[Prompt - No man can think clearly when his fists are clenched. - George Jean Nathan]
"Just sign the fucking divorce papers," Jason Morgan hissed, slamming the flimsy stack of stapled papers down on the desk and glaring at his wife. He jerked open the desk drawer and fumbled for a pen. "Just do it and get the hell out of here."
"Will you please just talk to me – just for a-"
"Sign the fucking papers, Elizabeth," he snarled, narrowing his menacing, cerulean eyes at her. "Do it."
She swallowed hard, taking the pen when he thrust it at her. She hadn't come to Harbor View Towers to leave a divorcee; she'd come to give Jason a reason to live. "Jason…" She rolled it around in her hand, clenching it tightly in her fist. "Will you please-"
"I asked you to sign the papers and get the fuck out of my house," he interrupted, shoving them towards her. "Just do it."
Nodding, she sank her teeth into her lower lip, her eyes falling to the bright, yellow tags that stuck out from the paper work. With the flick of her wrist she could be free; from a husband who didn't want her, from a name she didn't wish to carry any longer, and still, she couldn't do it.
"Jason, will you give me a minute to talk to-"
"You've talked a lot, and I'm tired of you showing up on my doorstep and crying like some pathetic-"
"Stop it," she warned, setting the pen down on the desk and backing away. She wasn't going to let him do this to her again.
It had been bad enough when he'd ignored her every time she visited him in the hospital. And then he'd kicked her out of her own home; packing her things and setting them in the hallway for her to find after she'd come home from work.
And now he was going to tell her she was pathetic.
"I'm done, Elizabeth. I don't want anything to do with you," he muttered spitefully, purposely trying to hurt her. "I can't even stand to look at you."
"You're a son of a bitch," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as she looked at him, desperately seeking some kind of familiarity.
What happened to the softness in his eyes? The promise of tomorrow? And the twinkle whenever he looked her way? Could something that was so real, that she felt so deep – could it just disappear overnight?
The two of them always promised to be stronger than that.
"Do you think that hurting everyone who cares about you is going to fix things?" she asked quietly, tightening her jaw. She wasn't going to cry in front of him – not now or ever again. She was all cried out and if he wanted to treat her like she was trash, then she was just going to give it right back. "You'll be left with nothing."
"That's what I want." He jabbed a slender finger on the divorce papers. "You don't care about me and neither does anyone else. You're just waiting – you want-"
"Everyone cares about you, but you're too stubborn to see it!" she cried, praying he would take a breath and see things how they really were. "Those people who you told to go to hell – who you said were nothing to you, are your family, Jason! They gave birth to you and they raised you and-"
"I'm not the boy they raised, and they'll never look at me without seeing him," he argued angrily, raising a clenched fist to his mouth. "Why won't you all go away?"
She couldn't recall ever seeing him like this; so bitter and hurt, so determined to hurt the people he loved – or used to at least.
"We're worried about you. You're so upset all the time and we want to help you, but you won't let us."
"Because I don't want your help," he snarled, shaking his head. "I want all of you to go away. I don't want you coming around and telling me I'm making mistakes and being reckless and-"
"You just had brain surgery, Jason!" she cried exhaustedly, throwing her hands up. "You've been out of the hospital for barely a month, and you've already put yourself back in there by wrecking your motorcycle. You're acting as if you don't want to live."
"Maybe I don't," he challenged, shrugging smugly. "I ride the cliff road fast and wait. Because if I can't get you all to leave me alone, I'll make it-"
"Don't say that," she said, her heart tightening at the twinkle in his eyes as he hurt her. She knew it was deliberate; his sad attempt to push her away. It had worked on his family and his friends, but she refused to walk away from him and leave him when he needed her the most.
"You've already lost your husband. They lost their son and their friend. I'm nobody."
She flinched at his words, hating that she couldn't hide how much this hurt her. "If I sign the papers will you stop?"
"Being annoyed with you?" he asked annoyed, rolling his eyes. "I don't know. I think that dislike is lasting."
"Stop hurting yourself," she said, grabbing the pen from the desk, her hands trembling as she flipped through the pages.
"I'm not any of your concern," he growled, looking pointedly at her hand. "Sign."
