Author's Note: I have no rights over the characters of General Hospital.
Also, thanks are extended to Dark Orange Cat who both helped me find a thematic thread for my chapter titles as well as actually coming up with three of the titles themselves. Couldn't have done this entire undertaking without your support and ready ear. ;-)
Confrontation
Jason gave vent to his repressed fury by slamming the door so hard a picture dropped from the wall shattering its glass covering. "Bitch!" He growled, and for the first and last time Diane Miller caused a break in the composure in her erstwhile employer that went far beyond the bemused exasperation he would formerly exhibit around her.
Spinelli knew the rift between them was irreversible and for that he would rejoice if he only now could make sure that Jason would not pursue Diane in any further more definitively terminal sense. He stood uncertainly in the center of the living room not sure what the best course of action might be. Jason was still standing by the door, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to control his rage.
"Stone Cold?" His voice was soft and tentative, a tendril of query snaking out to check the atmosphere and see if it was prudent to speak.
Jason looked over at him as though just realizing he wasn't alone in the penthouse, "What?"
The single word was abrupt and it was hard for Spinelli to accurately gauge his mood by it but he felt compelled to speak, to try and control the damage Diane had caused. "You know full well that I wouldn't attend that charitable function with Ms. Miller or for that matter do anything recreational in her company."
"Do I?" The words were deceptively gentle and Jason was now staring intently at Spinelli as though trying to read his mind, to ascertain his true thoughts. "If you want to go tomorrow night with Diane you should."
Spinelli didn't change a single aspect of his countenance, he made sure that not a muscle of his face twitched as he heard Jason's casual response. It was a trap, for him and for Diane and he would not be ensnared within it. "No, the Jackal desires no one's company but yours." He hesitated, noting the slight smile which flitted across Jason's face. It appeared he was managing to negotiate this emotionally fraught situation with some success. Maybe he was beginning to learn the rules of a game he had never volunteered to play but the stakes were too high to turn back now. "As a matter of fact, I wished to speak to you about something pertaining to that very topic."
"Oh?" Jason had fully relaxed and as he moved closer to Spinelli he raised his hand placing it on his roommate's cheek, stroking it in a manner which mimicked what Diane had done just a short time ago. "What did you want to talk about?" His eyelids drooped, partially eclipsing the crystalline blue of his eyes and his voice was throaty.
Spinelli was nervous, he hadn't realized that Jason would so quickly move back into a physical approach but he forged ahead. "Yes, Jason, I…I think we ought to take a trip, get away from Port Charles. I am suffocating here. Things would be so much better for you, for me-if we could just concentrate on us without worrying about outside interruptions or interference. Most of the people I care about have…are gone. It would be small hardship for the Jackal to bid adieu to a place which possesses such poignant and tragic personal connotations."
Jason stopped the caressing motion of his hand. Slipping it down further he tilted Spinelli's chin up so he could look directly into the younger man's eyes. Spinelli fought to quell the incipient nausea roiling his stomach and attempted to meet Jason's penetrating gaze with a guileless one of his own. "Do you mean it? You really want to leave, to go on a trip just the two of us?"
Jason's voice possessed a naked eagerness and longing which produced a strangely mixed sensation of pity, despair and compassion within Spinelli. He knew he had every right, perhaps even an obligation, to hate Jason but he was incapable of doing so. Their connection was warped beyond recognition but it wasn't broken. He still cared about this man who had ruined his life and killed innocents. He would bear the responsibility of what type of depraved person that made him as it appeared he was spitting on the memories of those whose only sin was to love or care for him. No matter what though, he could neither betray nor forsake Jason. Somehow he still owed him fealty, his honest allegiance and buried deep within the recesses of his ethos he yet bore him love albeit of a twisted and tainted nature.
"Assuredly, the Jackal would desire decamping from our environs above all else, at the earliest convenience practicable."
"Where do you want to go?" Now Jason's thumb was brushing against Spinelli's lower lip and he looked hungrily at his mouth but went no further than the soft, repetitive motion that was oddly soothing to the hacker.
It was the strangest sensation. Each time he opened his mouth to speak, Jason's thumb moved in synchronicity with the words, almost but not quite invading the buccal cavity. "I have no preference, Stone Cold is free to pick the destination with the sole stipulation that it be far from here."
