Conversion

by suerum

Jaspin. Kinda of different, I guess just read, a little bit of a PSA. Difficult to categorize...

1. The Docks

A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece

Conversion

Part I: The Docks

Jason tapped quietly on the door and when there was no response he cracked it open and peered into the room. "Spinelli," he said it softly but there was an underlying hint of impatience in his tone. "C'mon, I just got a call we have to go down to the docks…"

"Stone Cold," it sounded like he was drugged as he fought to hold onto the deep sleep he had just been immersed in. "What time is it?" He answered his own question as he looked over at the green screen of his digital clock sitting on the night table. "3:30 in the…one hesitates to call such a barbaric time anything as gentle or melodious as morning…" His voice intermingled indignation and a self-pitying whine to create a perfect pitch that grated on Jason's nerves.

"Hey," he said defensively. "It isn't my idea of a great time to be getting up either. I haven't even had any coffee. Bernie called there's a shipment coming in and we have to meet it and do the inventory. That's the reality of the so-called 'glamour' of this life that you're so insistent about being a part of…"

For once it was Spinelli stopping a Jason spate of words rather than the much more common reverse scenario. "The Jackal hears and obeys, Stone Cold. He'll be up and at 'em…" His head had already fallen back onto the pillow, his eyes half closed.

"Spinelli," now there was a warning clearly evident in Jason's words. "You're not going to like it if I have to get you out of that bed. I'm going down to make some coffee and I'm leaving in five minutes. I better see you down there dressed and with your laptop ready to go." Without another word he was gone leaving the room once again cloaked in a peaceful darkness.

Jason was fuming at the coffeepot as he waited for it to start dripping out the magical liquid that was one of his few confessed addictions. One look at his watch told him that closer to ten rather than five minutes had passed since he had delivered his ultimatum. "Spinelli!" he yelled shattering the early morning quiet of the penthouse. The problem was that Jason knew how limited he really was with regard to taking any actual punitive action against Spinelli. He never could get seriously angry with the kid and whenever he did manage it all it took was for that guilt stricken look to cross his face and he immediately felt more like hugging him than scolding him. He was going to be goddamned though if his roommate ever learned how much he had Jason wrapped around his little finger. The damage that could be wrought if Spinelli ever had an inkling of his influence over Jason made him shudder even as he took his first soothing gulp of tar black coffee.

"Stone Cold, the Jackal is as ever at your disposal," the quiet voice directly behind him almost caused him to jump and spill the coffee.

"You're late!" He growled at him, trying to get his nerves under control. "How had the kid learned to sneak up behind him like that?" The thought was an admixture of irritation and grudging admiration.

"The Jackal attempted to complete his toilette in the allotted time period but alas, he has yet to master the immediacy of preparedness consistently role-modeled by his Master in all situations."

"Yeah, you look great. I can see why it took you so long-all those extra touches."

He immediately regretted his sarcasm as he looked over the exceedingly rumpled looking young man. He had obviously scavenged his wrinkled clothes from the floor, brushed his teeth (the evidence of that was emblazoned on his t-shirt) and attempted to conquer the unruly animal that was his hair with absolutely no success. It was the hurt registering deep in his clear green eyes as he retreated into silence having no protection against his mentor's unthinking cruel commentary that caused Jason to be furious with himself. He sighed as he reached over and tried in vain to get the mop of hair to behave. Anywhere it was pushed down a sympathetically attached part elsewhere immediately sprang up making Spinelli look something like a raccoon sporting a punk do.

"I guess the end product takes a little longer than what I 'allotted' you this morning, eh?" He had mitigated his tone as he rested his hand on Spinelli's shoulder waiting for him to look up and see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

He almost hated the softening in Spinelli's eyes as he without a trace of rancor for Jason's cutting words responded to the olive branch, understanding that this was the most that would ever be offered him and accepting it without question as not just good enough but more than he deserved. Jason knew the truth that it wasn't anywhere close to what his unswerving loyalty, friendship and companionship should entitle him to but it was all he had to offer. He just didn't know what he would do when the day came that Spinelli woke up for real and recognized that it wasn't nearly enough and left him to his own company, his solitude and his memories. He briefly closed his eyes as the force of that undesirable vision flooded across his mind and left him almost breathless with loneliness. If it was that bad with Spinelli standing right here next to him, he couldn't even began to imagine what the real thing would be like, all he knew was that it was inevitable.

Everyone left, they always had and always would. Maxie didn't have a patent on believing that she destroyed relationships and was always the one abandoned. Jason felt that was pretty much his lot in life as well. He thought he'd made his peace with it but somehow for both him and Maxie, this boy, this man, this sprite-like creature that had invaded their lives had changed the game or at least the rules. All he knew was that he had no intention of playing fair. Maybe it was destined that Spinelli would leave his life, his orbit someday but he would be damned if he gave it up with a whimper, without fighting for him to stay. Another thing Jason Morgan and Maxie Jones had in common was that they both fought dirty and to win. He could almost, not quite, but almost feel sorry for the young man trapped in their overlapping worlds. It would have been better for Damian Spinelli to have not met either of them but now that he had-well, it was just too bad for him.

"You have your laptop?" Stupid question but it bridged an awkward moment as Jason removed his hand and took another sip of his coffee. All the while he was regarding Spinelli steadily with a clear, straightforward gaze that didn't give the slightest clue to the inner misery of his thoughts.

"Most assuredly, Stone Cold. The Jackal recognizes that his Master only rooted him from his warm bed for his cyber-skills. He knows that his companionship, especially at such an early hour of the day, would just be an irksome burden as business is conducted. I will attempt to quell my tendency to ramb…" He stopped suddenly and a small blush spread across his face as he realized that he was doing just the opposite of what he intended.

Jason hid a small smile behind the rim of his cup. "No, I appreciate your company, Spinelli. C'mon we need to get going the ship will be docking soon." With that he reached into the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of orange soda popped the lid on the edge of the counter and handed it over. "Maybe this will help perk you up."

"Indeed, many thanks, Stone Cold." He took a quick swig of the sugary concoction and headed for the door where he had deposited his laptop in the desk chair along with a jacket he was planning to wear to offset the chill of an early spring morning. After dumping the dregs of his coffee and placing the cup in the sink, Jason caught up with
Spinelli and with a sigh helped disentangle him as he attempted to simultaneously put on the jacket and the messenger bag.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly as Jason managed to right everything and was ushering him out the door. "The Jackal was just trying to attain a seemingly oft elusive goal-that of expediency."

The drive to the docks didn't take long particularly as there was no traffic on the roads at such a God forsaken hour. Spinelli was abnormally silent and instead of reveling in the quietude, Jason kept sending him sidelong glances of concern. Finally, as they were turning in behind the warehouse that sat on the dock where the shipment was coming in he had to ask, "You all right? You going to be okay with this?"

Spinelli just gazed at Jason, his eyes hooded and indecipherable in the dim light coming from the dashboard. He inclined his head in unspoken affirmation which didn't really do anything to ease Jason's worries about his roommate. Hell, truth be told he would rather be doing anything else than taking this shipment's inventory in the chilly pre-dawn. Still, Sonny had started the policy of having each shipment with live cargo met by himself or Jason in order to record any and all problems so that he could take documented complaints back to their suppliers to either refund their investment or replace the lost goods. Jason couldn't remember the last time Sonny himself had actually met a shipment and since they mostly arrived at off hours just like this one he knew he shouldn't hold his breath waiting for him to ever show up.

"Damn it!" Jason hit the steering wheel in angry frustration as his headlights clearly showed that they had already begun to off load the consignment. "They should fucking know better!" He growled, yanking on the door handle and exiting the vehicle without turning off the lights or motor.

Sighing Spinelli reached over and extinguished both before taking the keys and putting them safely in his jeans pocket. Following Jason's lead he also climbed out of the SUV. His movements were slow and reluctant. Anyone looking at his body language could clearly tell that the young hacker would prefer to be absolutely anywhere else on the planet then standing on this dock in a chilly early morning mist with the sounds of an argument wafting out over the dark water to be lost somewhere in the middle of the expansive harbor.

"Lindstrom," Jason's voice was low as he made an effort to contain his fury.

He could tell the foreman of tonight's crew was spoiling for a fight and the way Jason was feeling he wanted to give him one. The problem was that there could be no doubt as to the outcome and Jason didn't want to have to get into yet another argument with Sonny about his inability to get along with this man he had brought over with him from the Zacchara organization. During his tenure as the head of the other major mob organization in Port Charles, Sonny Corinthos had simply been biding his time until he usurped Anthony Zacchara and regained control of his original business merging the two into one powerful über crime machine.

He had succeeded and when Jason agreed to once again be his number two in the newly recreated Corinthos-Morgan association he hadn't thought about the men that Sonny would bring over from the Zacchara operation to staff the expanded organization. In most cases, considering their adversarial history, the two groups integrated reasonably well. The men recognized the change in leadership made it prudent for them to reach a pragmatic decision of former enemies putting aside their differences and becoming comrades in arms instead. Nations had done it since time immemorial and paid mercenaries were even more adept at transferring their allegiances to whosoever held the authoritative and financial reins at any given instant.

