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A/N - I came across this quote unexpectedly while I was looking for something else and it just stayed with me all day . . . and then turned into the next part of the story . . .

Prompt - In the end, the lasting measure of a man is not what society thinks of him but what his actions teach him that he is - Unknown


He hadn't expected it to be easy.

Didn't think the others involved would just welcome his new-found determination to claim his family with open arms and mouths and simply tell him what he needed to know.

What he had expected was that someone might at least admit they knew where she had gone.

The only information he'd gleaned in the past five weeks was that most of Port Charles knew she'd left, taking her two small children with her, and that it was most definitely his fault.

Some citizens were just too polite to actually say that aloud.

Like Nadine Crowell.

Who'd given him a long look with her sad face, the same face she wore in the pediatrics ward when she was about to give an ill child a dose of some nasty medicine.

"Honestly, Mr. Morgan, I don't know where she is. One day we were reviewing charts and making plans for the children's Halloween party, and the next day she was gone. But I'm sure it'll all work out if it was meant to be. That's what my Aunt Rayleen always used to say and she was never wrong about these things. You just hang in there and think positive thoughts, okay? Oh, and hey, the party's here in Pedes next Friday afternoon. You should stop by - see all the kids in their costumes and have a cupcake. They're going to be really cute, chocolate with orange frosting and little jack-o-lantern faces--"

He had turned his back and headed for the elevator before she could finish her sentence, so he missed seeing the self-satisfied smirk that passed her lips.

I wouldn't tell you if I knew, she thought as she picked up her medication orders for the afternoon, stepping from behind the nurses' station and heading down the hall, her blonde ponytail swinging merrily with each light-hearted step. You can't just ask; you need to work harder for it.

Robin Scorpio was waddling off the elevator just as Jason reached the sliding doors.

"Hi, there," she offered, out of breath from the exertion of merely walking around, but determined that she would work right up until time to deliver her daughter which could be almost any day now.

"Hey," he couldn't help noticing how big she'd gotten since he'd last seen her. And like all new mothers-to-be she had that ethereal glow that could only come from nurturing the precious life growing within her. "Are you - you doing okay?"

"Well, you'd have to define what you mean by the word 'okay'. I haven't seen my feet in two weeks, my bladder is now being used as a trampoline, and between Patrick and my mother hovering over me 24/7, I'm tempted to just pack a bag and not come back until after this kid pops out. . . oops, that was probably not . . . I'm really sorry, Jason. That was really . . ."

He scrubbed a hand over his face, knowing that Robin wouldn't have deliberately said something just to hurt him. Women in the very late weeks of pregnancy were unpredictable and short-tempered at best. He supposed it wasn't easy to hand over complete control of your body to some little person you had yet to meet, but before he could acknowledge her words of apology, Epiphany Johnson was rushing towards the open elevator door.

"Dr. Scorpio," she called out, "you're needed the in ER! Seems like there was an explosion out at Crimson Point again, only this time Anthony Zacchara was inside when the fire broke out. Doesn't sound very good for him either. ETA is two minutes out." The charge nurse looked squarely at Jason when she spoke again. "I don't suppose you know anything about this?"

"I was just here, uh . . . to see if anyone had heard from Elizabeth."

"Stop fishing for information from my nursing staff," she reprimanded him, her finger stabbing into his chest. "I'm not going to idly stand by this time and take a chance that you'll be successful running off another one out of fear. I told you when that poor girl first found out she was pregnant, the father needed to step up and help her. Jake is almost a year and half old and you still haven't stepped up. Now, step aside so Dr. Scorpio and I can go and try with all our learned skills to save that old buzzard's life."

≈ * ≈ * ≈ * ≈

Anthony Zacchara's life would not be saved.

Jason, of course, had planned it that way.

He may have made mistakes with Elizabeth, but he didn't make mistakes in business. There was no room for error in his profession, and very likely no second chances.

You could bargain, you could make deals, you could amass allies and identify enemies, but you always needed to follow through with whatever you threatened.

Don't fuck with the people I care about, apparently didn't have the same inference to Anthony that it would have for anyone else Jason said it to.

Within hours of Lulu Spencer's attempt to change Johnny's decision to end their relationship by giving up the long-hidden information about Jake to Anthony, Johnny Zacchara overheard his father and Trevor Lansing making imminent plans to acquire the little boy as an indefinite and possibly disposable houseguest. Claudia was plotting her own strategies to get closer to the boy's father, and he knew he couldn't live with the guilt of another child's life hanging in the balance because of his family.