"The least you could do-"
"I've done the least for you," he interrupted, holding out his hand and preparing to tick off the list of things he'd done for her. "I went to a lawyer. I had the lawyer draw up the papers. I gave you everything – money, a new apartment, the stupid jaguar that you so dearly loved. You got all the wealth and fame that came with being Jason-"
"I don't want any of that," she insisted, nibbling her lip, too afraid to admit what she wanted.
She'd tried time and time again; at every visit, when he was released – she tried to make him understand that she wanted nothing more than to be there for him. Because he was – the man he used to be was her husband and because no one deserved to be as alone as Jason Morgan was forcing himself to be.
Sure, he had every right to be angry; he'd lost his entire identity – a career as a CEO of a billion dollar company, a wife who loved him more than anything, and himself. Never again would he be the man who wore the pressed suits to the stuffy meetings he hated, coming home at night to shake his head in disgust at just how greedy the men in his business were. He wouldn't make suggestive comments as he slid into bed beside his wife and he wouldn't wake her with a cup of coffee on the days he decided to call in.
He wouldn't be Jason Quartermaine ever again.
"Are you signing or not?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.
She could feel an ultimatum coming; one final demand about the divorce. He'd already threatened to take everything she had, but that hadn't stopped her from fighting him, and she'd just shrugged her shoulders when he suggested taking her to court and humiliating her in front of the whole town. She didn't care about anyone except him, and he was too stupid to see it, and she was starting to wonder why she cared so damn much.
"I have somewhere to be."
She perked up, knowing it was none of her business, but still, she couldn't stop herself. "A meeting?"
"Maybe," he grunted, arching his eyebrows. "It's none of your damn business."
"I know," she agreed, cringing at the possibility of the former Golden Boy of Port Charles actually going into business with mob kingpin, Sonny Corinthos. That worried her the most; the possibility of Jason jumping to the other side of the law in an attempt to run everyone from his old life away. "I just wish you would think rationally before you-"
"I'm not listening to this," he cut in, banging his fist on the divorce papers. "Sign and get out, Elizabeth. Go be the pathetic widow somewhere else."
"Contrary to what you may think, Jason, this is the last place I want to be."
"Could have fooled me," he shrugged, leaning over the desk. "I just thought maybe Jason Quartermaine had a thing for whiney, unwanted whor-" He shut up when her palm collided against his cheek so hard that she felt the sting all the way to the end of her elbow.
He reacted more angrily than she imagined, grabbing her by hand and jerking her towards him. "You want to get physical – that's fine," he hissed, turning her around his arms so that her back was pressed firmly against his chest.
"Jason…" She whimpered as his hands tightened over her. They'd gone tooth and nail several times since he'd gotten out of the hospital, but he'd never grabbed her, not like this.
He wrapped his fist over her hand that held the pen and bent her over the desk. "Sign," he growled in her ear. "Sign and get the-"
"What the hell are you doing?" Sonny cried, the penthouse door swinging open in a rush. "Jason, let got of her!" He released her almost instantly, the power that Sonny seemed to have over her husband all too obvious, and she wondered how he was capable of getting through to Jason when no one else was. "Don't you ever put your hands on her like that. I know you're upset and having a hell of a time with what's going on, but Elizabeth is your wife-"
"Soon to be ex," he cut in, backing away from her, his eyes lingering on her face as she turned to face him. His lip twitched angrily, and she wondered if he was upset because he felt the need to apologize.
"Regardless, she deserves respect," he said, looking between them. The kingpin had been surprisingly kind to Elizabeth since the accident; always checking up on her and making sure she was okay. Well, as okay as she could be, all things considered. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Elizabeth murmured, turning back to the desk. A tear slipped down the curve of her cheek and plopped onto the papers. She watched as it smeared the ink into a messy blot. "I was just…leaving…after I…" She lifted her eyes and looked around the penthouse, closing them briefly as if to hang onto what good memories still existed here. "After I signed."
Her eyes fluttered open as she scrambled to scribble her name messily on each marked line, leaving the pen placed neatly in the middle. She forced a smile at the mob boss and hurried out of the penthouse, refusing to give Jason Morgan so much as a second glance. She slammed the door so hard behind her she could have sworn the door facing cracked, and she hoped to leave one last mark on that penthouse, one last thing that would drive him completely insane.
"It's over," she whispered, scrubbing her hands over her face as she punched the elevator button, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks, letting her hand fall to rest on her stomach. Slowly, she fisted her hand in the material of her shirt, wishing there was someway to make the growing bump just disappear.