There had been two major conflicts which had impeded the smooth assimilation of the disparate groups. The first one actually involved two different sides of the same coin. Jason's second in command Cody Paul had been summarily demoted by Sonny who had brought in Alec Lindstrom from the Zacchara side. Lindstrom was the only one of the Zacchara soldier's that Sonny had bonded with, had relied on with any replication of what he had with Jason. So, when he had come back to his power base, triumphantly returning to what he had created with a rich new addition to tack on, he had wanted to reward Lindstrom, to dazzle him with his magnanimity. Sonny told Jason that he wanted Lindstrom as his third in command right after Jason and himself. Jason had wanted that position reserved for Cody, as a reward for his loyalty, his exemplary service during a difficult and fraught time.

Jason also thought that Sonny ought to present his original men with some concessions after having allowed the Russians and all their attendant grief entrée into the Port Charles underworld. Those actions combined with Sonny's inexplicable behavior in forming an alliance with the Zacchara's had made his former employees question his loyalty to them, question whether they could trust him to have their best interests at heart. Jason thought that naming Cody to the number three spot would go a long ways towards soothing ruffled feathers and restoring Sonny's credence in the eyes of his erstwhile soldiers. Sonny disagreed, he wanted Lindstrom in the position and as far as ruffled feathers went-the men should be grateful to have him back in charge and recognize that they had no input about command decisions. Jason wasn't pleased but he acquiesced to Sonny's demand all the while visualizing an unhappy future of many other such confrontations. Cody almost quit over the issue but Jason managed to convince him to stay on and he tried to work the schedule so that Sonny and Cody rarely ran into one another.

The second major stumbling block in the reincorporation of the business involved Spinelli. Jason had never told him about it but he suspected he knew anyway. The kid was very sensitive to undercurrents and there sure as hell had been a lot of them between Sonny and himself the last couple of months. Sonny had flat out told Jason that he wouldn't allow Spinelli to work for him or the organization. He said that he was a liability as well as a security risk as proven by the trouble he had caused by getting hacked by the Feds. Jason had become upset and vehement and had told Sonny that if he wanted him then it was contingent on agreeing to take Spinelli back. This argument nearly caused an irrevocable breakdown in the negotiations. It had gone back and forth for hours, neither man willing to budge until Bernie had grudgingly suggested a compromise. Part of him wanted to be silent in the hope that the new agreement would be broken before it could be implemented. Yet, he knew that Jason felt he was obligated to give Sonny his business back and so in the spirit of helping Jason and forcing Sonny to make a concession he presented his idea.

They examined it from all sides and decided that it could work. The upshot was that Spinelli formally worked for Jason alone and whatever work he did for the Corinthos-Morgan organization was on a contractual basis and filtered through Jason. Everyone was happy with the arrangement. Sonny got to use the Jackal's much vaunted cyber-skills without every having to encounter him in person. Spinelli was delighted to not have to once more be in Sonny's sphere of influence on a daily basis. Jason was relieved that there didn't have to be an open breach between him and Sonny while he had managed to keep Spinelli both gainfully employed and under his watchful eye to prevent him from getting into any further trouble hacking.

Yet, this morning all the concessions Jason had to make in order to once more accept Sonny as his titular overlord seemed overwhelming and, for the first time, possibly unreasonable. He and Lindstrom hadn't liked one another from the outset. Lindstrom seemed to feel that he should have Jason's position, that his brash ways and excessively estimated sway over Sonny's decisions and choices meant that he didn't have to follow anyone's orders except his, certainly not Jason's. Jason found himself constantly stepping in to settle disputes between Lindstrom and 'his' men, the non-Zacchara faction. Lindstrom gave preferential treatment to the soldiers that had come over with him from the other operation and it created a schism between the two groups, one that Cody and Jason tried in vain to ameliorate. Lindstrom had undercut Jason by going directly to Sonny and saying that he had taken against him because of Cody's demotion. So, now if Jason tried to talk to Sonny about Lindstrom he was waved away impatiently and told to settle it amongst themselves, that quelling labor issues was Jason's responsibility and he ought to learn to be impartial the way Sonny was…

So, now Jason was faced with a choice. He could wipe the docks with Lindstrom's arrogant, cocky face and deal with Sonny's disapproval or he could try to reason with the son of a bitch for the umpteenth time. He clenched his fists and with his last shreds of self-control barely intact tried to implement option number two. "You know that you are to wait until I get here before you off-load the cargo. If there's a problem or a discrepancy and we're not here to record it, then it's on you and Sonny will hear about it."

Lindstrom was entirely unrepentant as he stood in the misty tendrils of low lying fog, his fists on his hips while his face jutted aggressively towards Jason, "If you and your little geek," he gave a contemptuous nod in the general direction of Spinelli who had come up to stand next to Jason, "would bother to get here on time, then we wouldn't have to unload the cargo without supervision!" He spat the last word out with contempt.

Lindstrom hadn't noticed the change in expression on Jason's face when he had called Spinelli a geek. As he finished his angry retort he realized that Jason was now standing directly before him and he hadn't even seen him cross the intervening space. He found himself shoved up against a crate, his jacket grasped tightly in Jason's fists and the famous gaze he had heard about-the dead, ice-cold eyes-directed at him. Like most bullies he capitulated easily when faced with truly committed violence and as he started to shake uncontrollably, he vaguely felt a warm trickle down his leg as his bladder let go.

"If you ever again say one disrespectful thing about Mister Spinelli, you will find yourself taking an impromptu swimming lesson with the sharks of the North Atlantic." Jason spoke each word with distinct diction through gritted teeth.

Lindstrom was nodding his head trying to placate Jason and additionally, from his perspective-save his life. "Mr. Morgan, I apologize. I just…Sonny, anyway…" he recognized that he wasn't saying the most advantageous things to soothe the savage beast that had him in its clutches. "I meant no disrespect, none. I spoke out of turn."

"Yes, you did and you owe him an apology," his voice now sounded like the hiss of a snake. An image of a boa constrictor came to Lindstrom's mind as he tried not to move or bring Jason's attention towards him in any more of a negative form than what it was already.

"Stone Cold," it was Spinelli, he had placed a calming hand on Jason's arm. "It's not necessary to go to these extremes for such a small slur. The Jackal didn't take offense…"

Jason moved his stare away from Lindstrom who sagged weakly with relief. "I take offense for you, Spinelli. No one gets to call you names, no one!" Suddenly his full attention was back on the despondent lieutenant. "Well, here he is what do you have to say to him?"

With one last vicious shake, Jason released him and waited while he caught his breath and straightened his jacket trying desperately to find some measure of dignity while he attempted to ignore the spreading stain on the front of his trousers. He cleared his throat, hoping that his voice wouldn't tremble when he spoke. "Spinelli," he began nervously and one look at Jason's glowering face convinced him to start over. "Mr. Spinelli," it seemed he had gotten it right, because Jason moved a fraction away from him, allowing Lindstrom to speak directly to Spinelli who was listening to him, his hands twisting aimlessly in the strap of his messenger bag as an indication of his discomfort with the situation. Lindstrom wiped a nervous hand across his face before continuing, "I apologize for any misunderstanding that I may have caused or if I hurt your feelings in any way. It was said in the heat of the moment, a result of my temper which often gets the better of me. I hope you will forgive me."

Spinelli looked at him and his face was full of compassion, "Of course the Jackal forgives the displaced one. He realizes that it is difficult to come into a new position and to earn the respect of men that just a short time previously you were set against in open competition. It is a circumstance that would place a great amount of undue pressure and stress upon a person and in such cases tempers have been known to fray."

Jason was rolling his eyes at Spinelli's unsurprisingly forgiving speech. He now wished that he had at least punched Lindstrom once-a broken nose or jaw would have brought him into line, would have been a reminder of what he could and could not get away with regardless of Sonny's overt patronage.

"Thank you," Lindstrom was almost choking on the words.

He only understood and respected brute strength and power. Notwithstanding Spinelli's acute analysis of the difficult position he had found himself in ever since coming aboard as the third in command and Sonny's protégé to boot, he couldn't abide the little nerd and he despised having to humbly receive his absolution. Sonny's dismissive attitude and outright dislike of the fumbling hacker had communicated itself to Lindstrom and after this morning's little interlude he found himself fully endorsing his outlook.

He smiled insincerely at Spinelli and turned to go, desperate to get away from Morgan and the hacker. He needed to go someplace private and attempt to restore his pride and dwell on the injustice promulgated upon him. He would make sure Mr. Corinthos would hear all about it first thing this morning. He would figure out a way to make Morgan and the little freak pay.

Jason had grabbed him again, this time from behind and twisted his arm up behind his back. Lindstrom groaned in pain, he knew that the bone would snap with the application of very little additional pressure. "Don't even think about complaining to Sonny about this. I know exactly how insincere your 'apology' was. You ever so much as tell Spinelli to 'have a nice day' and you'll answer to me. You don't seem to have the slightest clue as to what I am capable of and from tonight on you have made an enemy of me. Are we clear?"