Morgan's baby by blood, a police detective's son by circumstance; Anthony was gleefully aware that he could rapidly rise to the highest level of power and influence within the Port Charles territory via a twenty-four and a-half pound toddler who'd only recently learned to say "Dada", not necessarily to whom the term should be applied.

Johnny waited until the story of the paternity ran the initial wave of sensationalism, relying on the public's insatiable appetite for scandal, to provide him with the information that indeed Elizabeth Webber and her children were no longer in Port Charles and even the tabloids and television talk shows weren't successful in their relentless efforts to locate them.

Speculation around town was that apparently even Jason Morgan himself couldn't establish their whereabouts, so Johnny felt certain his father wouldn't find them either.

At least not right away.

That gave him a small window of time to try to work out an arrangement with Jason.

It was an agonizing decision for Johnny to make, but he'd lived his entire life knowing what his family was capable of, knowing his father wouldn't hesitate to kill a child or whoever else might be standing in the line of fire, knowing his sister wasn't scrupulous with the finer details necessary in her quest to rise to a position of leadership within the family.

Michael Corinthos III would never wake up because of Claudia's careless planning and decisions; Johnny had spent too much time in turmoil because of her irrational obsession with him, and way too much time worrying about who her next victim could be. Now he knew who it would be.

In the ambulance bays outside General Hospital's Emergency Room, the severely burned and barely breathing body of Anthony Zacchara was being unloaded by the paramedics, and doctors were being briefed as the gurney was rushed through the automatic doors. Given the painfully hoarse and helpless screams coming from the man, it was clear he was both conscious and in extraordinary agony.

In the rear of the second ambulance to arrive, the deceased remains of Trevor Lansing were already zipped up in a plain black body bag awaiting final pronouncement by a doctor and then he would be transported to the morgue for autopsy.

The autopsy would reveal a single gunshot wound to the heart as the cause of death, no smoke was present in his lungs, indicating he was dead before the fire ravaged the first floor study of the recently-rebuilt mansion along the Hudson River. Ballistics would confirm the bullet came from the weapon found within reach of the man in the wheelchair who would join his former attorney in the morgue within just a few hours.

Jason figured a few hours living as a burn victim should give Anthony an adequate introduction as to what awaited him in Hell.

Further investigation would lead to the discovery that another bullet from the same weapon had hit the gas line leading to the fireplace in the study where the two men were discovered.

There was nothing quite like a cozy fire on a cool October afternoon in New York.

A third ambulance brought Claudia Zacchara to the ER. At first glance she seemed to have fared much better than her father. There were no outward indications that she'd been burned at all; she was very much alive, pulse racing, having been discovered at the bottom of a narrow staircase leading from the second floor west wing where she had her suite of rooms to the kitchen. However, it would soon be determined that her neck was broken, her larynx crushed; leaving her permanently paralyzed and unable to speak, presumably by the head-first tumble down the stairs.

A woman wearing red stilettos really shouldn't attempt to run down a flight of stairs.

Jason found particular satisfaction in Claudia's diagnosis and prognosis. The raven-haired woman who'd reacted recklessly, putting Michael in his present vegetative state would find herself also unable to move, unable to speak, unable to perform the simplest of tasks for herself. The only difference, she would be completely aware for the rest of her life of exactly what her condition was and that there was no chance she would ever regain any use of her own body.

Her hell would be a living hell. A very long and lonely living hell.

Mac Scorpio arrived right behind the ambulances, two squad cars of uniformed officers and one with a team of detectives immediately followed him.

"Morgan!" his voice suddenly rang out in the hospital hallway. "Where were you in the past hour?" he demanded, the implication clear to everyone within hearing range.

Jason turned towards the older man but didn't answer the question.

He didn't have to.

"Uncle Mac," Robin scolded. "Don't be so accusatory; Jason was here."

"What?" the Police Commissioner asked in disbelief.

"He was here in the hospital," Robin clarified. "He was asking some of the nurses," she looked around and lowered her voice when she saw that one of the detectives was Lucky Spencer, "He was asking if anyone had heard from Elizabeth. You know these past weeks have been really difficult for him."

Mac glared at the stoic man in the leather jacket. He really didn't like his own niece vouching for the whereabouts of the man he was certain had something to do with the body count currently being wheeled into the hospital.

"You know the drill, Morgan. Don't leave town and make yourself available for questioning depending on the outcome of this investigation."

Jason tipped his head in acknowledgment of the request. "Call my attorney," he replied calmly as he turned to leave. "Good luck with the baby, Robin."

"Thanks, Jason," replied the petite, pregnant doctor who'd unwittingly just provided him with an indisputable alibi. "Keep in touch. I'm sure everything will work out."