Jason pulled back his hand and his eyes grew dreamy looking as he picked up Spinelli's unresisting right hand and bringing it to his lips kissed it gently. Holding Spinelli's hand he looked at his face, his gaze soft with love, regarding Spinelli in a way he had never before encountered. It took his breath away. "Europe then," he said with decided authority and a crooked grin. "You can drag me around to every ancient monument, every famous scientist's and playwright's tomb so long as I get to stop at the occasional pub for some beer. Spending everyday and night with you, with no one else around, that's all I need as long as you are happy."
'Happiness!' Spinelli thought to himself with a bitter taste in his mouth. 'That is an attainment beyond my comprehension. I would be well content with the ability to sleep undisturbed, to keep innocence out of harm's way and Stone Cold free from the clutches of the law.' Out loud he said, "Indeed, the Jackal has long dreamed of an opportunity to visit the historic byways of England and the Continent. Stone Cold is beyond kind to consider his desires in the matter. Should I then proceed to make haste in creating an itinerary and obtaining the necessary travel documents?"
"The sooner the better," Jason said and for the first time in a long while the two men were in perfect accord. A shadow passed across his face as a thought struck him, "I have to go the fundraiser at the Metro Court tomorrow night. I promised Robin I would…" He paused and looked speculatively at Spinelli. "You could come if you wanted," he said diffidently.
Spinelli could think of nothing which appealed to him less and his mind raced as he thought how to couch his refusal in terms that wouldn't arouse either Jason's suspicion or his displeasure. "The Jackal would indeed enjoy an evening spent in Stone Cold's company but not in front of the prying and disapproving eyes of the highest stratum of Port Charles society. After all, it is entirely because we wish to avoid such intrusiveness that we are embarking upon our journey. It would be a far better use of my time to spend it arranging for our travel plans so that we can leave in a timely fashion, perhaps even the following day." He looked at Jason inquiringly hoping his response was appropriately balanced between regret and practicality.
Jason nodded his head as though he had come to the same conclusion. "Yeah, you're right this town is full of people that have nothing better to do then to get into other people's business. I'll try not to be late coming home and then on Sunday we can get an early start." He reached for Spinelli's face and pulling it close to his own delicately brushed his lips across the younger man's mouth. "Then you'll be mine, all mine," he murmured as he released him.
Tonight Spinelli sat on the couch restless and feverish with anticipation. In a few short hours he would be away from Port Charles, away from the phantoms that ceaselessly haunted him and from the crushing fear of someone else he cared about being injured or killed. When they finally managed to put a great distance between them and this city, he would ensure that they became a world unto themselves with only the most necessary and impersonal transactions taking place between them and other people. Such intentional isolation would suit them both. Jason could be assured that he was finally and totally in possession of Spinelli's body if not fully his mind. Most importantly, Spinelli's endless worry that Jason would feel threatened and strike out physically at some unsuspecting person would abate though he knew it would never be entirely possible to relax his vigilance, to discontinue the need to keep watch.
Spinelli hadn't slept at all the night before as he waited through all the hours of darkness for Jason to noiselessly enter his room and once more occupy his bed. Yet, he had never materialized and the hacker spent the day in a familiar sleep deprived daze as he somehow managed to make travel plans for Jason and himself to quit Port Charles on the morrow.
Jason had left for the gala hours ago, looking handsome and unapproachable in a midnight blue suit. Spinelli spent the evening on the sofa reviewing the events which led to him leaving for Europe the following day. Once they embarked upon their peregrinations it was his intention to somehow convince Jason never to return. There was nothing but loss, heartache and grief remaining in Port Charles for him. Together they would forge some semblance of a life in a new place, maybe on a Greek island surrounded by azure blue water and sky and pristine white houses. In such a place there might be some vague hope of redemption for both of them and if not at the very least others-strangers or friends-would be safe from Jason's unbalanced and deadly paranoia.
Spinelli finally gave in to his body's imperative for rest and he lay on the sofa dozing fitfully, coming in and out of consciousness with sudden spasmodic jerks of his body as he looked wildly around the empty, desolate room for some indication of what had disturbed his attempts at slumber. The third time it occurred he glanced over at the muted television screen noticing that there was a breaking news alert intruding on the late night science fiction movie he had been desultorily watching prior to falling asleep. He looked blearily at the screen, there was something tugging at his mind, it was the familiarity of the backdrop. Spinelli realized the television reporter was standing in front of the Metro Court Hotel where tonight's fundraiser was taking place.
