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Safe… No More

Chapter Eight
FNF#17: No sense postponing the inevitable.

He needed to talk to her, that much was apparent, but, now that he knew exactly who she was without the assistance of a thorough background check, now that he was aware of the fact that she wasn't just some woman trespassing on his property with her kid, Jason didn't know how to approach the young brunette, and, in turn, his sudden sense of uncertainty only seemed to further incite his irritation towards her, not to mention himself.

He was an asshole, a grade-A prick by self-design. If he presented a persona to the outside world that was cold, unforgiving, and unreceptive, then he wouldn't have to worry about people wanting to care about him. He wouldn't have to push them away or make decisions for them, because the truth of the matter was that everyone ran far away from him after their first encounter. And that's exactly how he wanted things to remain. Friends and family were simply unacceptable means for his enemies to get to him, and Jason shunned any relationship that may in fact contain warmth or generosity of spirit. But, now, because of an unforeseen set of circumstances, he couldn't push Elizabeth and her kid away, even if he wanted to, because, like it or not, he needed them or, at least, her.

His injuries weren't healing well, and his little excursion into the woods the night before hadn't improved upon matters either. At best, he was a prickly, uncooperative patient. Even before he realized that the single mother was secretly feeding him pain pills on top of his accepted antibiotics, he fought her when it came time to take his medicine. When she was away at work or running errands for him, he skipped the doses she prescribed him to take, despite knowing that such actions would only prolong his recovery. It wasn't that he necessarily didn't want to get better, and he certainly didn't want to prolong his time with the younger woman or Cam, but he was stubborn, and he hated the way the drugs made him feel.

As for the burns themselves, the mob boss knew that they would take a long time to fully mend, time that he didn't have. His organization was in shambles. Because his competitors believed him to be dead, he had to remain that way in order to maintain the advantage, so he couldn't step forward and seek real medical aid. Although he was in contact with Max thanks to Elizabeth's help, the guard was under strict instructions not to bring any unnecessary attention to either the safe house or the young mother taking care of Jason.

However, the kingpin had realized the night before that they simply couldn't go on under their present conditions. They had no phone, no means of transportation besides walking, and Jason didn't trust Elizabeth not to bolt again, so he was going to take some risks, hoping that they would pay off in the long run. That was just one of the many things that he needed to discuss with the brunette who was, despite her diligence towards his welfare, doing her best to ignore his presence.

They - the three of them - were having breakfast together… well, sort of. While Elizabeth and Cameron sat at the coffee table in the living room, both of them quieting eating bowls of cold cereal while they whispered back and forth about their day, he stood at the lone window in the room, silently contemplating just what he would say to his unwilling caretaker.

Although his wounds had been redressed, his tense, strained muscles massaged, his hand bandaged, and his medication - only the antibiotics - administered, the brunette waitress had yet to say a word to him. Silently, by lifting the box of cereal, she had asked him if he wanted anything to eat, and, with a slight shake of his head, he had declined. That had been the extent of their communication, and Jason wished it could cease there. But it couldn't.

They needed to discuss the new security measures he was putting in place just as soon as he spoke to Max that afternoon, he wanted to talk to her about the gun she had informed him of the night before, and, despite the fact that he told himself repeatedly that he didn't really care, he had questions about her life, questions about how she and her little boy got to the point where they had to rely upon squatting in order to survive. However, the one thing he didn't need to ask her was why she had run off the night before, putting not only her own child in jeopardy because of the cold, unsavory weather, but also herself, him, and the rest of his men, for the answer to that question he already knew.

When Lucky Spencer had been alive, he and Jason had not been close. One could certainly not term them friends. However, they had been, at least, civil with each other, and the younger man had rented an apartment above a business that the now mob boss owned. When he would come to inspect the place, making sure that everything was running smoothly according to his stringent rules, he would sometimes see the Spencer kid and his girlfriend - Elizabeth Webber - together. She was shy, timid, and acted extremely nervous around him, and her anxiety aimed in his direction had irked Jason. So, he had gone to Lucky to ask the younger man what he had ever done to warrant such an attitude, and the kid had told him that Elizabeth, several years before, had been brutally raped, that, despite moving past the ordeal to the best of her ability thanks to counseling, she was still on the long road to recovery, that she still dealt with the after effects of the trauma every single day.

