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

Shadows of the Mind

Chapter 3: Mind's Companion

A winter fog was starting to roll in off the harbor. For now it was just sending wispy tendrils up and down the narrow alleys and streets of the waterfront. Soon though it would intensify and thicken and then someone would be hard pressed to see their own hand six inches from their face.

Jason was searching the crevices of his mind, trying to find the voice… It had started just as the coroner's van had finally driven off the edge of his field of vision. It had been familiar and welcome and all at once he was no longer alone. It masked the endless ache, the vacant space that had consumed and defined him ever since he had first realized that the Spinelli he held in his arms wasn't Spinelli at all. No, not Spinelli but instead some alien being sticky with blood that looked like someone's idea of a bad Halloween prank.

Jason thought that Spinelli had left, had flown away to some place that he knew without a doubt was dazzling-the determinate definition of light-though it would have to go a long way to match the incandescence that was Spinelli's soul. He had been convinced that he at least was at peace no matter what desolation he left behind him.

Jason approved of the concept of Spinelli in a place-or a dimension or a sphere or a what have you-where he would be recognized and valued for what was intrinsic rather than constantly being judged on the extrinsic. Maybe, just maybe, that idea could be enough to enable Jason to fumble on in this world a while longer. Yet, that pitiful concord he might have made with the bitch that was fate, it was all off now since he had heard the voice. He'd heard it and now wanted it, no-required it-to continue to function.

"This is the deal," he informed whoever or whatever was in charge on this dreadful, bleak night. "You want me to stay. You give me back the voice."

He really didn't care about going, no matter what he had said to Mac. After all, it was unlikely that he and Spinelli were heading to the same place. If it turned out by some miracle they were-well, he could always twist him around his little finger. Jason would just tell him that he missed him and he didn't want to stay here without him-it had the advantage of being totally true. So, perhaps Spinelli would grouse a little but Jason was pretty sure he (the Spinelli he knew anyway) would be so flattered and awed that Jason had chosen him (he should have done it a lot time ago) that he wouldn't mind the little pesky details about how he had gotten there. Besides, his ticket was supposed to have been punched tonight anyway. It just meant Jason would be doing his bit to bring things back into a proper alignment, back to the way they were meant to be to begin with.

So, if whoever sent the voice still wanted him around. "Well, it better pretty much be a case of on-demand talking and no pay per listen bullshit either."

Jason had never before been as emotionally involved in a negotiation as he was this time around. Yet, he knew that you could only bargain well when you came from a position of strength, not as a supplicant. Offering his life which didn't seem to mean squat to him right now, though it appeared it was somehow important to someone else, that was a no brainer. Either he would stay breathing and get the voice as his payment or he'd go and maybe get to see Spinelli or at least be rewarded with oblivion. Really, it was pretty much a coin toss with a slight bias towards the seeing Spinelli option.

He didn't understand what he had lost, what he had been missing until the first words had ricocheted around his brain. It was strange like stories Jason had heard where people claimed to receive radio transmissions through their dental fillings.

"Stone Cold, you need to talk to His Comissionership concerning Maximista…"

At first, it hadn't even registered, it was like getting water in your ear when you took a shower or went swimming. He had to resist the urge to tip and jerk his head to try and dislodge the water or, as in this case, the voice.

"Stone Cold, the Jackal needs your assistance in this endeavor, he is incapable of doing it without your cooperation." It was absolutely him, it was Spinelli and he was lodged inside Jason's head.

"Spinelli?" He knew he was going crazy but only around ten percent of him was even concerned about it. Meanwhile, the other ninety percent was ecstatic to once again be hearing the voice, the words that he had just a moment ago thought silenced forever. "Is it really you?"

"In the flesh-well, perhaps to be more accurate in the neurons of your brain Stone Cold but it is of no matter. The more pressing concern is that I, that is the Jackal, require you to seek out Maximista's over protective but loving father in order to discern what is to be done."

"Done about what, Spinelli? Jason was already turning and looking for Mac.

"Maximista, she has yet to hear the news of the Jackal's untimely demise and we-that is you and I-needs must express our desire to do anything feasible to ameliorate Maximista's distress upon receipt of said communication."

So, Jason had gone over to Mac and Lucky and had asked in a strange mix of Spinelli-speak and his normal idiom about Maxie. He needed to know whether they wanted him-manifestly Jason-but in reality Spinelli, to break the news to her, to comfort her. Jason wasn't really surprised at Mac's refusal, he understood that he didn't want him anywhere near his grieving daughter. Jason couldn't blame him, he wouldn't have wanted someone like himself near his daughter-if he had one-either.

Jason knew Spinelli-the one in his head-had been disappointed at Mac's response but he seemed to appreciate his motivation and to recognize his limits in this unique (and that was putting it mildly) situation. Jason hadn't missed the conferring glance that passed between Mac and Lucky as they speculated about his mental state and what, if anything, they should do about it.

