A/N: I have no claims nor rights to either GH or Charles Dickens' inimitable tale. Still, I get the fun of merging them into a 21st century amalgam that really illustrates how the changes we have experienced and thought to be profound over the intervening years are really little more than a thin veneer of cultural alteration overlaid upon our indisputable and fundamentally flawed humanity.
One in the Morning
"Jase, c'mon, Jase, you have to get up." The voice was hauntingly familiar as it tugged at him, pulling him out of a deep and dreamless sleep.
Jason cracked one eye open, there was a figure kneeling by the side of the bed backlit by the lamp he'd forgotten to switch off in his overpowering need for sleep. He felt like he couldn't breathe, as though someone had hit him in the solar plexus expelling all the air from his lungs.
He reached out a tremulous hand amazed and grateful when it came in contact with warm skin. "Emily?" He asked in wonderment, sure he was dreaming but not caring.
She smiled at him, her beloved face glowing with grace, as she reached out and captured his hand against his cheek, reveling in the long denied contact as was Jason. "Yeah, it's me, Jase." She spoke soothingly, the way a mother does to a frightened child. "We have to go, there isn't much time."
"Go where?" He was bewildered and resistant. Jason didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay like this forever, gazing into Emily's eyes and apologizing to her with his.
"Jase," she sighed and there was that remembered spark of disappointment in her stare that always competed against her undoubted love for him. "You were visited, warned that I…and the others would be coming. We have a tight schedule, we need to go."
"No," he was stubborn, petulant almost like a spoiled child. "I don't care what Lorenzo said or who these others are. I just want to stay here with you. I want to spend the whole time with you."
"You can't," she snapped at him, suddenly angry in a way he recalled well when she was fighting for something precious to her. "Don't you understand what is at stake here, Jason? You can't forfeit your soul for nostalgia's sake, for guilt, not even for love." On that last word the stern look of her face and tone of her voice abated but not the determination evident in both. "I won't allow it!"
He was sitting up, his hand still against her cheek, ready to argue with her, to bend her to his will when the entire room suddenly began to spin around them. He fell forward into Emily, clutching at her, nauseated and frightened. "What's happening?" Those were the words he tried to get out but the syllables were stretched and bent and all he heard was a long continuous moan emitting from his lips.
He fell to the ground with a thump which caused all the air to eject from his lungs. Jason lay where he was deposited fighting to get oxygen into his lungs, to start breathing again. With a great whoosh he suddenly felt the downward pull of his diaphragm as the creation of negative pressure within his chest cavity restarted the respiration process by forcing air deep down into his starved lungs. Finally, his lungs were inflated with sweet air and he could once more breathe freely. It took a few more moments of agitated panting to get oxygen once again circulating through his body before he felt some faith in his restored mortality.
Slowly and carefully, Jason pushed himself up off the hard, unyielding surface he had been reclining on until he was sitting upright. He suddenly felt extremely dizzy and couldn't go any farther for the moment. He sat still, his legs stretched out on the ground as he gathered his scattered wits and perusing his surroundings. He was amazed to see he was clad in street clothes-jeans, boots, t-shirt and leather jacket. Considering it was December, he knew he owed a debt to whatever magic Emily possessed that enabled her to dress him like a doll that was precious to her.
Jason frowned to himself, this place looked extremely familiar, "Emily," he hissed, suddenly petrified that she had left him again, after only having her back for such a short while. "Where are you?"
"Right here," she was walking toward him, coming from out of the shrubbery surrounding the terrace. "I was just revisiting some of my old haunts," she said, a dreamy, wistful expression on her face. "I wish it was summer and I could see Grandmother's rose garden in bloom." She spoke in a yearning tone and for a minute the blood in Jason's body thrummed uneasily in response as he remembered Alcazar's warning about regret being the true torment of hell.
"I think your transportation abilities need work," he grumbled at her as he started to get up off the ground.
Emily offered him a hand, laughing as she stumbled backwards under the force of pulling him upward. "Sorry about that, I forget what a solid wall of muscle you are."
He grinned down at her, instantly pardoning her anything as he always had and ardently wished he still could. "Well, that's how it seems to a little pipsqueak like you anyway," he teased her, his eyes brimming with affection.
She shoved at him in futile mock anger as he didn't budge an inch. "Hey, dead person here you know. Maybe due to special circumstances, you could ease up on tormenting your little sister." Instantly, her eyes clouded over and filled with tears of repentance as she realized what she had just said. "Jason, I'm sorry, I didn't think. It's just I've had time to get used to it, to adjust and that wasn't funny, I know…" She trailed off miserably.