He gave a slight jerk on the arm and the pain level ratcheted up to intolerable. Beads of sweat dotted Lindstrom's brow and he could only manage a tortured grunt of acknowledgement in response to Jason's question. Grimly satisfied, Jason released him with a forward shove that sent him crashing into some crates. He ended up in a dazed sprawl on the dirty dock nursing his sore and twisted arm and looking up at the dim hulking outline of Jason with a combination of hatred and apprehension.

Jason had already moved away from him and was speaking to Spinelli who was removing his laptop from the confines of its bag. "Are you ready to go?" He was brusque. The whole confrontation with Lindstrom plus the fact that he now had to personally oversee the unloading of the freighter had put him in a foul mood.

Spinelli wanted nothing more than to be back in his warm bed and to believe that everything which had and would transpire this bleak morning be nothing more than a bad dream. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. He was Stone Cold's wing man and he was relying on him to get him through what was just as, if not more so, an unpleasant experience for him.

"Yes, Stone Cold," he was almost inaudible in his misery. "The Jackal will set up his workstation here…" Suiting his actions to his words, Spinelli placed his laptop on top of a crate directly in line with the lowered gangplank of the freighter. He attached a little book lamp to the side of the computer so that he could see the keyboard. "Ready."

Jason looked over at his roommate, recognizing his distress, his distaste for the task at hand and how it evinced itself in his quietude and his unusually abbreviated speech patterns. This was the fourth one of these shipments they had met and if anything it was growing harder not easier with repetition. The dispute with Lindstrom hadn't helped matters any either. It wasn't just the quarrel itself it was also that Jason, who had previously been a bystander during these encounters, would have to actively supervise the off-loading of the wretched cargo. If it was this difficult for him, he couldn't envision how soul wrenching it must be for Spinelli with his much more sensitive nature and general naiveté about the world at large.

Jason had hated to see how closed off Spinelli had become after the successive shipments, it seemed that it took him longer to bounce back each time, for his naturally optimistic personality to reassert itself. Jason was actually beginning to worry that if he was exposed to it too many more times something quintessential in Spinelli would snap, might be gone and that he would be broken in some indefinable way. Jason couldn't risk that happening because he would be responsible and he didn't think he could bear to look into those guileless eyes and see some part of Spinelli missing, never to be reclaimed.

So, he resolved to himself, tonight would be the last shipment of which he would require Spinelli to be a part. He would spare him in the future and at least one of them wouldn't have to observe so much suffering. It wasn't as though someone else couldn't do the inventory. Spinelli was fast and efficient but hell, they could do it by long hand if necessary. Jason knew he had been selfish in dragging Spinelli down here after the first time, after he had seen the horror in his face and had to comfort him in his own rough way once the nightmares began. He had seen the reluctance, the dragging of his feet tonight and he had just chosen to ignore it-well, no more those days were over. He deserved better and Jason was going to make sure he got it.

Satisfied that he had reached a decision that at least in the future Spinelli wouldn't have to deal with this grim business once tonight was done, Jason turned his attention to the men standing around. The minute Lindstrom and Jason had started getting into it; the men had stopped unloading the cargo and had just stood around watching to see who would emerge triumphant.

Naturally, most of the men on duty tonight were ex-Zacchara soldiers. True to form, Lindstrom had surrounded himself with his former colleagues, making sure they received the extra bonus for working such late hours on a complex job. He had no sense of the basic concept of fairness or even the more fundamental idea that unless the men from the two organizations started working together, started trusting and relying on one another that they then would never form a cohesive unit. In a business such as theirs such a lack of camaraderie could become a serious problem. During a fight or a war, it was important to know your comrades, to fully believe that they had your back and you theirs.

So, now that Jason had clearly trounced and humiliated Lindstrom, the men were sullen and patently unhappy with the outcome. They stood around in awkward groups, distant and uninterested in making things easier for Jason. They wouldn't actively defy him but they would sabotage him in a myriad of little ways that would be too difficult for him to qualify or counter. Jason just stood there for a moment gauging the mood of the men, accurately interpreting the mutinous expressions on most of the faces combined with the out right defiance clearly visible on a few.

"You all saw what just happened here a few minutes ago. I know that you are used to taking orders from Mr. Lindstrom and that you are perhaps under the illusion that he possesses more power than he does. Let me be clear-that is not the case. This is the Corinthos-Morgan organization and I am a full and equal partner with Mr. Corinthos. I can fire any person here tonight but I am not interested in doing that."

Here Jason paused and began to walk up and down amongst the men, while Spinelli watched fascinated at his mentor's ability to turn a negative situation to his benefit without it appearing as though it involved the slightest effort. He made eye contact with each man, out waiting them patiently until they looked up at him, met his gaze and after seeing what was contained within it, looked down once more. There were a few men, who locked stares with him and refused to look away. He nodded approvingly at them, establishing an unspoken bond that bespoke their being able to work together predicated on mutual respect.

Finally, after interacting with every man on the dock, Jason began to speak once more. "No, I don't intend to fire anybody tonight." His voice was intentionally soft so that they had to be quiet, to strain to hear what he was saying and so no one in the group was in a position to grow restless or foment rebellion. "Instead, if you work well and effectively then I will see that you get a bonus for this night's work above and beyond the additional monies you are already receiving. If anyone is slacking off, not accepting their part of the assignment," and here he stopped once more to make entirely sure everyone was attentive, it was dead quiet on the dock. "Or disrespectful in any way to me or Mr. Spinelli," he inclined his head towards the hacker, who looked down at his keyboard, confused and embarrassed at being selected out. "You will be thrown into the harbor by me personally and you will receive no money whatsoever for this night's work." It was clearly and calmly stated and there wasn't a man there who doubted Jason's intention or ability to do what he had promised. "Now, get to work!"

The men were galvanized and set to work with a will. Their loyalty to Lindstrom had been more reflexive than anything. They hadn't particularly liked his bullying or petty sycophantic ways when they had worked with him under the Zacchara umbrella. When they had started working for Sonny, they had seen Lindstrom as a talisman, a symbol of hope that they could have a future in the new organization as long as they had the backing of Lindstrom. Tonight when Jason had proven what an ineffectual coward he really was they had thought their days were numbered. Yet, Jason's plain speaking, his setting out of expectations associated with rewards and consequences was exactly the motivation needed to let them see that their future with Corinthos-Morgan was based on their own merits and not the half-baked protection of a delusional tyrant.

"Mr. Morgan," it was one of the men who had met Jason's glance squarely, "I'm Tony Celli, the men wanted me to liaison with you. Let you know the procedures in place and see if they meet with your approval."

"It's Jason," he reached over and shook the young man's hand. He wasn't tall but he was a solid mass of muscle and Jason had to stoically endure his bone crushing grip as he determined whether or not this new boss was man enough for him to transfer his allegiance to him.

It appeared that Jason had passed the test because as he retrieved his numb hand, Tony began rapidly speaking. "It's pretty simple actually. We had already starting unloading before the…disturbance." It was his best attempt at diplomacy.

"I noticed," Jason responded wryly, "the unloading isn't supposed to start until either Sonny or I are here to supervise in case there are problems."

"It won't happen again," Tony assured him confidently. "Anyway, we always start with the packaged goods and hold off on the live cargo until the trucks are close by. They radio ahead to let us know their ETA and then we get the others out so they aren't exposed too long to the cold. Most of them aren't used to temperatures much below the sixties or seventies and with all the other stresses they have undergone and the overall effects on them. Well, we try to keep them alive…" He caught the pained expression on Jason's face and found that his own mirrored it. "So, that's the best system we've found." He finished somewhat abruptly.

Jason swallowed, sparing a glance for Spinelli but he couldn't see his face in the shadows just his overall hunched posture due to his discomfort with the assignment or the cold or both, it was impossible to tell. "Well, sounds like the system works. Tell Spinelli what's been off-loaded so far and he'll record it." Jason walked to the gangplank while Tony went over to Spinelli and handed him packing sheets from the several crates that had been placed on the docks prior to his and Jason's arrival.

"The first crate was all medicinally related-tiger penises, bear claws and gallbladder extract, rhino horns, sea horses…" The list was a long one and Spinelli started entering his data, trying his hardest to not reflect on what the dry terms really meant in terms of loss and suffering. "What the hell do they use this stuff for anyway?"

Tony had wanted to ask the question ever since he had first seen the bizarre contents of one of these shipments but until tonight he hadn't found someone he thought might be able to tell him. Spinelli's breadth and depth of knowledge was legendary among Jason's men and Tony had indirectly heard about it.

There was a long interval of silence. Tony thought that perhaps Spinelli hadn't heard him or didn't know or just plain wasn't in the mood to respond. He hesitated not sure what he should do, whether he should ask again or just respect Spinelli's reticence on the subject. He didn't want to do anything to get on Jason's bad side and he had clearly indicated that causing any problems for Spinelli would be a surefire way to do so.

Suddenly, in a solemn, reflective voice, Spinelli began speaking even as scanned the shipping manifests and typed the information into his laptop. "For no practical or good reason at all, the Jackal is saddened to say. The main consumers of these…products," the disdain in his voice was palpable. "Are the Chinese. Previously it had been mainly expatriates but now with the rise in the standard of living the demand has increased on the mainland as well. Naturally, what we are bringing in here," he nodded towards the freighter, "Finds it way into the stores and restaurants and even private homes of the Chinese communities from Boston to Port Charles."