He'd taken that as his cue to leave. He wanted to be alone with the voice, with Spinelli. Also, he was finding it harder to control what was happening to him. He thought it best if he wasn't around anyone until he figured out what exactly was occurring and how to deal with.

"Anyway," he told himself grimly, "I have some business to take care of that can't wait."

So, Jason had walked away but Spinelli and his damned manners had almost tripped him up. He'd been forced to stop and to thank Mac and even Lucky for their help. It was all Spinelli, none of it Jason-although he did grudgingly acknowledge what Mac had done for him on the worst night of his life. Still, he would have left it all unsaid, but not the kid-oh, no, he never met a pleasantry that was better left unuttered. Jason cringed at the dead giveaway that was illustrated by the words coming out of his mouth. Then, as he was finally permitted to move away, he could clearly hear Lucky's incredulous comment.

Jason had to agree with him. "Aid and succor!" he growled once more to himself under his breath. "Who the hell talks like that?"

Jason knew exactly who spoke like that and it wasn't him. So, what happened when they moved away and were finally out of sight on a deserted street in the old section of Port Charles? The voice stopped, just quit cold, that's what happened. Now, that he could listen and reply without people looking to fit him for a strait jacket there wasn't a peep out of the kid. That's when Jason started the search for the voice, the bargaining process to get it back. He needed it…

It was no good. There wasn't any reply and there wasn't any interior conversation courtesy of the Jackal in his head. Really, it was ironic the way Jason had spent literally years trying to get Spinelli to talk less and here he was promising absolutely anything if he would just say something. He could chatter away as much as he wanted, the more the better from Jason's brand new perspective. Nope, there was nothing, just an unrelieved silence that was Jason's new diametrically opposed definition of hell…

He was walking aimlessly down one of the harbor streets of Port Charles' historic district. It was lined on either side with venerable brownstones, each one well preserved and tended. The buildings loomed up out of the ever increasing mistiness, soon it would be considered a full fledged fog. As if to emphasize the point, Jason could hear the booming of a fog horn off towards the harbor.

Antique street lamps tried their hardest to penetrate the white gloom Yet, the best they appeared to be able to do was produce an ellipse of yellowish light at each lamp's base that enabled passersby to see a few feet on either side of them before once again being swallowed up by the ever thickening moistly pallid gloom.

Without the voice, without an indication of if or whether or when it would return, Jason once again found himself in the grip of an all-consuming, newly reinforced raw grief. "Spinelli," he groaned, suddenly feeling sick, his legs were rubbery and unable to support him any longer.

He grabbed the object nearest him, one of the streetlamps, it was either that or crash into the earth. The lamp stood there unresisting neither helping nor hindering Jason's slide down, his lost fight against the force of gravity. Jason found himself splayed on the ground in an undignified position his legs stretched out in front of him, his back propped against the neutral lamp, his head lolling on his neck as he fought an up rush of nausea. He looked like a drunk and appearances weren't that deceiving. He pretty much felt like one too though he hadn't had the benefit or the expense of consuming alcohol to reach this unsought condition of inebriated mimicry.

Intermingled with the uncontrollable anguish that Jason felt was the surprisingly bitter feeling of jealousy. "Maxie," he thought with a surge of hostility. "That's why he came back, to help Maxie, because he was worried about Maxie." Tears of anger, tears of grief, one and the same were rolling down his cheeks unchecked. "She's got Mac, Robin, Lulu, Patrick, Kate… All I had was Spinelli and now he's gone and when he returns it's for her, not for me…" The unfamiliar sensation of wallowing in self-pity absorbed him fully for a few moments. Another thought struck him, "What if she gets the voice, maybe that's why he's gone he went to her, he chose her." Jason closed his eyes, he couldn't bear it, not if Maxie could hear Spinelli and he couldn't. "She never even decided if she loved him or not, never told him, just keep him hanging on and hoping…"

"Unlike all those times when you clearly professed your emotions for your very own grasshopper?" The voice was his but it possessed an atypical edge. "Perhaps the Stone Cold Pot is unfairly blackening the Maximista kettle," it continued dryly.

"Spinelli," Jason straightened, suddenly he felt lighter. "You're back!"

"The Jackal had never departed, he was just…pondering." Spinelli continued, "You do realize that there is no competition between my feelings, my regard for you and for Maximista? I hold you both equally in high esteem. She possesses or did my romantic heart. While you Jason, you have my full fealty and love as my one true haven, my family in all ways that constitute that connection outside the bonds of genetics, of blood."

"I don't care about blood Spinelli." Jason felt ashamed at what Spinelli had said, that Jason hadn't ever told him how much he meant to him.

It had been unfair and hypocritical of him to blame Maxie for never telling him whether or not she loved him in an amorous sense. She had certainly done a clearer and more concrete job of telling him how much she cared for him in every other way-even if it only was platonic.

