiful," he asked finally

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer. Elizabeth, look at me.”

She did.

“Why do you only paint things that are beautiful?”

Elizabeth didn’t allow herself time to think about it. “Because I’m scared of what I would paint if I truly allowed myself to go there.”

“Life hasn’t been easy for you, has it, Miss Webber?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“Despite what you think, I only want the best for you.” Dr. Shapy’s voice softened. “Sometimes it’s hard, Miss Webber, to go there, to look your past in the face and put it onto canvas, but you’re only doing a disservice to yourself and to the rest of the world if you continue to play it safe. Sometimes life is ugly. Sometimes it hurts.”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how to respond.

"I'll be fifty-eight next month, Miss Webber, and I've been teaching all around the world for nearly thirty years and in all that time I've never seen so much wasted talent as I've seen with you."

The tears welled up in Elizabeth's eyes before she had even a slight chance to try to control them. Her heart ached. All she ever wanted was to be an artist and now he was going to tell her she wasn't good enough. She felt sick and didn't think she could stand to hear it. "I...Dr. Sharpy, I can do bett-"

"Wait! I haven't finished," he soothed, slowing down her unconscious retreat. "I was going to say, I've never seen so much wasted talent as I have with you, but I also have never seen someone who has more of “it” than you. There is so much potential here, Miss Webber, but you need to show yourself. A true artist isn't afraid to show her fears, to show her own flaws and humanity. You've been playing it safe and you know it. If you graduate from this school and put those paintings out for critics, they'll see right through you. They will tear you apart and my criticisms will seem kind in comparison. I know you're better than this. Prove it to me...prove it to yourself."

Elizabeth looked up, feeling a new wave of hope encompass her. Dr. Sharpy, for better or for worse, believed in her and though he was demanding and unrelenting, he really did want her to succeed. “Thank you, sir. I’ll try.”

“Don’t just try, Miss Webber, do it.”

Walking away, she let that digest.

_____________
Elizabeth had never denied that, sometimes, when a situation overwhelmed her, she choose to retreat. It was easier—easier to deal with the fallout than facing the situation head-on. She had practically run from Sonny’s house after the almost-kiss with Jason and that was over a month ago. God, and what a long month it had been!

Her bruises and the scratches on her face had healed. The only reminder of that unfortunate day in the woods was the small scar on her leg. And though, there was no permanent reminder of the day in the living room with Jason, she could still remember the way his warmth breath had felt on her skin, the way his lips had just barely grazed the delicate skin of her neck… And she remembered those things often, and at the most inopportune times, too. Her grandmother was probably still confused when she had zoned out two weeks ago during one of their lunches. Okay, so there wasn’t an easy way to blow-off moaning into a bowl of soup. Although, she was pretty sure if Audrey, or any other woman with a heartbeat, had been that close to Jason, she would have had some incredibly intense fantasies of her own. So, yeah. There was that.

But, while she had been thinking about Jason, she had yet to muster up the courage to go back and face him. Instead, she found ways to visit Sonny, Max and the Monastery, conveniently…like when Jason wasn't around.

It wasn’t like she was scared to face Jason or anything. Oh, who was she kidding?! She was a chicken-shit! A little scaredy cat! In fact, she was more terrified than the time she put a dent in her brother’s beloved car—it wasn’t like she meant to shoot a hockey puck into the door! She was even more antsy than that wild summer night she didn’t come home until 6 a.m., even though she had known Gram would be sitting up waiting for her, beside herself with worry.

Avoiding Jason, at first, was something silly that she did because she was embarrassed. But after a week, silly turned serious, and every time she thought of going to see him, it was like her insides were being turned out and she just couldn’t make herself talk to him.

But she was talking to someone. Father Max turned out to be a really great listener and didn't mind when she rattled on and on about nothing in particular. He was like a gal-pal that way. Though, God knows, he wouldn’t let her do his nails no matter how much she insisted it would make her feel better. And he didn’t patronize her and tell her that everything would be okay, because he just didn’t know. She respected that about him. Maybe she liked talking to him best because she knew he couldn’t lie to her. It was in the job description. And sometimes she just needed that kind of reality check.

Sonny was altogether different. He started to catch on to what she was doing by the second day, and though he never confronted her about it, she did get the sense that he didn't quite approve.

She hated putting them in the middle, but as the days turned into weeks, it just seemed impossible to talk to Jason. It became this all-encompassing thing. Something that took over her life, her thoughts, and her dreams. If she had just nipped it in the bud, if she had just explained to him then…well, everything would be different. But it was hard to explain something she didn’t quite fully understand herself.