Jason swallowed, with a supreme effort of will he pushed down all the resurgent grief her carelessly spoken words had evoked and reaching over tipped her chin up and looked down at her. She stared up at him out of soft brown eyes full of love and he was undone. "So," he murmured, "This is what the cosmos has in store for me, a visit to the Quartermaines? I could have gotten here almost as fast as on my bike and without being half suffocated."
Emily glared at him, "Stop it Jason!" She ordered, entirely seriously. "This isn't a game and while, yes, we're at the Quarter…" she corrected herself hastily, "home, you couldn't have gotten here on your bike." Stepping away from him she moved resolutely toward the French doors, gesturing for him to follow her.
They entered through the doors into a scene of pandemonium which wasn't in the least disconcerting to either of them. The room was full of Quartermaines each one doing what Quartermaines do best, talking-no screaming-at the top of their lungs.
"Tracey," Monica was yelling, "If you don't shut up, I'll kick you out into the street, Christmas or not!"
"She's my sister and I say you can't do that. Where's your holiday spirit, Monica?" Alan had never learned not to interfere with the ritualized power struggle that perennially occurred between wife and sister as they vied for his attention and affection.
"This Grinch?" Scoffed Tracy, staring at Monica disdainfully, "She wouldn't know holiday spirit if it came up and offered her a laced cup of eggnog."
Oh, that's rich coming from you, Tracy," responded Monica, getting angrier by the moment, "I can't think you even know how to spell the words holiday spirit."
"Well, I don't know if he can spell them or not," Tracy's eyes were thin slits as she moved in for the kill, "But darling AJ certainly seems to know all about spiked eggnog."
She thumbed over her shoulder to indicate where a very clearly inebriated AJ stood swaying. He was clutching a cup of the holiday beverage haphazardly in his hand and the contents appeared in imminent danger of spilling out upon the Lila's priceless Persian carpet. Tracy knew a perfect exit line when she uttered one and she stalked off to join her father and mother sitting in the corner of the living room by the enormous Christmas tree, paging together through a photograph album.
"AJ," Monica's sigh of resigned love was heartbreaking for Jason to hear.
Alan reached over and clasped her to him in a gentle bear hug, her head tucked under his chin as she rested it tiredly against his chest. Monica wrapped her arms around him, fiercely clinging to him. "He'll be all right." He said the lie as though it was the truth and for a fleeting moment they both allowed themselves to believe it.
The double doors to the living room opened ushering Emily and Jason in, both unbearably young and vibrant as they laughed over some shared joke. Only Tracy and AJ's faces failed to light up in welcome toward the newcomers.
"Emily," Jason whispered urgently, unable to take in the scene before them without asking, "When is this?"
"Jason," she admonished him gently, "You don't have to worry about them hearing or seeing us. We're not real to them, we aren't of their time. This is the Christmas before your accident." She added reflectively, tapping her finger against her lips, "Do you remember it at all?" She gave him a curious sidelong glance.
He shook his head apologetically, surveying the scene before him. He and Emily were standing before Edward and Lila talking happily to them. Lila was smiling gently up at her grandchildren and even Edward's usual dour expression was replaced by something lighter, a look that in someone else might have been interpreted as joy.
"I don't think so…not really. Though," he was speaking slowly as though trying to dredge up something long buried and forgotten, "It feels vaguely familiar, like some old movie I watched a long time ago but not like something I actually experienced."
Emily nodded in sad acceptance, she hadn't really expected anything different. "It's your past, Jason. Everyone adored you."
"Not everyone," Jason indicated AJ, standing forgotten by the buffet table. Overshadowed by his golden siblings, he drained the cup of eggnog and turned back to the punch bowl scooping out another helping. Only Monica noticed as she watched him with silent, worried eyes.
"We can't stay," Emily spoke abruptly as she grabbed hold of Jason's forearm.
Jason's protests were ignored as he fought in vain to remain a while longer. He was surprised to find himself wanting to extend his visit to this lost moment in his family's history which appeared as close to a state of perfection as his dysfunctional relatives were capable of attaining.
This time the disjunction caused by their swirling journey through time and space was much less disconcerting to Jason. Only his inner ear rebelled causing him to stand still for a moment at the new location which remained unseen and unknown because his eyes were closed while he fought to fight against the dizziness caused by their unexpected flight. Slowly, he opened his eyes, as he tried best he could to brace himself for any new revelations, any further emotional exertions he might experience in their new locale.