≈ * ≈ * ≈ * ≈

Within a week, the police department had no choice but to forward their final investigative report to the District Attorney's office.

Mac Scorpio walked it over to Alexis Davis' office himself. He rhythmically tapped the file folder on the edge of her desk before handing it over. "The evidence supported it; there was nothing to indicate it was anything other than what it initially appeared. I would have bet my badge that Jason Morgan had something to do with this," Mac shook his head as he turned to leave.

Alexis was careful to keep her personal thoughts to herself, but she honestly wouldn't have cared if Jason Morgan walked into her office and dumped Anthony Zacchara's body on her desk and handed over the murder weapon with his fingerprints on it.

That devil-incarnate had made too many threats against her daughter, and Alexis was fairly certain she'd have disposed of the evidence and never had a single guilty thought about it.

Anthony Zacchara, with his history of mental illness, had apparently had a disagreement with his attorney - Johnny's interview had revealed that Anthony was displeased with Trevor's callous attitude and general lack of concern during Johnny's recent trial.

The two men had argued. Anthony fired several shots from a handgun Johnny identified as belonging to his father and normally kept in the top drawer of his desk in the study at the rear of the house overlooking the rose gardens that Anthony had always been so fond of.

One shot hit Trevor in the heart killing him instantly, one shot hit the gas line running to the fireplace, and one wild shot had lodged itself in the ceiling in the west corner of the room.

It was probably the sound of that last shot that had alerted Claudia to the altercation, prompting her to rush down the narrow staircase, her favored style of footwear causing her to lose her balance and fall to her own detriment down the remaining steps.

A tragic and freak accident.

Case closed.

By the time the PCPD and the District Attorney finished the necessary paperwork to put the case to rest, Jason Morgan and Johnny Zacchara had discreetly met with the other representatives of the Five Families.

The Zacchara family's properties and holdings and interests were divided evenly among the other Family members. Johnny had no desire to be a part of any of it ever again. In exchange for the business, the members agreed that Claudia's lifetime medical needs would be taken care of; Johnny would be protected for the remainder of his life, and that protection would be extended to include all the members of any family he would make for himself.

Jason asked for nothing tangible, except for the much-coveted waterfront property Skye Quartermaine had acquired from Lorenzo Alcazar. He wanted that property to be donated to the city for development. Morgan Enterprises would underwrite the expenses for developing that area to benefit the citizens of the town.

Although it should have been understood without having to say anything, before the meeting was ended Jason made it very clear in simple words that left no possibilities of being misinterpreted; his family, his loved ones would remain safe, untouched, and protected now and in the future.

The implication was fully understood.

Don't fuck with the people I care about.

≈ * ≈ * ≈ * ≈

Robin Scorpio gave birth to a beautiful baby girl two days before Halloween.

Although Jason didn't go to visit her, nor did he accept Nadine's rather odd invitation to come to the hospital for the children's Halloween party, he was informed late that Friday evening through the briefest of conversations with Epiphany when she stopped in the coffee house for a cup of herbal tea that the new mother and baby were doing well, and the party was a huge success thanks to an anonymous benefactor who provided a very generous donation and the services of a professional party planner.

Based on the number of people who were careful to avoid him the following day, no one wanted to witness what his reaction might be due to the fact it was Elizabeth's birthday and he was no closer on the first day of November to discovering her whereabouts than he'd been when she walked out of his office that day in mid-September. Frustrated didn't begin to describe his feelings, but that was exactly how he felt.

Frustrated and empty.

Spinelli could easily see that Jason truly regretted both the choices he had made and permitted others to make for him concerning both Jake and Elizabeth. He had taken it upon himself without being asked to try to uncover the Maternal One's whereabouts. He had checked airports, trains, buses, private airstrips, any place and every place he could possibly think of to no avail. He'd looked at hundreds of hours of surveillance and security footage and found nothing. It was as if Elizabeth and her two small boys had simply vanished.

Maxie didn't spend one single second regretting anything she'd said upon learning about Elizabeth's youngest son's true paternity, but she spent countless hours in her undisputed role of town busybody attempting to uncover any crumb of information to assist her best friend in his determined pursuit to find his Master's beloved.

She kept the eye rolling to a minimum whenever she could find the inner strength to control it, but even with her advanced gossip and manipulation skills, she couldn't flush out any new information and was beginning to believe no one in Port Charles actually knew where Elizabeth had gone.

Both she and Spinelli had come to the conclusion a few days before Thanksgiving that everyone who had played a part in Elizabeth's initial plan to take Jake and Cameron and leave town, truly believed she would be in touch with them when she was settled.

But no one ever received any word from her and it seemed everyone was left hanging and merely hoping she had found the peace and the safety she sought to obtain.