And, just the evening before, he had practically raised a hand in violence towards the brunette. Granted, he had been unaware of who she was exactly at the time, but that was no excuse for his actions. Without having to ask her, Jason knew that what he had done had scared the single mother, perhaps even more so than she even realized herself, and the fact had been cemented by Cameron's reaction, because, undoubtedly, she had been terrified at the prospect of her son ever witnessing a man aggressively confront a woman. Subconsciously, he had scratched at the scars of her rape, and, if for nothing else but that, the kingpin realized, once again, that he was a bastard.

Clenching both his eyes and his fists together, Jason tried to force his thoughts away. Getting lost in his regrets, in his anger and his humiliation would do absolutely no good… for anyone involved. He needed to focus. He needed to rid his mind of the moment when the past had come crashing down painfully on top of him the night before and, instead, focus upon the present. What it had been about watching Elizabeth as she packed up at the boxcar that had triggered his memory, he didn't know, but he resented the recollection and wished, despite knowing that such an action was foolish and pointless, that it had never occurred. Where Elizabeth Webber was concerned, ignorance had been bliss.

"You're getting a guard."

He waited several beats, fully anticipating a smart mouth response by his disinclined, temporary roommate, but, instead, the mob boss was greeted with the stillness of the safe house. Turning away from the window, he faced the young mother and her quiet child, both of them looking towards their breakfast, their heads bowed almost in submission. Typically, outright obedience was what he expected from those in his life, but Jason hated seeing it from the waitress, not because her cooperation wasn't desired but because he knew the only reason he was receiving it was because she was attempting to distract him with her sudden shift in attitude.

Gritting his teeth, though, he pressed on. "Also, Cameron will no longer be attending daycare, at least," he reasoned when he finally noticed the young mother's eyes flash dangerously, "for as long as you're helping me out. And this decision has nothing to do with wanting to control you through your kid but everything to do with security. The more the two of you are exposed, the greater the risk that you're in, and, whether I like this situation or not, I'm not about to allow two innocents to be caught up in my war."

He didn't like discussing such coarse, inappropriate things in front of a three year old, but it almost felt as if Cameron needed to be present between them at all times. As unfairly as such a thought was, the little boy was a buffer of sorts between them. While he would neither do nor say anything in front of him that could hurt the child's mother, Elizabeth also behaved when her son was present.

"Also," he continued as he moved across the room, slowly lowering himself so that he was seated across from them on the coach. His ribs protested the action, and his burns cried out in misery, but the crime lord merely grimaced the pain away, refusing to give voice to his suffering. "We're getting cell phones, untraceable ones. This not being able to communicate with each other when you're not here just won't work. I need a way to safely contact you if anything is wrong, and you need a way to get in touch with either me or Max if something happens to you."

He looked away then, unable to look her in the eye any further. He hated the fact that he was putting Elizabeth and Cameron's lives at risk, but the fact of the matter was that he needed her. As much as that pained him to admit, it was the truth, so he had to do everything within his power to make sure that, when everything was said and done, she and her son were able to walk away from him safely.

"We'll switch the phones out every day, just in case. Max will bring us new ones every morning when he comes to pick you up before delivering you to your guard for the day. I don't like lying to my men, but, right now, it's necessary. Only a select few can know that I'm alive, and the rest will be operating under the assumption that Johnny, Max, and a few others you haven't met yet are trying to pick up the pieces of the organization and run with it themselves. Max is going to be telling your guard that you're Johnny's sister, and that's why the men will think that you need to be protected so diligently. And you," he warned, glaring at Elizabeth, "will go along with this story."

Again, the infuriating woman didn't reply. Rather, she simply nodded her head once in acquiesce, despite the fact that the mob boss knew she was probably biting a permanent hole through her tongue in order to remain silent and in check. If there was one thing he knew about the Elizabeth Webber of today, it was the fact that she did not back down without a fight, that she was just as stubborn, willful, and determined as the Elizabeth Webber of a few years back had been subdued, withdrawn, and timid.