"Jake's," he breathed out in disappointed surprise.
It seemed he wasn't going to visit any exotic locales in this series of what exactly-hallucinations, dreams, or visions? Again Emily had moved away from him while he recovered from their unconventional mode of travel. Naturally, she was unaffected and he spotted her over by the jukebox running her fingers over the selections. Jason looked around the bar. At first glance it looked no different than it did when he visited it earlier this evening for a nightcap after all his enforced socialization at Carly's house.
Then he gradually began to notice small discrepancies between the two bars or more accurately the two times. For example, the tables and chairs scattered around the room were different then the ones which currently occupied it now. Still, they seemed somehow to fit in Jason's brain, to belong where they were. He shook his head puzzled, perhaps it was just due to another residual shard of memory surfacing in his damaged mind. There was a flickering blue and red neon sign advertising Pabst beer. Yet, earlier tonight Jason had looked directly at that same wall and there was a lighted sign there all right but it was a red and white advertisement for Budweiser, not Pabst. He knew it was definitely Jake's, just a different version as though Emily had brought him back to…
She was standing behind him sighing impatiently. "You're smart, Jase, so I have to believe you are just fighting against accepting this. It's Jake's all right, simply an older version, about twenty years ago or so. Of course, I wouldn't know," she grinned at him, her nose crinkling up and her eyes dancing mischievously, "I was underage back then."
"Yeah, a pesky little thing," Jason agreed, giving back as good as he got, "All legs and big eyes and clumsy to boot. Didn't you ever wonder why Grandmother put all her precious breakables away for several years?"
Before Emily managed to gather her thoughts for an appropriately withering reply, the door to the bar crashed open and he, no, not him, the other him…God! This was confusing! Young Jason and Carly, beautiful, wild and oh, so achingly young, Carly stumbled in together. Carly was laughing, an uninhibited, husky sound that had made his pulse race whenever he heard it back then.
"C'mon on Jason," she was pulling him behind her, half running for the pool table. "It's Christmas Eve and I want to have some fun!"
Jason looked around the bar searching for some indication of what Carly had said, some sign of the holiday. All he could see was a string of white lights trailing haphazardly over the back of the bar. 'Even Coleman does better than that,' he thought to himself scornfully. He was remembering the blush worthy animated Mrs. Santa sitting on the bar. Whenever someone walked by the figure twirled around showing an inappropriately thronged behind as a pitiably tinny sounding adaptation of 'Santa Baby' played.
Every time the thing activated his trigger finger itched. Still, Jason, by exercising his iron self control, managed to quell his incipient urge to do the tawdry figurine violence although he did seriously consider displacing his annoyance by punching Coleman instead. The bartender, not always the most sensitive of men, had definitely picked up on Jason's displeasure and with a martyred sigh reached over and turned the kitschy piece off in mid twirl. Jason was allowed to finish his beer in peace before quitting Jake's and heading back home, the taunting strains of a reactivated 'Santa Baby' following his exit out in the snowy darkness. Jason was astonished to find himself now actively longing for the semi-obscene figurine with a surprisingly fierce intensity.
The other versions of Jason and Carly were playing a wickedly competitive game of pool. Their concentration was only briefly interrupted by the advent of the bartender, who Jason vaguely remembered as being Coleman's predecessor's predecessor. He dropped off beers for both of them, leaving them on the rim of the pool table without speaking. He was clearly performing a long standing ritual.
The door to the bar opened once again and AJ Quartermaine came in followed by a gust of cold air. Jason's eyes narrowed at the sight of his older half-brother. The couple at the pool table marked his entrance but gave no indication of caring. With cool indifference they continued their intricate mating dance fueled by alcohol and the click clack of the smooth, colorful balls as they ran the table.
Jason stood concealed in unnecessary darkness, his sister quiet by his shoulder, as he perused his brother. He ordered a bottle of scotch and a glass as he sat glaring at Jason and Carly, their pretended oblivion having morphed into actual forgetfulness. AJ had difficulty maintaining his balance on the bar stool, it was clear he had been drinking prior to coming to Jake's. Jason was shocked to find the usual black cloud of contempt which swept over him upon catching sight of his brother tonight being leavened by an unexpected upwelling of pity.
"I hope he's not driving," Emily murmured anxiously from beside him.
