A/N: Well I am a little behind the posting curve on this tale but the good news is that my excuse is entirely endorsed by Mr. Dickens himself. I was indulging in the good cheer of the season by visiting with family and friends. Also, even GH took a break for the last part of the week. So, all in all, I am in good company with my source material and while I emulated them I do realize that doesn't mean I have any rights to either of them.
Three in the Morning
"Hey, Tiger, wakey-wakey. It's time to get up and at 'em." The voice was sultry, the hand stroking his face slim and delicate. There was a distinctive musky perfume in the air that his olfactory nerves had obediently transmitted to Jason' cerebrum which even now was trying to decipher why it smelled so unpleasantly familiar.
He swatted petulantly at the hand, and mumbled, "Leave me alone, want to sleep."
His visitor responded with a throaty laugh, "Still a charmer I see. I don't understand why such a catch as you would ever be sleeping alone. Sam dump you again?"
The question was laced with venom, and Jason was finally fully awake. "Claudia!" He growled furiously as he abruptly sat up reaching for the bedside lamp to see with his eyes what every sense had been communicating to his incredulous brain for the last ninety seconds. 'Where's Alan?" He mumbled suspiciously, searching the room but Alan was nowhere to be seen. The last memory he had was of his father delivering him back to his bedroom from the living room below.
Alan had stared at him pensively for a long moment and then smiled as he reached up to stroke his youngest son's cheek. "I have faith in you, Jason. I know I will see you again."
Jason belatedly realized that was his father's way of saying goodbye. "Wait!" He was desperate to prevent his departure. He couldn't believe all the time he had wasted in treating Alan as irrelevant in his life, in refusing to have a relationship with him. Now, just when he had found him again, he was leaving. "Don't go," he pleaded reaching for him, trying to touch him, hold him, maybe even hug him but his fingers clutched at empty air. Jason shook his head as he attempted to force his thoughts away from the undesired ending of his insufficient reunion with his father toward his stunned disbelief at the unsolicited presence of a hell cat in his inner sanctum.
Yet, there was no denying that his newest guide was Claudia Zacchara all right. She was sitting on his bed grinning at him, her lips a bright slash of scarlet across her face. She was dressed in a skin tight black leather miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, red stiletto heeled open toed shoes and a zipped up leopard skin jacket.
Jason scrubbed at his sleep deprived eyes, "Still dressing like a whore, eh, Claudia? Your style sense must be the perfect fit down in hell."
She flushed crossly and glared at him, "Sorry, to disappoint but we're here to decide what your change of address cards ought to read, me not so much." She graced him with a crooked smile, her eyes gleaming triumphantly.
Jason gaped at her, "Are you telling me that…" He couldn't even finish such an unpalatable thought.
"Yep," she cocked her head and flipped her long, lustrous, dark hair back over her shoulder as satisfaction exuded from her in waves. "It didn't quite turn out for me the way you and all the other members of the 'Hate Claudia Club' in this one horse town predicted. All I can say is from where I sit, it's a good thing it wasn't your call." She almost cackled at Jason's stupefied expression.
"You…you mean that you, they sent you…" He was unable to say the word and instead just pointed weakly toward the ceiling.
She gave a little snicker and shook her head, "Not exactly there yet but I am on the waiting list, paying my dues and biding my time. This is one of the chores I have to do in order to attain redemption."
Jason narrowed his eyes, "You get Michael shot and you're allowed a shot at redemption?" He felt very much like having a word with whoever was in charge of such a misguided system of divine justice while entirely ignoring the fact that tonight was all about determining how that selfsame system would judge his deeds.
Claudia matched him scowl for scowl. "Well, let's just do a little math, okay? First, I felt horrible about Michael's shooting. What you have always failed to comprehend is that I had no idea Sonny would be stupid enough to ever place his son in such a vulnerable position. Yet, somehow his guilt in this whole thing is washed away by a few half hearted mea culpas and a whole lot of scotch. Second, if I had known Ian Devlin would have been so reckless as to take a shot with a child in the room, I would have shot him myself. Then again, I admit that when I lost my baby, I blamed Michael and yes, I sent Jerry Jax after them and you. I regret that choice." Here she paused and gave Jason a twisted smile, "Not the part where he shot you though. I just wish that bullet had found its intended mark because then of all of this tonight would be unnecessary. As for the rest of it, I was grieving and not exactly in my right mind."
