A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece
The Ripple Effect
Chapter 1: The Evening Before
It had to happen soon and it probably really did have to happen where it did and how it did, unfortunately the person most affected by it all didn't have a clue. He had just been trying to instill a sense of holiday cheer into their rather austere living space. After all it really hadn't been a banner year for either one of them and if a place ever "needed a little Christmas right now!" it was surely Stone Cold's penthouse.
Spinelli stepped back and admired the little Christmas tree. Sure it was a tad crooked but if you squinted and tilted your head it wasn't half bad. Really it was the wobble that gave the Jackal the most concern. He might have been the ace of cyberspace but he wasn't very mechanical. The man at the Christmas tree lot had told him to slice a piece off of the trunk to enable it to start taking up water.
"Be sure to make an even cut," had been his parting piece of wisdom as Spinelli walked off whistling with his purchase. That wouldn't be any problem he knew as he gave an assured, off-handed back wave.
"Well, famous last words and all that…" he moaned to himself as he made the sixth cut of the evening. There were evergreen boughs strewn over the living room and his hands were sticky with resin, there was some on the carpet as well. "The Jackal hopes his Master has inculcated the mood of the season and will look upon this small blemish as part of the larger attempt to lighten the atmosphere of our shared abode."
He was nervous about Jason's reaction because he knew how he liked things to be pristine and immaculate. The Jackal often had difficulty with either of those concepts except with regard to his beloved laptop. Also, he reflected, perhaps it hadn't been the wisest choice to utilize the large chef's knife as a makeshift saw. He knew Emily had given this set of knifes to Jason and that he prized them accordingly. Still, the tree was up in the stand and if the Jackal could only manage to get the lights and some ornaments on…
"Well, not even Stone Cold could be that much of a Scrooge could he?" Spinelli mused wondering if he was essaying hope or denial, he truly couldn't say which.
The problem was that these days Spinelli wasn't sure about Jason's reaction to anything. Ever since Jake's kidnapping and subsequent rescue; Jason had fluctuated between being unnaturally morose and silent (even by the standard Stone Cold terms) or blazing with a bright fury that he mostly directed at any Russian unlucky enough to encounter him.
Spinelli had felt the sidelong brush of his moods as Jason only seemed to be able to tolerate conversing with him about business matters. Any attempt on Spinelli's part to attempt to speak with his mentor about his obvious feelings of guilt and anguish were deflected by a stony glare and a request that was actually an ill-disguised order to get back to work. Even worse was when Jason would respond by looking speculatively at Spinelli as he spoke and then quietly suggest that perhaps it was time that he move out of the penthouse because Jason could no longer guarantee his safety.
"Anybody's safety," he reiterated bleakly as he arose grabbing his jacket and heading out the door.
The idea that he should move from the penthouse filled Spinelli with terror on several counts. First and foremost was his concern for Jason. He truly didn't think he should be alone right now, he wasn't sure what he might be capable of doing as long as this black cloud of grief and depression hung over his head. Every time Jason walked out of the penthouse Spinelli couldn't relax until he returned. He knew that Jason wasn't going to the office since it had yet to be rebuilt after the fire. So, that meant he was out wandering the streets probably looking for trouble, mob-related or not.
Then there was the ever present specter of rejection and loss of what had become his only and closest definition of a home. He knew Maxie had moved out, she had fledged. That was all right for Maximista and perhaps if she had included him in the move he might have considered it. Still, he knew that they didn't have Johnny and Lulu's type of relationship.
"Say the word!" he scolded himself angrily. "Love," he admitted miserably. He felt it, she didn't, it was simple-simply agonizing.
So, for Spinelli there was no leaving the nest. He had spent his life looking for one and the closest approximation he had found was living in the penthouse with Jason. In the beginning he had felt like a poorly tolerated house guest with Sam actually being his champion more than an impatient and indifferent Jason. That had been years ago and when Sam had left in disgrace Spinelli had stayed on and Jason hadn't minded.