Jason though hadn't ever gotten past a few gruff utterances of Spinelli being like "family". He had certainly never come close to telling him that he loved him, he had always thought his actions would speak for him. He vaguely believed that eventually he would tell Spinelli how he felt about him-maybe on his wedding day or at the birth of his first child. Whenever it happened it was always going to be some time in the future, never now. Well, there wasn't anymore future and the only now was the putative voice inside his skull chastising him, or at least that was how Jason perceived it, as being a case of "too little, too late.

Jason yearned to say it now. It was far less painful, than he thought it would be. That fact actually made it worse because he hadn't done this sooner when it would have counted for more-when more than just Spinelli's voice would be there to receive it. He should have said it when he could have seen Spinelli's green eyes shyly light up and his mouth start to hesitantly smile as he absorbed what Jason was telling him, what he had waited so long to hear. He would give anything to make that fantasy come true…

Now was all there was though and so he said it with warmth, tears and verifiable sincerity, "I love you, Spinelli. Pretty much have done all along. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so glad you came into my life. We may not be connected by blood but you're as much mine as Jake is, even more so because of all the experiences we had together…" The thought of nothing more ever being shared between them was too much for him to contemplate and he stopped speaking. Jason bowed his head resting it on his knees as misery swamped through ever fiber of his being.

No more Spinelli bounding through the front door or down the stairs. No more half empty bottles of orange soda popping up on every surface and leaving condensation rings to irritate Jason. No more exuberance, no more hero-worship-how had he ever disdained that or even pretended to? No more conferences about strategy, no more consultations as Spinelli frenetically typed away on his laptop. The most trusted person in his world was gone and all there was in his place was stark, intolerable loneliness.

Quietly, a whisper fluttered in his brain, "I know Jason, the Jackal knows, he always did. Still, he thanks his Master for finally putting into words what he indeed did demonstrate time and again through his deeds. The declaration is gratefully acknowledged and entirely reciprocated. I love you as well."

Jason smiled sadly; it only took Spinelli dying to get him to tell him he loved him. Was it possible for him to be a bigger jackass?

"Only just," was the faintest of statements coursing through his mind accompanied by a faint tinge of laughter.

A sudden motion caught out of the corner of his eye caused Jason to jerk his head up abruptly. The fog had become denser but he could just barely make out the next lamppost over, about a hundred feet away. There was a figure standing in the faint glow, something about it-no, him-caused Jason to strain his eyes as he tried to discern more details. He was so familiar-he reminded him of someone…

Jason gasped, "Spinelli?" He said it weakly, unsure after everything that had been going on inside his head that he could trust his eyes any more than his mind.

"Stone Cold," his voice by comparison was almost normal, even comforting. Yet, it sounded cautionary and somewhat worried. That didn't make sense, how could one supernatural form of Spinelli be warning him against another?

The figure-it was Spinelli, it really was! He didn't look quite right though. He was dressed in some sort of old fashioned clothes, a suit from the 1940's or '50's instead of his usual uniform of jeans and sweatshirt. He was wearing a hat tipped back on his head while his hair slick with pomade was tucked under it instead of flopping all over the place.

As Jason watched him in mesmerized fascination, he leaned back against the lamppost bending one leg behind him for support. Then he reached into his breast pocket and pulling out a cigarette proceeded to light it, the match cupped in his hand sharply illuminated his features for a moment. When the cigarette was lit he took a long pull on it and looking up at the sky exhaled a stretched drag of smoke that almost sparkled as it mixed with the fog and was caught in the lamp light.

Jason started to clamber to his feet. He needed to go to him, to see him, to talk to him, to tell him so much. He thought the first thing that he might do is bat that cigarette out of his mouth. Spinelli should know better and he sure as hell wasn't going to lose him a second time around to lung cancer!

When Jason was once again upright and starting to take his first step towards Spinelli the voice cut across his mind. "No! Stone Cold, you must not-that way madness lies." It was authoritative and urgent, brooking no refusal.

Jason paused unwillingly, he was desperately drawn to the figure standing in the circle of light cast by the lamp. Yet, the voice in his head had said not to, that it was dangerous. He didn't know what to do with the warring Spinelli's. The voice was well-known, soothing even and his first instinct was to trust it. Still, there was Spinelli-he could see him and by crossing a few feet of distance he could be physically next to him, perhaps talk to him, even touch him or hug him. God! How he wanted to do that! A groan of frustration erupted from Jason's lips as he stood in paralyzed indecision.

Whether it was the sound he emitted or the earlier movement of getting to his feet he didn't know but somehow he had attracted Spinelli's attention. He turned his head toward Jason casting off a smoke ring with practiced ease as he did so. He looked at him, letting his gaze run appraisingly from his feet to his face where their eyes locked onto one another. Then he curved his lips up in a grin that gave Jason chills because it was unlike any smile he had ever seen Spinelli wear. It was cynical, world weary and had a touch of malice to it. While continuing to hold eye contact the Spinelli of the lamp gave a quick nod of his head. It was an obvious invitation for Jason to come over and join in the fun, oh, what enjoyment there was to be had was the implication.