Animated by sudden dread, Spinelli sat upright no longer in the least bit sleepy as he searched frenetically under the couch cushions for the television remote. He found it and quickly released the mute.
"Stories are starting to spread that the Metro Court Hotel is a cursed building." The reporter was a petite brunette in her mid-thirties, she looked earnestly into the camera as she spoke. "This building was erected on the site of the old Port Charles Hotel, a local landmark which burned to the ground several years ago. In 2007, there was a hostage situation in the new hotel that resulted in several deaths. Additionally, explosive devices were detonated which required the hotel to be closed for several months while it was repaired. Then approximately two months ago, a young woman, who worked in the hotel for the fashion magazine Crimson, plunged to her death when the cables on the elevator car she was in gave way. All these past events combined with tonight's tragedy would seem to almost give credence to the idea that there is indeed a malignant force at work in the Metro Court Hotel."
"Cynthia," the screen had split into two panels with the reporter to the right and the anchorman back in the studio to the left. "As I understand it though, there are no suspicions that this was anything other than an accidental death is that correct?"
Spinelli held his breath, a death! "Whose death, whose death?" He was yelling at the unresponsive screen, desperate to know who had died tonight.
"That's correct, Bob," the reporter replied. "It is thought to be the ultimate case of a wardrobe malfunction but no one except the manufacturer of the shoes is thought to be culpable in Ms. Miller's demise."
"No!" It burst out of Spinelli's throat more as a tormented sob than a word. Spontaneous tears of grief and rage coursed down his cheeks as he clutched his heaving stomach in agony. "The Jackal failed her, he failed her!"
"For those of you just joining us," now the whole screen was occupied by the anchorman as he gazed soberly out at his invisible audience, "There is late breaking news coming in from the annual Stone Cates HIV fundraiser. What is usually a festive night dedicated to charitable fundraising has turned into the scene of a terrible accident. Diane Miller, a prominent Port Charles attorney, plunged to her death from the verandah of the restaurant high atop the Metro Court Hotel. It appears the heel of one of her shoes became entangled in the long skirt of her evening dress. She lost her balance and tumbled over the railing of the outdoor portion of the restaurant. At one time or another Ms. Miller was the attorney for both Sonny Corinthos and his partner Jason Morgan. These two men are local power brokers in Port Charles. Their official business is stated to be that of exporters of South American coffee beans. However, over the past several years, both Sonny Corinthos and more especially, Jason Morgan, have been arrested numerous times. In 2007, Mr. Morgan was acquitted of murder charges concerning the death of another entrepreneurial businessman with South American ties-Lorenzo Alcazar. Mr. Morgan was exonerated after a successfully vigorous defense was mounted by Ms. Miller on his behalf. Just a moment…it appears that Cynthia is standing by with Port Charles District Attorney, Alexis Davis."
Now the camera shifted to show Alexis Davis standing inside the lobby of the hotel with the television reporter. "Ms. Davis, tonight's tragedy must be particularly difficult for you to grasp. You and Ms. Miller were more than colleagues. I understand there was a personal dimension to your relationship as well." She shifted the microphone so that it was closer to Alexis' face, there was a pause as the District Attorney collected herself.
Alexis looked wan and tired, there were dark circles under her eyes that Spinelli recognized as the twin of his own. Her face was strained and deep furrows of grief and sadness cut across her brow. Her eyes were red rimmed and defeated looking and for a moment it seemed that she might not be able to compose herself in order to answer the question. Then her spine straightened and her chin jutted forward as she leaned forward to speak assertively into the microphone held before her. Her iron will forged through all those years of self discipline and control came to the fore and rescued her now in this most dire of circumstances. Spinelli felt a flash of kinship for the beleaguered lawyer. She might be the lone person in Port Charles who could truly appreciate his own grief, his own sense of futility and loss. After all, she had lost her child which was designated to be the most unendurable life event imaginable. Parents were supposed to predecease their offspring not the other way around. Now, tonight, she had to face a further terrible blow due to the death of a dear and valued friend. Instead of finding private solace with friends and family, she was forced to face the full glare of invasive media speculation since the death had occurred at a high profile social event with the crème de la crème of Port Charles society attending, one of whom was Alexis herself.