So here she was. A stack of laundry bigger than herself, a blueberry Slurpee, barely three hours of sleep, and a best friend who would not shut up about the one person she had no desire to talk about.

"Are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to have to tie you down and sit on you until you spill?" Trisha had that twinkle in her eye she only got when she was determined. And Trisha was determined to get Liz to spill all the juicy details about Jason.

Elizabeth dumped out her laundry bag, taking a sideways glance at her friend. "You know, somehow, I don't think you're joking."

"That's 'cause you know me too well, girly!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Yeah, as scary as that is..."

"So, what's the dealio?"

"Dealio?"

Trisha smiled. "Yeah, it's my new word. I'm also trying to fit the word bratwurst into every conversation I have from now until Christmas."

"Is that another one of your clever euphemisms?"

"I'm a sexual being. Cut me a little slack. I can't help it if I'm drawn to words that may imply a certain tubular shape similar to the male form." Trisha searched her canvas bag and produced several shades of nail polish.

"An alpha male?"

"Huh?" Trisha looked up from examining one of the bottles of polish, a deep red.

Cramming her clothes into the washer, Elizabeth could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and her ears burned from embarrassment. "Well, bratwurst implies...well, you know."

"Lizzie, are you blushing?"

"Shut up and pass me the soap."

Trisha complied.

"This color would look great on you." She held up the red to show Elizabeth. "Let me?"

"Sure, why not." Holding out her small, delicate hand, Trisha went to work on the nails.

"So, does that mean you haven't seen Jason's...uh, bratwurst yet?"

Elizabeth flinched, causing the polish to smear her skin. "Trisha! Jesus, why the hell are you so fascinated with him and his...you know, bratwurst?!"

"I'm not, but you obviously are," she said, holding her hand tighter while she searched her bag for nail polish remover. "Come on, Liz, tell me what happened before I make good on the sitting on you thing."

Reaching down, she found the bottle for Trisha and handed it over. "Fine, if that will make you drop the subject, I'll tell you. It's simple, really. Jason was going to kiss me and I freaked out."

"Did he have bad breath?" Trisha asked, concentrating on painting Elizabeth’s nails.

"No."

"Did he smell bad?"

"No."

"Was his...you know...bratwurst a little too…?" She asked with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"You know, was he being pushy or whatever?"

Elizabeth cringed. "God, no! He was gentle and sweet and I just completely had a melt-down right there."

"Well, I just don't get it then. Other hand," she requested, absently shaking her head trying to decipher the information she was pumping out of her best friend. "Did you want to kiss him?"

"Yes."

With a coy smile, Trisha said, "but you didn't."

"I couldn't."

"You couldn't?"

"I don't even know him!"

A tiny snort of laughter came from Trisha. "Sure you do. You spend enough time over there."

"But he's never even spoken one word to me!" Elizabeth rubbed her forehead mindful of her freshly painted nails.

“Yeah, but weren’t you all ready to seduce him not too long ago?”

“Well, yeah, but… I don’t know. Okay, I get it. I flip. I flop. I’m all over the place when it comes to him. But… Ugh! It's just so weird! To have this connection...to feel so much for someone that... To just want to be with him like that and not even know what he's really thinking...what he would say if he could?"

"Elizabeth, are you sure this has anything to even do with Jason?" Trisha asked, stopping what she was doing completely.

"Trisha, he's the first man I've really truly been interested in since..." Elizabeth closed her eyes tight. "I'm not good at this relationship thing, you know that."

"Wait a minute. Are you asking for my advice...about sex?" There was a hint of triumph in her voice.

"No!" Elizabeth blanched. There was no need to talk about sex. Definitely no need. Right? Well… "Uh, not really... I mean, maybe. Fine, yes. Yes, okay. I'm asking about sex!"

"What'd ya wanna know, sugar?" Trisha tilted her eyebrows up suggestively.

"It's not like I've never done it, Trisha! I’m not asking about positions or anything so just wipe that smug look off your face. You know this is hard for me to talk about, especially... Just, you don't have to look so damn contrite about it." Elizabeth turned around, slumping against the washing machine.

Unable to see Elizabeth's face, Trisha stood and went around the washers, turning Liz to the side so she could look at her. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. Really. I was being insensitive. I just...I wasn't thinking."

Elizabeth swallowed past the lump of emotions in her throat. "That's okay. It's just...you know it's hard for me to open up about things like this."

