Part 1

The diner by the side of Highway 44 was warm and inviting, the only bright light he'd seen in nearly 40 miles. He easily turned his motorcycle onto the worn blacktop that served as a parking lot and turned off the engine. Swinging his leg over the back of his bike he hissed in his breath when pain erupted in his side. He'd managed to ignore the pain from the stitches during the ride, the cold wind on his face the soft prickle of rain had only kept him awake and masked the dull pain in his side.

Running away from a fight had never been his style, but running from the law had sadly become a way of life for Jason Morgan.

Straightening up to his full height he knew the twinge of pain that shot through his body wouldn't be read on his face. He'd been a robot too long to crack now.

The neon sign glowing in the window of the diner was almost as welcome as the pot of coffee he saw sitting on the warmer. A couple of cups and something to eat and he'd be good. The plastic pill bottle in his jacket pocket reminded him that it was time to take another antibiotic pill. Patrick Drake might be an egotistical son-of-a-b*tch, but he was a brilliant surgeon and he'd given Jason hell when he'd pulled on his tshirt and walked out of the room after getting his stitches.

He'd made Patrick some half hearted promise to take it easy and then he'd gotten on his motorcycle and gotten the hell out of Port Charles. The PCPD wasn't much on talent or initiative, but this time they'd gotten lucky and Jason didn't have any other choice but to leave.

A bell above the door bounced on its spring and not a single eye glanced up at him. It helped that there wasn't anyone in the diner except for the little woman wiping the counter. The clock above the order window said 11:52 p.m. and it seemed like the type of place where truckers would go to looking for a warm place to sit and snooze for a few minutes. Sliding onto one of the vinyl covered stools at the counter he pulled the collar of his jacket closer and huddled in to wait.

A white embossed cocktail napkin slid under his hand. "What can I get for you?"

The voice was soft and warm and somehow he knew he was in trouble. "Coffee… lots of it."

She laughed and his gut tightened in response. "One of those nights?" He felt the gentle caress of her fingers against the back of his hand. "Coffee… lots of it, comin' right up."

Jason lifted his head and blinked at the light bouncing off the yellow walls and old olive green glass fixtures that hadn't seen a rest since the 60s. He fixed his gaze on the coffee pot first, looking into the inky darkness of the pot before he looked up into her face.

She paused a step away from the inside edge of the counter and ran her free hand over her hair. "Wow, do I look that bad?"

"Bad? No… I didn't-"

"I was just teasing… I'm sorry, it's too late to play around like that." Flipping over the coffee cup nearest him, she poured it three quarters full and set the coffee pot down."Can I get you anything to eat?" She leaned on the counter and looked into his face, her eyes searching. "You look like you could use something."

Her eyes were blue, almost midnight against her pale skin. The pain meds must be fading… he was losing his mind. "Sure… sure. How about a steak or-"

She gave him a half smile and turned away. "That would be great, but the cook just went home and I can't leave the front to cook," She reach out for a bowl and filled in from a pot at the end of the counter, "I do have the House Special."

"Fine… sure."

She set the bowl before him and held out a spoon. "Here you go."

Taking the spoon from her hand he scooped up some of the thick concoction. "Chili?"

She looked genuinely shocked. "I'll have you know that is prize-winning Chili."

He scooped up a few test spoonfuls before he put one in his mouth. She stood close by removing her apron while he tasted the chili and then swallowed it down. "Well?"

Jason nodded. "It's good."

She dropped her apron on the counter and then settled her hands on her hips. "Oh alright. It's good." She turned away and Jason had the distinct impression that he'd hurt her feelings. He wasn't very hungry, but he finished the bowl as she went around the room turning off the machines, the warmers, even the lights in the bathrooms. The last thing she turned off was the jukebox and even then she slid her hand over the glass domed cover like it was an old friend and not a quarter-a-song appliance. "I don't want to rush you, but I have to get going…"

Jason looked up at the clock, it was past midnight. "Sure. Sorry to keep you."

"No," she waved him off, a little of her light returning, "I was glad you made it in before I had to close up. She put a cup of coffee in his hand. "One for the road."

He reached into his pocket and handed her a bill as he headed out into the darkness.

She watched him move out toward the motorcycle gleaming in the low off-yellow lights outside and shook her head. He was hurt, moving too slow for it to be anything for the door to catch him she looked down into her hand she stopped short. Crumpled into her hand was a hundred dollar bill. Now she had to catch him… there was no way he meant to give her that much money for a bill that didn't even reach ten dollars.

Elizabeth pushed through the front door and ran out into the parking lot. "Hey… hey mister-"

The words died on her tongue as he crumpled to the ground a foot away from his motorcycle.

Jason woke up in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped up in blankets from his feet to his neck. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to get his arms out without help.

"Mornin'!"

A tiny little body scrambled up and over his body, nearly planting a foot in a rather inopportune place as it turned around on the bed. A face just as tiny as the body peered down into his face, hands braced against his swaddled chest. "You sick?"

"Sick?" Jason felt a little hand brush against his forehead and he sighed… the heat of his own skin against the cool of the child's hand. "I guess."

"Oh…" the little head nodded like a sage. "Mama! He's up!"

Jason blinked as the child's face came into focus. Wide brown eyes blinked back at him over rounded baby cheeks. "Hey…"

The child sat up on his chest and gave him a lopsided grin. "Hay is for horses and cows that go mooooooo."

"Cameron!" A voice he barely recognized had his new friend giggling enough to shake his middle.

"Uh oh…"

"Get down from there…" Through the fever he saw the waitress from the café. Saw her and knew that he'd fainted like a little girl. It was enough to drive him to swallow a bullet.

A bullet! The thought reached him through the pain and he lifted his arm as the young woman helped the little boy down off of him.

"Cameron," she whispered, "your oatmeal's on the table…"

"Moooooooom!" The whine only lasted as long as it took her to mention there was brown sugar and raisins in it and the child ran into the other room.

She walked over to the bed and looked down at him, crooking her head to the side to meet his fevered gaze. "I don't know who you are besides your driver's license, Jason Morgan. Part of me doesn't want to know. But I took you in instead of letting you bleed to death and I've got your gun hidden away."

"I can't… can't tell you…"

"I'm not dumb, so don't try to lie to me… I've had enough of that in my life. I'd rather you just leave me out of it. I'll help you… I'll take care of you until you're well enough to leave… but so help me, Mr. Morgan, if you hurt my little boy I'll kill you."

She turned away and walked back toward the door, but stopped when Jason's voice reached her ears. "Why?"

She almost didn't answer. He saw it in the hesitation to turn back to him.

When she did he saw the shadow in her eyes… the pain in her face. "Because no one helped my husband… they let him die. I can't let that happen to someone else's… family."

Jason's thoughts swam with the heat of his fever and he struggled to understand her words. He raised his hand to try and get her attention when his throat refused to work. That was when he saw it… what had made her help him and bring him into the house with her son. His wedding ring.