Author's Note: I have no rights over the characters of General Hospital
Purgatory
Spinelli flung his hand up over his eyes in a vain attempt to shield them from the bright light streaming in through the windows by the pool table. It was too late, he was awake now. His eyes flew open. and he sat up, disoriented to find himself on the couch. Jason was sitting in the armchair nearest him, his hands were steepled under his chin and he stared unblinkingly at Spinelli, his eyes hooded and his expression inscrutable.
"Stone Cold," Spinelli said, his voice shaky as images from the previous evening flooded his brain and he recalled everything he had done and seen.
He found that even in the daylight, after one of the best nights of sleep he had experienced in recent memory, more than likely due to total and complete exhaustion, he still fervently believed in each and every conclusion he had attained the night before. Yet, as he peered cautiously at his roommate, it was simply impossible to find it within him to fear Jason. He was actually strangely glad that he chose to return home rather than attempting to go on the run. Even after everything Jason had done to those poor unsuspecting women, to Spinelli, to his very own soul-Spinelli couldn't have left him to his unbearable loneliness, he just couldn't, appropriate punishment though it might be.
"Why did you sleep down here?' The question was vintage Jason, blunt and to the point. Still, Spinelli knew him well enough to see the concealed hurt in the shadowed depths of his eyes.
He bent his head, feeling reproved for his actions. "The Jackal couldn't sleep. I…came down here to get a drink." The empty water bottle sat innocently on the coffee table providing mute testimony to the truth of his statement all the while glossing over the time differential between his journey downstairs and when he actually opened the refrigerator to retrieve the bottle. "Then I was too keyed up and didn't want to wake you. You needed to sleep and so I watched TV and just decided to sleep down here." He looked guilelessly at his mentor. Spinelli knew he could never hope to match Jason's skill at prevarication but he hoped the underlying truth to his tale would provide enough veracity so that the human lie detector sitting so near and staring at him so unnervingly wouldn't detect any discrepancy.
Jason just continued to look at him for another minute or so while Spinelli shifted unsteadily underneath his gaze. "Okay," he finally said as though he had looked at his roommate's response from every conceivable angle and had determined he was telling the truth. "Look," he was speaking as he rose from the chair and headed toward the kitchen, "Come on and get something to eat. I have to go give my formal statement down at the police station. Then I thought I should talk to Alexis and tell her what happened since I was the last person to see Sam alive."
Spinelli had obediently followed Jason into the kitchen only half listening to him as he was occupied with his own thoughts. Stunned, he looked up at his mentor in disbelief as he spoke so casually about going to see the bereaved mother of his ex-lover for whose death he was directly responsible. The pure audacity of the idea took his breath away. Yet, he was even more disturbed by Jason's countenance, by the lines of strain and fatigue deeply etched around his mouth and eyes. He emanated grief and sincerity and for a wild hope filled moment, Spinelli thought all his conclusions, his sureties from the night before were simply foolish conjectures. Then his shoulders slumped as he was once again swamped by all his memories, the evidence that while not legally bonding had convinced him that he was indeed right.
He didn't know what type of game Jason might be playing or even if it were a game. Spinelli still couldn't fathom how he might have been so mistaken in his intrinsic faith in his mentor, his friend for all these years. Perhaps the reasons for his odious actions were so complex that they were beyond Jason's own ken. Spinelli only knew that now wasn't the time for him to analyze the situation, he wasn't up to it either mentally or emotionally at the moment.
"You can come if you want," Jason made the offer casually but his eyes were sharp as he handed Spinelli a bowl of apple-cinnamon oatmeal. He hated the sticky, gooey stuff but Jason had been insisting he eat it lately. It was all part of his attempt to get Spinelli to gain back some of the weight he had lost over the past several months as his appetite declined in response to all the loss in his life.
Spinelli took the proffered bowl and sitting down in a high chair set against the kitchen counter began to eat unenthusiastically as he contemplated how he should reply to Jason's offer. It seemed as though these days even the simplest of conversations between the two them was a verbal minefield strewn with small munitions that could explode in his unwary face if he said the wrong thing or made the wrong choice.