For a long time now he had regarded the penthouse as his rightful home. He had never tried to abuse the privilege of his residency but Jason tolerated his room being a mess and had never threatened him with banishment even when Lulu and later Maxie had been temporarily installed.
These days though Spinelli felt as though he were clinging to his right of domicile by a thin and unraveling rope. He felt if he irritated Jason by saying or doing the wrong thing that he would find all his worldly goods packed up and on the opposite side of the front door. Spinelli literally didn't know what he would do if that were to ever be the case.
Unlike with most people, it wasn't an issue of earning his way in the world. No one with his prodigious cyber skills would go unemployed for long. No, it was the loss of Jason that petrified him. He couldn't visualize a world where he would no longer be the grasshopper to his master, his mentor's wingman, and-always and forever-the Jackal to Jason's Stone Cold.
Without that defining relationship in his life he would be cast adrift, back to the existence of the hopeless computer geek lacking in all and sundry social skills. Someone unable to get through a day without having allegorical sand kicked into his ninety pound weakling face.
He loved and admired Jason above all people. He thought of him as a much revered older brother or perhaps in his heart of hearts, the father he had never known. He had always envied little Jake his biological bond with Jason. Jason didn't live with Jake and couldn't even spend time with him. Despite those restrictions, Jason still loved him and cherished him automatically, purely because he was his son. Theirs was the most poignant, beautiful and enviable connection Spinelli knew.
He understood that Jason could never have any feelings for the Jackal that even approximated what he felt for Jake. Spinelli didn't care though. It would always be his deepest regret that he wasn't destined to be loved by those he loved. He had to be content to be in their orbit, to share their lives and to support and help them where and when he could. It was more than he used to suppose he would ever know in his life. Maybe it wasn't everything, but it was enough.
So, to ensure his place in Jason's life and home he was determined to tread carefully until the current upheaval smoothed out. He knew that eventually Jason's raw emotional state would settle down into some form of tortured acceptance. Spinelli could help his mentor achieve peace with his loss of dreams that he had always known couldn't come to fruition as long as he was in the mob. Knowing and accepting were two different things though and it was up to Spinelli to help Stone Cold make the transition between those two states of being.
Tonight that meant turning the penthouse into a festive reminder of this special time of year. A time when hope and peace were bywords and a gently falling snow was greeted with joy and reverence rather than as an inconvenience.
He had purchased some LED lights which he strung over the shaky tree. Next he had brought down a cardboard box that had traveled with him from Tennessee. In it were all the ornaments that had belonged to his mother. It had been the one sentimental item that his grandmother had pressed upon him when he left home for the last time. She was a plain Baptist and didn't go in for a lot of "shiny gee-gaws'. Besides with Spinelli out of her hair she intended to go cruising in warm climates each year between Christmas and New Years.
He opened the box and a reminiscent smile came to his lips as he looked at the contents which sparkled in the reflected light from the tree. They were just as he remembered them-lovely each one. He randomly pulled out a conical shaped glass ornament made of stained glass that glowed ruby red and cobalt blue in the firelight. Each one was more beautiful than the last.
Regret fierce and bitter flashed through his mind. Every time he looked at these beautiful artifacts that were all that remained of his mother (there wasn't even a photograph to memorialize her) he felt so bereft. He knew nothing of her except that she loved beautiful things, had excellent taste and untamable thick brown hair. Spinelli only knew this last detail because whenever his grandmother had tried to conquer his cowlick when he was a child she would always mutter to herself, "Hair just like his mother's" in a tone that seemed to be a mix of anger and sadness.
It was the only time that Spinelli ever heard his grandmother speak of her lost daughter. No matter how much he begged and pleaded she wouldn't tell him anything about her. "Best not to stir all that up," she would say and that would be the end of it. The only softening of her adamant refusal was when he was ten and she had produced the box of ornaments from the attic. Spinelli had been instantly spellbound. He had not needed any admonitions about being careful as he handled each exquisite piece with breathless reverence.
