Written for LAS community's tvnetwork1. Voting is past, so okay to post.
AU; got to admit that I really enjoyed the Jaspin hug I saw on the show a couple of weeks ago. Hugs make me smile, and make me feel good too. :)
Two and a half hours later, and Spinelli was no closer to finding out how to get his Prius running. It was beginning to get dark out, and a light drizzle had long since turned into a flurry of fluffy white snowflakes. His fingers were numb from the cold, and his toes were tingling. He'd neglected, as usual, to bring a jacket fit for winter, rationalizing that he would merely be moving from his warm car to a heated building, and that, according to the calendar, it was supposed to be spring, not winter.
Having been born and raised in Tennessee, no one had informed him that his car should always be stocked with winter emergency supplies. Blankets, candles, matches, water, spare jacket, gloves, hat, scarf, and snacks high in protein.
Tennessee had winter, and even had snow, but not nearly as much as they got in Port Charles, New York. In Tennessee, the temperature rarely plummeted to below thirty degrees. In New York, however, Mother Nature was a different beast entirely. He was starting to truly appreciate just how severe and unseasonably long winters in New York were.
Hindsight being what it was, Spinelli resigned himself to his frozen fate and shook his freezing fingers. Sighing in frustration as his fingers began to smart in pain, he peered at the luminescent screen of his cellphone. It still had a full battery, but there was poor to no reception on this particular lonely stretch of tree-lined road. He berated himself for taking the scenic, rather than the more practical route to his intended destination.
A patch of black ice had sent him careening into the guardrail, and caused his car to stall. He'd followed the advice in the owner's manual and had turned his car off, but now he couldn't get it restarted and couldn't get a strong enough signal on his cell to call for help. He'd foolishly opted not to get the OnStar service for his car, and was now sorely regretting it.
Thanks to his, for once, lightning quick reflexes and fancy steering, the compact car's impact with the guardrail had been so minimal that the airbags hadn't even deployed. His head, on the other hand, had hit the driver's side window, hard, leaving him with a headache and a large bump near his temple.
He once again hit the speed dial for his default contact, Jason Morgan, aka Stone Cold. And his spirits deflated when his call failed as it had half a dozen other times. He bit his bottom lip as it began to tremble.
Tucking the phone into his pocket, he pulled at the driver's side door of his car to open it. It was now almost completely dark. He'd never make it to safety on foot with the way his head was throbbing and his vision cutting out on him. Knowing that he probably had a concussion only made his growing panic worse as he lost his grip on the door handle.
Fighting against tears, he reached for the handle again and pulled. He nearly lost his footing and had to close his eyes as a sudden dizziness overtook him. He shook his head to clear it and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea crested in his stomach.
Swallowing the bile that burned the back of his throat and nose, he lowered himself into the front seat of his car and shut the door. Though he couldn't turn on the car and use the heater, it would at least shelter him from the weather and keep him warmer than he'd be if he remained outside in the falling snow.
The wind picked up and howled as it shook the vehicle. In spite of the warmth of the car, Spinelli began to shiver.
Occasionally, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, watching in morbid fascination as his attempts to call for help failed each time. As the hours crawled by, cold crept in and settled in his bones, racking his body, stealing what little warmth he had left.
He slept fitfully. One minute, his head would be lolling to the side, pressing against the cool surface of the window and he'd experience a brief reprieve. The next minute he'd jerk awake, eyes wide in fear as he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened. When the momentary panic passed, he was left with an almost hollow feeling of resignation as he realized that, even though someone was expecting him, no one would think to look for him if he never arrived.
Stone Cold would assume that he had made it there safely, and the other party would assume that Spinelli had been ordered to go elsewhere. He was on his own. Neither party would communicate with the other. He'd have to wait out the storm and try to reach civilization in the morning.
Seven and a half hours later, and Spinelli was no closer to getting his cellphone to work. His entire body felt as if it was on fire and his head pounded in synchronization to the beat of his heart. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the window, wishing for death.
A knock - knock- knocking jolted Spinelli awake. He was cold and his body ached. He closed his eyes and drifted off only to be jerked awake as the door he was leaning against opened. Strong arms caught him before he hit the ground.
"Spinelli," a voice thick with worry broke through his stupor.
"Stone Cold?" he stammered.
"Easy there, I've got you now," Jason assured him.
Spinelli clung to his rescuer as a child to his father. "You came?" he questioned in awe.
"Yes," Jason answered simply. The word caught in his throat at Spinelli's questioning tone, as though he thought that Jason would leave him there to die. He'd have to fix that.
"I've got you," he repeated.
Exhausted, Spinelli nodded and closed his eyes. He was safe and warm in Jason's arms.