"Yes, um," Alexis paused, for a second she looked exactly as dazed and lost as she felt, showing every one of her middle aged years. Then with a supreme effort of will, she banished her incipient tears with an impatient flick of her finger and forged on, "Diane Miller was an excellent litigator, we faced each other often in court and it was always anyone's guess who would be successful. She was as fiercely competitive in the courtroom as she was loyal outside of it. I will miss her terribly. I have lost a friend and the law has lost a great advocate."
The reporter waited for a moment to see if the District Attorney was going to add anything further to her statement but when it became clear nothing more would be forthcoming she spoke, "Thank you for speaking with us Ms. Davis, our sincere condolences on your loss this evening as well as on the recent passing of your daughter Samantha McCall." She turned away from a stricken looking Alexis, Spinelli's heart bled for her as she seemed to crumple in front of the camera at the unexpected reference to Sam's death. Entirely oblivious to the emotional turmoil she had created, the woman talked blithely to the camera, "This is Cynthia Morris coming to you from the Metro Court Hotel, site this evening of the bizarre death of Diane Miller. Ms. Miller's death is only the latest in a series of such incidents which have plagued the citizens of Port Charles over these past months. We will keep you updated as further details are released."
Spinelli spent the next half hour skipping from one local affiliate to another. He grew impatient with the repetitive nature of the reports and only paused in his incessant channel hopping when he caught a glimpse of something new.
At one point Carly was on the screen looking distressed and shaken, "Absolutely not! There is no curse on the Metro Court. There has simply been a series of unfortunate events over the past several months. I lost a friend tonight and a family member last July. These are not abstract occurrences to me and to the people here tonight but real flesh and blood people who have been taken before their time. Shame on you for using this tragedy as more fodder for the endless cycle of media rumor mongering and half baked theories which if you ask me is a pretty poor way to earn a living!" Spinelli was glad to see her innate fire wasn't irrevocably dampened by what had happened to Lulu or even to Diane who was someone that Carly actually seemed to respect and maybe even grudgingly like. Her honest expression of anger and emotion was refreshing and somehow he thought would be applauded by Diane herself.
He caught sight of a distraught looking Max in the background of one of the scenes. He was raising his hand in an ineffectual gesture to shield himself from the lights and cameras and as they ignored his unspoken plea to be left alone Spinelli felt himself grow angry on his behalf. He knew well what it was to grieve for someone you had loved, someone who had owned your heart it was a shattering experience and for all that raw, unprocessed grief to be publicly exposed must be exceedingly torturous. Max was rescued by the blonde virago who was Carly truly channeling her inner Valkyrie as she came up and shoved her hand into the camera lens. It was the last that Spinelli or any other viewer saw of the chaotic scene at the Metro Court on that particular channel.
Spinelli continued to sit slumped on the couch as he randomly shuffled through channels seeing if he could glean anymore information about Diane's death. He felt numb as though he was no longer made of flesh and blood but merely some type of automaton who could see and hear but not think or feel. He had betrayed Diane and it was worse this time, far worse than what had happened to Georgie, Lulu, Sam or even Maxie. He might indeed have loved them better, been more strongly bonded to them. Yet, when they died he hadn't known of Jason's tendencies, his homicidal impulses and so his grief for them was a purer thing, unblemished by the knowledge that he might have prevented their deaths. However, he had forfeited the luxury of pleading ignorance in this particular case.
Just yesterday he had feared, particularly after Diane struck Jason, that the lawyer was at risk and it was in his power, his sole purview to have prevented tonight's tragedy. He could have gone to the police and implicated Jason, no matter that it would have cost his mentor his freedom and himself his sanity or possibly his life, valueless as it was. The vital thing was that Diane Miller would still be alive. Or he could have undertaken less draconian measures and simply found a way to inform her of the peril she faced by suggesting she not attend the fundraiser. Even if she still insisted on doing so, he could have instructed her to make sure she surrounded herself with other people while keeping well out of Jason's sphere. That solution would indeed have worked, would have secured her continuing survival. Then Spinelli and Jason would have been gone and she would have been safe. Spinelli would have been sure to ensure the continuance of her ongoing security by keeping a subtle guard over Jason.