Tonight, as carols played from his i-pod set into its companion speakers, he wanted only to build a bridge between his past and present. To share these delicate mementos of the woman who had given him life with the man who had given him purpose and self-respect. He wanted it to be a special Christmas, for Jason to look forward to the New Year as an opportunity for a fresh start and perhaps one for himself as well.
"Ah," he stood back and admired his handiwork, crooked, wobbly and all-the tree was beautiful. The lights glowed while the ornaments acted as prisms catching and reflecting the firelight in hypnotic and soothing patterns. He had missed them, he had missed this…
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of keys in the front door-Stone Cold had returned and Spinelli could relax his vigilance. Jason reached for the switch by the door turning on the ceiling lights. He turned ready to greet his friend as he entered but his salutations died unuttered. One look told him that Jason had found trouble tonight.
Spinelli inhaled sharply. "Stone Cold! What happened?"
"Nothing," Jason grunted, opening the closet door and hanging up his leather jacket.
Spinelli walked slowly over to him, "The Jackal would hardly call multiple gashes on his Master's face nothing."
"I got into a disagreement at Jake's that's all." Jason brushed by Spinelli, his stiff movements indicating that more than his face had been injured.
"If this is indeed nothing, might the Jackal inquire as to the appearance of Stone Cold's opponent?"
"It was just a fight Spinelli, nobody won. This," he gestured at his facial lacerations, "came from a ring the guy was wearing." With that he headed for the kitchen returning a moment later with a beer. He stopped looking around the living room having just comprehended the results of Spinelli's labors. "What is all this? What have you been doing?"
"The Jackal was just trying to furnish our abode with some festive seasonal cheer…" he paused trying to gauge Jason's expression. "What does the Master think of his grasshopper's efforts?"
"Tree's crooked," Jason said succinctly, plopping down on the couch only to bounce up a minute later with an evergreen branch in his hand. "What the hell?"
Getting more apprehensive by the moment, Spinelli scurried over to retrieve the offending greenery. "Um, the Jackal had problems getting the bottom of the tree to even out and he kept having to make further incisions. The tree is much reduced from what it was originally," He finished forlornly.
He sat next to Jason to get a better look at the cuts on his face. "If Stone Cold would permit him to do so, the Jackal could clean and bandage the wounds on his visage," he tentatively made the offer.
Jason shook his head, "I'm fine Spinelli."
"They could become infected…" he persisted as he reached over to touch one of the cuts.
Jason batted his hand away angrily. "Give it a rest! I said I'm fine!"
Shocked at his animosity, Spinelli slid away from Jason. He ducked his head miserably, unsure as what he should do to help his mentor. Should he go or should he stay and try to get Jason to open up?
"Spinelli," Jason's voice was softer. He sounded apologetic for his outburst. Then his tone changed again, "That's one of Emily's knives…What's that covering it?" His voice was sharp and accusing.
Spinelli looked up at the knife Jason was holding by the handle as he examined the gummy resin coating the blade. He jumped to his feet in agitation, "The Jackal needed an implement to cut the base of the Christmas tree so it could imbibe fluids." He knew his voice was shrill and defensive as tried to explain what he had done to Jason's prized knife.
"What's wrong with you, Spinelli? Don't you know anything? You don't use a chef's knife to cut into trees, you use a saw." Jason was glaring at him in a way that was familiar to Spinelli. He had seen him use that expression on many an adversary but never against the Jackal himself.
His heart sank as he thought, "The Jackal is incapable of accomplishing even the easiest of tasks without making a dog's meal of it!" Once more he attempted to extricate himself from this conversational nightmare, "The Jackal didn't know the whereabouts of a saw. He sees that he shouldn't have used kind Emily's gift to Stone Cold as a substitute for the appropriate instrument." He reached his hand out to Jason, desperate to attain a détente between the two of them. "If Stone Cold will relinquish the knife, the Jackal will immediately cleanse the blade and replace it in its sheath."