"The Jackal respectfully declines Stone Cold's offer to accompany him." He finally responded diffidently. "It is just that he would feel intrusive seeing the distinguished District Attorney at such a private moment when she is sure to be distraught and overcome by grief. I do not have your excuse for invading her seclusion at such a time. Unlike you, I can bring her no commiserate news of her daughter's last moments on this earth." He looked up through his shaggy bangs, carefully scrutinizing Jason's face as he talked.
Jason looked thoughtful and he nodded his head in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, that makes sense. It's going to be hard to do this though…it would have been nice to have your company, your support." He sounded almost wistful as he did something almost unprecedented in Spinelli's years of association with him and confessed to needing another person's presence as he undertook an action.
Two days after Jason left to give what consolation he could to Alexis Davis, he and Spinelli were at the District Attorney's lakeside house for the memorial service. Sam was cremated and the urn containing her ashes sat over the fireplace. Not surprisingly, that area of the room stayed fairly vacant. People were uncomfortable with the idea that the remains of the person they were there to commemorate were actually in the room with them. Spinelli found himself moving against the general flow in the room as he stood alone by the mantel contemplating his memories of Sam and by extension those of Maxie, Lulu and Georgie. He was responsible for this outcome, for this mournful occasion and there was absolutely no way for him to abrogate his accountability. If those four women hadn't known him they wouldn't be dead, it was a simple case of cause and effect.
So, now at his third memorial service in a little over six months, he found his honest grief to be intertwined with an insidious sense of complicit guilt and the sum effect of those two emotions created a new level of miserable depression which was more debilitating than anything he had yet felt. His limbs were leaden and his mind longed endlessly for any opportunity which would allow him to sleep so that he could escape, albeit temporarily, from a world which no longer appealed to him as a place to dwell.
Spinelli turned listlessly away from the fireplace, searching the crowd for Jason. He wanted to find his mentor and persuade him to leave. He couldn't stand being at a place where Sam's family was grieving and all the while he had the disquieting knowledge of his culpability in creating their pain. Alexis's red rimmed eyes, Kristina's bouts of crying and Molly's bewildered air of incomprehension all belonged on his shoulders. He, Damian Spinelli, was here under false pretenses as was Jason. Alexis would demand they both leave if she had any inkling of their roles in her eldest daughter's death then she would press charges and prosecute the case herself.
They had no right to be here, it was entirely hypocritical and Spinelli couldn't stand it for another minute. He couldn't comprehend how Jason had possibly endured it for the two previous services never mind this particular time when the person who was dead was someone he had once loved dearly. He finally spotted his roommate across the room, his face was somber and his eyes sad as he spoke quietly with a subdued Diane Miller. For the first time since he had learned the appalling truth about what his friend had done he wondered if it weren't possible that he might somehow be exhibiting symptoms along the spectrum of psychotic or depersonalization mental disorders. Perhaps there were times when he wasn't himself that he was disoriented or paranoid or hallucinating and it was during those periods when he wasn't truly mentally competent that he had committed these awful acts. Any explanation due to biological or mental instability would go a long way toward alleviating the intolerable impact of Jason's monstrous actions in his roommate's eyes.
The service and the memorial gathering were full of people with whom Spinelli was by and large unfamiliar. It would seem that Fair Samantha's circle of acquaintances and friends were narrow indeed. If Maxie had been alive she would have been here. Yet, today, besides her immediate family and discounting Jason, Spinelli, and Lucky Spencer, most of the mourners appeared to be friends and colleagues of the District Attorney. The room was filled with local lawyers, politicians and other upper echelon representatives of the Port Charles police department. Commissioner Mac Scorpio was present convulsively clutching a glass of whiskey in his hand as he stood by himself in a corner. It was the first time that the hacker had seen him in since Maxie's service. Spinelli was distressed to note how his dark hair had become liberally streaked with gray in the months since his daughter's death and he appeared somehow shrunken with a defeated and hunched posture. There were so many ramifications from these deaths which Spinelli tended to forget in the innate selfishness of his own grief.
