Elizabeth stumbled back and set the rest of the brownie on the table. Her skin was warm and tingling where Jason’s lips had brushed. Damn, the room was hot. She spared a glance at Jason. His eyes were on her. Gaping at her with such intensity she thought she was going to spontaneously combust. This was not good. Not good at all. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat had gone dry and all that came out was a mousy squeak. How embarrassing!

Looking left to right, she searched for an out. Something to distract herself from Jason’s piercing eyes and the warmth pooling in her belly. God, why couldn’t she think of anything?! For once in her life, she was at a loss for words.

Then she caught a glimpse of the iced-up window and through the slates of clear glass, she watched the snow falling fast. Her eyes wandered form the window back to Jason’s face. Yep, he was still staring. She swallowed hard. It was now or never.

"It's snowing!" she announced, effectively breaking the trance. There. That ought to do the trick.

Sonny stepped over to the window and peered out. "So it is."

An enormous grin lit his face. He knew Elizabeth's exact intention; that she was doing her best to get out of an awkward situation. Why torture the girl? They all knew very well it had been snowing since she came in.

"This is perfect. I've been waiting for it to snow like this, so I could sketch something in motion. There's something so magical about snow, isn't there? It's just so...beautiful."

The snow flittered in the sky; a touch of white on a blanket of blue. Swooping and swirling above the partially covered green grass, the flakes made an unsteady decent and began to coat the earth. The wind picked up and turned over the snow, wafting it back up into the air only to be kicked around again.

Jason watched Elizabeth in utter fascination, squinting against the dimming light to see her features clearly. She turned, ever so slightly and when she did, his breath hitched in his throat and his blood screamed through his ears, making the tips a startling red. She was breathtaking. The slight indent in her chin as it jutted upright was more than sexy and watching her studying the falling flakes outside the window was a pleasure to witness. But it was when the corners of her mouth turned up for a small smile that he nearly turned her around and kissed those lips. The tiny wrinkles that formed in the crease of those too-blue eyes when she smiled made him lose all rational thought and he nearly moaned.

He didn't want to be feeling this way. Didn't want to touch her or find out if those lips were even softer than her skin. But that was all he could think about.

Standing only a few feet away he leaned against the window pane, feeling the cool air through the glass. The feel of it sparked something inside him, but he tried to shake it off. Closing his eyes, it was even harder to keep the memories and frightful feelings at bay.

He didn't notice when Elizabeth looked at him with question in her eyes or when she began to speak to Sonny. Everything was starting to blur and he was lost. Jason had drifted off to a place where memories pervade everything...

Elizabeth turned from the window and caught sight of the silent man that always made her blood pump harder. His eyes were distant, fixed on some spot outside the window where the snow fell in a steady path. He seemed to be reliving something and it wasn't her place to ask what. After all, they'd just started to try to become friends. She wasn't going to ruin it by pushing him.

"I-I think I'll go out and draw some."

Noticing the change in the room, how the tension slipped into something else, Sonny smiled gently. "All right, Elizabeth, but bundle up. It's getting cold."

"I will, Sonny. Thanks for--thanks for caring," Elizabeth said quietly and Sonny couldn't help notice the sad tone she used. Slipping out the door, Elizabeth waved. "See you in a little while."

Jason was still deep in his thoughts when Sonny turned to him. "Jason?!"

When Jason didn't answer, Sonny gave him a slight nudge.

Blinking rapidly, he finally snapped out of it and gave his friend a questioning look.

"Where'd you go just then?"

Shaking his head slowly, Jason gave his friend a smile and turned up the stairs to go to his room, leaving Sonny alone in the kitchen.

Watching long after both Jason and Elizabeth left, Sonny couldn't help his heart from feeling heavy. Both of his friends seemed to be in so much pain and there was nothing he could do about it.

_______

Jason's eyes felt heavy. He tried to concentrate on the travel book he held in his hands. Leaning against the headboard of his bed, he flattened the pillows under him to get more comfortable. But it wasn't working. All the distractions he tried to provide himself with wouldn't keep the memories from resurfacing. Finally giving into his body, he slipped down under the covers and closed his eyes, prepared to take a relaxing afternoon nap.

He couldn't be sure if the gunshots had been hours or days ago. The only thing he really knew was that he was truly alone. He remembered the scream of bullets when they ripped through the air and buzzed by his ears. Running until his legs felt like rubber, he never once stopped until he heard one steel bullet strike the flesh of the man that had taught him everything.

By the time he reached him, he was clinging to life and all Jason could do was drag him along and hope for the best.

Standing for a brief moment before retaking his position, he could still make out the crimson snow that spread as far as the eye could see. He knew it would lead them to him and he hadn't come this far to be caught now. The blood on his fingers and palms was dry; caked-in like it had become a permanent fixture on his skin, despite the blistering snow that swirled around him and continued to drench him. There was no way to get warm. His lips had already turned blue and hypothermia was setting in. His eyes were so heavy.

The rotting smell of maggots and sewage burned his sensitive nostrils that were already coated in a thick, dark coat of soot. The sour taste of bile and rancid food blanketed his tongue in a heavy, binding layer of disgust. His stomach was empty and he'd consumed any food he had on him hours earlier, leaving an angry, gnawing, hunger in his belly.

