_____

The path was darker than she remembered. The wind was so cold. She couldn't stop shaking. A light snow began to dust the already white ground.

Elizabeth quickened her steps. All she wanted was to get home and cuddle up with a good book and forget the utter humiliation engulfing her heart.

The pain welled up like an expanding balloon inside the chamber of her heart, tightening her chest and making breathing difficult. The night had been perfect. Everything had been so wonderful. The dance… The kiss… The present…

Oh no! She’d forgotten her glass doves.

As hurt as she was, she didn’t want to leave them.

Liz turned, stumbling when a shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness, intention in each calculated step. Her eyes strained in the darkness and the pain in her chest turned from hurt to pure terror. She was face-to-face with Paul Callahan.

"Webber! Funny running into you."

She swallowed hard.

"What are you doing here?" She looked around, panic striking her at an alarming rate. There was no one around and now she was berating herself for not accepting a ride from Sonny.

"I was waiting for you,” he said, simply.

"Why?" she asked, breathing heavily into the wind. Her breath hung like a small cloud for a minute and then fizzled into the air.

"I thought it would be nice. You don't look too happy to see me." He smiled.

It made her stomach turn.

What was she going to do? She couldn't head back now. If she ran, he would only catch up to her and then what would happen? Somewhere deep inside, she knew she was trapped.

When she didn’t answer him, he took it as a cue and kept on talking, "I was thinking about this Nun thing, Lizzie."

"Oh, yeah?" Her eyes darted for any possible escape route…or at least someone that could help her in case the situation turned ugly.

"Mmm hmm. I was thinking it's a bad idea," he said, nonchalantly, not yet giving away his intentions.

"Is it?" Elizabeth asked, trying to give herself more time to come up with a plan. She was sure he was about to lay some filthy proposition on her and she didn't want to stick around and let him play out his fantasies.

"Well, of course. I mean, look at you. Those lips… That body... I just don't think the other Nuns would appreciate it quite the way I would."

Liz gave a nervous laugh. She wasn't about to tell him that there weren't even any Nuns at the monastery and so far she had only seen a few men who were far from priests, save for Max.

"I swear, Lizzie, the things we could do together..." He left it there, leading her to imagine vile thoughts.

She could feel the bile burning her throat and nearly stumbled from the dizziness that was now paralyzing her. "What do you want?" she asked in a meek voice, trying not to show fear.

"I think you know what I want,” he barked down at her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards him. "We're going to have fun now."

Once, when Elizabeth was home sick with the flu, she watched a documentary about prize fighting dogs. They were put into extreme conditions. In some of the worst cases the owner took the dogs, locked them up, starved them, tortured them, until eventually the dog was trained to hate. They were beaten until their temperament became so distorted that all they wanted to do was kill, to be vicious, and to do unspeakable acts. She had to change the channel when she saw footage of what these dogs were capable of. They could become so agitated that they tore one of their own breed to shreds, locking onto its neck until they ripped out the other's throat.

Men could be like dogs.

The tears pricked her eyes, and when she blinked the hot drops fell against her cheeks, turning to ice. "Don't do this," she whispered.

He held her tight against his chest and she could already feel the labored breathing of him against her ear. She was frozen and when she opened her mouth to scream, no sound came. He kissed her roughly, biting into her lip and producing blood. She tried to struggle, but lost her footing and tumbled to the ground.

"No!" she cried, when his body covered hers.

He was heavy and she could smell alcohol on his breath.

"Don't fight me, you little bitch! You'll only make it worse!" he yelled, slapping her open-handed, square on her cheek.

Cupping her stinging face with her hand, she looked into the eyes of her attacker. They weren't the eyes of a man any longer instead they were vicious and full of hate. He was like a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth. She thrashed underneath him, willing the inevitable not to come.

"Please, God!" she cried.

He punched his fist into her eye, making her see stars.

He covered her mouth while he undid her winter jacket.

It wasn't until he was on the last button that she bit down hard on his hand, making him jerk away. She squirmed and launched her knee into his groin.

He rolled over grabbing himself.

For a moment she was free, already halfway to her feet, before he pulled her back down.

He held both hands now in his larger, stronger one.

There was nothing she could do, despite how hard she tried to move.