Jason looked down in bemusement at his ever giving and forgiving little sister. With great forbearance he managed to bite down on either of the two sardonic responses which sprang to his lips. The first being, 'I hope no one is driving with him' while the second was, 'It didn't happen this night, Emily. You know it, I know it and it's just too damn bad it didn't!'
He felt a bitter sense of pride that he managed to avoid hurting his sister's ghost but what difference did it make when matched up against all the times he had mistreated her in the flesh? He stared at AJ for a further moment, thinking morosely of all the pain he was soon to cause the two people playing pool even as they tried to pretend that this was a normal way to spend Christmas Eve.
"You know," Emily's gentle voice broke into his thoughts, "Without AJ, there would never have been Michael."
He stared at her in stupefaction. She was right, it was so simple and so true a fact. Yet, Jason had never once thought of it that way.
Suddenly, Carly's raucous cackle broke through the seedy silence of the bar. "I won fair and square, Jason. Now pay up!"
Jason watched his younger self, grumbling as he made his way toward the juke box, the tiniest of smiles curving his lips once his back was turned to Carly. He remembered this night, how he had let Carly win. He wondered if she suspected. The bet had been a dance if she won and sex if he won. They both knew the sex was predestined no matter who the winner was and so Jason had thought he might as well indulge Carly's all too seldom seen feminine side. She never asked much of him anyway. He would think of suffering through a dance with good grace as his Christmas gift to her.
He was back and Carly was in his arms but suddenly she stopped moving and just stood there with a stunned look on her face. Then she started giggling, "Jason, what is that?" She asked gasping with hilarity as the song from the jukebox commandeered the attention of all four occupants of the bar.
Jason looked accusingly at Emily, "What did you do?"
Emily didn't hear him, she was too busy spinning around the floor, a dreamy smile on her face. Across the room, other, younger, whatever the fuck Jason was back at the jukebox pushing buttons trying to get it to stop or play another song. He kicked the machine in frustration when nothing he tried was effective. Meanwhile the notes of Wham's nineteen eighties hit 'Careless Whisper' continued to pour out through the bar. The sticky sweet soft music, over the top use of horns and underlying percussion were all as nothing when compared to George Michael's whiny, self-indulgent voice singing his nauseating and narcissistic paean to guilt.
Carly had gone over to join her Jason in trying to get the jukebox under control. Jason's peripheral vision caught a flash of movement over by the bar. He followed the distracting flutter of motion and saw AJ doubled over, clutching his stomach. At first Jason thought with grim satisfaction that he was sick or might have appendicitis (though he never did have so that couldn't be right) but then he realized he was laughing so hard he was crying.
Scowling and throwing caution to the wind, Jason yelled, "Emily! What the hell is that…" he couldn't call it music, and it sure as hell wasn't something he would ever voluntarily choose to listen to and she had been playing around with the machine earlier, "Song?" He managed to grit the word out and get himself a little more under control as he looked once more with loathing at his brother, who was breathing hard as he swiped at the tears streaming down his face. Even the bartender was standing there, his usually sour face split into a wide grin of enjoyment as he contemplated Jason's angry frustration with the unresponsive jukebox.
"What?" Emily asked, her face a picture of innocence, "I always loved this song. When I was a teenager I used to play it and think of Nicholas." Two vivid spots of color appeared on her cheekbones as she recalled the hopelessness of her adolescence crush on the perennially polite and clueless prince.
"Well, I would never pick a song like that, change it." Jason was using his ultimatum voice which always worked with Spinelli.
Emily just stared at him, amused and entirely unfazed by his command. Suddenly, her eyes grew large with concern. "It's late and we have other stops," she said breathlessly. She grabbed for him dragging him forward into the swirling mists that surrounded them whenever they switched locations and times.
This time Jason was barely flustered at all when they arrived at their new destination. Truth be told, he was glad to be out of Jake's, away from that embarrassing scene which hadn't actually ever occurred. He wondered grimly if Emily's little trick had managed to change that long ago Christmas Eve and that was now how that night played out.
"Don't be such a party pooper, Jason." She scolded him, proving conclusively that this Emily could absolutely read his mind, not that the original model didn't do a pretty good job of it as well. "Of course, I didn't change the past. I don't have that type of power and neither do you. Besides, this journey you're on isn't about the past. It's about your future, about where you are going to end up when you die." She was looking at him and there was a deep abiding sadness in the tone of her voice.