The air, cold and still, wrapped its vile, burned arms around him, keeping him fixed in one spot. The night sky was a dirty gray, filled with smoke and sparks of yellow flame that had yet to extinguish. His legs, buried deep in cold, wet, icy mush, were like lead and even if asked to, knowing his life was in danger, he couldn't have moved for anything. The beat of his heart was a strained, grating sound he'd never taken notice of until then. And the air in his lungs, rushed and burning against the soft pink tissue, had never felt more like punishment than it did then.

He wished he wasn't so afraid, so torturously lonely and so frightened. Maybe wishing for death wasn't noble, but he wanted it; wanted to feel the last bit of energy rush from his system while he collapsed on the ground, refusing to go on. But he was a fighter. He hated his will to live and the air that kept him alive. Hated that he was scared to close his eyes and give in to the darkness that had been beckoning him for hours. But he was a fighter.

Still, he crouched in the deep tunnel, cloaked in night and masked by the confusion of the day, bathed in urine and excrement as he hid from a source yet to be revealed. Danger lurked at each turn. Each direction was a deadly trap that could give into his desire to die. But he was a fighter.

And all of this because he'd had parents he once knew and was left what they could no longer possess or need in their eternal sleep.

His toes had long surpassed numbness. They swished in the murky depths where he hid. His eyes were growing too heavy to keep open. Fingers and face turned a dark purple from the sheer cold, pained him when he moved and so he tried to block it out. Exhaustion, nor hypothermia, nor fear, were going to keep him hidden much longer. He was going to have to move. Although the prospect had his entire body shaking, he knew there was no other way.

Sparing one last look beside him, he faced the dead eyes of the man that had been his mentor, his companion, his friend. Even though he'd dragged him miles in the snow, fighting the winds and blizzard, he hadn't made it. There was so much blood. All around him was dark crimson blood, some already coagulating and it turned his stomach with its pungent smell. Three bullet holes to the chest and still he'd lived for a while before his lungs caved and he ceased to move. Jason knew he had to leave and it had to be soon.

Forcing himself to stand, he pulled his torso onto solid ground and surveyed the land. It was wide open, no cover or trees to hide him while he made his way to the neighboring village for help. Closing his eyes, he fought the tiredness and all at once took off in a run.

His legs burned with prickles of pain and his head felt like it had a vise wrapped around it. Stumbling, he hit the ground hard, breathing in air so fast he could barely catch himself. Not being able to hold it down any longer, he felt vomit rise in his throat and he emptied his stomach on the clean white snow.

The tears that came without his knowledge froze to his face and when he looked around, he knew there was no one to rely on but himself. Standing once again on shaky legs, he pushed himself to move. Trudging through the snow, he tried desperately to wave off the dizziness that consumed his body.

Any other boy of twelve would have given up; would have fallen down in the snow and let death claim them—hell, even grown men would have. Jason was unlike most people.

To him, it seemed that his brain was in some dreamy state and his body was sluggish, unable to contend with the harsh wind that threw his weak skeleton around. But he plodded along just the same.

His mind was playing tricks with him. The light seemed to shift and change colors. Too weary to reach his eyes to the sky, he had to trust himself and believe that he was going the right way. Thankful for the dark, he crossed over the land, fearing the harsh sunlight against the white walls of earth would have been too much to bear.

His heart dropped when his feet hit the rocky underground and he knew he'd come to the mountain. There was no way around it, and he knew if he were to survive the only way to do it would be to climb it. His knees buckled, but he caught himself before he hit the hard earth. Taking a tentative step, he reached his child-sized, swollen hands up the rocky surface and braced one foot against its base. With great effort, he pulled himself up and continued that way, ignoring the agonizing pain as the sharp rocks jabbed into his skin and cut deep wounds into his hands and knees. Leaving a trail of fresh blood, he kept focused on his task, unable to stop for fear he'd never start up again.

Minutes later--or more likely hours, he conquered the top and feasted on the sight of the village just off in the distance. His throat burned for a sip of water and his body ached for a warm bed. Just a little further and he'd be there. With renewed strength and foolishness playing in his head, he sped down the mountain like a tumbleweed in autumn breaking away from its roots and set free by the wind.

Village in sight, Jason barely had the strength to toil through the snow. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground, hitting his head on a jagged rock, cutting deep into his scalp. The blood ran out of the wound and coated his hair, making the short blonde crop a sticky red. Trickling down, it ran into his ear, making the noise from the village blur.

A short time later an American woman came upon him, and frightened by the blood and state of the boy in front of her, she ran for her husband. Other men got wind of it and followed the large man, with enormous thighs and shoulders, to where Jason had dropped.

Hearing sounds somewhere close, Jason tried to open his eyes, tried to move, but it was all in vain. Even breathing was a difficult task and it felt like there was a massive amount of weight on his chest.

"It's a boy. Get some blankets," the burly man called over his shoulder, taking Jason in his arms and holding him against his warm body.

Jason's eyes fluttered open and for a moment he struggled with the man.

"Settle down," the man said, clutching him closer. "You're going to hurt yourself."

Moving back towards the houses, the man carried Jason with his wife at his side. Entering the house, a flash of heat covered Jason and he knew he was safe.

Sticking out his tongue to try to moisten his dry, cracked lips, Jason tried to speak, but was quickly silenced.

"Don't try to talk," came the gentle voice of a woman. She took off his wet, bloodied clothes and threw a blanket over her little patient. "We'll get you warmed up and get some food in you and then you can tell us what happened," she said kindly. Her voice was tender like he'd imagined so many times a mother's voice would be.