His hand touched her, everywhere, creating a dirty trail on her clothes.

"No! Not again!" she cried, when his knee went between her legs forcing them open.

"Shut up!" he barked, ripping open her shirt sending buttons scattering over the thin layer of snow.

Her heart sped. She was so afraid.

So alone.

And so afraid.

He touched her bare skin and she sucked in her breath and fought the urge to throw up. She closed her eyes. Now she wanted to die. Even if she survived this ordeal, she would never forget his scaly hands on her body.

She sobbed.

Her back was wet from the icy ground and she was starting to lose herself to the darkness that told her to give up. She couldn’t live through this again. And there was so much she wanted… So much to live for… It was that thought that pushed into her brain, giving her a surge of energy. She again kicked him hard, this time hitting his shin. Using his momentary shock to her advantage, she fought him to release her.

Crawling out of his grasp, she was aware he was coming after her. She could feel his rough touch on her legs pulling her back down, but she would not give up.

Not this time.

He slammed his fist into her back and sent her hard to the ground. Rolling, she slid hard down a hill and smashed the back of her head on a rock buried in the ground.

He was above her now and she could make out his profile only faintly while her eyes filled with tears. She had nothing left. All her strength and sense had been used up. He knelt by her side, yanking her hair and pulling her toward him.

"You really are a stupid cunt, aren't you?!"

With all the strength she could muster, she raised her head and looked him in the eyes.

"I hate you! Go to hell!"

She prepared herself for the blow and took it gracefully in the stomach. Doubled over in pain, she finally vomited on the pure, clean white snow, before collapsing to her side.

He was over her again, undoing her skirt and fidgeting with the clasps that held it in place. His dull nails dug into her skin and she cried.

She closed her eyes tight, praying for some type of divine intervention. The sound of her zipper on her skirt being undone crushed her and she pulled herself inward, trying to repel the situation from her brain. The pressure of him against her made her swear violently and she couldn't breath.

Then all of a sudden she could. Opening her frightened blue eyes, she could distinctly make out two figures wrestling in the snow but not much else. Her eyes grew heavy and although she fought it, she felt herself slip into a foggy sleep.

__________

Jason launched at the man when he heard muted sobs from the roadway.

He had been late tonight. Following Elizabeth home had become a habit that only he and Sonny knew about. It was the only reason Sonny let her walk home alone. He just wanted to protect her and knew she was too stubborn to allow him to do it with her knowledge. But tonight it didn't matter because by the time he realized she had already left, it had been almost twenty minutes.

He rushed out the door, jogging down the plowed path and couldn't see a sign of her. Just past the gates, he saw her small boot prints and then found another set beside hers. The two converged and from then on there were no more prints.

He had a bad feeling. Pain ripped through his chest and seized his heart. If anything happened to her…

He moved off the path and down the hill where he heard noise.

“No! No! Not again!”

As if her voice actually physically hit him, Jason made out Elizabeth's strangled plea. He raced down the hill and threw the large man off of her. There was no time to make sure she was okay because the man was already lunging towards him. They rolled on the ground, each getting in jabs, until Jason got the upper hand yanking the man up only to hit him hard in the gut, followed by a kick to the head and a left hook.

If Jason had never felt rage before, he knew this was it. Even when the other man lay on the ground, protecting his face from Jason's fast fist, he couldn't stop. He kicked him in the ribs, back and shoulder. The anger had a stronghold on Jason and the only thing that stopped his tunnel vision was the small moan her heard from Elizabeth while she struggled to move.

Once satisfied that the man was unconscious, he stepped over him and went to Elizabeth's side.

"Elizabeth..." he whispered quietly.

It was only one word, but it meant everything.

Her eyes fluttered open and she focused on Jason's darkened eyes. He touched her cheek that was already swollen. She flinched and he quickly took his hand away.

______

A cloudy haze was beginning to take her over and she found her eyes growing heavy. She didn't want to close them. She wanted to stay awake, to ask this man before her why he had done what he had. No one had ever done such a thing for her. In all this time she thought he hated her, thought he might think she was obnoxious and rude but he saved her when she needed to be saved. It had to mean something, but before she could analyze it to death she felt her brain muddle and the dense fog claimed her once again.