Spinelli stopped speaking for a moment while he concentrated on something that was difficult to decipher on the documentation. Then he looked up to see that Tony was still there and apparently still interested in what he had to say and so, with a sigh, he continued. "The items you mentioned can be traced back through the mists of time. They are all part of the ancient Chinese curative mythology and it's very much a culture bound by tradition. Hence, even though they may utilize modern medicine they also rely on the old cures for a backup or perhaps sometimes they are even still first choice."

He looked over at Jason who was standing at the foot of the gangplank watching intently as men scurried up and down bringing out smaller containers while the huge dock cranes moved the larger crates. He wiped his hand wearily across his eyes as he saw the new group of shipping lists that Jason was accumulating in his hand. They were going to be here for hours yet.

"The items you listed are meant to treat a variety of diseases. The rhino horns and tiger penises are supposed to enhance virility. All parts of the tiger from the skin to the claws to the eyes are invoked to increase manly prowess. The rhino horns are worth five times the value of gold and these days they actually do as promised, they increase stamina. Do you know why, Mr. Celli?"

Spinelli looked at him with an age-old cynicism, a spiritual weariness that was at odds with his usually open and frank countenance. Jason never understood that in his own way Spinelli was very well versed in the evil that resided in men's souls, it was just that he counterbalanced that understanding with a faith that the species could and would grow away from its baser instincts and live up to its shining promise. His experience with these shipments though had eroded that very conviction and it was the loss of such a heartfelt belief that was the cause of the change in him, in his actual soul, which Jason was beginning to detect and which so concerned him.

Tony shook his head, fascinated by Spinelli's explanation, by the things that went on in the modern world that seemed as though they should have long been extinct. "No, why?" He prompted him.

Spinelli laughed, it was a short humorless bark of sound and Jason looked up sharply from a document he was perusing. He sent a suspicious glance their way, checking to see if Tony was causing his protégé any problems. He saw nothing untoward and that actually worried him more. He was beginning to think it had been an extremely bad idea for him to bring Spinelli along with him tonight, that perhaps he had miscalculated and he wasn't up to even one more night on the docks under these circumstances. He toyed with the idea of sending him home but he knew he would resist, would see it as a punishment. Besides it really would go faster with Spinelli here, he was efficient, had a system in place and Jason had really had enough problems to deal with already tonight. Shrugging uneasily he turned his attention back to the gangplank.

"Well, it seems that some brilliant entrepreneur came up with the idea of soaking the horns, which are just basically tightly packed hair, in a solution of Viagra. Thus, for once there is actual truth in advertising and these magical horns actually do counteract impotency. So, some benighted rhinoceros sacrifices its life in order to provide a delivery system for a cheap, common as dirt modern pharmaceutical!" Spinelli's voice had become steadily louder as he spoke, there was an underlying note of disgust mixed in with something less hard to qualify-despair or anguish.

Jason had heard Spinelli as well. Frowning, he walked over to them and asked shortly. "What's going on? Are you okay, Spinelli?"

"The Jackal's fine, Stone Cold." Spinelli murmured, returning his attention to the manifests as his fingers flew over the keyboard, finding solace in the ordinariness of the task as long as he managed to ignore the actual meaning of the words. "He apologizes for any disruption he may have inadvertently caused."

Tony looked at Jason with contrition, "Sorry, Boss. It's my fault, I was just asking…Spinelli," he checked to see if he could do without the appellation of Mister and a glance at Jason's expression as he stared at Spinelli with concern creasing his brow seemed to indicate it was all right. "To tell me about the cargo, I didn't know it would get him upset."

Jason looked at Tony for a moment as though internally analyzing the veracity of what he had just said. He shook his head, "Not your fault," he said briefly, he pointed back over his shoulder, "Do me a favor and cover for me for a couple of minutes." Tony nodded, he was relieved to be out of the situation, it was rough what happened to these animals but it seemed to him like this Spinelli guy had gone a little over the top about it. He headed over to where Jason had been standing next to the gang plank, "Rhino horns!" He muttered to himself in amazement, the things people did never ceased to amaze him.

"Spinelli," Jason meant to talk to him one way or the other and he decided on the direct approach. The hacker hadn't stopped typing, refused to look up at Jason. He reached over and placed his hand right in the middle of the keyboard. "Stop!" He wished he hadn't said it so sharply. Spinelli pulled his hands back and crossed them defensively across his chest, his eyes were dipped down at the ground. "Talk to me," Jason spoke softly this time, "If you need to leave, to go home, that's fine, I understand."

Suddenly, Spinelli's eyes were on him, he was glaring at Jason and it took him aback because he could possibly count on one hand the times Spinelli had been angry or upset with him. Usually it always went the other way in their relationship with Jason being irritated at Spinelli and scolding or lecturing him

"The Jackal mustn't leave, Stone Cold, he mustn't." He spoke with a fierce intensity and absolute sense of commitment that was foreign to Jason.

"If you're worried about the inventory, don't be. We can get it done, it'll just take a little longer that's all…I'm troubled about you, Spinelli. I don't want this," he gestured at the docks, the freighter, the general scene, "to come back and cause you problems, to haunt you."

Spinelli's lips curved up in the slightest of smiles and he tilted his head in acknowledgment of Jason's anxiety for his welfare. "The Jackal values his mentor's concern on his grasshopper's behalf. Indeed, as much as the Jackal would like to expedite matters for his Master, if it were only the inventory that was at issue he might consent to depart though it would grieve him to do so, to leave with an assigned task undone." He had paused and he looked around at the surreal nightscape of the docks-the busy workers, the crates swinging down off of the cranes, the alternating brightness and shadows created by brilliant overhead vapor lights specifically meant for working at night.

"Then go, I want you to. Things will get done," he swallowed and said quietly, "I'm sorry, Spinelli, I shouldn't have brought you here again. I should have known better, it was selfish of me."

"The Jackal would have been compelled to come with or without your consent, Stone Cold." He spoke evenly and he looked at Jason with compassion in his eyes as though he understood something beyond Jason's grasp.

"But why?" Jason was feeling frustrated. Spinelli had admitted to not wanting to be here, and Jason was agreeing with him, telling him to leave. He wasn't just refusing either. No, he was intimating that if Jason had left him behind this morning, he would have come anyway, he would have followed him. "I don't understand…" He really didn't and there were so many pressing matters competing for his attention right now. He didn't know how to convince Spinelli to just go, to try and shield him from dealing with the rest of the shipment.

Now Spinelli had turned fully towards Jason and he was staring at him directly. He couldn't see the green of his eyes nor could he read his facial expression because he was in shadow but there was a reflective sheen on the surface of his eyes that indicated to Jason that Spinelli was trying not to cry. It was confirmed when the young man reached up and swiped his hand over his face to wipe away tears accompanied by a distinct sniffling sound. "The Jackal would go through Hades itself for Stone Cold and he wouldn't ask for any amelioration of the conditions save that he could be of service. Yet, his vigil tonight, his need to be in this locale, this time and circumstance has nothing to do with you, Jason."

The use of his given name caused him to sharpen his attention, to listen even more closely to Spinelli. If he was veering away from nicknames that were as natural for him to use as breathing then it must be serious. "What is it then, Spinelli? Why must you stay?"

"It is my duty," he was speaking calmly and seriously, his eyes still glistening with moisture. "I must bear witness."

"Bear witness?" Now all Jason's senses were on alert as he tried to interpret what Spinelli was talking about. They were only recently recovered from being under the thumb of the F.B.I. and Jason was sensitive to any indication of spying or informing. It was ridiculous though, this was Spinelli, he would crawl over broken glass before intentionally betraying Jason in any way. "To what, Spinelli, for whom are you bearing witness?"

He was out of his depth but that happened frequently when he entered Spinelli's world at any level beyond the superficial, beyond his established comfort zone. He understood the workings of the younger man's mind better than most but he knew there were depths he had never plunged, might never be invited to experience and mostly really he was just fine with that arrangement.

Spinelli tilted his head to look up at the deck of the freighter far above them. This time it was impossible to not see the deep abiding sorrow etched into the very bones of his face. "It appears I have been chosen," he spoke haltingly, the tears falling freely down his cheeks now as gazed back at Jason, "to witness the destruction and desecration of entire species of animals through the arrogance and agency of man. I, by standing here mutely, am also culpable. It will forever be a badge of grief and shame that I saw and did nothing but…typed." He said the last word in such a low murmur that it was practically inaudible. "So," he ran the back of his hand under his nose and swiped it down his jeans. "All the Jackal can do," he had retreated into the safety and sanity of the third person, "given the set of conditions that currently exist, is to be here. To watch, to record, to note the passing of the humble and the proud and most of all to forever remember and to recognize what transpired here. It is incumbent upon us to comprehend that each of us is tainted by our role in this loss of diversity, our failure in stewardship. The Jackal abides here in order to provide witness."