Jason couldn't believe her audacity as she defended her actions, "So that makes it all okay than?" He asked her incredulously, "You just blame everyone else and none of it's on you?"
She sighed, "You don't have to be so melodramatic, Jason. No, I am not excusing my behavior or decisions just pointing out that other people share the blame and Michael isn't exactly guilt free himself you know."
Jason stiffened beside her as he ground out, "You leave Michael out of it."
"Or you'll what, Jason? Kill me?" She actually laughed making Jason feel as though he wanted to do nothing more than wrap his hands around her slender neck and choke the non-existent life out of her. "I helped Carly deliver her daughter," she pointed out, "Without me that baby, and maybe Carly too, would have died."
"You kidnapped Carly, that's why they were at risk in the first place," Jason countered testily.
She waved her hand airily, "You say tomatoe and I say tomatetoe. I abducted her because Sonny was going to have me killed, my survival instinct kicked in."
"After you 'helped' deliver Josslyn, you tried to snatch her from Carly." He wasn't interested in her rationalizations. Jason had his own unanswerable viewpoint on Claudia's monstrous choices.
"Well, then along came Mikey with an axe and took me out of the picture permanently. He actually did what I never did, he killed someone. He's just like his Daddy and his beloved Uncle Jason. Let's not forget whose soul is under the dissecting microscope tonight and it's not mine, that's for sure. Who knows, maybe in another twenty or thirty years, I might be making a preliminary visit to Michael just like Lorenzo Alcazar did for you tonight. Wouldn't that be cozy?"
Something inside Jason snapped at Claudia's casual mention of the unthinkable idea of Michael ending up in Jason's current predicament. He lunged for her, his thirst for vengeance overriding his more analytical brain which, if he had permitted it to, would have told him it was a squandered effort.
He ended up sprawled on the floor, face down on the carpet. Rug burns stung his hands which were already abraded from earlier in the evening when he had tried to stop Spinelli from smoking a joint.
Claudia's red shod foot came into his line of sight, tapping impatiently on the rug. "Are you through?" She asked in a bored tone, "Lots to do and see and not so much time. It's your soul, your decision, tick-tock, tick-tock."
"I'm not going anywhere with you, bitch." Jason said with an icy flatness, pushing himself up into a sitting position.
Claudia tilted her head and chewed absentmindedly on her bottom lip as she stared at him. It was a mannerism he recollected from when she was alive, something she did whenever she was scheming her way into or out of a situation. He felt his deep seated revulsion toward her flare up, creating a hot and acrid sensation in his gut.
"Well, that's just too bad," she said finally, her mind apparently made up, "This isn't just about you, my future is also impacted by how well I handle this mission."
Before Jason could ascertain what she intended to do and move away from her, Claudia reached down and grasped his forearm. Her grip was iron-clad and even as he twisted in a fruitless attempt to break free, the room began to dip and swirl around him, the sensation entirely too familiar, his stomach dropping as together they dissolved into space.
For the third time this night, Jason found himself on the flagstone patio outside the French doors of the Quartermaine living room. As they arrived, Claudia unceremoniously released her hold on him and the momentum of their inter-dimensional flight sent him staggering into the patio furniture which was all too solid in this reality whenever it might be. Jason rammed into the glass topped table with enough force to bruise his hip bone. He grabbed onto a nearby chair as he fought against the incipient nausea this trip had caused, his thigh ached and he felt chilled. Looking down at himself he realized he was still in his sleep pants and t-shirt and his feet were bare.
"What the fuck?" He practically snarled as he turned toward an entirely unconcerned and unruffled Claudia who was standing by the patio doors idly examining her crimson nails. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere with you!"
"Wah, wah!" She waved her hand dismissively as she glared right back at Jason, not in the least fazed by his ferocious temper. "You aren't calling the shots here tonight, Jason. Something much bigger and more powerful then you or me is in control and it's time you stopped whining like a little girl and shut up so that you can learn your lesson. Personally, I hope you end up frying in hell but I am not going to risk screwing my own chances for getting out of my currently less than ideal living situation for some tired old vendetta that won't help anyone. It's a concept you would do well to mull over. Now, I'm tired of talking about this, let's get started."