Jason swallowed uneasily. The figure wasn't like the voice in his mind, that was the true Spinelli it had all the correct flavors and intonations and spirit, he could feel it. This other Spinelli was skewed somehow. He looked like Spinelli but he didn't behave like him. His eyes were cold, calculating and Jason suddenly realized-entirely lacking in color. As a matter of fact there was no color at all attached to the lamp Spinelli. It hadn't penetrated Jason's consciousness at first. He had been too amazed and happy at seeing him viable and visible to examine him closely. The coalescence of the monochrome colors imposed by the combination of the dark and the fog had delayed his recognition that Spinelli and his immediate surroundings were all black and white like an old movie in the film noir genre.

As Jason peered more intently through the ever thickening fog, he saw, actually saw, the lamppost through Spinelli. It wasn't a matter of Spinelli shifting and then the base of the lamp coming into view. No, as he stood there, challenging Jason with those dark and empty eyes, it was possible to see the lamppost as well as the stoop of the brownstone directly behind him. Spinelli was transparent or at least he segued back and forth between transparency and solidity.

A profound and soul wrenching sense of melancholy came over Jason. The voice had been correct, he couldn't go to Spinelli, if he did his sanity would be forfeit. The worst aspect of the situation was that even with that revelation, there was still a part of him that wanted to cross the void between his lamp and Spinelli's, no matter the personal cost. After all, he was responsible for Spinelli's death. Maybe it was only right that he paid the price with his mind.

"No, Jason, that isn't what I would want or desire in the least." He was back speaking in calm and measured tones, trying to reach Jason and pull him from his despondency. "The Jackal wants his Master in and of this world, whole in all ways."

Jason smiled wryly, "Can't promise that, Spinelli, not after tonight…"

He was still caught in the fiercely intense stare of the wraithlike Spinelli. It seemed that the more concentrated his gaze became the further his physical form dissipated becoming indistinguishable from the surrounding mist. At this point, he was only a vague outline, a kind of Spinelli version of the Cheshire cat. Although it was his penetrating eyes rather than his grin that remained while the rest of him slowly vanished, merging into the fog.

"You can begin by looking away, Jason. Baby steps." The voice was cajoling and caring. "Please!"

That last heartfelt plea did it. Jason couldn't refuse Spinelli, the real one, not after all the times up to and including tonight-which was the most irretrievable example-that he had neglected and failed him. He owed him an honest attempt at trying to stay on the right side of the gulf that separated life and death, sanity and insanity.

With a palpably difficult twist of his head, Jason managed to severe visual contact with the second Spinelli. He was too frightened to look at him again, unsure of what he might see or he if could even manage a second time to break free from the magnetic attraction he exerted. Instead, Jason opted to turn his back on the other lamp, on the figure that had simultaneously compelled and repulsed him.

"Excellent!" Relief and elation at Jason's accomplishment was encompassed in the single word.

Jason sagged wearily against his lamppost. He was exhausted from the surreal and heartrending events of the evening and he knew that the night was far from over.

"Spinelli?" his voice was rough, hoarse with emotion and fatigue. "You'll stay? You won't go away or leave me?" He was begging for an affirmative response, he couldn't handle one more loss at this moment, he was too fragile.

"I'm here, Stone Cold, the Jackal is here. For now…"

Jason was only partially reassured, he didn't like the tacked on qualifier but for now he held his peace. "I need to go, to find the person responsible for your…"

He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't use the words 'killing' or 'death' or more truthfully, something like 'extinction of my soul'. He knew that Spinelli would understand his meaning. After all, he was enmeshed within his brain. He probably knew what Jason was thinking and planning better than Jason did.

"Yes," the reply was sober and thoughtful but at the same time unequivocal.

Jason was astonished. He had been fully prepared to have a bizarre argument, one that would make him sound like a schizophrenic to an average passerby (thankfully not such an issue on a foggy and cold night like this one). He didn't absolutely know that the term shouldn't be applied to him in all fairness but he could say that he didn't feel crazy. Of course deranged people seldom considered themselves to be unbalanced.

No, the amazing thing was that Spinelli wasn't trying to dissuade him from his intended pursuit. He knew that Spinelli knew. No one-not even Damian Spinelli-could reside with Jason Morgan for two plus years and not clearly understand his intent when he talked about 'finding' the people behind the shooting. There would be more deaths in Port Charles this night, it was inevitable. So, why then wasn't Spinelli trying to talk him out of doing what he had to? It wouldn't have done any good but that had never before been enough of a deterrent to prevent Spinelli from offering up his advice or trying to provide moral guidance when he felt it was called for.