An hour after the first newscast all the local stations had reverted to their regular late night programming fare of talk shows and movies. Spinelli half lay and half sat on the sofa his mind a blank. He possessed no more energy and he couldn't seem to devise any plan of action for he had no future… After this latest death-"Murder!"-he hissed to himself in self abomination, there was no salvation left to be sought. His hands were as thickly coated in invisible and irredeemable blood stains as ever were Lady Macbeth's. Listless and full of a drowning ennui, he drifted ever closer to the abyss that marks the boundary between rationality and insanity. The penthouse was no longer empty, its darkened dusty environs were crowded with the shades of those who accused him.
Wraithlike, Georgie and Maxie drifted around the room one with bloodied eyes and a cord wrapped around her neck while the other was pale and staring with a tiny hand convulsively rubbing at her chest. Lulu and Diane also both visited with limbs twisted at unnatural angles and their heads crushed. Sam came, her face still lovely but her torso a torn, gaping and bloodied thing.
The apparitions of the Jones sisters sat next to him on the couch, leaned into him and sighed, their chill breath frosting his cheek and causing his heart to skip beats. Sam bent over the back of the sofa ruffling his hair and murmuring, "Spinelli," in a toneless whisper that only his mind apprehended for there were no sound waves to vibrate his eardrum. Diane and Lulu occupied the vacant armchairs. The lawyer's head dangled abnormally making Spinelli queasy to see it. Lulu smiled at him from the other chair, her body an awkward shifting kaleidoscope of loosely reassembled parts haphazardly held together by her ghostly flesh.
The door of the penthouse opened unceremoniously and his spectral visitors instantaneously fled, retreating silently as they were absorbed fully by the secretive blackness of the room's many corners. "Spinelli," Jason had returned.
Thirty seconds before his roommate's arrival Spinelli would have questioned his ability to ever move again, to be able to use his neurons to stimulate his muscles so that he might walk or talk or do even the most minor of physical acts. He thought he and the couch might become a single fused entity as he was haunted unto death by those who had earned the right to persecute him eternally. Yet, the minute his name left Jason's lips he was electrified into uncoordinated motion. He leapt up from the sofa and retreated until his back was against the fireplace. He stood facing his newly declared nemesis, his eyes wide with horror and fear, his heart racing agitatedly within his chest.
"Spinelli," Jason was walking toward him, he had flipped on the light switch by the door and his eyes and face radiated a concern that the hacker instinctively mistrusted. "What's wrong?"
Spinelli raised a trembling hand, palm outward, clearly trying to forestall his roommate's forward motion. "S..t..op, c..om..e no n…ear..er," his lips were numb and his teeth chattered.
Jason, seeing how truly distressed Spinelli was, did stop several feet away from him. He stood next to the couch and spoke quietly and gently, trying to appease the younger man with his words, his tone, his non-threatening mannerisms. "It's okay, you're safe. Whatever scared you is gone now. I'm here and…"
He never got to finish because Spinelli had once again found his voice and the words came tumbling out vehement and accusatory. "Nay, for what Stone Cold attempts to promise is predicated upon a fallacy. How can he be the one to protect and reassure when he is the very agent of destruction, a conscienceless minion of the grim reaper himself!"
Jason stared at Spinelli with a puzzled stare, he didn't understand what he was saying. "Of course I would protect you, Spinelli, I would give my life to keep you safe." He said it with quiet assurance, it was a non-debatable assertion and they both knew it for the truth.
"Indeed you would but it is even more likely that you would kill to keep me from a fictional danger, from a perceived threat which exists only within the tangles of your fevered mind. Such a tainted deed is one you performed this very night."
Spinelli was done tiptoeing around Jason's sensibilities. He still wasn't ready to turn him into the police that was more than he could contemplate-locking up this man who had once been everything to him. Yet, he had nothing else to lose by accusing Jason. If he managed to make him angry enough perhaps he would snap and commit his last murder. Killing his tormented grasshopper would perform the double kindness of releasing Spinelli from the tiresome bonds of mortality while keeping everyone else in the city safe as well. After all, if there were no Jackal to jealousy guard there would be no further crazed need to indiscriminately murder on his behalf.
Jason just stared at him in dumbfounded perplexity. "What are you talking about, Spinelli?" Now there was a warning edge to his voice, a familiar tone that hinted at Jason's waning patience.