≈ * ≈ * ≈ * ≈

She dipped her bare toes in the still warm waters of the Mediterranean Sea and felt an almost surreal feeling of peace wash over her.

It had been just over two months.

She and the boys were safe here, and she was truly starting to relax and simply enjoy her life again. It had been a long time coming.

Cameron and Jake adapted quickly with the carefree way that only children could to their new surroundings. It was beautiful here, the peaceful days wrapping around them like a warm blanket. She found everything she'd ever read or imagined about this part of the world was true. The language was less an obstacle than she'd feared it would be, of course having a house full of devoted servants anxious to cater to her and the children's every need helped enormously.

She spent her days with her children, walking the water's edge, watching the yachts, collecting shells. Discovering through the eyes of her children all the simple delights of just being alive.

But the nights were difficult.

She missed the hopeful possibility that she might share a secret moment with the love of her life. A heated look of unvarnished longing passing between them in a hospital corridor, a brief conversation outside of Kelly's, a stolen passionate kiss under the haven of darkness.

She would do her sketching and painting after the boys were asleep; reminding herself the entire time how very blessed she was to be here with her children, thankful to be doing a job that was worthwhile and so wonderfully fulfilling, especially at a time in her life when she desperately needed to feel she could contribute something positive.

Her best friend would have been so proud, and yet so very humbled by all this.

But she had been loved and cherished beyond belief, and the man she left behind with her passing was determined that those less fortunate than the two of them had been would reap the benefit of his vast wealth and her dedication to serve humanity through medicine. He was unwavering in his resolve to build a legacy bearing her name - one that he felt was worthy of that honor.

So much love . . . so much devotion . . . so little time . . .

The sound of children's laughter pulled Elizabeth from her melancholy moment and she looked back towards the house to see three little boys running towards her. The two older ones looked enough alike from a distance to be brothers - both with dark hair and soulful dark eyes. The youngest one was the complete opposite, a blue-eyed blonde who was still blissfully ignorant of his own identity past the part where he was simply loved by the people who now sheltered him.

The man who followed the boys looked relaxed and at home in this environment. His khaki pants had been rolled up far enough to avoid getting wet as they would walk barefoot along the shoreline again tonight, his short-sleeved white linen shirt a vivid reminder that the weather here was a far cry from the chill that would have settled over Port Charles by this time of year.

He passed her one of the small glasses of ouzo he carried that had become a customary element in the relaxing ritual of their evening stroll with the boys before baths and bedtime stories.

"Thank you," she smiled. "I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be here. How thankful I am to have you and all of this when I needed it."

"Well, back in the States, it is Thanksgiving Day. And by tradition, we would be obligated to list everything that's happened in the last year that we are thankful for."

"Okay, we can do that. You go first."

He laughed a deep reverberating sound that seemed much more relieved and resigned than joyful. "I'm mostly thankful to have just survived this past year," he confessed, his dark eyes glazed with the weight of incredible loss as he looked out over the sea without really seeing it. "There was more than once when I when I truly believed it would just be better to give up."

She nodded in empathy and sipped the anise-flavored liqueur before pushing past the lump in her throat and wistfully admitting, "I miss her, too. I miss Emily every single moment of every single day."

The words she spoke pulled him back to reality and Nikolas Cassidine gently pulled her into an affectionate hug before they began to walk slowly, hand in hand, watching the three little boys shrieking in delight as the water lapped at their bare feet. "And now for a moment of truth, Elizabeth. How about Emily's brother? Do you miss him, too?"

She never hesitated for a second in her answer. Nikolas was one of her dearest friends, the man who'd gotten her out of the country on a moment's notice and without question, had told absolutely no one where she was, had provided her and her children a safe haven, and had offered her an incredible opportunity to assist with the expansion of the free clinic he founded in Emily's memory to include children's basic health care clinics in poor countries.

She was overwhelmed by his business proposal and the confidence he had in her to create artwork to be used on posters and in pamphlets in health clinics and schools, meant to illustrate the process of childhood immunizations, temperatures and blood pressure recordings, the dangers of medicines left within easy access to little hands, the importance of thorough hand-washing to reduce the spread of illnesses. Pictures children could look at and understand.

He might head one of the largest and wealthiest families of companies and corporations in the world, own this very island she was now calling home, hold title to the largest yacht in the sea before them, but he also understood the absolute crucial need for communication regardless of age, social status, or language barriers.

She didn't try to hold back the tears or to not admit to the bare truth; it would have been a futile effort anyways. Nikolas would have seen through the lie with the same insight Emily would have.

"I miss him, too. I miss Jason every single moment of every single day."