With that she walked toward the double French doors and waving her hands in front of her blew them outward, they hit against the exterior walls with a mighty crash which caused Jason to wince. He followed her back into the room he had already visited twice before this evening and found it completely lacking in its earlier celebratory fervor. The occupants were oblivious to the entry of the intruders. Jason was no longer surprised by a total lack of reaction to his and his companion's arrival. Even Claudia's petulant behavior as she caused the doors to violently fling open went unperceived by the few occupants of the living room. Monica, Tracy and Big Alice sat in a morose silence, the room was poorly lit and there wasn't a decoration to be seen anywhere.
"Does anyone want anything to eat?" Alice was speaking in a subdued tone, "I could see if Cook could rustle up something."
Tracy didn't bother to respond to the maid's tentative inquiry. She just tilted her head back and took a large swallow of some amber liquor from a cut class highball glass clutched tightly in her hand.
Monica roused herself from a pensive contemplation of her folded hands lying demurely in her lap. "No, thanks, Alice," she replied with a small, tight smile, "I'm not hungry and it appears that Tracy is opting for a liquid diet as a way to celebrate the holidays."
"Well, you'd be drinking too if your husband had just run off with his younger son to have some adventure in Outer Mongolia or wherever, leaving me high and dry for the holidays." Tracy stared balefully at her sister-in-law, her voice petulant.
"Well, at least you know that Luke is alive and that he'll be coming back to you, though Heaven knows, I never understand why." Monica retorted tartly, her demeanor entirely devoid of sympathy.
"Dr. Quartermaine," Alice tried again, "You really need to eat something, you're fading away."
Monica just flapped her hand impatiently as she abruptly arose from the couch and walked over to the mantelpiece. She stood there staring at a cluster of pictures featuring Alan, Emily, AJ, Edward and Jason himself. "It's pointless trying to pretend," she spoke with a deep sense of melancholy, "There's nothing to celebrate. I've lost everyone I ever cared about."
Jason looked at his mother and saw that what Alice had said was the literal truth. Monica had always been slender but now she looked positively emaciated. Her eyes were sunken within their sockets and there were deep lines incised on either side of her mouth. She looked exhausted, beaten down by all the vicissitudes of life. Jason took an instinctive step toward her but as he came close to the fireplace, Tracy brushed impatiently by him.
"Monica, stop brooding, it isn't healthy. I miss Daddy and Alan too you know." She was standing awkwardly next to her sister-in-law, concern etched on her face. "Look, let's do what Alice suggested. Let's all of us go into the kitchen and sit down with Cook and have some sort of a meal and just enjoy the night and be grateful we're together. What do you say?" Her eyes were beseeching as she held a tentative hand out toward Monica who, with a resigned sigh, accepted it.
As they walked together out of the room, trailed by Alice, Monica was speaking wearily, "How is it Tracy that every time I am ready to kick you out of this house you do something so entirely kind and out of character that I find myself forgiving you for the umpteenth time?"
"Just my innate charm, I guess," Tracy's throaty laugh drifted back toward them as Claudia, forgotten until now by Jason, stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. The room around them vanished in a spinning eddy of shapes and color.
He was dizzy, there was something about Claudia's transports that were different then how it had been with either Alan or Emily. Jason would like to be simplistic and lay it all at the door of his antipathy for her; the idea that she was evil incarnate and so even traveling through time with her was a disorienting experience. Yet, deep down inside, he felt that it was something outside the two of them, more to do with time itself. This was the future, he had discerned that much from their visit to the Quartermaines and so far it didn't appear to be a very happy one.
He was leaning against a wall, waiting for his inner ear to recover from the trauma of a temporal space dislocation or some other stupid science fiction term with which he was sure Spinelli would have dubbed the experience. When he felt reasonably sure that he could move without either keeling over or vomiting, he warily turned his head to survey his surroundings.
"Carly's," he said immediately recognizing that he was back in her living room for his second visit of the night.
"Wow, pure genius!" Claudia came in from the direction of the kitchen, an apple in her hand, "You aren't just a dumb killing machine after all. I'm so impressed."