Somehow, even though he'd learned never to trust a stranger, he fell asleep. When he woke, he felt an ache in his head unlike anything he'd ever felt, but he was warm and secure in a large blanketed bed.

"You're up," said the tiny woman. She brought a cloth to his head, smoothing away the smudges of blood.

"Here, drink this."

Handing him a cup of soup, she smiled gently when he slurped the contents down without regard.

His eyes were hard when he looked back at her and set the cup on the table. "I have to leave. Where are my clothes?"

Again the woman smiled at the boy, lighting her dark umber eyes. "I've cleaned them, they're on the chair. Now, do you want to tell me what you were doing out all by yourself in this weather?"

"The village burned down. Everyone is dead," Jason said bluntly while he dressed. "I have to contact my uncle in America."

Stunned by the cold words, the woman stepped back. "The village...everyone's dead? You must be mistaken."

Shaking his head, he flinched with the motion. "It's true. I have to get word to my uncle. I can't stay here anymore. It's not safe for you. I've stayed too long already. You'll be in danger if they find me here."

Eyes widened, the lady's face paled. "Who? Whatever do you mean? I think you hit your head harder than we thought."

Hardly feeling the sting of the sores on his hands and head, Jason went to the door and touched the handle. "Thank you for finding me. I know I would have died. I have to go now. It's better if you forget you saw me."

Then he was out the door aware when the woman stood and watched him rush off.

Running far from the house he'd just occupied, Jason was more afraid than he'd ever been in his life. Almost out of range, he heard the distinct sound of a gun and a shrill feminine scream.

"No!" he cried, sinking down to his knees, aggravating the wounds on his tender skin, but not feeling the pain physically. His heart was too shattered to focus on the elements or the throb in his legs. That's when he knew he was poison and that no matter what, no one should love him, nor care for him, if they wanted to live.

Coming out of his nightmare, Jason breathed hard. Taking in his surroundings, in time he realized he was safe. Struggling with the blankets, he sat upright. Sweat had matted his hair to his head and small drops of the salty substance rolled down his back.

He fingered the scar under his damp hair and closed his eyes. The cut was jagged and sometimes he allowed himself to forget it was there and everything that it represented. He allowed himself to forget those days in the wilderness where he waved off frostbite; delved into a hypothermic sleep for two days, and allowed harm to come to a woman who only wanted to help him. He allowed himself to forget, just not for too long. Getting out of bed, he pulled the soaked shirt over his head and went to the dresser to pull out another one. Looking out the window his eyes grew wide with anger.

_______

Elizabeth opened her mouth and let a perfect white flake of snow fall against her tongue. She laughed softly at her own silliness. Pulling out her sketch pad, she moved over to one of the benches that scattered the property. Dusting off the snow with her mitten, she took a seat and watched the snow fall gracefully. Without much thought, she began to hum a simple melody while she went to work outlining the scattered trees.

Bliss.

That's how she felt. Utterly happy.

She couldn't remember a time when she was so relaxed. The fear and loneliness that often plagued her were still somewhere in the back of her mind, but for the moment she was in her own world. A world where the snow fell against her skin and it felt cool and nice. A world where she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t and where no one was judging her. A world where she was free.

The sun had begun to set and the sky was illuminated in a striking red. Stopping for a moment to take it all in, her eyes wandered over the trees towards the horizon. The color, so deep and pure, reminded her of something she just couldn't place. When it began to fade she wondered if she'd ever see that shade of red again. It reminded her of years ago, of a time when life didn't seem such a struggle. Why couldn't she remember?

Her ears picked up the soft sound of winter. It was quiet, but if you listened carefully; held your breath, you could hear the snow brightening the world, spilling its magical song onto the ground and trees where it fell.

Using the last of the light, she bent her head to continue the drawing. Well into her craft, Elizabeth wasn't aware of the footsteps behind her. The soft crunch of snow was barely detectable. Even if she wasn't concentrating so hard, she probably wouldn't have heard it.

And when a hand came down on her shoulder she let out a small scream. Jumping off the bench, Elizabeth tripped over her school bag and spiraled onto her butt. Half expecting to see Jason and ready to blast him for sneaking up on her again, her face scrunched into a frown before she looked up to meet the eyes of a much older man.

"Are you all right?" the elderly man asked. He peered down at Elizabeth on the hard earth.

Standing, she dusted herself off. "I'm sorry, you just startled me."

"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry! That was not my intention. I saw you drawing and I guess my curiosity got the best of me. I'll leave you alone so you can get back to it. Surely, you don't want an old man pestering you."

The man wore a black starched shirt over his wide shoulders that were covered in a tan trench-coat and rounded-out frame. His silver hair shimmered against the falling snow, lighting it so it danced with color. His eyes, although not unfriendly, held a glimmer of warning in them. Bushy eyebrows and drooping wrinkled skin, thin like waxy paper, gave the impression that he'd lived a long life, but still had fire in him. He was old, but certainly still of sound mind. The smile that creased his lips and tucked those wrinkles back some, gave the impression that he might be kind if he wasn't trying so hard.

Elizabeth looked into his eyes and gave her best smile. "No, no it's fine. I never object to a little company."

Clapping his hands together, the air whistled with the movement. "Well then, I'm honored."