"I know. I didn't think." Lightly she moved the hair out of Elizabeth's eyes. "Ask me anything," she encouraged, her tone more nurturing.

"I'm just worried. Men expect things...you know," she said softly, "sex things." Elizabeth looked up then and her eyes were wide and a little frightened.

It just about broke Trisha's heart that just a second ago she was being so insensitive when this obviously mattered a great deal to her friend.

"And, after I kiss him...well, that's just going to lead to other things and I'm not quite sure I'm prepared to do those things right now."

Trisha's hand came to her shoulder and rubbed gently, soothingly. "Jason wouldn't make you do anything you're not comfortable with."

"I know that, I do." Her tone was resolute. She did know that about him.

"And if he does," Trisha said, taking Elizabeth's hand, "if he does expect other things-- which he won't--but if he does," she continued pointedly, "honey, you're allowed to say no. Okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay."

"Jason cares, Elizabeth. He wouldn’t hurt you." With that, Trisha pulled her into a hug and squeezed tight. “Well, not if he knows what’s good for him,” she added, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

Elizabeth hoped that to be true. Needed it to be. She wiped her eyes of tears she hadn't known she’d shed and composed herself before letting go of her friend and was not surprised to find a suspicious looking moisture at the corner of Trisha's eyes as well.

Elizabeth shook herself and stretched. "Oh, look, there's Lucky," she said, catching sight of him through the window. She was thankful for the distraction—and more than thankful to change the subject.

"Maybe, if we be real quiet, he won't see us."

"Of course he'll see us. We've done laundry in this very spot on this very day of the week since we've been in school. He knows we're here, what's your problem? You two in a fight or something?" Elizabeth turned to her friend skeptically.

"Well, technically, no."

"Technically?" Liz laughed. "Hmm."

Panning from the window to the expression on her friend's face Elizabeth began to formulate theories, which didn't go unnoticed by Trisha. "Don't give me that look. I know that look."

"What look?"

Trisha scrunched up her face and took in a deep breath. "The 'I-have-a-way-to-torture-you-now-so-I'm-going-to-make-your-life-as-painful-as-possible-until-you-fess-up look."

"Really? 'Cause I was aiming for the Lucky's-grinning-like-an-idiot-so-either-he-just-found-his-hidden-stash-of-playboys-we-put-in-the-tank-of-his-toilet-or-he-got-some-hubba-hubba-hot-lovin’-from-you. I guess I didn't make that clear enough. Maybe I’ll try a little more pout or more eye brow next time, I think. So, which is it?"

"Possibly the second one." Turing her head to the side she mumbled quickly, "Wekindaaccidentallymadeoutalittle."

Elizabeth's smile was radiant. The tables had turned. "Well, that's interesting. So what makes this so different from all the other times you two have accidentally made-out? How does that work again—what, do you just fall on each other's lips and then oops, half-an-hour later you realize his hand is under your sweater, on your boob, and the fly on his jeans decided to hitch a ride south?" Picking up her forgotten frozen drink, Elizabeth took a gulp soothing her throat.

"Kinda. I don't know, Lizzie!" she said throwing her arms up and hopping onto the washing machine just when the spin cycle started. "He was there and I was there and you know I love whip cream."

"What?!" Elizabeth gasped, sending blue chips of ice sailing across the floor from her mouth.

"I'm weak, girl. Weak!" Trisha exclaimed burying her head in her hands.

Elizabeth swirled a straw into the drink to try to break up some of the ice chunks while she thought of what to say. What do you say when your best friend admits to having some kinky tendencies in the bedroom? She was pretty sure Emily Post never covered that kind of etiquette. “Well, then, I uh, gee, I don't know what to say to that exactly."

"Oh, dear God, Elizabeth, it was a total mistake!" she groaned, her eyes barely peaking out of her fingers.

Elizabeth smirked. Payback was a bitch. "As opposed to the other, what, ten or twenty times before that? Face it, Trisha, on some level you're attracted to Lucky and sooner or later the two of you are going to have se-"

"Do not say it!" Jumping down from the washer Trisha slapped her hands over Elizabeth's mouth.

Elizabeth laughed, prying Trisha’s hands away. "I won't say it, but it's just a matter of time."

"Let's not talk about it. I get all tripped out."

"Sure, whatever you want."

"Just one more thing though...hubba-hubba-hot-lovin’?" she asked, one eyebrow quirked.

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth giggled. "It could have been worse, Harper. I could have mentioned his bratwurst."