____

Jason watched her, saw the confusion on her face and his heart ached for her. Slipping one strong hand under her neck, being mindful of her bruises, and the other under her short legs, he hoisted her against his body and rose from the ground, where he had been crouched beside her.

She was so small. So very light that he carried her as if she weighed nothing. The entire walk back to the house, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He watched her face, his stomach clenching when her eyebrows furrowed together and tears slipped down her cheeks. He worried that the pain was too much for her and that she may have a concussion.

Once they were back at the house, he busted in through the front door, holding Elizabeth close to his chest. The house was warm and quiet and he went straight up the stairs and down the hall. He walked slowly until he came to his bedroom door. Easing it open, he tried not to jostle the tiny woman in his arms. Succeeding, he rested her on the bed softly.

He pulled the torn blouse together, covering her up as best he could. He didn't want to undress her. He didn't think that was right after what had just happened. She wouldn't have wanted another invasion like that, so he simply wrapped her tightly in wool blankets.

She was so fragile. His hand hesitated over her cheek, itching to touch her skin. To make sure she was okay.

How could anyone do such things to her? Jason felt the dizzying anger rise within him and clamped his hands into deep fists by his side.

Going into the bathroom, he wet a washcloth with lukewarm water and then returned to her. The dirt on her knees and arms were quickly wiped away with patiently slow strokes. When he came to the dark purple circle under her eye that spread to her cheek, he winced. It looked swollen and painful. Tracing the shape of her jaw, he moved toward her marred skin.

She was so very soft and cool under his rough heated touch that he felt like he was invading her privacy; her world, where she was so different from him…so much better. Her life was a place he didn't even try to understand for fear she would laugh at him. He had lived so long alone and kept himself so bottled up he didn't know how to get out of it. But here he was, watching her while she slept restlessly in his large bed, where she looked dwarfed but cozy and it just seemed so right.

Apprehensively, he brought the cloth against her eye and wiped away the blots of mascara that trailed her cheeks. He knew she had been afraid, so scared that no one would find her, but he had.

Thank God he had.

Running his thumb over her lip, he could feel the swelling already begin. Her lips had been so perfect, so full and pink, but now they were caked in dark crimson blood and it made his eyes sting with tears. He didn't pretend to understand other men; didn't want to know what drove someone to such extreme measures, but knew he could never be that kind of man.

“Jason?”

Jason looked over his shoulder, wiping his eyes before he made eye contact with Sonny.

“Is she…?” Sonny started, but then caught sight of the small figure in Jason’s bed. He gripped the doorframe. “W-what happened?”

Jason shook his head, unable to ravel out the night’s events. They had been so happy. They had kissed! And then…

Sonny swallowed and walked further into the room. “It’s not your fault,” he said, placing his hand on Jason’s shoulder in a show of support. He let his hand drop to his side and bent his head. “If anyone’s at fault… I should have known… Why did I let her leave like that?”

Jason stood, pulling Sonny with him to the corner of the room. “Don’t.”

Sonny’s eyes widened. He struggled to form words.

Jason shook his head. Breaking his vow was the least of his concerns. “Can you—would you call the police for me? And-and a doctor.”

“Jason. We should take her to the hospital.”

“She wouldn’t want… Please. I need to know she’s okay,” he said, hoarsely.

“Okay. Okay, I will.”

“I’m…I’m going to stay with her until-until the doctor gets here.”

Sonny nodded and left the room, sparing a glance back.

Jason took a deep breath, pulling the wooden chair from his desk beside the bed. He sat down and took Elizabeth’s small hand in his, gently stroking her palm with his thumb. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”

Sonny called the police first and a unit was dispatched to the house. Jason idly heard sirens and chatter, but it all sounded so far away.

It seemed like hours before anyone disturbed the silence of Jason’s room. His eyes had been focused on Elizabeth’s face in the dark room for so long that when Sonny turned on the lights, he blinked against the harshness and tiny circles of light formed, disrupting his vision.

“Jason, the doctor’s here.”

“Okay,” he said, reluctantly standing and letting go of her hand.

“I’ll take good care of her, Mr. Morgan,” the doctor said, pushing his way inside the room and setting his bag on the bed, beside Elizabeth.

Jason stood at the door, leaning heavily against the frame.