"So, do you live here?" Elizabeth asked. Her teeth chattered, making her aware how long she'd been outside and how cold it'd gotten.

"Why, yes, I do," he said happily, showing off his white teeth that Elizabeth was almost positive were not real. In fact, he'd probably fished them out of some container that very morning.

Her eyes took on a humorous flare when she looked back at him, trying not to laugh. "So then you're a priest?" she questioned, looking him over. It seemed to fit.

His lips curled into a half-smile, that, to her, seemed forced and if one looked harder they might see that it was sinister. "Why, yes, my dear, I am."

Moving closer to her, he followed when she started walking slowly.

Although she couldn't quite put her finger on it, Elizabeth began to feel a sense of unease. She sensed he was studying her. For what purpose, she didn't know. Heading toward the house where they could be seen was her first thought. She knew Sonny would not let anything happen to her.

"Hmm... It must be an interesting way of life. All those people confessing their sins. I bet you have some really good stories."

"Well, Miss-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Elizabeth Webber."

"Father Main."

His hand reached for hers and when their fingers brushed she felt a cold chill wrap around her tiny body and, although she couldn't understand the feeling, she didn't withdraw.

"Elizabeth. That is a lovely name."

She blushed. "Thank you."

"As I was saying, there are many people with secrets and it's my job to hold them, but I have to tell you, there are times when those secrets are very hard to keep." He laughed, deep and throaty.

"I'll bet," Elizabeth said quietly, turning to look at their surroundings, surprised they were so close to the house already.

Coming closer, the man touched her arm lightly. "Is there something you would like to talk about?"

Startled by the contact, she decided to pick her words wisely. "Oh, no. I-"

"Elizabeth?" Sonny said softly, trying not to give away his temper that began to flare when, from his window, he saw the exchange between the man and Elizabeth. The only thing on his mind was to get the snake away from her.

"Sonny! I was just talking to Father Main," Elizabeth said shyly, aware that something was wrong with her friend.

Sonny scoffed. "Is that who he told you he was? Edward, you know Jason wouldn't like you hanging around here. Elizabeth, why don't you go inside the house and start some hot chocolate? You must be frozen to the bone."

Elizabeth felt safer and braver now that Sonny was around. "I will in a minute. I was just telling-"

"Elizabeth-" Sonny cut her off, looking over his shoulder, hearing Jason approach and already seeing the anger flitting behind his eyes.

"Well, if it isn't my hoodlum grandson now." Edward’s eyes turned a cold, icy blue. His wrinkled face took on the shadows of the fading sun covering half with an eerie glow one might see in the early days of cinema.

Looking at Father Main—Edward—skeptically, Elizabeth said, "Wait, I thought you said you were a priest?"

"Yes, well, dear, you have to be careful who you trust. Isn't that right, Jason?"

Jason's eyes narrowed to slits. He stood stone-faced against his grandfather. Stepping forward, he surprised Elizabeth by taking her hand and guiding her behind him, so that her view was blocked.

"Still not talking I see," Edward continued. He glared at Jason, anger making his brows come together.

"I think you'd better go, Edward," Sonny said calmly, rationally.

Turning his stare on the shorter man, Edward spoke. "And what are you going to do hmm, Mr. Corinthos?"

Stepping out of the bush, two armed guards stepped up beside the Quartermain head.

"Just leave." Sonny's nostrils flared.

Elizabeth's heart was racing. She could feel the tension and anger in the air and felt a sharp wave of fear rush through her veins. She knew what this kind of anger could lead to and she wasn't sure she wanted to witness it, but there was a part of her that was desperate to see what was happening. There was a part of her that hurt for Sonny and Jason and made her want to protect them.

Despite her best efforts to see past Jason, she couldn't. He was like a wall and the only way to get by him was to poke her head to the side while she gripped the leather of his jacket in her tiny manicured hands.

Jason remained still, aware of Elizabeth moving behind him. He could feel her gripping his jacket and tugging lightly even if she wasn't aware she was doing it.

"I see through you. You may have given up life in the mob, but I still see it in your eyes. You're an angry man, Corinthos, and one of these days another innocent victim will be hurt because of you. It could even be you, Miss Webber," he said, directing his gaze to Elizabeth when he saw her dart out from behind Jason. "You watch yourself; don't trust either one of these men. See, they'll soil your mind and make you think they're decent, but don't turn your back to them."

If possible, Sonny became even more agitated and Elizabeth could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side.

"Like you're in a position to judge, Edward. How many people have died because of you?"

Edward pointed an accusatory finger into Sonny's chest. "I see you've put that halo on your head again, young man. But we all know Brenda would still be alive if she hadn't been slumming with the likes of you. You're the reason she died. Her and your child."

Sonny's rage suddenly exploded and he grabbed the lapels of Edward's coat and tugged hard, startling the old man.

"Don't you ever talk about my wife like that again! Do you understand?"

It took a second for Edward to realize what was happening, but once he did, a smile spread over his face, slowly making its way to his eyes. "Go ahead, Corinthos. I know you've been wanting to kill me for a long time. Here's your chance. Where are your goons when you need them, huh?"

Edward laughed a cold heartless laugh.

Sonny's dark eyes narrowed and his temper continued to flare. "Just give me a reason, Edward."

Elizabeth felt Jason trying to move her behind him again to shield her but she protested and he didn't push.