"Watch where you're going, freaky boy!" The irritated voice interrupted his reverie and Spinelli stumbled as he barely managed to prevent himself from colliding with a glowering Sonny Corinthos.
"Ful…some a...pol…ogies, Mister Sir," he stuttered out, "The Jac...kal should pay closer attention to his chosen pathway." He nervously flipped his bangs out of his eyes as he looked at the man who was one of Jason's oldest friends. He entirely disliked Spinelli for what he perceived as his untoward usurpation of his role in his mentor's life. "I would gladly change places with the Pacinoesque one if he but knew," Spinelli thought to himself bitterly.
"Yeah, you should," Sonny growled, his ire not lessened one whit. "You need to show respect, this is a memorial service not the local gaming arcade." He jabbed a sharp finger into Spinelli's chest to underline his point as he moved closer crowding the younger man and invading his space. Spinelli could feel the angry mobster's breath fanning across his cheek as he spoke.
"You are here out of esteem for the Goddess? For the child you made and lost?" Spinelli wasn't in the mood to be lectured, to have to tolerate one more instance of Sonny's derogatory attitude toward him. He thought he might be blunt as he reminded Sonny of the less than respectful treatment he had meted out to Sam when she was alive. It seemed he and Jason weren't the only hypocrites present this afternoon.
Sonny's eyes narrowed as he pondered what Spinelli had said. "Are you implying that I don't have a right to be here, freaky boy?" His voice was incredulous as he tried to determine if Spinelli was defying him. Sonny stepped even closer to Spinelli, invading his space as his black eyes sparked with anger.
For once Spinelli wasn't intimidated by Sony's naked aggression which he always seemed to exhibit whenever he encountered the hacker. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Jason was making his way across the crowded living room toward the two of them. It was clear from the set, hostile expression on his face he had seen Sonny's antagonistic attitude and was coming to extricate Spinelli from his unwanted attentions. There was a brief moment as Spinelli turned back to look at the rage stoked face only inches away from his own when he allowed himself to envision what might occur if he spurred Sonny on, if he induced him to go so far as to physically attack him. He knew it would be an easy goal to accomplish and then for once he could harness this dark energy emanating from Jason and apply it to the removal of someone who had caused him little but aggravation since his arrived in Port Charles.
'Why shouldn't I employ this accursed burden in such a manner as to rid myself of such as him?' He thought as he looked contemptuously back at Sonny.
He might as well have something to benefit him come out of this mess. Looking on the bright side, it certainly wouldn't require him attending another funeral for he would feel no sense of loss at the removal of such an unstable and egotistical individual. Someone who caused Spinelli untold misery and often prevented Jason from pursuing his own life goals in favor of being at Sonny's constant beck and call wouldn't be much missed. All it would require to unleash Jason's fury was for Spinelli to provoke Sonny into hitting him. He knew there was no longer any question of whom Jason would choose to defend-his protégé or his own onetime mentor. Jason had proven that he wanted Spinelli for himself and he had no doubt that included protecting him from anyone who dared to lay violent hands on him-even Sonny Corinthos. So, the mobster would shortly die and there would be no evidence as to the perpetrator. Then both Spinelli and the Port Charles police would breathe mutual sighs of relief as this particular thorn in their respective sides ceased to exist.
"Are you mocking me boy?" Sonny had sensed the change in Spinelli's demeanor and it spurred him to become even more enraged. "How dare a little punk like you behave like that toward me? Jason lets you get away with too much but don't mistake me for him…"
He moved impossibly closer, his chest heaving with his barely contained fury. Spinelli knew he was so close to the edge of performing a violent act that all he had to do was say something insolent or even merely wear an impertinent expression and he would know what it would feel like to have Sonny's fist come crashing into his face. In fact he thought he might relish the pain both as a relief from the all consuming numbness he currently felt combined with the masochistic pleasure of finally being punished for his inadvertent connivance in all these lamented and unnecessary deaths.