"You would feign ignorance?" Spinelli spat out his full fury finally aroused, "Perhaps tonight's craven deed is so unimportant when measured against the uncountable such acts committed by Stone Cold that it has already been erased from his memory." He stopped to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he glared at the other man. "How could you do it, Stone Cold, how could you?" Now he was pleading, begging for some explanation that would alleviate his all consuming guilt and give him some small consolation. "We were to leave tomo…no, tis today now and all would have been well. I would have been yours as was your stated desire and the only recompense I sought was the cessation of death, of violence. Could you not have controlled yourself for one brief evening's sojourn?"
"Controlled myself? Spinelli…" Jason raised his hands palms up in a universal gesture of incomprehension. "What is it that you think I did?"
Spinelli closed his eyes in despair, clenching his fists he rubbed them into his eye sockets as though he could somehow through that external action eradicate all the ugly, terrifying pictures and visions swirling through his reeling mind. He saw Sam lying on the filthy ground bleeding out and Maxie clutching her chest as her heart spasmed in pain, reneging on its promise of delivering life to her oxygen deprived system. Lulu screaming in terror as she uselessly clutched at the railings of the elevator car while it plummeted down the shaft. Georgie her eyes wide in shock, clawing at the cord around her neck, choking and fighting to breathe, to live. The most searing image was the one of Diane trying to process the insupportable fact that a millisecond ago she had been standing on the Metro Court terrace and was now hurtling through open air with nothing to catch or sustain her, the wind whistling around her mercilessly as her body attained terminal velocity.
"Spinelli!" His voice was panicked. Jason had moved next to him, he fought against the younger man's resistance as he tried to pull his punishing fists away from his eyes. "Stop it!" He commanded him frantically, "You'll hurt yourself!" With a wrench that made him wince at the brutal strength he was forced to employ he pulled Spinelli's hands down and pinned them against his side.
Spinelli was panting but he stood passively not attempting to fight Jason's iron grip in any way. He rolled his head back and forth against the stone surrounding the fireplace as tears rolled unchecked down his cheeks. "Pain is everywhere, everywhere, it is in my brain, my heart, my soul why should my body not share in such abundant bounty?"
"You're not making any sense, Spinelli. What is that you think I did to cause you to act this way?" Jason was attempting to be calm and rational but it was a battle for him to assume that mask in the face of such heartbreaking anguish emanating from his roommate.
Spinelli stopped twisting his head; he focused his bloodshot eyes on Jason's face, his own tearstained face eerily blank as though his life force was inexorably ebbing from him. "The game is up, Stone Cold," he said wearily, "I refer to the incident tonight wherein the Brusque Lady of Justice met her undue demise at your wretched hands."
Jason relaxed his harsh hold on Spinelli's arms as he looked at him in stupefaction, "That's what this is about?" He asked incredulously. "You think I killed Diane?"
"You deny it then?" Spinelli responded dully, he supposed he wasn't surprised that his mentor didn't want to incriminate himself. Jason had decades of experience fencing with much more facile interrogators than himself and had never made any admissions of guilt.
"Yeah," Jason said quietly, "I didn't kill Diane." He let his statement stand on its own merits without embellishment.
The silence was a living entity, a suffocating third party in the penthouse, stretched and unyielding it eddied and flowed around them as they locked gazes, the unblinking blue steadfastly boring into the doubting green. "Just yesterday, the lady lawyer slapped you, a humiliating attack which infuriated and enraged you. Then tonight she is dead, dropping from a great height. Coincidentally this macabre happenstance transpired during an event at which you were both in attendance. That circumstantial association combined with apriori knowledge about Stone Cold's activities led the Jackal to the logical conclusion that his Master must indeed be the culpable party." He spoke steadily, never removing his own eyes from Jason's eyes, wanting to gauge his reactions to see if he could separate falsehood from probity.
Jason followed every word Spinelli said, he watched intently as he spoke almost as though he were lip reading in addition to listening. He waited a moment to be sure the hacker had finished speaking for the time being before replying. "It wasn't me, Spinelli. I was angry with Diane, I didn't like her coming over here on the sly to speak against me and when she slapped me that was the end of any connection between us-personal or legal. Yet, I believed everything you said about leaving Port Charles, about not wanting anything to do with Diane and not wanting to go to the fundraiser with her." His eyes narrowed and it was his turn to look searchingly into Spinelli's eyes, seeking confirmation of what he wanted to believe that Spinelli had been sincere in his protestations about needing and requiring nothing more than Jason's permanent companionship. "Did you really mean it?"