Jason was shocked, he had no idea what to say or think or, for the moment at least, to even do. He hadn't liked being here for these shipments. He didn't believe if it weren't for the live cargo he would have given one thought to the contents of the crates in general. Over the years, he had learned to think of whatever passed through their hands as merchandise. It was the only way that his conscience could be appeased. They provided illicit materials to eager consumers. It was pure capitalism albeit in a slightly shady form. After all, they didn't deal in drugs, arms, or human beings. He and Sonny, they were the mobsters with standards, with a value system.

Now, Spinelli had managed to put a name to what had vaguely been troubling Jason ever since this new and very lucrative endeavor had begun-species destruction. Jason instinctively understood what it meant. If they continued to import such substances, (he even thought in euphemisms due to Sonny's training, he realized with a twinge of repugnance) eventually a particular import-animal, he corrected himself harshly-would no longer appear on the inventory for the simple and unbelievable reason that literally no individuals of that particular species existed any longer. He closed his eyes as the enormity of what Spinelli was saying struck him, it was truly awful. Yet, Jason knew there was nothing that either of them could do about it, not here and now anyway…

He tried to reach Spinelli, to make him feel, well, since better wasn't an option, less accountable perhaps. "You can't take this on, Spinelli. You can't, I can't…There are so many people involved-the suppliers, the hunters, the consumers. We're just the…" He waved his hand helplessly, not sure how to categorize his and Sonny's role in the chain of events.

"Middlemen, I believe is the term Stone Cold is searching for." Spinelli's expression had become distant, closed off as it did more and more these days. Jason's heart sank as he saw it. He knew that his roommate would now be unreachable even if he had the verbal acuity to mount a persuasive argument to convince him that this wasn't his fault, his responsibility. "Yes, we just participate in it purely as an exercise in profit, uncaring of the larger scale implications or even the immediacy of the suffering of these hapless creatures. We don't have the excuse of centuries of a cultural imperative, of traditions that we are trying to honor. Nor do we possess the rationale within our profit seeking that the difference between the money earned or not will translate into whether we eat or go hungry as is the truth for so many around the world that 'harvest' these poor beings to enable their own survival. No, on balance, the Jackal feels that perhaps the very act of standing on this dock is a far more a heinous crime against morality than being on either end of the spectrum of the dealings involved."

Spinelli wouldn't look at Jason, he reached over for the pile of manifest sheets he had placed on the crate when he came over to talk to him, to see what was wrong. "We'll be here for many hours yet, Stone Cold. It is imperative that the Jackal attempt to accelerate his efforts at data entry to try and catch up with the off loading of the cargo. If you would permit him to discontinue this discourse until a later time…"

Jason sighed and stepped back. He knew that when Spinelli got like this, it was like trying to talk to a brick wall. "We will discuss this later," was his parting remark, more hope than promise.

Jason walked over to Tony, feeling inadequate and as though he had failed Spinelli and maybe even himself. "Where are we at?" He tried to focus on the job at hand, tried to quell his new understanding of what they were doing, the implicit devastation caused by their deeds.

He knew full well that if Spinelli had made that same speech to Sonny-if he had bothered to listen to it or even understood what he had been told-he would have dismissed his concerns out of hand. He would've have said something like, "They're just animals, Spinelli and people pay us good money to provide them with a source, the more exotic the better. Now, get back to work and stop yakking on company time."

Jason could actually envy Sonny his moral indifference, his clarity that what bolstered Sonny Corinthos' bottom line was all to the good. They were supplying a service and if they didn't someone else sure as hell would and why should they lose out to another group just to satisfy the little nerd's delicate conscience? Time was that Jason would have appreciated, even endorsed Sonny's perspective.

He hadn't realized how much Spinelli's attitudes and his principles had begun to filter into Jason's own viewpoint. His hero worship of Jason was daunting, his expectation that he would always do the right and proper thing never mind how challenging it was for Jason to even discern what that might be in any given set of circumstances. Yet, Spinelli seemed to have unswerving faith that he did and more often not, Jason somehow managed to avoid disappointing him-until now, anyway. He knew that Spinelli thought he ought to do something about these shipments or maybe he was just projecting his newly formed guilt onto himself. Either way it didn't matter because he hadn't the slightest inkling of an idea about what he might do to fix this-for himself, for Spinelli, for the creatures that were starting to disembark from the freighter.

So, the pragmatist in Jason came to the fore as it usually did as he turned to wait for an update from Tony. "They're just now starting to unload the live cargo. Those are the birds they're bringing down now."

Jason turned to look at the gangplank which was busier than ever. The live cargo was all carried off in their various containers by hand. They weren't stored in crates. Right now the men were carrying slatted wooden boxes that they moved off to the side of the gang plank to an open space where they were out of the way of traffic. There each box had its lid pried up exposing several layers of rolled cardboard tubing. The men worked in teams, pulling out each tube and checking to see if the occupant-a brightly plumaged bird-was alive or dead. Sometimes they pulled a bird out of the tubing that they thought was dead and it proved them wrong. It would try to escape but dazed by the confinement and weak from hunger and dehydration and the unnatural cold when compared to its tropic homeland it proved easy to catch and place back into the confining holder. Once all the birds were accounted for and a list of the dead ones compiled, it was taken over to Spinelli and read off to him.

"Four dead African Grey Parrots, two dead macaws, eight dead lorikeets, and five dead cockatoos…"

Grim-faced, Spinelli recorded the mortality information. Glancing up he caught Jason's eye briefly but immediately returned his attention to data transcription. This part of the process when the live cargo was being off loaded and their life or death status recorded was difficult enough. Yet, it was when the trucks arrived to take them off to their ultimate destinations-which meant captivity for some and a slow, certain death for most-that his composure was the most challenged. It was at that time that Spinelli wanted to run over to Stone Cold and to beg him to stop the process, to take the animals and give them to a wildlife conservancy group or to a zoo or any organization that would give them a semblance of a life, certainly it would be better than whatever faced them now.

Still, he never acted on his impulse, he knew that Jason was as powerless as Spinelli in this instance and all he had accomplished tonight was opening his mentor's eyes to the true brutality implied by each shipment's cargo. He had made Stone Cold as potentially wretched as himself and to what avail? Even Spinelli recognized that Jason could not cure all the world's ills. He would have better been left to his vague discontent and general ignorance.

A man carrying a plastic container with small holes punched in the lid suddenly stumbled and fell the rest of the way down the gangplank. The container went spiraling out his grasp and the lid came off in mid-air. A multitude of long, thin, sinuous shapes were briefly caught in the radiance of the arc lights before gravity enacted its prerogative and they fell to the dock. There they lay stunned but quickly became mobile sliding across the rough surface looking for sanctuary from the light and the cold.

Jason skittered back in revulsion as a black cylinder slid across his booted foot. "Fuck," he yelled in fear and shock. Instinctively, he kicked up and out and the snake went flying to land five feet away where it slithered off, hissing its panic and disorientation. Jason was actually trembling in reaction as he moved as far away as he could get from the writhing creatures.

"Relax, Stone Cold," Spinelli had come up next to him and was speaking to him in a soothing tone. "They're not poisonous and they're more startled than you are."

"I hate snakes!" Jason said through clenched teeth. "Anyway, how do you know they're not poisonous?" His tone was petulant. He loathed showing fear or losing his famed composure in a public setting.

"Look out!" Spinelli pulled Jason back just as another snake, almost indiscernible from the surrounding darkness, glided towards them.

To Jason's amazement, Spinelli bent down and in one smooth, fluid motion captured the at large reptile. Holding it with a firm hand located behind its head he carried it over to the erstwhile container placing it safely inside to intertwine and merge with his fellows. Then for the next fifteen minutes, while Jason stood off to the side obsessively scanning a two foot radius surrounding his feet for any more intruders, he participated in rounding up the rest of the escaped snakes. The crowd of workers had divided into two distinct camps-those like Jason, who were practically climbing on nearby crates to get away from the serpents and the others-a much smaller contingent-who like Spinelli, were calmly and coolly going about the business of collecting and restoring the snakes to their plastic cage.

Spinelli returned to Jason's side and immediately began looking over the documentation for the snakes. He was trying to match the numbers in the box with those listed on the invoice. He appeared satisfied with the results as he once again began to transfer information from the printed sheet to his computer.

Jason had waited impatiently as Spinelli performed his reckoning. Yet, when it was clear that he, a person who never uttered a single word where five would suffice instead, was intending to remain quiet about what had just occurred, he couldn't stand it any longer. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?" He finally exploded with the question, at last finding without doubt an area of "manly prowess" in which Spinelli far surpassed him.

"Do what, Stone Cold?" Spinelli wasn't holding back, wasn't being deliberately obdurate, he just didn't know what it was that had so astounded his roommate.

"That…" Jason actually flapped his arm in the general direction of the now tightly resealed snake container. "Handling snakes like that, how do you do it?" Even just thinking about it caused a shiver of disgust to run up his spine.

Spinelli paused in his typing and looked calmly over at Jason. "Lot's of snakes in Tennessee," he said, quietly.