"Thank God for small miracles. Shh, shh here he comes."

Enter the cat that ate the canary. Lucky certainly wasn't having trouble hiding his smile. "Hello, my lovely ladies!"

"Lucky," Trisha said curtly, transferring her wet clothes to the dryer, making minimal eye contact.

"Hey, Lucky, how's it going?" Elizabeth asked, more politely than her counterpart.

"Not bad. Hey, Liz, you got plans for Christmas yet? ‘Cause my mom and dad are away again and I thought maybe the three of us could do something together. You know, since we'll all be here."

It was funny how when Lucky asked a question he directed it at Trisha's ample chest. It was very much a guy thing.

Although Jason never did that... Jason always looked her in the eye... Oh, God, she was hopeless.

"Well, actually, Sonny invited me to this Christmas party-"

"And I'm going with her." Trisha interjected taking a break from painting her nails, which she had just resumed, to avoid speaking to Lucky. Unfortunately, the only thing that move really did was give him a better look at her cleavage.

"Well, yeah, but Sonny said I could invite whoever I wanted. So, you're welcome to come with us, Lucky."

Lucky didn't try to hide his disapproval. "Wait, Sonny? As in Sonny Corinthos?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Elizabeth, are you out of your mind?! Do you know who Sonny Corinthos is? He used to run the mob for Christ sakes!"

"So? He doesn't anymore."

"That's not the point!" Lucky barked.

"Then what is the point, Spencer?" Trisha asked, blowing on her nails to dry them.

"The point is," Lucky grumbled, fisting his hands in the back of his hair in frustration, "the man is a killer! Elizabeth, his wife and kid got killed because of him. I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, dismissing his claims a little too casually. "Nothing's going to happen."

"You say that now," he grumbled. "What is it with chicks and bad boys?"

Beginning to help Trisha paint her right hand nails, Elizabeth looked up briefly to get her point across. "Lucky, not that it's any of your business, but I'm not interested in Sonny."

"Yeah, Spence, it's Jason you should be yelling at her about."

Elizabeth shot her friend a warning glare. "Trisha, don't start!"

"Who's starting anything? I'm on your side." She smirked.

Elizabeth snorted. "Well good, then I expect to see you both at the party. And it's formal. That means at least a tie and dress pants, Lucky, but a tux would be nice."

"You know I'll be there," Trisha said, low and huskily, intent on annoying Lucky. "With bells on."

Lucky--not being too subtle--rolled his eyes. "A tux? Fuck me!" Taking the time for a dramatic pause he continued, "I guess that means I'll be there, too. Just in case one of you gets some fancy idea in your head about these gangsters. Look, I've got to go...get a a tux," he said with distain.

"With bells on? What the hell does that mean?" They heard him muttering while he walked out of the doors of the Laundromat.

"He so wants you," Elizabeth taunted.

"Well, he can keep on having wet dreams because it ain't gunna happen."

"Sure. Listen, I'm going to have to meet you at the party. I have to cover a shift at Kelly's and I could really use the money. You remember how to get there and everything? It's supposed to be in the church basement."

"Sure, babe. I'm sure I can drive Lucky nuts by flirting with Sonny until you get there."

"You're so cruel."

"I know."
___________
Jason's lap was becoming increasingly hot.

Hours. Three hours and twenty-three minutes to be exact. That’s how long he’d been searching the internet. Finally, he’d caught a break. Scrolling down, he finished filling out his billing address and then hit send. There had been a point during his search that he thought he was seeking out the impossible. But then, like magic, the impossible loomed in front of him and all of his strict conditions were met, making his world come into focus again. It was worth it. She deserved the very best.

He smiled approvingly at the screen.

"I don't see Elizabeth anywhere around, so what's up with that smile?"

Jason felt heat creep onto his cheeks. He hadn't even realized he'd been smiling and being caught by Sonny was not his finest moment.

Sonny was really getting a kick out of this…whatever it was. The constant teasing was just part of what he’d had to deal with. Sonny seemed to be on some sort of mission to make Jason sick from embarrassment.

"So...you going to tell me what's going on?"

Jason shook his head and proceeded to shut down the computer. Flipping the screen shut on the laptop, he placed it on the coffee table in front of him and crossed his arms.

"Fine. I bet I know what you're up to anyway. Want to give me a hand with the groceries?"

Jason stood and followed Sonny out to the car. The thick snow was crunchy under his heavy steps and the wind nipped at his bare arms. Looking down, he realized the walkway could use a fresh coat of salt. He'd get to that after the groceries were put away though.