Spinelli blushed but his gaze didn't waver, he didn't know how the shoe had so abruptly shifted to the other foot but he was relieved that he could answer Jason with unadulterated honesty. "Assuredly, Stone Cold, the Jackal pledged himself completely to his Master, there was nothing untoward or mendacious in his words." He watched Jason's face carefully and saw that he was believed as the older man dropped his restraining hold on Spinelli's arms. Jason raised his right hand and ran it over his face in a characteristic gesture of releasing pent up emotion. "You did not kill the litigious one then?" Spinelli inquired cautiously, not wanting there to be any renewal of the tension between the two of them.
Jason shook his head somberly, his eyes were unfocused and it was clear he was reliving the incident, "It was an accident, those stupid heels of her's…We were out on the terrace-Carly, Max, Jax, Alexis, me, and Diane of course. It wasn't planned, I was just out there to get some air, was planning to say goodnight to Carly and come home soon. Diane was standing next to the edge of the terrace, her purse resting on the balustrade. She had been drinking quite a bit but I don't think she was drunk…just argumentative. You know the way she gets…got…" He looked at Spinelli the ghost of a reminiscent smile curving his lips. His roommate nodded slightly, fearful that any further comment or movement would disrupt the narrative flow.
"Anyway, she and Alexis were bickering over something, I don't know what, I wasn't listening. Then there was a scream-Alexis was shouting out her name, 'Diane' and she was falling, already falling by the time I turned around." He closed his eyes and Spinelli for a brief moment saw with a pang that he was the Jason of old. He was once again the knight in rusty armor who tried to walk a perilous tightrope of circumscribed violence as he attempted to keep it from touching the innocents in his life and yet, somehow always miserably failed in attaining his goal. His heart swelled with empathy for the pain his friend was enduring, he comprehended it well.
"I tried," now his brilliant gaze was again directly focused on Spinelli as Jason looked to see if he was believed. He seemed reassured by what he read in his roommate's expression. "Alexis did, Max did, we all ran and reached but there was nothing to grab but air." His voice was bitter. "It was the damn purse and those shoes, those fucking shoes. According to Alexis, she knocked her purse over the edge of the balcony and as she was reaching for it the heel of her shoe got entangled in the hem of her dress. It snapped off which shifted her balance enough so that in the position she was in, leaning out over the railing, she toppled over and by the time we realized what was happening it was too late to save her."
Spinelli was stunned, he believed Jason, he absolutely did. Diane hadn't died because Jason had killed her but because of a rank betrayal by her beloved fashion icons, her shoes. He felt a fierce wave of exultation wash over him for a brief moment followed almost immediately by an abiding and wretched shame. What had he come to that he felt joy upon hearing that someone-no, not a mere someone-a dear friend he cared for and who had cared for him, hadn't died by Jason Morgan's hand? However it came about, Diane Miller was dead and her death as the poets said diminished them all.
Another sudden thought blazed across his unsettled mind after his self chastisement. 'If Stone Cold wasn't culpable in the Brusque Lady of Justice's demise, perhaps he was equally as innocent in the other circum…no, the Jackal will speak plainly, deaths. Mayhap it is the Jackal's mind which is becoming unhinged in the face of so much unspeakable tragedy…'
He couldn't do this anymore, he simply couldn't. He thought he could, thought he could exist without knowing positively one way or the other. Yet, now he understood, that decision, that non-resolution was due solely to the fact that he actually thought Jason had done it. He hadn't wanted to know the truth, couldn't bear a confirmation, for then how would he exist, how would he go through life with such an unbearable load upon his shoulders?
"Spinelli?" Jason was staring at the silent hacker with concern in his eyes. "You okay?" He stepped closer and placed his hands on either side of his face. "Look at me," he demanded, determined that the boy not be allowed to block him out. That wasn't an option, he was his-body, mind and soul.
"Jason," the voice was quiet, hesitant but there was hard steel underlying it. "The Jackal…I believe that you didn't have anything to do with what occurred this evening but…" He was fighting to get the words out but no matter how difficult the task he would complete it. The time had come to ask, to remove all doubt. "The others-Maxie, Sam, Lulu…Georgie…did you…kill them?" It was done, whatever would come of it, he had spoken, he had finally faced up to it.
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