Jason scrubbed his hand through his hair, rubbing back and forth across his scalp. "Poisonous ones?" He had to ask. He was fascinated at this crack in Spinelli's façade, his offhand reference to his past, his unexpected facility with creatures that could cause hardened killers like himself to go into panic mode.

"Yes," was the unembellished, laconic response.

He sighed in frustration and decided to attempt another tack. "How do you know these aren't poisonous?"

Spinelli spared him another glance as his fingers continued flying over the keyboard. "They're destined for the restaurants and the pharmacies. The Chinese aren't thrill seekers like the Japanese risking paralysis and death by eating fugu," he paused and then clarified what he was saying. "Blow fish, the Japanese like to tempt fate by eating it. It's extremely toxic and if the chef doesn't know exactly what he's doing… Anyway, the Chinese are more interested in the experience of eating exotic delicacies and acquiring the traits of the animal they ingest-hence snake, crocodile." He nodded to the gangplank where several more plastic crates were being carried down, this time in a conspicuously careful manner Jason noted with grim satisfaction.

"Those have crocodiles in them?" Jason was incredulous, he didn't remember them from previous shipments but he had been more distanced from the process then and had intentionally stayed aloof from the details. He guessed that Spinelli didn't have that luxury having to check and record the inventory. He knew the young man well enough to also be aware that he would have actively inquired into all the contents of the various boxes and containers being carted off the freighter. "People actually go to restaurants to intentionally eat crocodile?" He was incredulous, he couldn't think of anything less appealing. Sure if you were starving and there wasn't anything else…

"Tastes like chicken, I hear," Spinelli affirmed dryly.

Just then one of the workers came up to show him the contents of one of the plastic boxes." Spinelli, looks like all but one of these four suffocated, they were placed in an unventilated area of the cargo hold."

Spinelli nodded his comprehension of the information as he briefly looked into the container. His face paled but his expression was unchanged and unemotional as he turned back to the computer to make notations about the deaths and adjust the count. He muttered something under his breath that Jason couldn't catch.

"What did you say?" Jason wasn't letting Spinelli keep anything from him tonight. He was extremely concerned about his mental state and considering how the usually ebullient youth was so withdrawn and unnaturally quiet he was determined to keep him talking and hopefully connected to at least Jason.

"The Jackal was just observing that those that died might be more fortunate than those which survived." He said it with a prosaic tone to his voice as though hope had fled from him and that scared Jason more than any snakes ever had.

"I don't understand. What will happen to the other ones? I mean, I get they'll be eaten but so are lots of animals."

Jason hoped this whole experience wasn't going down the path of Spinelli trying to convert him to vegetarianism, to being a vegan-whatever the hell that meant. He was afraid he might even agree to it, if it would just mean getting his Spinelli back, the boy with the unquenchable spirit and pure uncomplicated joy in so much of what life had to offer. He needed him, he realized with a shock, had come to depend on him being there to drag Jason away from his own dark places.

"The process, the ceremony of preparing these animals to be eaten isn't the same as it is in more mundane eateries. It is all about the life force, about accessing the traits and characteristics that make these animals unique or fierce or vital. So, they don't kill them outright. Instead they stun them and slit their throats and drain them of their blood. It is a slow and painful death and is often compounded in some cases by removing and serving the heart to a patron as it is-raw and still beating. They also consume the blood or even take it home to savor later."

He recited the horrific litany in a monotone. His voice was colorless and uninflected. Jason understood that it was Spinelli's way of defending against the horrors implicated here tonight, that he was desperately trying to hold onto his dignity, to reign in his emotions lest they overwhelm him and he ceased being able to function.

"That's disgusting!" Jason's exclamation was heartfelt, he couldn't imagine how people that were supposedly civilized, that lived in the twenty-first century could be both so deluded and so callous. "The snakes too?" He had to know even though he hated them. He would just shoot them and put them out their misery between one tongue flick and the next.

"The snakes too." Spinelli stated it starkly.

Just then they were distracted by noises coming from the gangplank. Jason actually gaped as he saw two men coming down each with a leashed animal in tow. There not twenty-five feet away from him were two spitting and snarling tiger cubs as they fought and twisted against the hated and foreign restraints. They were half-pulled and half-tumbled their way down the steep slope of the ramp. When the reached the bottom, they continued to complain, hissing and swiping at their handlers. These were no cuddly kittens, small as they were, their teeth and claws could do serious damage. The men solved it by putting on heavy duty leather gauntlets and in pairs, one man at the hind legs and the other in the front, hefted the cubs up and carried them fearful and protesting the whole way over to the trucks where they were placed in a metal cage.

"They're…not going to a restaurant?" Jason had to ask because if the answer was 'yes', this was one time he was going to intervene.

"No," Spinelli looked over at the cats and shrugged, "at least not for now. They'll have been special ordered as illegal pets for some extremely wealthy people. The problem will come when they mature into full sized adult tigers. Then it's likely their owners won't be able to control them any longer and then, well…" He didn't want to finish the sentence because in a way it was all just more of the same-ignorance and superstition all tied up in an uncaring ribbon of cruelty.

There had been another escape from the procession coming down the gangplank and this time when the miscreant made his way straight for the crate Spinelli and Jason were standing at, it was Spinelli who stepped back and Jason who reached out a hand. "Hey, there," he almost laughed at the expression on Spinelli's face when the little monkey grabbed onto the screen of his precious laptop and stared intently at the bright light glowing from it. He absent mindedly grasped one of Jason's offered fingers, while he poked with his other hand at the screen. "It looks like you have a protégé of your own,"

Jason was grinning at the territorial expression on Spinelli's face as he gingerly reached around the tiny creature and tried to take his computer away from it. "Unhand the Jackal's cyber-companion, you simian interloper!" It had turned into a tug of war and the little guy was surprising strong as he refused to relinquish his grip all the while chattering in challenge at Spinelli.

Jason was openly laughing by now as he reached over and disentangled the primate from the laptop. The monkey immediately turned and jumped on Jason's shoulder, wrapping his tail around his body and weaving his hands into Jason's hair for support.

Jason walked him over to Tony, "Got a little runaway for you here," he tried to hand the monkey over but he was stubbornly clinging to Jason.

It took the two of them but he finally was encouraged to transfer his grip to Tony's neck all the while looking at Jason's face out of his preternaturally large eyes. Jason petted him, rubbing his head gently as he crooned at him, "that's a good boy, you go with Tony now. All your friends are waiting." He stroked a finger down his cheek and felt his heart lurch as he once more grabbed his finger. Jason almost took him back right then and there but he knew that it wasn't realistic to think of keeping a monkey, even a tiny one, as a pet. Sonny would go ballistic if he ever found out that Jason had co-opted a monkey from the shipment. He pulled his finger back with regret and tried not to hear the sad pleading little babbling noises that followed him as he went back to Spinelli while Tony carried him over to the truck.

Jason jerked his head back towards the truck that was fully loaded and getting ready to pull out. "Pets, right, he's going to go be someone's pet? This time it won't be like the tigers, he won't get bigger and some little kid will fall in love with him and…" Jason trailed off, Spinelli wasn't answering him, he was just focusing on his keyboard. "Spinelli? The monkeys, they're going for pets…tell me they're going to be pets!" His voice was getting louder and he felt like shaking his roommate to get a response from him, his silence was freaking him out.

Spinelli swallowed and looked up at Jason and said slowly, haltingly, "Maybe a few, Stone Cold, maybe a few of the simian ones will become pets." He stopped it was all he could offer in the way of comfort.

"A few, but you're not sure and most of them won't…What will happen to them, Spinelli?" When there was nothing but more silence, he roared, "Answer me!"

Spinelli jumped in reaction to Jason's tone, he had never yelled at him like that, never. "I can't," he was stubborn in his refusal. "The Jackal knows what is likely to happen to them. It's enough he has such awful awareness, that it lurks in his subconscious and emerges in his dreams. He won't subject his Master to the same trauma. He won't." He looked at Jason unsure but defiant, his jaw jutting out slightly to underline his obduracy. One look at Jason's face, the fear expressed there caused him to exclaim in sudden empathy. "Stone Cold! The Jackal didn't comprehend, you bonded with the little one, the tiny primate…Oh, then you must go, retrieve him, now Stone Cold!"

The urgency, the utter command in Spinelli's tone spurred Jason into action. He turned and began to run towards the slow moving vehicle, shouting at the men as he went. "Stop it! Stop the truck!"

One of the men understood what he was demanding and running by the cab of the truck he managed to catch the driver's attention and signaled for him to stop. Jason arrived panting, and when the driver had climbed down and come around the rear to see what the problem was, he indicated that he should unlock and roll up the door.

As soon as the truck was open he grabbed a flashlight from a worker and scrambled into the truck. He shone the beam over the two cages filled with squirming monkeys, their large eyes reflecting the light back at him. It was hopeless he didn't know which one, he was almost at the point of just grabbing the nearest monkey, to save one as a symbol perhaps of saving them all. A hand in the nearer cage reached out and wrapped around his fingers where he had gripped the bars of the cage. Jason stared down into the wizened little face that looked pleadingly up at him, all the while soft little chitters were emanating from his mouth.