"Sonny!" The voice was firm yet mollifying. Unseen, Mike Corbin had walked up to the oblivious duo and had immediately seen the volatility of the scene expressed through the tensed and pugilistic postures of both men. He hadn't missed Jason's ever nearing presence either and stepped forward to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control. "This is neither the time nor the place for such behavior." He chided his adult son while he looked at Spinelli with puzzlement.
He didn't understand the kid. He knew Sonny didn't like him, actually seemed to hate him, but in every confrontation he ever witnessed between the two of the them, Spinelli had been the conciliatory party, always accepting Sonny's abuse with a bowed head as he tried to get away from his intimidating presence. That hadn't been the case today though. No, the young hacker had actually been going toe to toe with Sonny. It was as though he were intentionally waving a red flag in front of a furious bull, taunting him in order to get him to charge. Mike spared a brief glance in Jason's direction and seeing how close he was, tried to pull Sonny away from the spontaneous confrontation.
Hearing Mike's admonishment caused Spinelli to come crashing back to reality. He was shaking from a combination of shame and the aftermath of almost getting into a fist fight. He couldn't believe he had actually tried to infuriate Sonny further, to get him to hit him in order to give Jason a reason to go after him and more than likely to kill him outright. When had his moral compass become so skewed that he could take a tragic set of circumstances and try to utilize them as a method to resolve a personal vendetta? No matter how much Sonny may have tormented him over the years he didn't deserve to die for it and more importantly it wasn't Spinelli's call to determine who might live or die. Jason had already walked far enough down that irredeemable pathway for the both of them. His mind berated him for not observing the ethical difference between being the unwitting cause of the deaths of several people and the active instigator of one more fatality. Spinelli was beginning to think that Jason was psychologically damaged, perhaps he could no longer tell right from wrong, but he knew he was incapable of making any such specious claim on his own behalf.
"Everything all right here?" The question was bland enough but the overt menace in Jason's voice as he stood protectively next to Spinelli and sent a frosty stare directly at Sonny caused the older mobster to take a reflexive step back from his onetime friend and confidant.
Spinelli dry washed his face wearily as he responded in a subdued tone, all the fierceness of his recent attitude completely drained from him. "Yes, Stone Cold. The Jackal misspoke and inadvertently stoked Mister Sir's uncertain temper made more so by the sadness of this unlooked for day. He sincerely and humbly apologizes." He looked at the floor, he couldn't bear to meet the contempt that he knew would be so clearly expressed in Sonny's face or even worse the pity in Mike's.
"Sonny?" Jason's tone made it clear who he was holding responsible for the confrontation.
"Yeah, Jason. The kid has it right. I took something he said the wrong way and overreacted. I should apologize too." His tone was surprisingly contrite and Spinelli was astonished to see Sonny's outthrust hand find its way into his downward looking vision.
He looked up and met Sonny's eyes self-effacingly but was surprised to see that he appeared to be truly remorseful; there were no hidden depths of rancor or maliciousness evident in his gaze. More than ever he regretted his impulse, the cowardly but effective plan he had almost successfully put into motion.
"The Jackal was equally to blame. He should have made it clear that he was only speaking as to the fact that it was gratifying that Mister Sir recollected Fair Samantha on this day as there seem to be so few that have done the same." He extended his own hand and the two men performed an awkward handshake.
Mike was extremely happy that such a potentially fraught scenario ended in such an unexpectedly peaceful way. Jason still looked unsure as to what had actually occurred and whether or not he should be upset with Sonny but he knew when to let things go.
"Are you ready to go then?" He turned to Spinelli ignoring the other two men.
"Indeed, Stone Cold. There is nothing further that either of us can contribute to lighten the burden of Fair Samantha's family. It is meet we should pay our obeisances to the District Attorney and her daughters and then depart to leave them free to tend to their other guests." He nodded shyly at Sonny and Mike and turned to follow Jason who had already gone in search of Alexis in order to pay their respects one last time.