"I can't believe tomorrow's Christmas already. It seems like Thanksgiving was just the other day."

Jason let out a winded grunt when he set down a heavy bag of potatoes on the counter. Knowing exactly what Sonny was trying to do, Jason ignored the prompting.

He did not want to “talk” about Elizabeth, even though he could admit that he missed her. At least to himself. In fact, he hadn’t realized how much he had previously looked forward to her visits until she stopped coming altogether.

At first, he’d thought she was busy…busy with school, busy with work, busy with friends. Too busy to come and see them. But then he’d been in the forest late one afternoon, gathering kindling, when he’d seen her through the brush, walking out of the house with Francis, Johnny and Max. They were chattering away like they were old friends. She’d gotten into Johnny’s car and driven away. It had stopped Jason’s world. He’d even dropped all the wood he was carrying. It just…it didn’t make any sense. It wouldn’t be the last time he’d come upon a scene similar. He was always a minute too late. Like she knew. Like she planned it that way.

It would have been easy to show up at her door, but what would he have done once he got there? How could he ask her what he had done wrong? He just couldn't figure it out. Was he really misinterpreting things? Did they somehow get their signals crossed? His lack of experience with women, and people in general, was really starting to show. And as the days turned to weeks, he started to feel an overwhelming sense of dread that she was never coming back…at least, not to see him. Something inside of him had twisted violently, piercing a deep wound. The thought that he might have hurt her… It didn’t rest well with him. In fact, it didn’t rest at all. He spent many days thinking about her, going over all of their encounters, trying to figure out how to make things right, and many nights lying in bed, unable to sleep, unable to get her image to leave him. Of course, he couldn’t resolve anything…not when Elizabeth wouldn’t even see him.

Going back for the last load, Jason stopped. Hearing laughter, he looked toward the church and his heart all but stopped while he watched Elizabeth and Max talking at the threshold. Rolling his shoulders, Jason picked up the bag of salt and slowly started dusting the walkway. Sooner or later she was going to have to speak to him and he wasn't giving her a choice to back out.

Today was the day.

__________

"Hey, Father Max. How's it going?" Elizabeth's cheerful voice filled the church and resonated off the walls.

Max smiled in appreciation.

"Can't complain. Weather's gettin' to be a bit much, but other than that, it looks like it's turning into a nice day." Max stretched and looked up at the sky. "I think the sun might even come out later."

"Yeah," Elizabeth answered, somewhat absently. She watched Jason and Sonny unload the car from the church doors.

Max caught her line of sight and tried to subtly broach the subject. "Something wrong, Miss Webber? You seem a little distracted."

"You told me Jason wouldn't be home," Elizabeth accused with faint humor in her eyes.

"Oh, is that Jason over there? I'm sorry my eyes aren't very good." Subtly was not his specialty. "Yeah, I guess that is Jason. Really, this wasn't a trick, Elizabeth. Sonny told me that Jason would be out for most of the day."

"It's not your fault, Father. I guess I have to talk to him sooner or later."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? It might make you feel better. I know you said Jason didn't do anything to you, but are you sure? I mean it's been nearly a month and you've been avoiding him. Even Sonny mentioned something to me the other day."

"It's just... Well, remember the stuff we talked about?"

"Of course." Max adjusted his collar. He still wasn't used to the thing…or the robes…or the crosses…or anything else, for that matter.

"Well, you helped me a lot, but now I'm worried that too much time has passed. That I've screwed up what little chance I had with him. I mean, how many girls do you know that freak out every time you try to kiss them?"

Max shot her an amused smile.

"Oh right, I guess that wouldn't work for you. How does that work? I mean, aren't you lonely? Don't you wish you had someone that you shared a special connection with?"

Max froze. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Every time he was around Elizabeth he was reminded of how much of a jack-ass he was. Every time he saw her he was forced to dig the lies just a little bit deeper. Today would be no exception. "I have God. I guess that's all I really need." That sounded priestly enough, he figured.

"That's nice," she said, genuinely, with a small smile. "Well, I suppose I have to bite the bullet and make my way over there."

"I think that would be a step in the right direction."

"Thanks, Father. You're really a great listener. Oh, I almost forgot. Here, I baked you some brownies."

"Well, that's... You didn't have to...but I'm glad you did." Max bent down and gave Elizabeth a hug. He knew how skittish she sometimes was, and over the past month he'd worked hard to gain her trust…which, really just made him feel like a huge monster for lying through his pearly whites, day-in and day-out.