What had changed in the kid so that he was seemingly endorsing an act of cold blooded murder in the pursuit of revenge? Or did his lack of demur simply indicate that he was indeed a figment of Jason's brain. If such a surmise were true then he wouldn't feel called upon to argue with what was so clearly an ingrained response, almost a need, on the part of the once and future mob enforcer. In that case, agreeing with Jason was simply a case of agreeing with himself.

"The Jackal believes that you should pursue the proponent of this night's nefarious deeds for one and only one reason Stone Cold."

"So, there is going to be a discussion," Jason thought, intrigued to hear the forthcoming rationale from peace loving Spinelli. "Which is what?" He prompted.

"The assailant tried to kill the Jackal's revered and beloved Master and such a cowardly and heinous act cannot go unpunished!" The voice vibrated with outrage and deadly intent.

Jason sighed, he should have guessed. Spinelli wasn't interested in avenging his own death. No, he wanted the perpetrator to pay because Jason had been the target, had almost caught a bullet and died. "Well," he retorted, making his own motivations crystal clear. "I am going after them because of what they did to you."

As he said it, he started to tremble with a renewed mixture of rage and grief. They would pay for what they had taken from Jason Morgan this very night. Neither the assassin who had fired the gun, nor the person who had actually instigated the hit would live to see tomorrow's dawn. Jason knew from the harsh taskmaster that was experience that he wouldn't feel better as a result of the killings. Yet, he had a long established code and he intended to implement it as it was the only immediate way he knew to honor Spinelli's memory and to tell him how much he had truly meant to him. Spinelli's murderers did not get walk for one more day on the Earth's surface since Spinelli himself could not. It was biblical in its simplicity-a life, or two, for a life…

Jason had forgotten about the other Spinelli. He had been so involved in his dialogue with the voice of Spinelli and his intentions and the reactivation of his benumbed feelings that he had put the ghostly sighting out of his mind. So, if he wasn't consciously thinking of him and he certainly was no longer looking at him-how then was he hearing the sound that came to him muffled by the fog? It was a giggle, a woman's happy laugh-low and musical.

Jason gripped the lamppost, he was rapidly beginning to view it as the one stable and reliable thing in his universe tonight and he wanted the comfort that physical contact with it seemed to provide. Slowly, he pivoted around reluctantly raising his eyes and searching through the murkiness for that other lamp, the one from which he had previously averted his glance.

Second Spinelli, as he was coming to think of him, was still there and more corporeal then when last Jason had viewed him. He was no longer alone in the cone of lamp light. Standing next to him was a young woman smiling up at him happily. She too was dressed in vintage clothing from the mid-twentieth century. She wore a tight fitted skirt and a matching jacket with a flared bottom. On her feet were a pair of boxy heels. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon and perched on her head was an absurd pointless hat that made her look entirely adorable.

"Georgie," the word was uttered reverently by Spinelli.

Jason was startled to realize that he was indeed seeing Georgie Jones standing with Damian Spinelli the second on a deserted Port Charles street corner. She was bright and shiny, young and lovely all shimmer and grace. For a moment Jason's heart ached for Mac as he understood more clearly than ever what he had lost a little over a year ago.

This girl, this marvelous girl, had loved his boy and if she had only lived…Jason had sometimes thought about what could have been for the two of them as well matched in temperament and intelligence as they were. He had visualized a future for them including children-well mannered, sweet tempered and bright. He had wanted to be a part of that but it had all died with Georgie the night she had been strangled.

Then her sister Maxie had come along to fill the void and Jason had occasionally allowed himself to dream for Spinelli once more. Now, this horrible endless night had put paid to any hopes he had nurtured on behalf of his brother, his son, his friend and ultimately himself.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks and blurring his vision as he watched the couple under the light. He was bereft as the full understanding of what had been lost finally hit him. It wasn't just that Spinelli wouldn't be in the penthouse when he returned. It wasn't that he wouldn't see him or be with him-that was all Jason's loss but what about Spinelli's loss?

Jason had lived a strange, brutal, and often barren life but he had lived. He had a child-Jake. He had helped raise Michael and Morgan. He had another son, Spinelli-whom he had known for far too short a time. He had loved and been loved in return. He had traveled and knew what it was to feel exhilaration as he cheated death and came back for more.

Spinelli would never have so many things that people took for granted in life. He hadn't, as far as Jason could tell anyway, been loved even as a child. His grandmother had raised him more in the spirit of duty than with true caring. He came to Port Charles and found people to love-Lulu, Jason, Sam, Maxie and unknowingly Georgie. Yet, none of these people, with the exception of Georgie and her unsent e-mails, had ever expressed their reciprocal love for him. Jason knew that the fact that he had never told Spinelli how much he had loved him would haunt him for the rest of his life. He believed that everyone else that had cared about him would regret not expressing their feelings either.