Jason glowered at her but he didn't say anything, the less he and Claudia talked was the preferred course of action from his perspective. He looked around the living room, it was devoid of people but even more disturbing was the total absence of any seasonal décor. That just wasn't right. Carly adored Christmas, she decorated everything that didn't move and even a few things that did like the year she tried to strap some mistletoe onto a stick over Jason's head. He grinned to himself at the memory though at the time he had been furious with her. One of the many things he loved about Carly was her extravagance, her tendency to go overboard in all things including the holidays, which made this lack of ornamentation even more bizarre.
He hated the idea of asking Claudia for anything but the empty room was beginning to make him uncomfortable. It was as impersonal as a deserted stage setting that needed the charisma and energy of the actors to bring the drama to life. "Where's every…" he had started to ask his guide when Carly herself appeared at the top of the stairs.
She looked terrible, her hair was a tangled mess, she was thin and her face was gray and drawn with deep shadows under her eyes indicating a prolonged lack of sleep. An image of Monica flashed across his mind; they could be twins in their despair and palpable grief he thought.
Jason couldn't help himself, he knew better but this was Carly and he stepped forward intent on catching her elbow as she reached the bottom of the staircase and staggered a bit before grasping at the banister for support. His hand clutched nothing but useless air and he cursed as he stood face to face with this woman whom he loved so much and yet in this moment could do nothing to help her.
"Tsk, tsk," Claudia bit down on her apple with a loud crunch and not for the first time that night did Jason wonder at these places and times he was traveling to where the people were insubstantial wraths while the physical environment was real and concrete. "Didn't you learn anything with that hopelessly sentimental father of yours and goody two shoes Emily?" She rebuked him, her mouth full of apple as she chewed with gusto. "Rules, you like rules don't you, Jason? Well, they're very simple, look all you want but you don't get to touch."
He was pivoting on his heel, Carly forgotten as he attacked Claudia, his enmity for her overriding everything else including his concern for his friend. She stepped back with an insulting casualness. His unthinking fury made him easy to avoid and as he stumbled through yielding air for the countless time this night she delicately extended one red clad foot and tripped him. He fell clumsily to the floor and skidded on the highly polished marble floor of the foyer crashing into a huge blue and white ceramic pot containing a large palm tree that was sitting by the front door.
"Now that wasn't a very nice way to treat your designated guide for the evening." Claudia finished the apple and tossed the core carelessly onto the floor where it lay in the shadow of the staircase. "I doubt it will get you any brownie points with the people scoring this little exercise. I'm just being straight with you, Jason. After all, it's not my future damnation on the line here tonight." Claudia was entirely untroubled by his attempted attack, she actually seemed pleased in some odd way.
Jason lay stunned by the potted palm which he had cracked his head against, his eyes were watering. He gingerly felt his forehead, it wasn't bleeding but he knew he had hit hard enough to raise a lump. The plant and its container were entirely unaffected by his onslaught. He grimaced as he rubbed his head and looked up at Claudia, his eyes blazing with unrepentant hate. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He accused her, "You want me to fail, to go to hell. Well, if I get to take you with me then it would all be worth it…" Even Jason knew what he was saying was idiotic as he slowly pulled himself to his feet, swaying with dizziness and the onset of a brutal headache.
"Hey," Claudia raised her hands palms up, in the universal gesture of surrender. "I am not the one messing this up. You can't affect anything about what happens in my case, Jason, as long as I make a good faith effort here. I am not the one who keeps trying to murder a ghost, FYI."
Jason just grunted, he looked past Claudia at Carly. She was sitting listlessly on the couch staring vacantly off into space. He realized that not only weren't there any Christmas decorations, it also appeared that Carly was utterly alone-no Jax, Michael, Morgan or Josslyn. Jason didn't want to contemplate how bad things must be in her life for her to be separated from her family, her children on Christmas Eve.
The doorbell rang and Carly jumped, startled. For a brief moment she didn't move, she just stared at the door a haunted expression on her face as though she knew whoever was on the other side must be bringing her bad news.
"Carly! It's me, open up!" Jason instantly recognized Sonny's voice.
Carly reluctantly stood up and taking a deep breath as though to fortify herself made her slow way toward the front door. She paused to look at herself in the mirror hanging in the vestibule next to the very palm into which Jason had so recently crashed. She ran her fingers ineffectually through her snarled hair and tugged at her sweater, she smiled without humor at her disheveled reflection. "Some beautiful specimen you are," she breathed sadly at the other Carly who could only reproduce her misery without alleviating it in any way.