Edward sneered, turning his wrinkled face dark with anger. "You don't have the guts," he said, thinning his lips. He pressed them together in pain when Sonny stepped closer and increased the pressure. His chest felt tight, but he would never give Sonny the satisfaction of knowing it. "Look at you. You're pathetic! Without your armed guards and fortune to back you up, you're nothing. You're a washed up mob boss who's bored, Corinthos, and if you have to use me as an excuse to get back into the business, go ahead."

Sonny laughed an un-humorous laugh, pressing his face so close to Edward he could breathe the other man's air. "When are you going to learn, Edward, that that part of my life is over? Don't talk about my wife or my child again or so help me..."

Edward's eyes widened in mock-horror. "You'll what?"

Sonny shook his head, digging his hands tighter around the material of his coat. "You've pushed one too many buttons, Edward."

"I see you've grown a pair, Corinthos. I actually think you might do something about it. And to think it only took losing your baby boy and your precious wife for it all to happen."

Sonny drew a fist and raised his arm ready to strike, but before he even got any momentum Jason was pulling him away from Edward and laying a restraining hand on his long-time friend. Sonny looked into Jason's eyes and all at once the anger seemed to recede.

Elizabeth watched on in amazement that Jason could have such a calming effect on Sonny. He'd gone off like a loose canon and all Jason had to do was look at him with certain sympathy and Sonny seemed to get the message that it wasn't worth it.

"Go home, Edward," Sonny said. He turned to leave.

Elizabeth went to his side and looked up at him. He looked drained and so tired.

"Sonny, it's okay." Elizabeth said quietly.

"I'd be careful, Miss Webber."

At the mention of her name, Elizabeth turned to face the oldest of the Quartermain clan. "Excuse me?"

Sonny turned around and took a step toward Edward, ignoring Jason's wordless plea not to. There was only so much he could say with a look, after all.

"You see, Miss Webber, be careful who you trust. You never know when one of Mr. Corinthos' mood swings are going to strike. Who knows, maybe he's thirsty for blood again. She's small just like Brenda was. I'm sure you've noticed that, Sonny. She was so small and you still couldn't protect her. Stay away from them; you'll only wind up dead."

Sonny took another step forward, shaking off Jason's hand when he tried to hold him back. "Are you making threats, Edward?"

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that. I'm just saying I'd hate for there to be an accident around here... again."

That was all it took for Sonny to launch his whole body at Edward. Stopped by one of the large bodyguards that stood on either side of Edward, Sonny was treated to the butt of one of their guns. The sound of metal hitting flesh was a horrible combination and one Elizabeth never wanted to hear again. Sonny went down hard and grabbed the side of his face where a red mark was already taking ownership.

Elizabeth flinched and covered her eyes. For so long she'd pretended to be brave, that sometimes she believed herself. But it was at times like this, when the threat of danger and spilled blood loomed in the air that she became aware of the scared child she had been and, to a degree, still was. It wasn't that she was weak. She certainly wasn't that; no one could survive what she had and been called weak. There was a voice though, right in the back of her head, that whispered to her and beckoned her and haunted her nightmare-filled sleep. She could hear that voice clearly now as the anger and tension filled a dark cloud above their heads. Fighting the urge to listen, to retreat into the world where demons took precedence over reality, she closed her eyes, shook her head.

Jason stepped across the lawn and helped Sonny up, never once looking over to the man that had hit him or the man they were protecting.

"I'm okay," Sonny assured Jason once he stood on his own.

Edward tilted his head in the opposite direction. "Let's go."

He moved away from the trio and set about exiting the property. Almost out of range, he let out a distinct laugh, knowing he'd gotten under Sonny's skin and even if Jason hadn't shown it, he knew he was fuming inside. It was only a matter of time before he got what he wanted.

___

Satisfied that Quartermain and his guards were out of earshot Sonny picked up what was once a potted plant--now just a clay jar waiting for summer--and slammed it against the concrete driveway.

Elizabeth's eyes shot open when she heard the crash and suddenly she wasn't seeing Sonny anymore. She'd been taken back to a time in her childhood that was most frightening of all. She'd given in to the memories.

"Stop, please!"

"Mommy!"

"Not a word, you little bastard!"

Jason ignored his best friend's mood swing and kept his eyes trained on Elizabeth. He could see the fear in her features, the trembling of her entire body and the hollow look in her eyes. He could tell, just as he knew with himself every time he had visions of the past, she was somewhere inside herself reliving a moment in time.

Stalking over to Sonny, he pulled his arm and forced him to look at him. With angry eyes--that if had been spoken would have said “what the fuck are you doing?”-- Jason stared at Sonny and then pushed him towards Elizabeth.

Feeling his stomach turn, Sonny was absolutely disgusted with himself. He could see the state Elizabeth was in and felt like an absolute asshole.

"Elizabeth?!" Moving closer, he gently touched her arm, making her jump. It seemed enough to get her out of the dark head space she was in.

Feeling embarrassed, Elizabeth's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, I-I guess I was somewhere else. What was that all about?"

Sonny scratched his head. He was taken back with the cavalier attitude she seemed to have about the whole thing.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Elizabeth. If you see that man again, don't talk to him okay? Just come and get either Jason or I and we'll handle things."

Elizabeth bit her lip, becoming aware of the tears that were in her eyes. She hoped neither of the men had seen. She wiped them away quickly. "I don't understand. He seemed harmless."

"Looks can be deceiving but... I shouldn't have acted that way," he said tenderly.