"Finally, I'll be relocating my recovery. This safe house is too small, too close to town, and we have other properties, properties that are much more secure, that will work better. Max is going to do everything he can to keep from bringing suspicion upon me, but, just in case he does, I need to be properly prepared, and I can't do so here."

"Good, that's good," Elizabeth commented, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief when she spoke at long last. "I think it's obvious that the two of us just should never be within close quarters of each other. Clearly, you're going to make me continue to take care of you, but I think it'll work much better if Cam and I remain here, and you can just simply send for me when you're in need of assistance or…"

"Wait, wait, slow down," the kingpin ordered. "What do you mean that you and Cameron will remain here? That's not an option, Elizabeth," he countered her, and, as the words left his mouth, he watched the wall of contempt and hostility descend down, once more, upon her face. "You and your son will be relocating with me." Before she could even think to protest, he stressed, "this is non-negotiable."

"But what about Cam," the brunette wanted to know. "He's comfortable here, all his things are here, and he doesn't like to move, probably because we've been forced to do so too many times already in his short life."

"Of course we'll bring all his toys and clothes with us. I wouldn't leave them behind," Jason defended himself. "I want your little boy to be comfortable, Miss Webber, with me, with my men, and in this new safe house." Turning towards the three year old in question, he addressed the little boy. "I'm sorry that you're going to have to move again, Cam," the mob boss apologized, "but there's going to be a TV at this new place we're going to, and we can watch cartoons in the morning while you eat your breakfast. Plus, the yard is fenced in, so you'll be able to play outside. I'll even have my… I'll even have Max build you a swing set. Would you like that?"

Much like his reticent mother, the toddler simply nodded his head, evidently still unwilling to forget or forgive Jason of his actions from the previous day, but the crime lord didn't begrudge the child his feelings of resentment. After all, they were well deserved. Looking back at the kid's mother, he changed the topics swiftly, not giving her a chance to argue with his plans for the new safe house. "May I ask you something… personal?"

"I really don't think that would be appropriate, Mr. Morgan, and I would rather…"

"Why didn't you ever seek governmental help for Cameron," he inquired anyway. The surprised expression upon the waitress' face told him that she had not been expecting such a question. "Surely, given your circumstances, you would qualify for aid - welfare, food stamps, maybe even housing assistance. Please, don't tell me that you were too proud to even ask for help."

"I wasn't," Elizabeth informed him. "I filled out all the necessary paperwork, was assured that I would receive relief, but, in the end, I was denied - no explanation, no apology, no 'please try again.'"

"How is that even…"

"My family is quite well known and respected in this town, and they have a lot of very rich and very powerful friends. I believe it is within their influence to control my life even when I am no longer in theirs."

Deciding there was no further need to discuss a matter that she had no control over, Jason filed the information away for later use, and, instead, rapidly redirected their conversation once again. "Can I speak to you a minute alone, please," and, without waiting for her concession, he awkwardly stood from the sofa and moved across the room, knowingly waiting for Elizabeth to follow.

Once she did, he pivoted to face her. "Give me your gun," he demanded.

Her twisted, baffled expression told him more than her words did. "Excuse me?"

"Last night, you threatened to shoot me when I approached you at the boxcar. You said that you had a gun and that you weren't afraid to use it."

"I lied," the single mother replied simply.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jason pressed on, sighing out the galling woman's name. "Elizabeth…"

"Look, I'm telling you the truth," she exploded, her voice lethal yet reserved so as not to scare Cameron. "I hate guns. In fact, I hate violence. I never want to see one, let alone ever be put in a position where I have to use one. My… Cam's father was killed because of violence, and I…"

"Yeah, about that," the blonde interrupted, causing the single mother to take a hesitant, almost frightened step back. "About Lucky…"

"This conversation is over. I don't have a gun, and I never will own one," Elizabeth dismissed both his concerns and his effort to broach the topic of their shared past. He realized in that moment that she had been aware of their former association from the very beginning but had been either unwilling to speak about it herself or unwilling to help him recall the person who, at one time, connected them. And, as she frigidly walked away from him, Jason also realized that they needed to discuss the past, whether the petite brunette was willing to or not.