It had been three weeks since Sam's memorial service. Things at the penthouse had attained a newly established rhythm. Jason didn't actually prohibit his roommate from going out without him but Spinelli knew instinctively that he wouldn't like it. Jason wanted to know where he was at all times. The younger man was entirely resolved that he would have nothing but the most casual of interactions with people so as not to give his mentor any cause for believing that anyone was a threat to their relationship or that they might try to take Spinelli away from Jason. So, even when he was at Kelly's and Mike was friendly toward him, trying to engage him in conversation that he would have entered into freely and easily in happier, more carefree days, he was now careful to keep his responses solely to the matter at hand. He was scrupulously polite, as he retreated ever more behind the protective bulwark of his native shyness trying hard not to make any type of eye contact or to even inadvertently touch someone in anyway. He even attempted to avoid a brief brush of fingers as cash was exchanged or his purchase handed across to him.
He could see the hurt reflected in Mike's eyes as he wondered at the standoffishness of the young computer hacker. He probably thought he was being aloof because of the confrontation with Sonny at the Davis house. Spinelli couldn't help the offended perceptions of others. He far preferred carrying the weight of causing someone wounded feelings over the unbearable knowledge that he was the reason for the death of that selfsame individual.
Spinelli was slowly starting to think he had achieved his goal to make sure no one else was in danger because of him. At the moment things appeared to be in stasis between Jason and himself. There hadn't been a repeat of the night Sam died. Jason no longer came to his room and even without his presence, Spinelli was sleeping better. It was as though knowing the truth of what had happened, even lacking Jason's confirmation, was cathartic for him. Now that he knew the absolute worse that had happened, he didn't have to guess or wonder any longer. There was a strange peace in recognizing that your life was forever altered, destroyed really, but since he now was aware, he could make sure there would be no future victims to plague his conscience. As for himself, he could continue on in a haze of indifference remaining for the time being under Jason's obsessive thrall.
Then his artificial aura of tranquility was suddenly and peremptorily shattered by a knock on the door in the middle of the afternoon. Jason was out and the unanticipated noise was startlingly alien to Spinelli since visitors seldom came anymore to the penthouse. He froze in place, caught unawares walking in from the kitchen, unsure of how to respond. For a brief moment he considered just ignoring the undesired summons of the external world and pretending there was no one home. There would have been truth to the masquerade for he was beginning to feel more and more invisible as though he only ever really existed in Jason's presence.
"Mr. Grasshopper!" Diane Miller's authoritarian tone fractured the stagnant quiet of the penthouse. "I know you are in there and I will keep banging on this door until you let me in…Ouch!"
Spinelli rushed to the door when he heard her screech of pain. "Has the lady lawyer harmed herself?" He flung open the door with such force that the attorney took a surprised step back.
"Yes," she said assertively, quickly recovering her aplomb, as she stepped past a bemused Spinelli into the living room. "I broke a nail while pounding on your door." She offered the injured digit as proof of the judiciousness of her claim.
Diane's attention was distracted from the damage done to her usually impeccable grooming as she swiveled around taking in the appearance of the living room. It wasn't cluttered but there was an overall sense of neglect. Dust motes danced in the air and there were additional layers of dust on every flat surface. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting making the area appear even more forsaken and claustrophobic. She turned her attention to the room's single living resident and saw the same signs of abandonment echoed in his face. Spinelli was deathly pale and his eyes enormous in the dim light, the raccoon circles beneath them were more pronounced than she could ever before remember seeing them. He was painfully thin and there was a strained, defeated look about him that tugged at the strings of heart.
"How are you, Mr. Grasshopper?" She asked gently, as though in his fragility he might begin to crack before her very eyes.
Spinelli hadn't looked in a mirror in weeks but he could guess from the distressed expression on Diane's face, which she quickly but ineffectually attempted to conceal, that his physical appearance was outwardly manifesting the toil taken upon his inner spirit. "I am persevering," he replied gamely, the smallest twitch of his lips signifying his best attempt at a smile.
Diane crossed her left arm over her waist so as to support her right elbow in the palm of the left hand, she placed her free hand upon her left cheek and gazed seriously at him, her eyes filled with warm compassion. "I would beg to differ," she said with only a trace of her usual tartness. "I would venture to guess that you haven't been going out and about as you were wont to do…" She tilted her head as she let the sentence trail off waiting to see if he was going to deny her conclusion.