Jason didn't know how to respond to such a blunt reminder of why they were undertaking this bizarrely extended visit to his past and he decided it was safest to say nothing. They were back outside again. It was a sharp cold night, the stars crystalline flecks embedded in the vast dark sky. There was little ambient lighting, only a few distant streetlamps. He recognized where they were, down by the docks. This was an area that Sonny bought years ago and now it was all renovated into upscale offices, boutiques and restaurants. Looking around him, Jason didn't need to be told that they were back in the past and a cold superstitious shiver of dread ran down his spine as he thought of what it was he might have been brought here to see.
They didn't have long to wait. Emily stood huddled next to him as though seeking warmth or comfort from his bulk. The thought briefly crossed his mind as to wonder at her current need for either form of succor. He was simply pleased to be near her, to be needed by her even in such a rudimentary manner that he chased all such questions from his mind. Sometimes it was a blessing to not be too analytical.
His night adjusted eyes picked up the vague outline of the shapes approaching them before they spoke. "Did you bring it?" Jason recognized his own voice, it was an angry rasp. 'Do I sound like that?' he wondered with a faint tinge of shame.
"Look, Mr. Morgan, It's Christmas Eve. I've got bills. We had to get presents for the kids, a tree, a turkey…" The voice of the other shadow was tremulous, pleading.
Jason felt Emily's body stiffen next to him. He wished desperately he could convince her to leave before the scene played out but he knew instinctively that she would have to watch.
His alter ego spoke again, his voice callous and unyielding. "When Mr. Corinthos lent you the money he didn't make a bunch of excuses about how he couldn't do it right then and there. The repayment plan was clearly explained to you as were the consequences if you failed to pay up. You signed a binding document."
The man tried one more time to influence the unreachable enforcer. "I'll have it all this time next week. I have a sure fire prospect coming up and I can pay what I owe and more in interest."
Jason shook his head, bored, he had heard this same speech more times than he cared to consider. Without any warning he reached out and grabbed the man's forearm. There was the clear cut sound of bone snapping which was almost instantaneously succeeded by a scream of agony as the unknown debtor fell to the ground clutching his broken arm and sobbing.
An indifferent Jason intoned, "You better have the money next week or more of the same will happen. I went easy on you tonight as it was Christmas Eve and all." He turned and strode away. He wasn't trying to be stealthy in the least, his boots rang out challengingly against the cobblestones of the old wharf roads as he vanished into the night.
Emily had stepped back from the shelter of his side. She didn't speak but Jason could visualize her beloved face twisted with abhorrence as she finally saw first-hand what her beloved brother was truly capable of, of finally perceiving the monster he was.
Jason was mortified by his behavior, his ability to inflict pain on a weaker being and all in the name of his hero worship of Sonny Corinthos. He wanted to say something in defense of the indefensible. He literally ached to explain to Emily how it was back then but that wasn't who he was now or perhaps, in the worst excess of cowardice, use that old tired standby, and blame it on the brain damage. Yet, before he could embark upon his justifications, an inner voice coldly asked him if he were planning to add lying to his sister to his currently endless list of moral transgressions. Somehow, he managed to remain quiet, to preserve Emily's dignity at the terrible cost of losing his own stature in her eyes.
The man's sobs continued unabated. Jason felt rather than saw Emily's abortive start forward as she reached for him, maybe in a thwarted effort to use her medical skills or merely because she felt compassionate toward another human being who was suffering and in pain. Her arm dropped uselessly back by her side as she caught herself, recognizing her limitations on this plane of existence.
Her voice echoed in the dank, salt air, it was strained and fraught with tears, "We have to go. There's nothing else here." This time she didn't grip him firmly, her fingers barely brushed the slick surface of Jason's leather jacket and once again they were spinning through space and time.
Jason stumbled, almost falling before he managed to right himself. He didn't know if the cause for his bad landing was because they were once more outside and the ground was rocky and uneven underfoot or if it was Emily being careless with her less than precious cargo. He risked a glance at his sister but her face was smoothly unreadable as she stood next to him on some dimly lit street in a place that wasn't familiar to him.
There was a plain white church across the street from them and the in the hush of the clear night they could hear the congregation singing 'O Holy Night' the notes spilling out through the gold lit windows. Wherever they were at the moment, it wasn't as bitterly cold as it had been on the docks with the sea wind cutting into them. Jason looked up at the sky which was scattered across with multitudes of twinkling stars, many more than had been visible in Port Charles as the city lights occluded nature's most grandly divine canvas. He felt an alien sensation stealing through his body, his muscles relaxed as he stared at the cosmos and listened to the music, Jason felt momentarily at peace.