So, that was Spinelli's past and present and they both lacked so much. Yet, it was his lost future that Jason couldn't bear to dwell on. Spinelli was brilliant and talented and he would have made his mark in the world. He would have found love with Maxie or someone else, maybe some more like Georgie, and they would have had a family. This time, somehow, Jason would have managed to be a part of it. Now, none of that could happen, would happen. The loss for Spinelli for what should have been was more than Jason could bear to contemplate.

All that was left of his unrealized dreams and hopes for Spinelli were two insubstantial figures standing together on a misty night under the auspices of a streetlamp. Jason couldn't stand to look at them and see all the vanquished aspirations they represented.

"She's lovely," it was Spinelli interrupting Jason's musings on his roommate's lost mortality.

"Yeah, she is." Jason totally agreed.

Together in a sociable silence, they watched the out of time and out of place couple flirting under the lamppost. Spinelli spoke first and Jason could tell from the unconcealed longing in his voice how difficult it was for him to tear his attention away from Georgie even for a moment.

"Stone Cold, in your ruminations upon the Jackal's foreshortened lifespan did you never consider his perspective of events?"

Jason was puzzled by the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, your analysis of the Jackal's past is correct, perhaps even somewhat sanitized. Your conceptualization of his future is much like that which he perceived for himself." There was a pause as again they both looked over at the neighboring light. "Indeed, it would have been incomplete without your participation, your presence which was always desired in the Jackal's life-never mistake that!" For a moment the voice was almost stern, it was as close to a reprimand as the gentle grasshopper could administer to his Master. "Alas," he continued, his voice colored with deep regret, "Many things in life never come to fruition but it is the process, the journey that most matters."

"It isn't right Spinelli!" Jason couldn't help interrupting. "If you hadn't pushed me, if we hadn't even gone there tonight, then you would still have a future. There would still be hope." His voice had turned dull and dead as he sank back into the ever waiting arms of his all consuming grief.

"Who is to say that your life isn't as valuable as mine? That what you do in your future isn't of as great or even surpassing worth when measured against the unforeseen potential of the Jackal?"

There was an intensity and earnestness to his tone that caused Jason to close his eyes as he listened, not wanting to be distracted by the events occurring a short distance away. He needed to comprehend what Spinelli was trying to say to him, even though he desperately wanted to break in again and deny hotly any idea that Jason's life or future was worth one tenth of Spinelli's.

"It is as Commissioner Scorpio said, I chose you, to save you because you are of importance and not just to the Jackal no matter how keenly you attempt to deny that fact. You would have many mourners at your gravesite Jason and it is indeed fortunate that they need not mark that painful occasion. Please, do not belittle my feelings for you as you would not have the Jackal decry yours for him. I am glad that you are alive and well. While I would prefer to be standing shoulder to shoulder with you thereby making this sad conversation unnecessary, I am content with the outcome as you would be were the situation reversed."

"Well, I'm not!" Jason said it harshly, abruptly. He was unable to accept what he considered to be mere rationalizations on Spinelli's part. "I caused this all of it. My choices created this situation. I pushed away everyone but you Spinelli because I couldn't let you go but I couldn't protect you either and because of me you paid the ultimate price."

"It was for me to pay if I so wished Stone Cold. The aspect of my recent life that you neglected to recognize is how happy the Jackal was to be in yours and Maximista's lives and to have had Lulu as a friend and so many of the other good people of this city. You gave the Jackal a home, security, respect and friendship. You might never have said directly that you loved me but I deduced it long since The Jackal would wish Stone Cold to at least set his mind at ease concerning that one issue even if he can't with sundry others."

"I'll try," Jason said gruffly as he fought back more tears. "You are the most…" he searched for a word and settled on one, "irritating person I know Spinelli. Here I am trying to feel sorry for myself, to hate myself for what I did to you. Meanwhile, all you can do is tell me how worthwhile a person I am and what an honor it was to sacrifice yourself for me. You make it impossible for me to go on a bender or to put my fist through a wall without it being a reflection on your memory, your actions. You sure know how to ruin a guy's self destructive tendencies."

"The Jackal doesn't quite remember referring to it as an honor, Stone Cold," the voice was lighter and had a teasing quality to it as Spinelli seemed to recognize that Jason had pulled back from the brink of an emotional tailspin. "The Jackal is in most cases a strong advocate of retreat being the better part of valor. Yet, sometimes situations are such that only a certain reaction is feasible and the Jackal has not one iota of regret for the choices he made this evening."

Jason nodded his head in acknowledgment, "Then that only leaves one thing for me to say. Thank you, Spinelli, thank you for saving me and I will try and honor," he paused with a twisted grin as he emphasized the last word, "your choice, your memory by the way I live the rest of my life."

"It will be a long life, Stone Cold?" Spinelli questioned him closely herein lay the heart of the matter. Jason knew how serious and intent his green eyes would be if he were looking into them at this moment.

"As long as nature intends," he allowed wearily, recognizing defeat when he saw it.

"The Jackal is well satisfied," Jason could hear the clear relief in Spinelli's voice. "Yet, not with such uncalled for actions as those... Unhand her you fiend!"