He just shrugged and she gradually realized as she waited for him to speak that he intended no further response. She couldn't absorb the idea of a silent Spinelli. His defining characteristic had always been his convoluted speech patterns often delivered at a rapid rate as though the words were crowding behind one another on his tongue and being impatiently pushed out by the others waiting in the long queue. She peered at him as best she could in the rapidly accruing gloom of the desolate room. Spinelli didn't turn away from her scrutiny but just stood there looking dazed and weary. An immense sadness welled up within Diane as she begin to think that his remarkable inner light which had once blazed so brightly through his eyes, his mannerisms and his general care for all things moral was substantially dimmed or perhaps, in an even more unthinkable outcome, permanently doused.
She reached over and taking his arm led him unresistingly to the couch. "Sit down," she said quietly turning on a lamp sitting on an adjacent end table. He complied without demur as though his own wants and desires were nonexistent and he was little more than a puppet obedient to the slightest twitch of his strings. "It's bad isn't it?" She asked without further preamble as she took a seat next to him and picked up his limp, cold hand and pressed it firmly between both of hers.
His hand lay quiescent in hers but his head jerked slightly as he tried to look away from her penetrating gaze. "The Brusque Lady of Justice shouldn't expend her valuable time worrying about the Jackal. He is as well as can be expected all things considered."
Diane was relieved he was at least talking to her but she was determined to prevent him from acting as though everything was fine when it was entirely evident that the opposite was true. "You can tell me absolutely anything, Mr. Grasshopper." She gave him a wry smile, "I would think our past conversations would have proven my reliability in this arena. No matter the difficulty, I will do all in my power that I can to help resolve it." Spinelli's head was bowed and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple convulsing, his jaw muscle tensed as a single tear tracked down his cheek. Diane reached over and with the lightest of touches brushed it away. She leaned in, laying her own cheek against Spinelli's. "I can't stand seeing you like this," she whispered, her own eyes spontaneously filling with tears as she felt her heart aching for him. "Please let me in, let me do what I can to alleviate…this."
Diane held her breath, there wasn't a sound in the room except for the faint tympani of their respective hearts monotonously beating an incessant cadence proclaiming their fragile mortality. She knew he was at the tipping point of confiding whatever was afflicting him and if she added a single entreating syllable he might choose to shut down even further. She could only wait in uneasy silence as Spinelli decided if he was going to unburden himself to her or not. He turned his head towards her, his green eyes stormy with uncertainty as his lips parted but whatever he was going to say to Diane died unuttered as the door to the penthouse opened abruptly and Jason stepped inside. Immediately every aspect of Spinelli's demeanor altered, he guiltily averted his face from Diane's compassionate stare and pulled his hand out of her grasp with an urgency that both alarmed and startled her. Then he became so still that he might have been a lifelike sculpture placed for bizarre affect upon the living room sofa.
Diane looked across Spinelli at the obvious cause of his distress and, she admitted to herself uneasily, fear-Jason Morgan. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his overwhelming vitality, the way in which his presence seemed to charge the very particles of air in the penthouse. Instinctively she understood that the source of all of Spinelli's problems was standing ten feet away and glowering disapprovingly at her.
"Jason," she drawled, refusing to react to his obvious attempt to intimidate or discommode her, "I was just having a chat with Mr. Grasshopper here which your abrupt entrance has so rudely interrupted." Beside her she could see Spinelli's muscles contract as he cringed at her audacity in daring to further incite the enforcer's wrath.
"I live here, Diane. I get to come in without knocking." Jason said caustically. Still, somehow the fact that she was her usual abrasive self seemed to reduce Jason's threat response and he visibly relaxed the vigilance which had gripped him upon stepping through the doorway. "So, what were the two of you talking about?" He asked the question casually but Diane was a veteran of reading the body language of witnesses and opposing counsel and she didn't miss his sharpened gaze or the unconscious bending forward of his torso as he leaned in to hear her answer. Nor did she miss the slight shudder that coursed through Spinelli's body as he too recognized that his mentor had adopted a predatory stance, subtle though it was.