“The police would like to take a statement,” Sonny said.

“Right now? Can’t it wait?” His eyes remained on Elizabeth. He watched the doctor frown and he grew tense.

“It would be better to get it over with now. I’ll stay with Elizabeth.”

Jason nodded and reluctantly left the room.

The police officer was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Mr. Morgan,” the first officer said, reaching out his hand.

Jason took his hand and shook it. He crossed his arms. “Did you find him?”

“Yeah. Unconscious, in the park. He was pretty worked over.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Are you here to arrest me?”

“No,” the officer said. “What you did…? I have a little girl at home and when I think of what kind of creeps are out there…” He cleared his throat and looked Jason in the eye. “As far as I’m concerned you deserve a medal. We’ve hauled him down to the station. He’ll stay the night. Tomorrow, if he’s lucky, we’ll take him to the hospital, get him checked out. How is she?”

“The doctor’s with her now.”

“You should get him to take a look at you. Looks like you’re going to have quite the shiner.”

“I’m okay.”

The officer nodded. “Okay. When she’s ready? We’re going to need a statement from her. We can wait to take yours then, too,” he said, satisfied.

“I appreciate that.”

“Take care.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, walking him to the door.

He watched the car pull away and closed the door. Immediately his concern went back to Elizabeth. Taking the steps two at a time, Jason paced outside his bedroom.

Sonny stood beside him.

The doctor pulled the blanket back over Elizabeth and turned toward the two men. “No sign of a concussion. I’ve given her a mild sedative to help her rest. She should sleep through the night. Tomorrow she may have a headache and she’ll be sore, but as far as I can tell he didn’t…” He caught Jason’s eye and stopped, shaking his head. “She'll be all right," he amended.

“Thank you,” Jason said, extending his hand to shake the doctor’s hand. He brushed past Sonny and the doctor and took up his place beside her bed again.

“It’s terrible. A terrible terrible thing to happen to a young lady. She’s lucky he got there when he did,” the doctor mussed, walking down the stairs with Sonny.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said, handing him a stack of folded bills.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Take it, please,” Sonny urged, placing the money in a pocket of his starched white lab coat.

Breathing deeply, Sonny waited until the doctor’s car was down the road before he wandered into the living room, sitting down in one of the large leather armchairs and resting his face in his palms, trying to take it all in. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration and instead it turned into this vile, ugly thing. As hard as it was to admit Edward Quartermaine had a point. People did get hurt because of him.

Jason watched Elizabeth for the better part of the night. She stirred every so often but never woke up. When light finally broke through the blinds, he left her alone, knowing she would not want to wake with an audience.

_____

Edward picked up the newspaper and scoffed, nearly choking on his brandy. "Look at this filth!" he said to his associate, "Corinthos is being praised in the headlines, being made to look like a martyr! Giving to charity now, but how easily they forget the man is a thug, a common, violent criminal! It's bad enough he got Brenda Barrett involved in his sick life, but now he's using my grandson, too!"

"Mr. Corinthos is out of the business, sir."

"If you believe that, you're an even bigger fool than the idiots that wrote this God-awful article! Mark my words, he might not actually run the mob anymore, but nothing happens in this town without him knowing about it. And I'll bet he's swindled my grandson out of the fortune Lila left to him. God rest her soul! If she knew what that money was being used for..."

"We've checked the accounts, sir. That money hasn't been touched."

"That's what they want us to think. Corinthos has good accountants—men that can cover up these kinds of transfers without a paper trail."

"I assure you, the money hasn't been touched. Your daughter never wanted it, your son, being a man of God, had no use for it, and Jason seems to care even less."

"If he cares so little, why won't he sign it over to me?"

"I-"

"I'll tell you why! It's because that street-hood, Corinthos, has poisoned his brain against me! He's taken everything I've done to keep ELQ alive and twisted it around, so I'm the one that seems like the bad guy. Well, no more. I'll get that money, whatever way I have to."

"What are you planning, Mr. Quartermaine? You know another death is only going to bring on more suspicion. You're lucky they closed the case on your son. They ruled it an accident, but we both know..."

"Shut up, you incompetent little jerk! I know what happened. I have a new plan. What makes men weak, Russell?"

"I don't know, sir, what?"