"Have a good Christmas. I guess I'll see you tomorrow. That is if I don't die of embarrassment first."

"You'll do fine. Jason'll be so happy to see you he won't care about anything else."

"Thanks," she said again before taking a deep breath.

She collected the presents she'd left by the door and carefully walked over the snow-covered pathway to the house where Jason was outside waiting.

"Jason," she said softly, surprised her voice held up.

Jason smiled. A true genuine smile that lit up his face.

The best way to get this over with was just to plunge ahead. "How-how are you? I know it's been a long time and I'm sorry about what happened before. I meant to come sooner but I kept putting it off and then I just didn't know what to say. Then it was easier to come around when you weren't here. Then, I guess, I basically started avoiding you, but that was never my intention and now... Well, I still don't know what to say, but I guess I'm sorry and I don't know why I freaked out like that. I mean, it really had nothing to do with you. It was about me...only I didn't know what to say and you just held me and were so sweet and well, I guess I was a little embarrassed…" Elizabeth trailed off, taking a huge breath and nearly choking on the cold air when it entered her lungs. "Oh, God." There. It was all out there. Everything was exposed to the elements.

God, he’d missed that. That nonsensical gibberish. The way her mouth wrapped around tongue-twisting words and how her eyes lit up with raw fire. He took a step closer, inhaling her scent. She smelled like Elizabeth and he took a big breath. The relief melted away the worry and he found his lips forming a smile and that smile turn into a low chuckle.

His eyes were soft and his cheeks rosy from the cold air. Keeping his lips quirked, Elizabeth surmised that all had been forgiven, even if he didn't understand one word of her babbling

Reaching down, he grabbed the parcels and canvas bag that looked too heavy for her.

Without the presents weighing her down, Elizabeth stood on her tip-toes and reached her arms around Jason's neck, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Merry Christmas," she said weakly.

If Jason didn’t have his arms full, he would have held her and brought her a little closer, just to reacquaint himself with her touch.

Pulling away altogether too fast for Jason's liking, Elizabeth took off her winter hat and combed her fingers through her hair. "We should… Should we go inside?"

Jason nodded and motioned for her to go first. Needing no more prompting, Elizabeth practically skipped up the stairs and through the door. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

The whole house smelled sweet, like pastries and pies and home.

An amused Sonny met her and gave her a brief hug. "Elizabeth, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Sonny. I, uh, I got you some presents. Actually, Jason has them." She gestured to Jason.

He carefully made his way up the icy steps.

"You didn't have to get me anything." Sonny laughed. "But I did happen to find one or two things I thought you might like."

"Sonny, I told you--"

"Hey, if you can spoil me, then I surely can return the favor."

Elizabeth blushed. "Okay, but you didn't have to."

"Exactly. I wanted to. Well, now that that's settled, why don't we go into the living room and have something hot to drink to warm us up."

"Sure, that sounds good." Elizabeth reached for her bags.

"Don't worry, Jason's got it."

"Thanks, Jason." Elizabeth smiled a slow, warm smile directed at Jason.

Jason would have returned it if his heart wasn’t in his throat. A month of waiting for this reunion had left him feeling dizzy and punch-drunk in her presence.

The trio sat in the living room and Elizabeth couldn't help but fidget. She was really having second thoughts about the presents she'd picked out for them.

Handing a present to Sonny, she encouraged him to open it. "When I was little my mom would always let me open one present on Christmas Eve and the rest the next day. If you wouldn't mind...I thought you might want to do that," she offered shyly.

Sonny's eyes were warm. He stood and dug under the tree for a beautifully wrapped present that he handed to her.

"Oh, I didn't mean for me,” she said, chagrined. “I just meant that you could--"

"Open it," he said, cutting her off.

Elizabeth tore at the paper. She wasn't the type to sit and pick at presents for hours while preserving all the wrapping paper. Nope, when she got a present, she didn’t care if the paper was torn to shreds as long as she got to see what was inside. The paper gave way quickly, revealing extremely high-quality horse-hair art brushes, engraved with her name in the sleek bone handles. Pulling out the fine brushes, one by one, carefully studying them, she smiled brightly. "Sonny, they're beautiful. They’re… It’s too much!”

"Nonsense! You like them, then? The saleswoman helped me out, but I still wasn't too sure. I don't know that much about art." He shrugged.

"I love them," she assured him.