"So, there you are, fellow." Jason said softly as he reached towards the latch. The monkey had moved to follow him to the door of the cage and as soon as Jason opened it a crack he edged through while several of his companions tried to leave with him. It made Jason heartsick as he reluctantly pushed the other monkeys back into the cage while his little friend had already jumped to the familiar seat on his shoulder.

He didn't want to leave them or any of these animals to the various fates Spinelli had outlined tonight. He was especially perturbed by the idea of what might happen to the monkeys. Spinelli had told him other things but this was so terrible he didn't want to say the words, to burden Jason with the knowledge. He wasn't sure if Spinelli had protected him or made it worse because by now his imagination was running rampant as he ran scenario after scenario through his mind about what dreadful future they faced. It made it worse that they all looked like tiny, little old men. The concepts of murder and cannibalism flashed through his thoughts.

Jason was uncomfortable with moral introspection. His line of work didn't exactly lend itself to such musings because he would always come up guilty. Still, he seldom had cause to hurt or even kill someone that wasn't a criminal to some degree. They were all people that had chosen to walk on the wrong side of the law and so should be prepared to take the consequences of their lifestyle.

This, these animals and their plight, was an entirely different matter. They had done absolutely nothing wrong except to have the misfortune to be born in a time when a spurious demand for their unique qualities had managed to combine with enhanced harvesting techniques to make them the ultimate victims of greed and self-indulgence. Yet, Jason had no way, at least not right at this very moment, of resolving the situation. It wasn't practical or prudent to hijack the whole shipment. He was going to face enough grief for taking one small monkey. Somehow, that would simply have to be enough of a victory for tonight.

He hopped back out of the truck and turned away as the metal rolling door once again closed off the sight of the vulnerable, hapless creatures within. As he started walking back towards the freighter to oversee the last of the cargo off-loading, Tony Celli fell into step with him.

"Jason," he spoke carefully, caught between the boss that he actually respected, who had finally done what all the men had wanted to do at one point or the other through the night, and the boss who everyone knew instinctively would be furious at the action Jason had just taken. Tony was just trying to keep the balance, to keep his world from imploding because of Jason's choices. "The monkey, Mr. Corinthos won't approve will he?"

Jason stopped and the little furry figure on his shoulder grabbed his hair to maintain his balance. He actually gave a little cynical smile before replying. "No, Tony, he won't approve and he won't understand. That's my problem though. I promise it won't come back on the men, on you, in any way."

Tony gave a relieved sigh and reached up a finger for the monkey to take but he remembered him as the man who had taken him from Jason, had put him in the truck, and into the cage. So, with deliberate intent he turned his back on him refusing the gesture. "I guess I can't blame him." He said with a shamefaced smile. "Jason, this," he pointed back at the freighter where the men were carrying off large wooden boxes, the final animals of the shipment, "It's been hard for all of us, tonight especially." He scratched his head uneasily as he looked directly at Jason. "I'm glad you took him," he nodded up at the monkey still with his back to him. "It's one bright spot for the night. Anyway," he shuffled his feet uneasily, glancing down and away from Jason's penetrating stare. "I don't think I can do another one of these shifts, at least for a while, maybe not ever again. I think that quite a few of the men feel the same. So, you've been decent to us and I just wanted to give you a head's up, to warn you about next time. Maybe some of the Corinthos men would like a turn in the rotation, the money's good…"

Finally, he tilted his head back up to find that far from glaring at him, Jason was actually looking at him with compassion. He nodded understandingly at Tony. "You all did a good job tonight and under pretty difficult circumstances. Everyone will get their additional bonuses. I'll make sure it doesn't count against you or anyone else for refusing to work another of these shipments." He stared up at the dark, looming shape of the freighter and thought vaguely of how to get himself and Spinelli off of the rota, so that they too would never again have to encounter such soul piercing misery. He patted Tony's shoulder reassuringly as he walked by him, heading back towards the gangplank and Spinelli. "Almost done for the night," he called back to him.

As Jason approached Spinelli, he was heartened to see his roommate's face light up with a warm and genuine smile, the first one he had seen all night. "So, Stone Cold," he began, his voice light, even teasing. "I take it we have a third occupant of Casa de Stone Cold to welcome this early morn'. I hope the simian one will take well to residing with the Grasshopper and his Master."

The monkey jumped from Jason's shoulder back onto the crate where he immediately stationed himself next to Spinelli staring intently at the screen all the while chattering commandingly at the hacker. "Well now, welcome to my world!" Jason said as Spinelli looked in dismay at the tiny primate. "From the looks of things, I'll be able to replace you shortly and I imagine a few bananas will keep him in line just fine. Think of all I'll be able to save on outlay by not having to buy crates of orange soda or family sized packages of barbecued chips."

"Stone Cold!" Spinelli looked up at him in mock outrage faintly tinged by the ever present underlying sense of abandonment, of not being able to ever quite measure up even to one small monkey.

"Okay, okay," Jason said with a relenting grin as he leaned over and swiped a hand through the disarray that was Spinelli's hair. "I guess the budget can stretch to both of you for the time being."

"Stone Cold must know that this…transgression of his-rescuing the simian one-will not sit well with Mr. Sir who will surely see it as a challenge to his authority, his prerequisite in determining how the business is to be conducted. The Jackal can not envision that he will take the seizure of even such a minute part of the cargo in good grace."

"No," Jason sighed as Spinelli effectively bought him back to earth with regard to his actions and their likely consequences. "You're right, Sonny won't like it and he certainly won't understand it. I'll make sure he doesn't lose by it, I'll reimburse him whatever this little guy would have brought him." He reached a hand over to the monkey who took it and swung back on Jason's shoulder leaving Spinelli, much to his relief, once again in sole possession of his laptop.

"He will view it as a sign of weakness on your part rather than the act of compassion it truly was." Spinelli was staring at him, concern clearly evident in his eyes.

"Well, let him," Jason tried to run his hand through his hair as a release for his feelings but found his fingers entangled with the monkey's who was diligently searching through the strands for lice. "Hey!" Jason gently swatted at him, "What are you doing?"

It was Spinelli's turn to laugh, "I'm afraid he's quite taken with you, Stone Cold. He's grooming you, checking for lice. It's the ultimate act of symbiosis really-mutualism-where both parties benefit. The simian one gets any lice that he finds as a delectable treat and you are relieved of an unhygienic pest."

"I don't have lice!" Jason had grabbed both the monkey's hands and pulled him down into his arms where he glared sternly at him. "Got it?" He shook the little primate's hands gently for emphasis while the monkey enthusiastically nodded his head and grimaced at him in placation.

"I don't know if lectures are going to be very beneficial with regard to him, Stone Cold. Most of his behaviors are instinctive. You shouldn't expect that he'll listen to your strictures on the topic." Spinelli was almost gleeful in his enjoyment of Jason's inability to control the little monkey.

Jason was glad to see his lightened mood but he had a reputation to uphold. Looking over the monkey's head, he stared hard at Spinelli and said, "Well, that's nothing new-someone who never listens, who does exactly what he wants. Now, who does that remind me of…?"

Before Spinelli could manage to come up with some appropriate retort enabling the two of them to find some reprieve from the night's stresses in a comfortable bickering session, they were interrupted by one of the workers. "Spinelli, Mr. Morgan," he inclined his head respectfully towards Jason. "I'm afraid we have a problem, we were checking all the…I don't know what they are, animals I guess, in these crates and one of them seems to be dead."

Spinelli looked at the man in puzzlement for a second before turning to the pile of shipping manifests and after rapidly searching through them seemed to find the relevant document. His face paled and he looked up in consternation. In an instantaneous shift, the hated mask of forced indifferences slipped back down over his features leaving his beloved visage blank and inscrutable looking to Jason's anxious eyes.

"I…I only thought it was the meat, only the meat. I didn't realize there were any live specimens shipped…" He seemed to be struggling with understanding something about the shipment, something that had eluded his notice until now. "Not that it should make any difference really, but it did. The Jackal thought if he never encountered one, if he never actually saw one…but that was indeed foolish and sophomoric reasoning on his part." He had been rambling but now he shook his head as though to clear his thoughts and focus on the situation at hand.

Jason reached out to Spinelli, intending to touch him, share some contact with him, to try and retrieve him from the dark place where he had wandered. "What's wrong?" He asked him urgently even as Spinelli stepped back from his outstretched hand and refused the comfort on offer. He was determined to face whatever it was without leaning on Jason. Only the monkey managed to reach him, he seemed to sense Spinelli's distress and fluidly jumped from Jason's shoulder to Spinelli's.

Spinelli looked up at him and nodded his head in thanks for the warm, living creature leaning in towards his face and making soft nonsense sounds into his ears. "Let's go," he turned abruptly towards the man who had come up requesting guidance. The three of them and the monkey set off to where several large wooden boxes had been deposited to the far side of the gangplank. The boxes contained something heavy enough to require two men to carry each one down the gangplank. All the boxes had been opened and resealed except for one. That one had its lid removed and a group of workers were standing around it gazing at its contents with varying degrees of interest on their faces. They stepped back when Jason and Spinelli approached, allowed them unhindered access to the box and its occupant.