"Women! Women make men weak. Lila--God rest her soul--prevented me from doing what I deemed necessary for years. I think my grandson finally has a weakness that he can't overcome," Edward snickered, flinging the paper and surveillance photos onto the buffet table, still set up with the morning’s breakfast.

Russell picked up the photos and studied them. Sonny, Jason and a small brunette smiled back at him in black and white.

"Who's the girl?"

"The girl is the key to saving ELQ." Edward poured himself another drink, even though it was still too early. "That girl is my grandson's weakness," he said lowly, his voice deadly calm. “My plan should be coming together soon.”

“What have you done?”

“What I had to.”

________

Elizabeth jolted straight up in bed fighting with her covers. Looking around the room, she realized she was not at home. Tentatively, she pulled the blankets from around her legs and leaned over the side of the bed. Running her fingers through her matted hair, she winced at the large welt at the base of her neck.

"Ugh." She was having a hard time focusing and her head felt cloudy.

Her shirt, she noticed, was torn, exposing the curve of her black bra. The night’s events came back to her in an overwhelmingly fast force. She remembered a man's hands on her, touching her, trying to... The tears flooded her eyes and came down her pale cheeks in hard rivulets. Not just any man, someone she had once trusted. She always knew Paul was bad news.

Why hadn’t she been more careful? Damn! Why had she walked alone at night? Why hadn't she let Sonny drive her to her house? Because if she had, she would have been caught in a big fat lie! She remembered. It all seemed so silly now. Silly and useless. Strong, independent women didn’t need to lie to shield themselves from the hurt. To mask their emotions so other people didn’t know how deeply their wounds ran. And she’d thought she’d worked through all of this. Tricked herself into believing she was past the powerlessness, the emptiness.

Wait! Where was she?

Catching herself, she brought her hand to her mouth to cover the gasp that would surely escape.

She looked around the plain room. There were no personal items, nothing to tell her who lived here. Just some books in the far corner propped against the dresser, a leather chair, muddy running shoes, a small table and the bed she had slept in, was all that filled the space.

She stood, a little unsteady on her feet, feeling the deep cold of the floorboards against her soles. The chill raced up her spine and made her tremble, but she held herself together nonetheless. She promised herself she would not freak out until she had all the facts. She was here for a reason. Obviously someone had brought her here, but her mind was mush and she couldn't remember a damn thing after knocking herself out after Paul Callahan dove on top of her.

Stepping across the hardwood floor, she noticed the neatly folded pile of clothes by her feet. She picked them up and studied them, hugging them close to her chest. They were warm and soft and comforting.

When she entered the bathroom, she didn't anticipate the sight that met her. Didn’t want to look, in fact, but felt compelled to anyway. It took less than a second. Less than a second to see that how she felt on the inside was matched by her outward appearance. The tears traced old tracks, salty lines of skin that were swollen and battered. Studying herself, she could only see a stranger. A person that was damaged and broken and weak. It felt odd to touch her skin and realize it was her that was bruised and bloody.

"Oh, God," she whispered to no one but herself.

Turning, she saw the shower and with caution she took off her damaged, dirt-stained clothes, checking and rechecking that she’d locked the door. Knowingly alone and still afraid to strip off the last vestiges of her pride, the clothes came off painstakingly slow, exposing new bruises, new pain. She touched her skin; her thighs and calves, her arms and neck, her breasts and stomach and then lower, biting her lip. She thought of what would have happened, what could have happened and what did happen. Gripping the sink, she braced herself from falling.

All she wanted was to feel clean again. Stepping into the shower, she drew the curtain closed. Shutting her eyes she took a deep, cleansing breath and braced herself. The water was hotter than it should have been, stinging her scrapped knees and cheek.

A new bar of soap sat on the ledge of the tub. She picked it up and greedily ran it over her body, pressing harder than she intended. The bruises were not just on her face and knees, but were also imprinted on her ribs and shoulders. She was a mess. Sinking down meekly into the bathtub, unable to control the shaking of her body, she let the spray continue to berate her. Her sobs were muted by the sound of water hitting skin and porcelain, but they were alive with fire and the terror of a woman who had been almost brutally violated in the worst way. Like an animal kicked and quivering in the corner.