Jason looked up at him, his eyes were cold and Spinelli actually felt a shiver run down his spine. "The resin has wrecked the blade. It isn't just a case of being "washed off". It needs to be sharpened and if the knife has lost its balance then it's ruined." Without any warning, Jason flipped the knife in his hand and sent it whizzing past Spinelli's head.
Spinelli just stood there dazed, unable to believe what had transpired. Jason had thrown a lethal weapon at him, missing him by inches. His whole body was trembling as he turned his head and looked over his right shoulder. The knife was lodged in the wall, still thrumming as an indicator of the force with which it had been thrown. Spinelli turned to look back at Jason who was peering intently down at the carpet.
His voice was low and dangerous as he stared up accusingly at Spinelli, "There's resin on the carpet…"
Spinelli swallowed and nodded dumbly. He knew there were no words in his defense and with the mood Jason was in, it didn't appear an appropriate time for heartfelt apologies or promises of better future behavior. It seemed his vision of his baggage piled outside the penthouse door was becoming more likely with every passing moment.
Jason stood up from the couch and walked over to the decorated tree. "Branches everywhere, a ruined knife and carpet and for what? This?"
The contempt in his voice caused Spinelli to wince. He looked over at the tree which for one shining moment had seemed magical, a harbinger of hope. Now it just reminded him of the tree in the Peanuts Christmas special. It looked the way it had when Charlie Brown had decorated it before the gang had come along to spruce it up. "Charlie Brown and Damian Spinelli, now there was an apt comparison," he thought to himself grimly.
Jason tilted his head, contemplating the tree, "Ah, I see it now," his voice was sarcastic, "It's art, you need to look at it a certain way to really appreciate it. Well, sometimes a project needs to be trashed and started over to get it right."
Spinelli's mind wasn't at its sharpest and he was still trying to translate Jason's cryptic comment when he realized what he intended. His comprehension was too late and all he had time for was to turn and yell, "No!" His shout of agony was timed perfectly with Jason lashing out with his foot, kicking savagely at the unsteady base of the tree.
The unhappy Christmas tree needed no engraved invitation telling it that it wasn't wanted. It swayed for a microsecond, giving Spinelli a soupcon of hope even though Jason was already swinging his leg back to deliver a second kick if required. It wasn't, the tree obligingly toppled over, it hit the floor with a resounding crash, part of it landed in the fireplace and began to smolder.
They both leapt into action. Jason dashed towards the crown of the tree to pull it out of the fire, then he turned to run into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Spinelli got down on his hands and knees frantically searching among the shattered ornaments, trying to find one, just one, that was whole and unbroken.
Jason returned with a pitcher of water which he unceremoniously poured on the smoking tree. There was a hiss as a cloud of steam was released and the smell of green wood burning filled the room. Jason had sobered up and regained his temper in the few minutes that had elapsed since the tree had collapsed. He felt ashamed of his actions and he looked over with concern at his roommate.
Spinelli was still down on his knees holding some of the larger fragments of glass and crystal that he could find. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to come to terms with losing his only connection to his mother.
"Spinelli," it was Jason speaking softly, "You need to get up out of the glass. Come on let me help you…" He reached down to grasp his friend's elbow and pull him up out of the glittering detritus.
Spinelli furiously shrugged off Jason's grasp. "Leave me alone!" He looked up at Jason, rage and heartbreak both plainly visible in his expression. He held up the pieces of colored glass. "This, this is all I ever had of my mother. Not even a picture… Just this and my hair…" Jason could barely hear the last words because Spinelli's voice was choked with sobs that he was trying desperately not to release. He wasn't going to give Jason the satisfaction of seeing how thoroughly effective his payback for the ruined knife and carpet had been.
"I'm sorry Spinelli. I had no idea." Jason was appalled, he didn't understand how it had all gotten to this, how he could have taken his frustration, his destructive tendencies out on the one person that still mattered to him.