It almost hurt how much she loved them. No one had ever given her a gift with so much thought. No one had ever believed in her enough to do such a thing.

Placing the brushes down, Elizabeth reached into her bag and looked for the present she wanted to give Sonny. Finding it, she handed it to him.

He unwrapped it with care.

Holding her breath from a mixture of anticipation and fear, her face fell when she caught the look on Sonny's face. She should have been prepared for this. She should have known Dr. Sharpy was right.

The sun seemed harsh coming in from the large bay window and highlighting shadows along the opposite way.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. Her hands were shaking where she clutched her new brushes to her chest. Looking down, she realized what she was doing and set the brushes down beside her.

Sonny remained fixated. His eyes, swirls of inky black, crinkled at the sides, making them look old and weathered, like pages from a book, while he studied the object in his hands without blinking.

Elizabeth felt the earth move from under her. Sonny had always had such a happy disposition. She hadn’t seen him look this tortured since that day on the hill, at Brenda’s grave. Fear rolled inside her like thunder. She could hear it rumble through her. "I talked to Johnny about it and he helped me find some photos of Brenda and Dominic. I-I know you always wanted to have a real family photo and since I couldn't make that happen, I thought I'd draw you one.

“I-I aged them to how they might look now. Dominic would be almost eleven now, Johnny said, and Brenda was—well, she was beautiful and I know I could never capture her perfectly, but I wanted you to have this. If you don't like it... I didn't know whether I was crossing the line. I know I shouldn't have snooped, but I wanted to make this special for you. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me and how welcomed you've made me feel. I wish it could be more."

"Elizabeth." Sonny's hand fitted over Elizabeth's.

She could feel the tears come to her eyes and silently berated herself for invading Sonny's privacy. She shouldn't have done it. "I'm sorry, Sonny. It was a bad idea. The more I think about it now--I should have thought it out better. I should have known it would upset you. God, you must just hate me."

Sonny squeezed her hand and finally managed to raise his head and look her way. His voice was very soft and somewhat shaky. "I don't hate you, Elizabeth. I could never hate you."

She could practically feel the moment her heart started beating again and she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until that moment. "You don't? I shouldn't have--"

"No. I'll treasure this always." He stood and walked a step toward her, waiting until she stood too before he gave her a hug.

"I'm sorry, Sonny. I really wish it could be more," she said against his shoulder.

"It's enough." He ran his fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. "It really is. They… You did a real good job."

"Thanks, Sonny." Elizabeth wiped her eyes and sat back down.

Trying to change the subject and make them all feel a little more relaxed, Sonny pointed to one of the presents Elizabeth had brought.

"Well, look at that one. That's unusually shaped. I guess that's not the set of steak knives I had my heart set on."

"Sonny! Father Max told you, didn't he?!" Elizabeth laughed and it felt so good after just crying like that and making a fool out of herself.

"My lips are sealed. So, what is that big one, then?"

"Actually, that--that one's for Jason.”

“Oh, I see.” Sonny eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Go on. You can open it," she said when she noticed Jason's reluctance.

Jason took off the large silver bow from the front and sat it beside him on the chair. Unwrapping the brightly colored paper, the fresh scent of earth and nature coated the room. A small pine tree sat in the middle of charcoal soil with a tiny star tree-topper and red ribbon on its base.

Jason pressed a fallen pine needle between his fingers, brought it to his nose and inhaled the distinctive aroma.

Elizabeth watched him with tension. She wasn't sure he'd understood her gift. "I-I thought maybe in the spring you and I could--I thought we could plant it since Sonny said you wouldn't ever get a real tree. We could decorate it just for tonight and then I thought…well, I thought you could keep it through the winter and then we could, you know, plant it. Together." It wasn't just a tree, it was a promise. A promise that she would be around at least that long if--well, if he wanted her to be.

After a few moments of unbearable silence, Elizabeth stood and marched toward Jason who was still staring at the tiny tree. Grabbing the clay pot, Elizabeth tried to pry it out of his much stronger hands, but he wouldn’t let go.

"You hate it!" she said mournfully, giving up trying to pry it form his grasp. "I'm really bad at choosing presents. Sometimes I just don't think things through."

She laughed a little to mask the hurt. Oh, my God, she’d given the man a tree! What the hell was she thinking?!

She really didn't care if he hated the tree. It wasn't the prettiest of trees, after all. She just wanted him to understand what she couldn't yet say out loud. She wanted to try, to build something with him. In all the cheesy, metaphorical ways she wanted them to grow just like the tree--to become something beautiful. She wanted them to become something that could stand the test of time and live through any season.