Her skin was raw and red by the time she got the strength back in her legs and made her way out of the shower. The water had actually turned cold she had been under the spray that long and now she was shivering with animated jerks.

Picking up the generic clothes, track pants and a sweater, both in gray, she steadied herself enough to pull the material up her legs and then over her head. Tying her hair back in a loose ponytail she took another look at herself in the mirror. In all regards, she looked clean, but felt anything close to that. She tongued her cracked lip and winced when she broke it open and bright red blood trailed out.

"Damn it!"

"Elizabeth?" Came the soft call at the door.

Her eyes flashed in alarm. Slowly she calmed herself, realizing the voice belonged to Sonny.

"Elizabeth, sweetie, are you alright?" Sonny asked through the wooden door that separated them.

"I'm fine." Her voice was weak and emotional even to her own ears. But she made herself believe it and hoped Sonny did, too.

"Why don't you come down and I'll make you some breakfast? Then I'll take you home, if you’d like." Sonny tried, holding his breath. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her after Jason had explained what she had gone through the night before.

Opening the door an inch at a time, Elizabeth poked her head out and gave Sonny a small smile. "You don't have to do that."

"I insist," he said.

His eyes held such concern.

Elizabeth had to look away. “Okay,” she said and closed the door.

Sonny walked down the hall with a knot in the pit of his stomach and went to prepare breakfast.

Elizabeth moved back to the bed and sat on the edge. For a long time she just sat there with a blank look on her face not sure what her next move should be. She could smell the bacon Sonny was frying downstairs and it made her stomach turn. She didn't know how she was going to eat anything let alone sit there and pretend everything was alright.

This certainly was one Christmas morning she wasn’t going to forget. Another one for the books.

She took her purse and damaged clothes and cuddled them against her while she made her way down the landing. She peeked into the kitchen at the doorway.

Sonny turned when he heard her and sat a plate on the table for her.

Creeping into the room, she took a seat, wincing. Her skin felt pulled tight and dried out and bruised.

She played with the eggs and toast but the entire time was trying to control her urge to throw up. Sonny was just finishing pouring some juice into a glass when Elizabeth spoke. "Sonny, I'm sorry. Could you just take me home?"

Her eyes were red and he could tell she was on the verge of tears.

Throwing off his apron, he grabbed the keys to his car and escorted her out the door without another word.

They drove in silence. Sonny thought about turning on the radio but was afraid how Liz would react. She was so still and quiet. He was beyond worried. When they pulled up in front of her studio, he insisted he walk her all the way up and she never even protested, which was so unlike her. Sonny tried to keep the anger down but he knew if he ever came across the scumbag that hurt Elizabeth he would have to kill the son-of-a-bitch. He’d killed before, he could do it again.

Elizabeth's hands shook when she tried to put the key in the lock and finally just handed them over to Sonny.

He got the door open easily and walked her into her apartment. "Will you be all right here by yourself? I could stay."

Elizabeth, who was still by the door, looked at him as if she was only now seeing him. "No. I'm fine. I'll be okay," she lied.

She didn't want to break down in front of Sonny. She didn't want him to feel guilty or blame himself because she was sure he'd done enough of that in his life.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call." His words were soft, his eyes were emotional and Liz appreciated his concern more than she could say.

"Thank you." She followed him to the door and locked it when he left.

She heard Sonny's car pull away.

Elizabeth lay down on her couch and pulled an afghan around her body. She fell asleep so fast she didn't have time to worry about anything, but when she woke up in the early afternoon, with her hair matted and her side stinging, it was all she could do not to think about Paul and his dirty hands.

Her stomach rumbled and even though she had tried to eat at breakfast she hadn't been able to keep anything down. Searching her apartment she found soup and began to methodically warm it up. The first time she tasted it, she nearly spit it back out. Every time she tried to eat it, the spoon never quite made it to her mouth.

Eventually she gave up trying and crawled back into a tight bundle on the sofa.

The next time she woke up it was around three in the morning and she had developed such a headache she couldn't even turn on the light it hurt too much. She stumbled in the dark looking for aspirin or anything that could stop the pounding in her skull. Her foot connected with a blank canvas, tearing it and making her lurch forward. She fell against her easel and tipped it over, along with a small table that hosted several jars of paint. It splashed and splattered all over the floor and onto the track suit she had put on that morning. At first she thought the red splotches were blood and she began to panic. She felt like she couldn't breathe and that the walls were closing in on her. Her breath became shallow and her ears began to ring. She slowly pulled herself from the floor and wiped the tears that were forming in her eyes.