Spinelli's growling tone and uncharacteristically angry words caused Jason to look over at the other lamp. He immediately saw what had so distressed his brother. Second Spinelli had pulled an unresisting Georgie to him and bending her back in his arms he was kissing her fully and passionately on the lips. As a matter of fact…Jason had to blink his eyes rapidly and then look again to make sure what he was seeing was real. Second Spinelli was no longer in a suit and a fedora hat. Instead he was now attired in the Donald Duck costume of a sailor as he kissed an extremely responsive Georgie-herself presently dressed in a white nurse's uniform.

The scene was evocative and Jason vaguely remembered seeing a photograph identical to this in an old magazine. It was taken in Times Square in New York City on the day that Japan capitulated, marking the end of World War Two. He realized he was being treated to a restaging of VJ day. Behind the couple, Jason could see the vague silhouettes of bystanders watching them kiss. In addition, there were even faintly discernible architectural shapes that indelibly marked it as occurring smack in the middle of New York City's eternal heart-Times Square.

As Jason gaped incredulously at the smooching couple, he heard Spinelli snort resentfully in his head, "Poseurs!"

He felt indignant on behalf of his boy and without conscious thought the words spilled out, "You should totally take her away from him!"

"It is indeed high on the Jackal's to do list, after certain other more pressing matters have been attended to." His voice was regretful but firm.

Second Spinelli had raised his head as he still held a dazed Georgie in his arms. He looked over at Jason and smirked knowingly. Jason just glared back at him. He didn't understand how he could ever have thought for a single second that this…this imposter was Spinelli.

Unperturbed, Second Spinelli pulled Georgie upright and twirled her around as though they had been dancing rather than kissing. Their movements blurred and when they stopped they each were once again dressed as they had been previously. Georgie laughed up at him, the love glowing from her face made her look young and vulnerable. Jason itched to pull her from his arms and present her to her rightful soul mate.

The mournful notes of the fog horn sounded and then transformed into the wail of a saxophone. Second Spinelli and Georgie simultaneously tilted their heads towards the sound of the music. Without any visible consultation they linked arms and began to walk away. Second Spinelli paused, pulling his arm free, and turned back to look at Jason. He removed his hat from his head and bending at the waist he bowed low. As he replaced the hat, he maliciously grinned once more and winked at him. Then he tucked Georgie's arm securely in his and together they vanished into the mist, the final notes of the saxophone solo providing a soundtrack for their exit.

"Show's over for the night," Spinelli tried to sound matter of fact but Jason could hear the underlying tremor in his voice that bespoke his yearning for Georgie.

"You're worth a thousand of him," he tried in vain to console him.

"So the Jackal saw with his…Stone Cold's eyes. Sweet Georgie was so very repelled by the ardent attentions of the dark one." His tone was mournful and tinged with sarcasm.

Jason had no idea what to say. For one thing, at this point in time, Spinelli was only a voice emanating from his brain. He didn't really see how he could compete on a fair playing field with Damian the Second who might have been a ghost or a spirit but at least he could walk and talk and possessed some pretty nifty legerdemain skills. Anyway, Jason knew if he were being absolutely honest, he didn't want Spinelli to pursue Georgie because then he would leave Jason and he wasn't ready for that yet. The way he felt right now, he would never be ready for it.

So, in an effort to divert his focus, Jason reminded him of his still as yet unfulfilled need for retribution. "Spinelli, I'm going to the penthouse to get some stuff and then I'm heading out…"

He intentionally trailed off the sentence, hoping that Spinelli would jump in and tell his mentor that he would 'indeed accompany him' or that "the Jackal has Stone Cold's back in this most valiant and dangerous of missions." After all, one of the few benefits that Jason could see in having Spinelli existing solely as a voice rather than a flesh and blood person is that he could take him along on his nocturnal revenge operation and not have to worry about anything happening to him. He couldn't bear to be separated-even temporarily-from this last vestige of Spinelli-imaginary or not.

Several moments passed, while Jason waited anxiously for a response. He began to wonder if Spinelli had left him to follow Georgie. Or perhaps he had reconsidered his whole position on the payback that Jason planned to extract tonight and now wanted nothing more to do with it. Jason couldn't stand the stillness for another second and just as he was opening his mouth to say something, anything to get Spinelli to answer him the voice finally replied.

"The Jackal has been considering a potential plan of action that has ramifications, beneficial ones, which will extend beyond the less than salutary act of proposed reprisal." Spinelli's voice was slow and thoughtful as though he were formulating the parts of his scheme as he spoke.

It took Jason a moment to interpret what Spinelli had just said and he felt the need to clarify it, to be sure he understood. "Are you saying that there is some way of turning tonight-what happened, what will happen-to our advantage?" He couldn't imagine what good could possibly come from the stark loss he had suffered this evening.

"Does Stone Cold know the definition of a tragedy?" The question came out of left field and further confused Jason.