Jason met her eyes and his gaze was heated.

She felt her heart tug while she explored those incredibly blue eyes that were boring into her.

Jason shook his head. Taking her hand, he gave her a light squeeze.

He didn't hate it at all.
___

Trisha waited impatiently for Lucky to come out of the bathroom. He'd been in there longer than necessary, in her opinion. She just didn't understand what he could possibly be doing. "Stop jerkin' your gherkin and let's go! We're already half-an-hour late."

Her voice rang through the door loud and clear.

Lucky checked his tie in the mirror. It didn't look too bad for doing it himself. Who knew how to tie a bow tie anyway? "What's the big deal? Elizabeth won't even get there for another hour and we don't know anyone else," he said opening the door.

Trisha, dressed in a long black, body-hugging, cleavage-showing gown, stood tall and took a long look--sweeping her eyes up and down--at Lucky. He looked...handsome.

Oh God!

And so it begins...

“We know Sonny," she said absently, not doing well at hiding her reaction to him all dressed up and looking fine.

"And my hand was no where near my gher--my well, you know, my thing."

She laughed. "Sure, Lucky."

"It wasn't!" he defended.

"Uh, huh. Your tie is...your tie is done up wrong," she practically whispered, swallowing hard.

Lucky looked down and pulled on it, effectively undoing the knot. He smiled crookedly. "I'm used to clips-ons and Velcro."

"Here. Let me," she offered and took the ends of the tie in her hands without further prompting. In a minute flat, the tie looked like a million bucks.

Lucky offered a low laugh. "Wow, I'm impressed, Harper. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I'm a spoiled rich kid, Spence. We go to a lot of these types of benefits. I used to help out my little brother, and sometimes my dad, when my mom was too busy."

Lucky's gaze was intense when she looked up and she had to take a deep breath and pull herself away before they had an accident again. Lips can be very dangerous things.

"Let's go," Lucky said, taking his coat and holding hers out to her.

"Sure. Unless, you know, you want to go back to the bathroom and get back to jerkin' your gherkin."

"For the last time, I was not masturbating!" he said with an edge of humor and a soft chuckle that followed them out the door.

_______

Elizabeth was running late, as usual. By the time she’d gotten home and cleaned herself up from her shift, she was already behind her self-directed schedule. Oh, well. It was always better to make an entrance, right? Isn't that what Trisha said?

The cab she had called got tired of waiting and drove off and another one couldn't be sent for an hour. Deciding that she couldn't wait that long, she began to walk.

It seemed like a good idea at the time until she caught a sideways glance at Paul Callahan from the other side of the street. She did not want to talk to him, especially since she'd had a few crank calls that seemed suspicious.

"Well, well. If it isn't little Lizzie Webber! Where you headed?" The dark-headed jock asked. He crossed the street to join her.

"Get lost, Paul. I'm not in the mood for this today. And not that it's any of your business, but I'm on my way to the monastery,” she said to him, resounding to keep her feet moving. Okay, so it was harsh, but there was something needling at her where Paul was concerned. There was something not right about him.

"Jeez, Webber, I always knew you were a prude, but I never knew you harbored fantasies of becoming a nun." He laughed, slapping his side.

It seemed someone had already found their Christmas spirit or rather spirits.

Stealing a quick glance, Elizabeth wondered what she had ever seen in him. True they had only dated a few times, but she was still embarrassed about the whole thing. "Screw you, Callahan!" Elizabeth spat.

"Such language for such a pristine little girl," Paul whispered into her ear, flipping her hair to the side.

"You know what, you're right," she told him stopping. "Dating you has turned me off men so much I decided to give them up all together and live a nice chaste life. Happy?" She pushed past him and tried to gain some distance.

"Look, Webber, why don't you let me walk you?" Paul sprinted to catch up to her, bumping her arm with his when he did.

"No thanks. I'm doing perfectly fine on my own." She hoped her voice sounded normal and didn't give away the fear that was beginning to well up inside her.

"Suit yourself, Lizzie. I'll see you around." With that, he crossed the street and headed in the opposite direction.

She watched him until she saw the blue lettering of his football jacket fade into the distance. For some reason, even though he was gone, she still had a bad feeling. She shivered involuntarily and pulled her jacket tighter against herself. Seeing the group of buildings, the house and church coming into view, Elizabeth relaxed and hurried along, fighting off the chill of the cold winds.