"You were angry. He had no right to say what he did."

She wanted to believe that.

Needed to.

She didn't need to be in a place where violence reigned.

Not again.

"I shouldn't have turned violent. Violence is never the answer," he said softly shaking his head.

Looking down at Elizabeth remorsefully, he took her hand and found that she was shaking.

"Elizabeth, are you all right?" he asked, stroking his thumb against the inside of her hand.

Jerking back, she pulled her hand out of his grasp. "I'm fine," she answered quietly, trying to calm her nerves.

No one had a hatred of violence more than she did. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tugged at her sleeves, making sure they covered her arms. Violence was inhuman.

"You're trembling," he said softly, suddenly feeling like a great big oaf. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"I'm fine, Sonny. Really," she told him and managed a small smile.

Watching her skeptically, he rubbed the side of his jaw. "Elizabeth, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"No, of course not," she said, looking away.

"I..." Sonny began, stopped when he couldn't find the words and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I'm fine!" she snapped at him.

Cursing under his breath, he fought the need to soothe his own fears. As someone very wise once told him, not everything was about him.

"Elizabeth, no, you're not."

Her eyes were downcast when she spoke again and if he wasn't mistaken there were tears shining in her eyes. "I... I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sorry."

Jason watched the exchange helplessly, fighting the urge to pound Sonny into the ground for frightening her and taking Elizabeth into his arms and holding her.

"Don't be sorry," he said gently and took a step toward her.

"Please, just... I'm fine," she said tightly, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her. "I- I think I'm just tired."

"Come into the house. I'll fix you some hot chocolate and then call you a cab. Sound fair?"

She nodded her head, still unable to look up. "I'll be there in a minute."

"All right," he said reluctantly.

Sonny turned to Jason and began to speak in hushed tones.

"Looks like Edward was on a little fact-finding mission," Sonny told Jason pointedly. "I'll call up Francis and Johnny and tell them to take a look around to make sure everything is in order. I'll get them to bring Max. We'll have to have a guard for Elizabeth now."

Sonny wasn't even sure if Jason was listening. All he seemed to be able to focus on was Elizabeth and the lost look she had on her face.

Jason let out a long breath before nodding his head. He hated having to do this, but there was no other way. She was in danger now and he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

Sparing one last look, Sonny mounted the stairs and entered the house.

Without turning around, Elizabeth could feel that Jason was watching her. She turned slowly, lifting her head so she faced him.

"We... I should go inside," she told him absently, still not moving.

Closing her eyes, she brought up the image of the sky she'd witnessed earlier that night before all the chaos. Finally she remembered why it had affected her so much. She could picture everything so clearly now, she wondered how she could have forgotten in the first place.

Jason watched her, saw her shoulders tense and her eyes harden. He watched a single tear slip down her cheek and he ached to wipe it away. His stomach clenched hard like he'd been punched.

She looked so small. Lonely. Lost.

The silence ticked by twisting heavily on Jason's heart. He waited for any sign that she was okay, that the spit-fire he'd come to adore was still fighting its way to the surface.

"My grandfather was a sailor," Elizabeth said and her face blazed red realizing her statement had come out of thin air.

When she looked at Jason, expecting his eyes to be questioning, she was pleasantly surprised when he seemed to be interested. She needed no prompting to continue.

"When I was a girl, he'd tell me stories of his trips to foreign countries; to places where he didn't understand a word they said, but found the people delightful. That's what he'd always say, “Elizabeth, the people were delightful! Travel, Elizabeth, see the world. Find out who you are!” The funny thing is, I'm afraid to fly, I hate the water, and I get car sick," she said shakily.

Jason desperately wanted to step forward and take her in his arms, smooth down her hair and tell her everything would be all right, but he stood and listened because she needed someone to hear her.

He didn't know what was bothering her or even what she was thinking, but he could see the pain etched on her face; could feel it radiate from her perfect skin and he wanted to take it all away. Her large doe eyes implored him to look at her and he could see so much. So much raw pain that she didn't even know she was showing. He saw it all.

"How am I supposed to find out who I am when I can't get there," she whispered, her voice hoarse and her eyes moist. "There's an old saying, “Red sky at night sailors' delight, red sky at morn sailors' be warned.” My whole life has been a bright red morning sky," she whispered.

She didn't even know why she was telling him or why she felt comfortable doing so. All she knew was that the past had caught her today and she was in danger of sinking into a dark hole if she didn't do something about it.

"I don't know what I'm talking about," she said, running her fingers through her tousled hair.

He didn't want her to stop. He wanted her to open up to him, even though he knew it was a risk. That he was letting her get too close and that one day, maybe not tomorrow but one day, someone was going to get hurt. He was playing with fire, but he'd walk through it, if it kept her talking.

His heart was pounding so fast he thought he could actually feel it against his chest, but her voice was like air to him and it filled a void in his soul he didn't know he'd been missing.

"Tonight when Sonny and that man were fighting I remembered something about my past, something I can't believe I forgot. There were two people in my life that mattered to me. One was my mother. The other was my grandfather. I didn't get to see him a lot. He and my father never really got along. But I remember how wonderful he was to me. He treated me like a princess and made me believe that not all men..."

She stopped, looked at Jason and closed her eyes.