She could do this. She wasn't weak. She'd been through worse. Nothing had happened and she was safe now. As many times as she tried to reassure herself, the fear kept duplicating until she didn't think she could take it anymore.

She stripped off the sweat pants still in the dark and threw them to the ground. The sweater was in better condition so she decided to leave it on. Wrapping a blanket around herself Elizabeth curled up on the couch and rocked herself to sleep.

She still didn't feel safe and although she hadn't been one to give into her fear, she seemed to now. There was one place she knew she could go and feel safe. One place, with one man whom she knew she could trust.
_________

Crouched down, Jason fiddled with the engine on his bike. His hand was still slightly sore from the beating he had given Paul Callahan the other night, but it didn't seem to really bother him while he fastened a bolt tight.

He needed something to do to get his mind off of Elizabeth. He’d gone ahead to the police station to give his statement. Paul was being held on bail. There was no guarantee the charges would stick. Jason had wanted nothing more than to rush his cell and pound him some more.

He’d wanted to go see Elizabeth, but he didn’t want to pressure her. She needed time. And he needed to respect that.

He knew, when she was ready, she’d come to him.

____

Stepping into the cool garage, Elizabeth watched Jason work for a minute before she let herself be known. She cleared her throat.

He looked up and seemed startled to see her.

She watched him stand to his full, intimidating height. When their eyes met recognition filtered through her. The cut above his eyebrow and bruise smeared over his jaw were all she needed to see to know that he had been her savior.

"Jason..." She hesitated.

He stepped towards her slowly. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he thought it was directed at him.

"I--You... It was you. You saved me," she said quietly.

A red hue coated his cheeks. He studied his hands, unsure what to say.

Elizabeth walked closer so that she stood directly in front of him. Her hand came to his face, smoothing her fingers over the ugly blue-yellow bruise on his jaw. The tears came to her eyes and slipped down her cheeks before she realized they were there. "I remember now, you…you said my name. Jason."

Finally meeting her eyes, he gave her a small smile, and thumbed away her tears.

"Don't cry," he whispered so softly his voice cracked.

She stared up at him and did the last thing he expected. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled him into a hug, pressing her bruised flesh against him.

He took a deep breath and brought his arms tentatively around her, and then with more gumption, when she buried her face in his chest. She was mumbling something but he couldn't quite make it out. So, with his hands braced on her shoulders, he pulled her back a little.

"I was so scared," she murmured.

His hand traveled to her neck and eased the tension out slowly with soft strokes. "I know," he said calmingly, smoothing his fingers through her hair.

She heard his breathing, a little fast and forced, like he couldn’t quite get the air to his lungs.

"If you hadn't shown up... He would have... He was going to..." She couldn't even finish, and really, she didn't need to.

He pulled her close again and held her firmly. She relaxed into his strong arms and breathed in the now familiar smell of leather.

"Thank you. Jason... You didn't tell anyone, did you?" The fear and horror were etched in the lines of her face.

"Sonny knows. He called a doctor…and the police."

"The police?" Elizabeth closed her eyes, covering her face with her hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes and faced him.

"I had to tell them, Elizabeth," he said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"How am I going to face anyone again? I’m so ashamed."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, trying to lighten the sound of his voice. He pulled her closer, trying to look deep into her eyes. He tilted her chin when she wouldn't look at him. "Look at me, Elizabeth.”

When she did, her eyes were large and bright blue.

“This isn't your fault. You did nothing wrong."

Her eyes clouded over with fresh tears. "Jason, just… I can’t. Please."

Her words were quiet and it broke his heart to see her this way, but he wrapped his arms around her once again and pulled her against his strong body, knowing that was what she needed.

She sank into him--would have slouched to the ground had he not kept her up.

It was a long time before Elizabeth pulled away, stumbling. She treaded backward and grabbed Jason's outstretched hand to steady her. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing."

His voice was calm and gentle. "It’s okay. It…It will be, I mean."

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