He stole a look at Emily only to find her staring right back at him, a smile of forgiveness on her lips and a love that he never quite understood how he ever engendered it gleaming from her eyes. In response to her peace offering, Jason gifted her back with a rare, unguarded smile of potent power that few ever saw. He was simply content to stand on this unknown street, in this strange town and wait for whatever it was Emily intended to show him. He was just enjoying being in her company, reveling in the silent communion between them. More to the point, he wasn't worried that they would be watching any more of his past misdeeds, he knew for a fact he had never been here before.
The church doors opened and the congregation spilled out into the winter night. They all knew one another, were obviously all friends, relatives, neighbors. Unceasing calls of "Merry Christmas!" flew back and forth as they eddied out onto the sidewalk and splitting into groups of families, friends, paired couples headed away to the comfort and security of their homes. Only a very few clambered into cars for the drive home, most walked, their feet scrunching on the fallen snow. The pastor stood at the door, guarding his flock's dispersal and wishing them the joy of the season.
A few minutes later, the final group to exit through the double doors was the choir members. They were made up a chatting, laughing cluster of people of all ages, giddy with the success of their final and most important performance of the year. They gathered in a loose assembly, talking and comparing notes on the service. After a few moments, they began to break apart just like the larger crowd of parishioners before them.
Jason, growing tired of watching the innocuous behavior of a group of people he didn't know, was almost ready to ask Emily why they were standing in front of this church, when his eye was irresistibly drawn to a solitary figure descending the steps. The pastor had extinguished the interior lights and was currently standing outside the double doors checking to make sure they were securely locked.
He called out to the other person as he drew nearer to both the sidewalk and the two silent watchers across the street. "Merry Christmas, Damian, and be sure to pass season greetings on to your grandmother from me."
Jason drew in his breath, all his attention now riveted on the slight shape as he raised a desultory hand of acknowledgment toward the pastor and turning left at the sidewalk started walking away from the church. "Spinelli," he breathed out, looking around himself with renewed interest as he tried to place anything about the location but failing miserably. "Is this…?" He asked, turning to Emily, his tone aggrieved as he suspected what information she had withheld from him.
She nodded edgily, already she was moving past Jason, following the hunched figure up ahead that was moving rapidly away from them. "Yes, it's Oakfield, Tennessee. C'mon, Jason, keep up, I don't want to lose him."
Jason hurried to catch up with Emily, not wasting any more words. His eyes were fixed on Spinelli as he belatedly recognized every single familiar aspect about him. He walked with his standard stooped posture, caving his body in on itself in an attempt to not draw any undo attention. The fact that he was clearly only wearing a hoodie against the December chill, which was only warm in relation to Port Charles' more frigid northern temperatures, annoyed but didn't surprise Jason. "Stupid kid," he muttered finding himself feeling infinitely more concerned for the physical well being of his flesh and blood roommate than his apparition of a sister.
Emily sent him a sharp glance in an effort to ascertain what he was talking about and then grinned as realization dawned. "So, you do care?" she asked him teasingly.
"Care?" He growled back at her not interested in a sharing moment, his only goal to keep Spinelli in sight. "Of course I care, it's freezing out and that boy never has the sense God gave a jackrabbit. He has more than his fair share of brains but he skipped the line where they were handing out commonsense. He doesn't take care of himself."
"That's because he doesn't think anyone cares whether lives or dies," Emily said soberly, her face erased of all amusement.
"That's ridiculous," Jason said sharply, his ire aroused. Even Emily didn't get to say such things about Spinelli. Anyway, she barely knew him. "Lots of people care about him-Lulu, Ma…," he caught himself as he realized that Maxie didn't belong on the list anymore, at least not from where he was standing, "Sam, Diane Miller, Mike Corbin, Johnny Zacchara, Carly, Jax and well, lots of other people."
"You, Jason?" Emily asked him quietly, the absence of smoky clouds erupting from her mouth when she spoke reminding him uncomfortably of the fact that she didn't need to breathe, "Do you care?"
"Of course, I care! He's my friend, my roommate, he's important to me," Jason was indignant knowing as he spoke how much more of his actual feelings remained hidden. Yet, even on this incoherent night, where it didn't matter what was said, when it was only Emily's empathetic ears which would hear his confession, he still couldn't quite force himself to form the words, simple and true as they were.