"No, no idea," Spinelli agreed dully. "It's just the Jackal right. He's just the comic relief, or if you ever need someone to hack into anything, well then he's your go to guy. Anything else though, it's best to just not ask and he certainly won't tell. Just send him to his pink room and let him out when you need him for something. No fuss, no muss." If he had said any of this with bitterness or anger Jason would have felt better but he just recited it all in a monotone, no inflection to his voice at all.
"Spinelli," he tried to protest, "That's not true at all. That's not how I see you."
"Really, Jason?" He was looking up at him inquiringly, his green eyes devoid of any emotion. "Which part has the Jackal been in error about? Do you take his needs, his thoughts, or his behaviors seriously? Do you ever think about him unless he's being an irritant or you need him to utilize his superior cyber skills? Oh, the Jackal knows, you were aware that these ornaments on this tree were the only physical remnants of his errant mother and you thought to destroy them intentionally so as to have a heart to heart with the Jackal about the inadvisability of substituting physical objects for intangibles such as maternal love?"
Jason had never heard Spinelli speak like this. He hadn't entirely understood everything he had said, particularly the last part about his mother but he knew he was in terrible pain. Jason had a window of opportunity, a brief moment to respond, if he said the right thing, did the right thing then their bond would be reestablished, even strengthened.
He couldn't do it, he just couldn't. Right now he was dealing with too much-Jake and Elizabeth gone for good that was all he could think about. He simply couldn't take on Spinelli's issues right now. Later when things were better, if they would ever be, then he would sit him down and they would talk about this stuff. Jason would tell him exactly how important he was to him, how much he counted on him, how maybe he didn't have his own family but that Jason thought of him as his family… He'd do all that later, tomorrow, next week-when he wasn't so exhausted.
Spinelli watched Jason's face as every thought he was having flitted across it. He clearly saw his decision, his resolution to shelve this conversation for a later more convenient time. For one tiny moment he had allowed himself to hope that Jason would step up and put him first, would choose him but he hadn't. His shoulders slumped in defeat and he wiped at his tear stained face and runny nose with the backs of his hands. He was still clutching the glass fragments in his hands and they had scored red lined wounds across the palms.
Slowly he pushed himself up off the floor using his knees as he refused to relinquish his grip on the shattered ornaments. Jason again tried to help him but Spinelli shook him off coldly. When he was once more upright, he gazed around at the destruction evident in the living room.
He looked at Jason and spoke formally, "The Jackal regrets having transcended the boundaries that Stone Cold has in place. He never should have used gentle Emily's gift in such a cavalier fashion and for that he is truly repentant." He took a deep breath and continued, "He will clean up the disorder. With regard to anything that needs to be replaced he will be sure to reimburse Stone Cold for any costs incurred."
Jason tried to interrupt, but Spinelli held up his bleeding hand to forestall him. "Please, let the Jackal finish. All that he has outlined as a plan of action will have to be postponed til the morrow. For now he finds that he must leave this place and attempt to clear his head in the fresh air."
Suiting his actions to his words, he carefully put the broken pieces of glass down on the coffee table, touching them tenderly one last time. Then he went to the closet and pulled out his old Army coat, the one he hadn't been wearing this year.
Jason tried once more, "Spinelli, please don't go. Stay, let me bandage your hands. Everything will look better in the morning."
Spinelli's hand was on the doorknob, his head was bowed. He said in a low voice, "The Jackal perceives that his Master has long been desiring his absence and, as always, his wish is his grasshopper's command." He was gone as he pulled the door shut behind him with a careful click.
Jason looked around at the ruin that was his living room. "Fuck it!" he growled, he had had it with this night.
He was going to bed. He would talk to the kid in the morning. Sighing, he doused the fire and flicked off the lights. He felt old, his muscles stiff from the pummeling they had received. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and shucking his boots he clambered into bed fully dressed. "Tomorrow," he thought drowsily, the adrenalin wearing off and the alcohol releasing its hold, "tomorrow I'll make it up to him."