"He made me believe in fairytales," she whispered. "On one of his trips to Italy, he saw these glassblowers. They made all sorts of things. He said some of it was pretty junky, lots of gold with paint all over it, but the color of the glass was so intense, he had to bring a piece back to show it to me."

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth tried to blink back her tears.

"I remember it was a beautiful color, like the sky at sunset... like tonight," she explained. "I guess that's what made me think of it. I got to keep it for almost an entire day before my father took it away from me. He thought I might hurt myself," she sighed and turned around, wiping her hand down her face. "He was probably right. I was always so clumsy."

She laughed softly and they both could tell it was forced.

Jason watched her and she seemed to drift to another time and place. Shaking his head, he swore that if he ever could, he'd bring Elizabeth to Italy and let her see the glassblowers herself...if only to see her eyes light up and her smile shine like it had when she spoke of it just then. Taking a tentative step and then another, when she didn't stiffen, he stood behind her and ever-so-gently brought his hand to her shoulder. Tensing at first and then relaxing into his touch, she brought her hand up to cover his.

"Thank you, Jason."

What exactly she was thanking him for, he didn't know, but he was glad to be there for her just the same.

She turned then and he dropped his hand to the side even though what he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms and never let her go.

Looking at him curiously she smiled for real this time.

"You're all sweaty," she said, on instinct, reaching her tiny hand to his forehead.

Jason, caught off guard by the move and her chilled fingers, backed away. He'd almost been able to forget about his own nightmare while he wrapped himself around Elizabeth's needs, but it all came rushing back like a wave of water in the surf when you're just about to shore, tossing you back into the heart of the ocean. He shook from the intensity of it and took a few more steps back.

Elizabeth looked up at him sadly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the sound of voices. Bypassing Elizabeth and the hurt look on her face, Jason was relieved to turn around and get some distance.

He wasn't surprised to find Francis and Johnny standing out in the cold.

"Hey, Jase," Francis said. He slapped him on the back before barreling past him. "Oh, Miss Webber," he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were here. Johnny, look who's here!"

"Jason," Johnny said, tipping his head and walking past him. "Miss Webber, it's so great to see you! How have you been? Been drawing anything good lately?"

Elizabeth smiled shyly and willed her face not to redden. She wasn't used to all the attention. "I've been good," she said, darting between the two men. "My art... well, it's going okay, I suppose. Oh, which reminds me, I have something for the two of you."

"Really?" Francis asked, his eyes lighting up like a little boy on Christmas.

Walking up the steps and into the house, she turned once to make sure they were following and then went in. Fetching her bag where she'd left it, she stood in the living room and breathed in much needed air.

Something had just happened between her and Jason that she couldn't explain. It was unlike her to be so open, and unlike him to wait so long before he retreated. Things were starting to change.

Bringing the bag with her into the kitchen where the men were gathered around, she sifted through it until she remembered that she'd given the packages for the two bodyguards to Sonny. Spotting them on the counter, she hustled over and picked up two identically wrapped boxes with decorative ribbon.

"I baked brownies. Here you go, Francis," she said softly, handing him the package.

"Thanks." Francis beamed, tearing into the paper. Stopping long enough to catch her eye, he smiled down at her. "You can call me Frankie though, everyone else does."

Elizabeth looked at him skeptically. "That's not true. I've heard Sonny call you Francis a number of times."

Francis shrugged and bit down on one of the decadent chocolate brownies. "Well, Sonny, and my mother are the only ones that do, I guess."

"Oh, that's a shame. I really like the name Francis and it suits you very well. Would you mind if I called you Francis too?"

"You can call me whatever you like." Francis blushed, continuing to scarf down the dessert.

Smiling sweetly Liz said, "well, then, I think it's only fair you call me Elizabeth, Francis."

If possible Francis' face went even redder and he nearly choked on the whole brownie he'd placed in his mouth.

"Sure," he finally managed to say after he'd swallowed.

Johnny tried really hard to hide his grin, but when he caught Sonny's eye he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped, nor could the other man.

"Here, Johnny, I made you some too. Sonny told me how much you love chocolate."

"That, I do... well almost as much as Jason." Johnny gestured towards Jason who sat in the corner brooding.

A hush fell over the room as unbeknownst to Johnny a sore subject was brought up.

Noticing the quiet Johnny looked around the room. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Sonny chuckled, moving over toward the window and looking out trying to contain himself.

Elizabeth felt relief. She was thankful these men were here to relieve the tension and give her a reason to laugh.

Slapping on a suspicious smile, Johnny silently questioned Sonny whose laugh promised he'd tell him the truth later.

"Thank you so much, Miss Webber. That was incredibly generous of you."

"It's just brownies," she said softly, trying to catch Jason's eye.

"Cab's here," Sonny informed Elizabeth, approaching her.

He moved toward her slowly, concerned that she was now afraid of him and if he didn't say something then, he'd never see her again.

"May I talk to you a moment before you go?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the porch.

Elizabeth nodded and stepped out the door. "Bye, Johnny. Francis. Jason, I'll see you soon," she said, looking directly at Jason and was satisfied to find a small smile on his lips.

"Goodbye, Miss Webber, it was nice seeing you again. Come on, Frankie, we'd better get going, we have things to take care of," Johnny said from his place in the kitchen.

Francis waved to her while they passed and headed toward the church. "Bye, Elizabeth."

"Bye," she said quietly and then turned to Sonny. "Is everything all right?"

"That's what I was going to ask you," he said affectionately.