"Well, he needs to know that otherwise he won't ever care about how warmly he's dressed or whether he eats well. Since he thinks he doesn't matter to anyone it then follows that it doesn't matter what he does." Her voice was uninflected but her comment cut Jason to the quick as he mentally agreed with the veracity of her conclusion.
The dark figure stopped up ahead, Spinelli looked around furtively at his surroundings. They were now in the downtown area of Oakfield but the shops were all long since closed up in anticipation of the holiday eve. The only people around to observe the young hacker were Emily and Jason. After assuring himself that he was alone, Spinelli dug deep down into the pocket of his jeans and pulled something out. There was a distinctive metallic click followed by a brief flare of light which lit up his face with an unearthly orange glow before it was extinguished. Now, a bright, flickering pinprick of light was the only sign in the darkness of where Spinelli stood.
"Goddamn it!" it, Jason snarled, he was already striding forward, furious with the boy. "He knows better. I am so going to give it to him."
"Jase!" Emily's useless protest fell on deaf ears.
Jason was close upon Spinelli who stood on the street corner lost in blissful contemplation of the joint held between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. His arms were tightly wrapped around his thin middle and he shivered in his inadequate clothing. Jason reached out across space intent on snatching the offending item from his hand and crushing it beneath the heel of his boot. Then he was going to grab the idiot kid by his shirt front and give him a tongue lashing about why he didn't do drugs ever and he sure as hell didn't do them in Jason Morgan's presence and hadn't they already had this conversation? After that he was going to shrug out of his jacket and wrap it around the undernourished boy and take him home. No, wait, this wasn't Port Charles and it wasn't now…it was then…whenever then was. Okay, well, fuck it all, he'd take him to his grandmother's house and make sure he got in safe and sound. At least that was Jason's plan, clearly outlined in his mind and straightforward to execute, or so he thought.
One minute Jason was walking forward, his hand poised to grasp the homemade cigarette from between Spinelli's fingers and the next he was crashing forward, falling once more toward the ground. He landed with an audible crash on the sidewalk Spinelli was standing on, seemingly completely oblivious to either his mentor's presence or his wrath.
"Jason, are you okay?" Emily was crouched beside him, trying to do her best to not laugh, as she reached down and attempted to help her brother up off the ground.
"I'm fine," he waved her away and crawled first to his knees. He knelt there for a minute as he regained both his breath and his self-esteem. He stared down in perplexity at his scraped hands. It seemed he might be time traveling tonight but his corporeal body was definitely along for the trip.
"You can't talk to anyone, touch anyone. This is their time, their world, we're just observers." Emily was long suffering in her explanation of what they both knew should have been obvious to Jason by now.
Jason looked up sadly at Spinelli, who was taking the last few puffs on his joint before carefully stepping on it and throwing it in a nearby trash receptacle. That was Spinelli all over again, even doing drugs, he was forever considerate of the environment and intent on not littering.
"I just don't like seeing him like this," his voice was low and there was a jagged edge of despair to it.
"I know it's hard," Emily said sympathetically, but this isn't just to torture you, it has a point. You can change things for yourself, for him." She gestured at the stoned hacker who was walking away from them, continuing slowly on home.
"Can't we at least follow, make sure he gets home all right?" Jason was pleading, even though he guessed the answer before Emily spoke.
She shook her head regretfully, "There's not much time left." Once more she reached out for Jason, entwining her fingers in his. He felt the by now expected tug of the spinning sensation and the main street of Oakfield began to blur and vanish from sight.
This time they were standing on a familiar porch which Jason recognized as encircling the Spencer house on Royal Street. It was a friendly, welcoming house and had been a second home to Emily when she was a teenager. Now the two of them stood outside the living room window peering in at the festive scene within.
Laura Spencer was standing directly in front of them directing the decorating of a massive Christmas tree. Lulu Spencer, a wide eyed toddler, watched the proceedings with enthralled interest from a play pen set off to the side. Lucky Spencer, Nicholas Cassidine, Elizabeth Webber and Emily herself were busy putting up ornaments according to Laura's precise directions. Nicholas was perched precariously on a step ladder as he reached up the tree. Even with his arm fully extended, he was just barely able to place the shimmering angel on the top, where it reigned gold and glistening in pride of place. Down below, Emily was paused in the act of wrapping a garland around the tree, the bittersweet tang of an unrequited love clearly etched in her face as she stared with longing up at the young and oblivious Cassidine heir.