"What?" Was all the response Jason could manage to Spinelli's apparent non sequitur. He was still wrestling with the perturbing idea of a productive outcome resulting from tonight's events.

"A tragedy, Stone Cold is when a terrible thing-a death, for instance-occurs through the agency of man. It is unlike an incident that is out of the control of man such as an earthquake or a natural forest fire-those tend to be referred to as cataclysms. What happened tonight would be classified as a tragedy."

Jason couldn't agree more, but he failed to grasp Spinelli's point, "So?"

"Well, if man has put something asunder, should it not also be up to man to put it right as well?"

Jason didn't really have much experience with Socratic dialogues or whatever the hell Spinelli was doing tonight. He just wanted to get on with things. His finger was itching to pull a trigger that was his way of dealing with tragedies or cataclysms or anything that might cross his path and in so doing cause him problems.

.

His impatience showed, "Spit it out Spinelli, I haven't got all night."

Immediately he regretted what he had said. Spinelli didn't have tonight at all. Or, looking at it another way, you could say he had endless nights, infinite time for philosophical discussions with Jason because time was irrelevant to him now-there wasn't anything else for him to do.

"I'm sorry. God, Spinelli, I am so sorry!" Jason was almost crying as remorse flooded him and as he remembered all the times he had snapped at his loyal friend. Yet, Spinelli had only ever countered with forbearance and understanding. It seemed that Jason never did learn-he was such an idiot!

"Don't apologize, Stone Cold. The Jackal's tendency to digress has been enhanced in his current state of being. There seems to be little sensation of time in this plane of existence which he is presently occupying. He will make a concerted effort to be more succinct."

"You have a plan?"

Jason was trying to get them both back on track with the night's activities. He actually was interested to hear what Spinelli had on his or, as it might be the case-Jason's mind. Spinelli was intelligent and intuitive and his interpretation of past situations had led him to give Jason valuable advice.

"Indeed, the Jackal does have a strategy in mind." He could hear the cockiness in the young man's voice and Jason found himself grinning in reaction.

"Well, what is it?"

"Stone Cold has recently neutralized the Russian mafia within the boundaries of Port Charles. That leaves the city under the jurisdiction of two organizations-yours and the Zacchara-Corinthos operation. During his relatively short tenure residing in this city, the Jackal cannot recollect a time when true peace has reigned. It has always been a case of one group on the downswing and another on the ascendancy, challenges and counter challenges. Well, Stone Cold gets the Jackal's drift..."

"Yeah," Jason was intrigued though he still wasn't quite sure what Spinelli was thinking. "Go on," he urged.

"Well, it occurred to the Jackal that we could use Stone Cold's natural inclination for retaliation to effect a larger outcome. We could rid Port Charles of all mob influence except for yours and in thus, ensure a future wherein there would never be any competitors."

Jason just stood there stunned. He fully understood what Spinelli was recommending and it made complete sense to him. He could use what had happened tonight as a natural reason to go after the Zacchara-Corinthos organization. It was expected that he would react with violence, even by the very people he was hunting-it was an accepted convention in their world.

"Spinelli," he breathed his name in total admiration. "You're brilliant!"

"Modesty prevails, Stone Cold. The Jackal would blush could he but."

"If mine were the only remaining organization in the city, I could protect my power base. I could make sure no one ever again encroached on my territory." Jason ran his hands through his hair in amazement as he thought about all the implications of such a result. "There would be no more battles, no shootings, no mob wars." He gave an incredulous laugh, "I could keep them all safe, all of them-Elizabeth, Jake, Cameron, Carly, Morgan…" The list was endless.

"Stone Cold, the Jackal hates to dampen your exhilaration, but counting one's chickens prior to hatching…" His voice was somber. "In order to achieve this worthy goal, you will be required to perform a most difficult task. The Jackal entirely comprehends if it isn't within your capacity to do so."

Jason immediately understood what Spinelli was talking about. His momentary euphoria evaporated as he remembered why this discussion wasn't taboo as it would have been on any previous evening. His eyes turned slate blue and his face hardened. Anyone catching his eye in that moment would prudently avert their gaze and move away from him.

"It isn't a problem, Spinelli. You don't need to worry about that. I only wish I had made it clearer to you sooner that I would always choose you, always."

This was the moment that Jason should be able to put his hands on Spinelli's shoulders and look him directly in the eyes as he affirmed his allegiance and his love to him. The person who had taken that option, that opportunity away from him was as good as dead. Jason would make sure of it and there was nothing that could be said or done to stop him.

"I'm grateful beyond words, Jason. Many thanks." He sounded close to tears, for the first time in his life Damian Spinelli was the chosen one.

Jason couldn't waste another minute, he had a fallen comrade to avenge and a future to secure. "Let's go," he said grimly, "The Jackal and Stone Cold have work to do." He strode off into the mist, secure in the knowledge that his brother had his back.