Diane wanted to reach over to Spinelli, to pat his hand reassuringly, to smile at him and let him know everything would be okay but she knew better. She understood that the dynamic between Jason and Spinelli had shifted radically from what it once had been. Previously the two of them had been a mismatched pair it was true but Spinelli was never afraid of Jason, no instead he adored him. Actually, it had always amused Diane how little Jason's temper, his impatience with the younger man had ever appeared to impact him. He would just let his angry remarks, his glares roll off his back. It was all because he had realized what everyone else could also plainly see. Jason cared just as much about Spinelli as his protégé did for him. It was an odd relationship but somehow it had always seemed right as though it were meant to be that two such misfits would find one another and that their antithetical skills and personalities would blend to form an unbreakable bond. Yet, now something about that connection was fractured, was distinctly off kilter and Diane was willing to bet that the blame for the change, the disruption lay squarely at Jason's door. Looking back and forth between the two roommates she clearly saw possession etched on Jason's face and complete and total submission contained within the rigid stillness of Spinelli's form.
Diane felt an upsurge of maternal protectiveness toward the wretched hacker as she determined to deflect Jason's disapproval away from Spinelli. She responded breezily, to his question, "Well, since Max has started going around with that vapid Assistant District Attorney-Lauren Anderson…"
"Louise Addison," the almost inaudible correction came from the man sitting besides her.
"Whatever, she is surely a viper by any other name and strikes as swiftly and venomously." She flapped her hand dismissively and for a moment a deep indentation appeared between her eyes as Diane temporarily forgot the purpose of her speech while contemplating her unexpected and despised rival. 'How could Max break my heart like this, the big lunk! Well, if he thought Diane Miller was down for the count, he was sadly mistaken,' she thought to herself with a renewal of her resolution to pry the legal harpy away from her man.
"Diane?" Jason was looking at her quizzically; he was waiting to hear the rest of the reason why she had stopped by to visit Spinelli.
"What?" she said, vaguely resentful at the interruption of her gloating revenge reverie. "Oh, yes," she was back in the here and now as she continued fabricating a plausible reason for why she had dropped by the penthouse uninvited. "So, tomorrow night is the annual Stone Cates HIV fundraising soiree at the Metro Court. As you know, it is a sparkling fusion of charity and couture. It is one of the high points of the Port Charles social season. I must attend but I can't endure an evening spent watching Max and that floozy making eyes at one another while Alexis and hang out at the bar making catty comments about how style challenged all the other women are. In shore, I require a date." She concluded her rant with a dramatic pause as she raised an elegant eyebrow and watched Jason's inscrutable face. She fervently hoped that her spur of the moment rationale for her visit had enough truth to it so that Jason would believe her.
"So," Jason spoke slowly, his voice low and disbelieving," You came to ask Spinelli to be your date for the fundraiser?" His eyes swiveled from Diane's face over to Spinelli's bowed head. The younger man didn't stir, didn't look up at his mentor. "What did he say?" He didn't spare a glance for Diane, his entire concentration was on his unresponsive roommate.
Diane swallowed, she was suddenly unsure. She didn't know whether it would be better to say that Spinelli agreed to go and that way manage to get him out of this hellhole of a home for at least one brief evening or that he refused and thereby avoid arousing Jason's unreasoning wrath. "Say something!" She told herself fiercely, unused to ever feeling indecisive.
Just as she was about to open her mouth and let unknown words tumble out another voice cut in, "Stone Cold, I graciously declined the benevolent lady of justice's request that I act as her escort to the function." Spinelli peered up at Diane through his bangs, his green eyes shining with fear as a small apologetic smile flashed across his face and was gone. He spoke quietly in a dull, defeated voice uninflected by any emotion.
Diane's heart broke as she comprehended how dispirited this previously bright and vibrant boy had become.
She looked over at Jason who was wearing a self satisfied expression which she longed to wipe off his face. He had done this, she knew it. He had broken Spinelli's rare spirit leaving only a shell of his former persona in its stead. This man languishing on the couch looked like Spinelli and he spoke like him but his inner essence, the flame which had burned so strongly was extinguished and she doubted it could ever be reignited.