"Sonny, I know you're worried that you scared me and that's really not what was happening. Do you ever have bad memories that just come out at the wrong time?"

Sonny leaned against the porch rail and rolled the question around in his head. There were definitely times when he thought about Brenda and all the drama that led up to the accident. "Yes," he answered.

She came beside him and brushed his arm with her hand, a supportive gesture. "Then you understand that's all that happened today. If I were scared of you, I wouldn't be standing here with you now. Okay?"

He nodded his head and rested his hand over hers. "I would never do anything that could hurt you."

"I know that," she said, hiking her backpack over her shoulder. "I have to go. I'll be by soon," she reassured him and then made her way to the taxi.

_______

Moving into the living room, Jason plopped down on the couch. Shifting uncomfortably, he stood and flipped the cushion. Underneath was a small sketch pad that could only belong to Elizabeth. All her secrets were locked up inside. It was like discovering the key to a door you're not supposed to open, but is right there and it's almost too tempting not to peak.

Pandora's box.

___

"Did you notice how weird Sonny was acting? Even Jason was on edge," Johnny said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He needed a shave, he realized, when his hand swept across some rough stubble.

"How the hell could you tell that? The man doesn't even speak!" Francis questioned.

"There was something different about him. Edward Quartermain is a powerful man and he usually gets what he wants."

"So?"

"So, Jason's worried. Even if he doesn't say a single word, from what Sonny says Elizabeth means something to him. In fact, I think we might have interrupted something when we stumbled over to them like a couple of ingrates, but that's really beside the point. She means something to Sonny, too. She's like a little sister to him or something and that's why we're going to do everything we can to make sure nothing happens to her."

"She's a sweet kid."

"That's right, she is and she doesn't need to be touched by our bloody hands. If we can prevent this filthy world we live in from touching her, we're damn well going to do it. You got me?"

"I got you. She makes good brownies, too."

"True," Johnny said softly, turning to face his friend. "Who the hell taught you to eat anyway? You've got chocolate all over your face! Don't you ever look in the mirror?"

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Vanity! I don't spend half my life making sure every hair on my head is perfect. So what're you up to now, two bottles of hair spray a day?"

"I'm not asking you to try to reach perfection, but for God's sake, man, have a little dignity. I realize we can't all look like me, but it wouldn't hurt you to try, would it?"

"Just shut up. At least I'm better looking than Max," Francis said, entering the church.

"That's all a matter of opinion. I do quite well with the ladies, I'll have you know," Max joked, stepping up to them. "What the hell took you so long? I've been here nearly an hour," he said annoyed, checking his watch to be sure.

"Elizabeth made us brownies," Francis exclaimed, holding up his near-empty container.

"Who's Elizabeth and why is she giving him sweets?" Max asked confused, ignoring the goofy grin on Francis' face.

Johnny laughed. "She'd a friend of Sonny's. I think Frankie has a bit of a crush."

"I have a crush? You should have seen Johnny falling all over himself when Elizabeth gave him the brownies. “Here Johnny, Sonny told me how much you love chocolate,”" Francis said in his best Elizabeth impersonation. Clasping his hands together and batting his eyelashes, he lowered his voice, pretending to be Johnny. "“Oh, thank you, Miss Webber! That was incredibly generous of you!” Barf." Francis laughed hard.

"Oh right, and who's the one that wants to be called Francis by the little lady? That certainly wasn't me."

"Shut up!"

Max stepped between them.

"Would you two quit bickering and get down to business? Now, what is this undercover assignment you have for me?"

Johnny and Francis exchanged amused glances.

"Here, Max. Change into this," Johnny said, handing the pudgy bodyguard a black robe, a collarless shirt and dark dress pants.

"I don't get it," Max said, taking the garments and studying them. "What am I supposed to be?"

"A priest," they replied in unison.

"A what?! No way. No fucking way! My mother would kill me if she found out I was doing this. We're Catholic for Christ sakes! This has to be a sin or something. Priests are close to God and shit. You don't mess with that."

"Just put it on," Johnny told him. "I'm sure you and God can work something out later. In the meantime, you're going to put that on and you're going to do your damnedest to act like a priest or you're going to need to find a sanctuary so I don't find you and kill you," Johnny said gruffly, ignoring Francis' muddled laughter behind them.

Looking at the clothes in disgust, Max turned up his nose. "How the hell did I get stuck doing this shit?"

"You better work on your language. I don't think it's appropriate for priests to speak that way," Francis chuckled.

"Shut your trap, wise-ass," Max barked, turning his attention back to Johnny.

"Listen, Max, Sonny needs a guard, but he doesn't want Elizabeth to know about it. He thinks it might scare her. So it's your job to watch out for her and to blend in," Johnny explained.

Rolling his eyes, he looked over the costume once more, knowing if Sonny wanted it done that meant there was some serious trouble brewing. "Okay, okay, I get it, but why me?"

"Elizabeth has already had the pleasure of my company, and she's met Francis--although I'm sure she would like to pretend she hasn't-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Francis questioned, brows raised.

"Relax, Frankie, I was just joking. Once she meets Max here, she'll think you're a prize."

"Hey!" Max protested.

"Look, just watch out for the girl and try not to act--well, like you. Think you can handle that or do I have to put Greg on it?"

"No, I can do it. You can trust me, Johnny. I won't let you down," Max told him, walking down the aisle toward the rectory.