In the time they had been at the dock, dawn had begun to creep up on them. The sky exhibited the colorless wash that existed right before the sun would crest the horizon, gilding the water of the harbor as it ascended. The arc lights were no longer necessary for visibility and had been switched off. Everything appeared two dimensional and insubstantial in the flat, gray light of pre-dawn.

Jason, his curiosity aroused stepped forward and peered into the slatted box. "What the hell is that?" He exclaimed, having never seen anything like it before.

The animal was between three and half and four feet long, it was difficult to tell the length with exactitude because in death it had curled up on itself. All that was clearly visible was a tubular snout and a rotund central body with a long tail wrapped around it. The most bizarre feature of the creature was the tessellated reddish brown scales that covered the entire body except for the snout and eyes. One front paw was visible and it sported sharp, thick claws suitable for digging.

Everyone, even Jason, was looking at Spinelli for clarification as to what the animal was. He looked around at the clustered men with a depressed gaze. "It's a pangolin, a spiny anteater. They have no teeth and so they use those formidable claws to dig into termite mounds and ant colonies to access the residents. They use their long sticky tongues to scoop up the insects. The scales are actually derivatives of keratin, the same protein that makes our own hair and nails. They are in peril from a combination of habitat destruction and because they're hunted for their meat by both locals and for export. The Chinese treat the meat as a delicacy and use the scales for a variety of 'medicinal' purposes." Spinelli was patently distressed about the dead pangolin and even more so about the fate of the remaining nine as he glanced briefly at the other boxes and then looked away, frustrated resignation clearly evident in his features.

"What do you want us to do with it?" It was the man who had come to tell Spinelli about the dead pangolin.

Instead of replying, Spinelli rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache, he briefly shut his eyes as though to temporarily shut out the world, or at least this unappealing corner of it. Finally, he answered him, "If you would kindly place it with the other creatures that met an untimely demise, they all needs must be shipped back to whence they came with the appropriate documentation indicating that this was the unhappy condition in which they were received. Thereby, the suppliers will recompense us for any lost merchandise." His shoulders slumped as he turned to head back to his laptop in order to record the last of the off loaded consignment.

Jason was intending to follow him, to try and alleviate his depression. He was forestalled by Tony who came up to him holding out two small boxes. "Jason, these are for Mr. Corinthos' personal use. Do you want to take them or shall I hold onto them and give them to Lindstrom…?" It was clear that Tony preferred the first alternative to the second.

Tearing his eyes away from Spinelli's retreating form, he looked at the boxes curiously. "What's in them, do you know?"

"Yeah," we get them every shipment, even the ones that don't involve this…" his shrug indicated his distaste at everything that had transpired that morning. "This one," he held up the bottom box. It was wrapped in brown parcel paper and had copious amounts of sticky tape covering it. "Contains Cuban cigars. You know, I don't think I've ever seen Mr. Corinthos smoke."

Jason nodded his head, "Yeah, he has the occasional cigar and he likes to keep them around to offer them to people, to impress them with his taste and connections." His tone indicated that Jason himself was becoming less and less enamored of Sonny and his affectations. "What's in the other one?"

Tony wrinkled his nose in distaste as he held up the white cardboard box. There was something orange and sticky on the bottom. "It's some kind of jam, I'm afraid one of the jars was broken in shipping."

Jason sighed in irritation, "It's marmalade, every time a shipment passes through England he has it put on board."

The truth was that there was a perfectly good gourmet food store on the docks where Sonny could have purchased as much of the marmalade as he wished. It seemed to give him a perverse pleasure to smuggle in even the legal luxuries with which he indulged himself. Now, Jason would be expected to go to that selfsame store and replace the broken jar. Well, this time he had no intention of doing it.

He brusquely took the two boxes from Tony before belatedly realizing that he might think Jason was upset with him for the breakage. He held the boxes in one hand while extending the other to Tony. "It's been a pleasure, Tony. I hope you would be willing to work with me on other projects, though I get not this…" He jerked his head towards the freighter.

"Absolutely," Tony clasped his hand in a much more moderate grip than the testing one he had initially utilized. "It was my…well, not pleasure, but it certainly was a better experience than the other times." He stopped because he recognized there was no way he could signify a preference for working with Jason without indicating he didn't want to work for Lindstrom.

Jason smiled in sympathetic comprehension of his dilemma. With a farewell tilt of his head, he walked over to Spinelli, holding the sticky box gingerly so the marmalade didn't get on his jacket. "Spinelli, I don't know if you recorded these-Sonny's cigars and marmalade?"

He took the opportunity while Spinelli was perusing his shrinking pile of sheets for the information to covertly evaluate his roommate's demeanor. Spinelli looked pale but composed, his eyes were underlined by dark circles but it had been a long and tiring night for them all. Jason devoutly hoped that by making this the last wildlife cargo Spinelli would ever have to inventory that over time he could regain his usual spirits and zest for life.

"The Jackal has now done so," Spinelli responded as he pressed a last few keys to save the information he had compiled over the long morning. The monkey was intently watching every key stroke. "The simian one seems to have appointed himself my apprentice." Spinelli's attitude towards the small primate appeared to have metamorphosed from active dislike to something approaching affection.

"It'll be a hard road ahead for you then, 'Master'." Jason reached over for the monkey who happily switched shoulders. "You've only had to be the grasshopper so far. There's a lot more responsibility in the other direction. Don't worry though, I have lots of little guidance hints I can give you to assist in smoothing the transition. I only wish I had someone to help me out when I got my very own protégé." He couldn't help laughing as Spinelli glared at him for making light of his treasured relationship dynamic.

"Well, perhaps the Grasshopper has outgrown the need for his Master," he countered, his anxious eyes searching Jason's face for repudiation of what he had offered.

"Not a chance. I'll be eighty-five and you'll still need my advice and help to get you out the messes you get into and I'll need you to (keep me grounded and sane was what he wanted to but couldn't say) help me figure out how to program my VCR."

"Stone Cold!" Spinelli had packed up his laptop and was moving away from the hated crate behind which he had spent so many agonizing hours. "You are mocking the Jackal and he indeed discerns it. You must know full well that VCRs are obsolete, why they no longer even make the tapes for them."

"They don't?" Jason asked in surprise, his arms full of Sonny's special orders and his shoulder occupied by his contraband monkey. "Now why did they have to go and do that?"

The two of them made their way towards the SUV, Spinelli admonishing and reproaching his mentor's extreme lack of technical awareness and Jason interposing questions and comments to keep Spinelli's monologue going. He managed to keep the young hacker so occupied in the conversation that he walked unseeing past the crate with the sad corpses of the animals that hadn't survived the journey and past the truck where the pangolins were being loaded to travel to their unhappy destiny. He breathed a sigh of relief as they reached their vehicle without Spinelli having had his attention called to any further such debilitating sights.

"Furthermore, " Spinelli was wrapping up his dissertation, "by the time Stone Cold is the aforementioned age, the methods of disseminating both entertainment and information will be so far advanced and so simple to access that even a small child will be able to perform the task." He stopped suddenly as he realized the implications of what he had just said. "Ful..fulsome apologies…" Spinelli stuttered, not because he was scared of Jason but because he would never in any way insult his intelligence or his abilities even if his Master was somewhat technically challenged. He had so many other stellar attributes and no one, not even Jason, was perfect. "The Jackal only meant to say…"

Jason just grinned at him as he placed the boxes carefully down on the mud mat behind the driver's seat. "Get in the car, Spinelli. Here," he said climbing in and handing over the monkey, "take this guy."

Spinelli took the proffered primate who settled down in his lap, clutching Spinelli's fingers. As Jason started to back out he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he knew nothing had really changed but just getting away from the oppressive environment they had spent so much time in buoyed his spirits. He stole a glance at Spinelli who was concentrating on the monkey, stroking his hair softly and soothingly, he too looked better, calmer and more centered. He drove to Kelly's which was their usual routine after being up all night.

Spinelli looked at Jason questioningly as he dipped his head toward the small creature that was dozing in his lap. "Stone Cold must realize that health regulations prohibit us from taking the simian one into the diner. Should we not perhaps this once dispense with tradition and return post haste to the pent house?"

Jason shook his head stubbornly. "We, you especially, need a break and we should eat something there isn't much back home. We ought to go shopping soon. Don't you think he'll be okay for a while in the truck?" He didn't really know why he was asking Spinelli. He doubted that he knew anything more about how monkeys behaved than did Jason. It was just that he always seemed to have the most esoteric information available at an instant's notice as he retrieved it from the massive data center that was his brain.

Spinelli shrugged his shoulders doubtfully. "I believe primates can be quite destructive when left to their own devices."

"Yeah, but look at him," Jason was trying persuasion to win his argument. "He's almost asleep, he's just as worn out by all this as we are. We'll get a banana or something for him from Mike."

"As Stone Cold wishes." Spinelli opened his door and gently picking up the monkey placed him on the warm spot on the seat where he had just been sitting. The monkey barely even noticed the change in position. He just curled up tightly with his tail caught between his hands and his eyes closed.