"You heard him," Jason spoke flatly, his eyes flint-like and hard as he stared at Diane. "Spinelli doesn't want to go the fundraiser…with you." He added the last words in an insolent tone of voice with the slightest hint of a smile shadowing his lips.
Diane stared at Jason haughtily. "Yes, well I can appreciate that Mr. Grasshopper might not wish his reentry to society to be under the bright lights and prying scrutiny of such a soiree. Rest assured though I shall return to coax him into back into pursuing his prior interests and activities abandoned in the aftermath of all the tragedy which of late has so colored his life."
Now she and Jason locked glances, caught in a battle of wills over a much vaunted prize, the winning of Spinelli's loyalty, perhaps even his very soul. The object of their dispute gazed between the combatants and knew he was required-as was a lady of old-to bestow a token of regard upon the person chosen to be his champion. He didn't hesitate, he simply couldn't afford to, Diane's safety and possibly her life were at stake. He would gladly sacrifice each action of kindness, regard, and even plain manners that he would ordinarily feel compelled to observe in order to ensure the continuance of her existence.
Spinelli drew a deep breath and stood up from the couch. When he began to talk there wasn't the slightest hint of his inner turmoil evident in his voice. "The Jackal must endeavor to speak plainly so that there is no likelihood of error allowed in the Brusque Lady of Justice's interpretation of his words. While he appreciates, more than he can say, her varied offers of companionship and entertainment, he must unequivocally repudiate all such overtures either now or at a future date. The Jackal is entirely content to continue residing at Casa De Stone Cold under the watchful auspices of his mentor and would desire no substantive alteration in the arrangement."
"Mr. Grasshopper," Diane's eyes were wide with shock as she stared at him entreatingly. "Surely you cannot mean to severe all ties with those who care for you, would help you…with me?" Her voice was faltering and she sounded as though she were fighting to hold back tears.
Spinelli simply stared at her stoically as he ignored his inner voices which clamored for him to rush to Diane and grabbing her hand flee with her away from the stultifying penthouse and its stark representation of the eternal loss of hope. Yet, it wouldn't be his life which would be forfeit should he do such a thing but Diane's instead and because of that fact he knew there was no alternative but to push her away for her own safety.
Jason looked inimically at the lawyer, his eyes glittering with some undefined emotion. Diane stared back at him with loathing. She couldn't believe that she used to think that Jason Morgan was fundamentally a good man who through an uncontrollable set of circumstances had set upon a life path in opposition to his truest self. Now all she could see was a monster intent upon isolating and caging a beautiful and unique spirit and all this destruction was being performed in the name of friendship or perhaps something much more oblique and sinister.
She walked over to Spinelli and raising her hand caressed his cheek. She gave him a sad smile, her hazel eyes connecting with his moss green ones. "I'm available for you Mr. Grasshopper at any hour of the day or night. Just call me and I'll be here." She reached up and smoothed his bangs-grown longer than ever-back from his pale brow. "You are cherished, never forget it."
Spinelli allowed himself to luxuriate in her touch, in her love for a brief moment before recalling himself and even more importantly their silent audience of one. He knew he still had a last portion of the undeclared but all important examination he was undergoing to complete. Without looking at Jason, he began the final act in his attempt to make sure that Diane Miller walked out of the penthouse without becoming a marked woman. Resolutely he stepped away from her still upraised hand and looked at her impassively. "Stone Cold is home now and it would behoove all outsiders to vacate the premises. He…we prefer to dwell in solitude."
Diane just gazed at him for a moment, her eyes full of a compassionate sadness. Finally, she nodded her head in resignation and turned toward the door which Jason held open in anticipation of her departure. She paused by him when her hand, as though acting of its own volition, flashed out and struck him across the cheek. The slap was so forceful and unexpected that Jason's head rocked back. An audible gasp of shock arose from Spinelli as he saw all his attempts at protecting her crumble into dust. She glared at Jason silently demanding a response but he stood there with her handprint reddening his face saying nothing.
She hissed one final word, "Coward!" and stalked out of the penthouse.
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