Jason's eye was caught by the sight of Elizabeth and Lucky holding hands and whispering excitedly to one another as they placed a few final ornaments on the tree. He glanced at Laura and saw she was looking at them as well, a small knowing smile on her face.
"It was ever thus and ever thus shall it be." Jason had no idea where the words had sprung from unbidden. He had some vague idea that he had heard Spinelli quote them. They just seemed to perfectly sum up the undying love that appeared to forever bind Elizabeth and Lucky to one another.
Emily didn't hear what Jason said, she was occupied with her own thoughts, lost in a pensive study of Nicholas. Though it was a more mature, less starry eyed reflection than the hearts and flower ideal of her younger counterpart, the pureness of the love they both bore the dark, enigmatic, passionate man was identical, regardless of its vintage.
"Emily," Jason nudged her, he was getting a little tired of standing around in the cold and dark. His sister might not be physically impacted by the temperature but he sure was. His hands felt like blocks of ice. He had placed them under his armpits in an attempt to warm them up. He didn't like the image projected of the stoic Jason Morgan fighting off hypothermia as he stood on a suburban porch, little better than a peeping Tom, no matter that no one but Emily could perceive him. "Why are we here?"
Emily continued to look through the window, her face forlorn, unshed tears clung to her lashes as she said wistfully, "Laura loved...loves," she corrected herself, "Christmas so much. We would do anything to bring that sweet smile to her face. She reminds me so much of Grandmother."
"Yeah," Jason was uncertain as to what was going on here. He was beginning to sense this visit had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Emily. He pulled one cold hand out from its makeshift shelter and wrapping it tenderly around his sister's shoulders pulled her close to him. He bent his head down and brushed a soft kiss across her silken hair. "You guys were great friends."
"The Four Musketeers," she tried to say it brightly with a small melancholy laugh but it cut off and became a sob instead. Emily turned and buried her head in Jason's chest. She was crying in earnest now and Jason stood there feeling her misery reverberate through him. He stroked her hair comfortingly and made soothing, pointless noises. Her weeping slowly tapered off and she raised her tear stained face up to look at him. "I just wanted to see them, see us one more time. Is that so terrible?" She craved reassurance.
He smiled down at her, his thumbs wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "No, that isn't terrible at all. You love them, they love you. It's natural to want to visit a time when you were all happy and it seemed like anything was possible." Jason had a brief flash of envy that Emily and all those other young people cozily ensconced around the Christmas tree had the luxury of such memories to warm them on nights like this. It would appear his experiences didn't lend themselves to indulgent reminiscences but rather to soul searching discoveries as to his worthiness to escape brimstone and hellfire.
"Oh, the time, Jason, the time!" Emily looked desperately worried as she realized she had been negligent in keeping track of where they were supposed to be. "We have to go now." She turned her head and cast one last look of agonized yearning over her shoulder, before wrapping her arms even more firmly around Jason's waist.
"Oomph!" The grunt was torn reflexively from Jason's throat as he landed on the carpeted floor of his bedroom in the penthouse. He sent his patented stone cold glare up at his sheepish looking sister who, as usual, was standing in the middle of the room perfectly unaffected and unscathed by their wild flight. "I am going to be black and blue tomorrow!" He groaned to further make his point though secretly he was just relieved to be back where there was central heating.
"Sorry, Jason," she smiled at him contritely, "I got a little carried away on that last one but I couldn't afford to be late, especially with my little extracurricular side trip."
"Late for what?" Jason was standing and rubbing at his sore back, he hadn't really listened to Emily.
"Jason!" She was clearly exasperated with him but there was fear in her voice as well. "You heard what Lorenzo said, three spirits will visit you. Then afterward you will have a decision, a choice to make."
"Can't you be the other two spirits?" He cajoled her, not interested in dealing with any other ghostly guides. "We've got the whole jumping around thing down to a fine art now. We could save time on the future trips."
She smiled fondly at him but her eyes were distressed. "Jase, this is serious. You have to do this the right way and pay attention. You only have this one chance, there won't be any others." She stepped close to him, her small hand coming up to caress his cheek. "I want to see you again, Jason, we all do." She was fading away, just like Lorenzo had. He clutched at her in a frantic effort to try and keep her with him but he was only grasping at air. "Make the right decision, Jason." The words were thin and stretched out as he found himself once more alone in his bedroom.