"Carly!" It was an ill restrained roar as the door vibrated under Sonny's determined fists.
"Hold your horses!" Carly muttered under her breath, the barest spark of her hallmark fire briefly flaring. "What is it Sonny?" She greeted her ex-husband with exasperation as she unceremoniously yanked open the door and caught him in the middle of once again raising his hand to pound against the elegant wooden panels.
Sonny stared at her wide-eyed as relief and anger vied for dominance on his face. He moved toward her and embraced her, holding her in a crushing grip as he breathed into her hair, "I was so worried about you."
Carly allowed him to hold her for a moment, though her body was rigid and her arms remained steadfastly at her sides as she refused to reciprocate the hug. When she had enough she reached up and placing both hands squarely on Sonny's chest gently but firmly pushed him away from her.
"Why were you worried about me, Sonny?" She asked him flatly, "As you can see, I'm fine."
Sonny's eyes were warm and compassionate as he stared at her, reaching a hand up he tenderly pushed a lackluster strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, you look great," he said sardonically, attempting to mask his concern, "I have been trying to call you all evening. Morgan said you were on your own. I just wanted to know if you wanted some company. It must be strange for you to be by yourself with Morgan spending the holiday skiing with Alexis, Kristina and Molly and Josslyn with Jax in Australia this year."
There was one name missing from Sonny's recitation and as Jason looked at both his friends he saw the identical pain clouding their eyes. Sonny didn't look quite as wrung out and faded as Carly did but he definitely looked older, there were grey strands showing in his thinning black hair and the black pouches under his eyes were a fair match for Carly's.
Claudia had moved closer to the couple and she was looking at Sonny with an intensity tinged with a softer emotion that Jason would have termed as compassion if it had originated from anyone other than Claudia Zacchara. "He looks tired," she said softly, her hand rising of its own accord as though she was going to stroke Sonny's cheek.
Jason watched with a peculiar admixture of unwanted empathy and cruel satisfaction as Claudia was caught in the very trap she had warned him against. Somehow her hand and Sonny's face managed to disobey the immutable laws of physics and occupy the same space without connecting. Jason realized vaguely that it was because they were each of different times or dimensions or something but thinking about it just caused his already throbbing head to ache more.
"Do you know where he is?" Carly broke the silence which had formed between them. Her voice was tremulous with fear and longing.
Sonny shrugged awkwardly as his eyes sparked with a jumble of emotions-dull pride, worry, and apathy-as he replied uneasily. "Nah, Michael has become a law unto himself. The men don't really like him much but they respect him…Well," he amended honestly, "They're afraid to cross him. Anyway, he's made it clear that his old man doesn't get to know what he's up to and now that Milo is gone and Max retired…" Sonny looked old, lost and-worst of all-powerless.
Jason was astonished. He had thought there was no end to Sonny's vitality, his zest for life and his ability to bend others to his will so that he would always get what he wanted. Both of them, Sonny and himself, just always thought they would go out the way they lived, bowing to the inevitable swift grace of violence. They neither believed that they would live long enough to grow old, to be supplanted by their children and to be left wandering uselessly by the wayside, lacking skills or interest in any other aspect of life.
He shivered involuntarily, this impotent prospective image of his future life was infinitely more shocking to him then the thought of a straightforward death from a bullet's impact. Jason had lived with the latter idea for all of his adult life. Yet, he had never once considered the former possibility until this very instant when stark realism intruded upon his consciousness as he gazed with both pity and dread upon Sonny's weary and wretched countenance.
He was surprised to find Claudia's eyes upon him, an alien look of sympathy in her expression. "Daddy always said there were only two types of people in our business-the live ones and the dead ones and no such thing as retirement. I wonder if this is what he meant." She inclined her head at an insensible Sonny who was leading Carly back to the couch, a solicitous arm wrapped around her waist.
Jason was surprised to find that he couldn't muster up much more than a lukewarm feeling of dislike for her at this moment. "Yeah," he responded gruffly. His eyes were focused on his two oldest friends as they sat together in an empty, echoing house with only their memories and the insupportable awareness of having failed their son to provide them with an entirely inadequate solace.
"It's time," Claudia was reaching for Jason and, before he could react, the usual sensations of disorientation and nausea were overwhelming him.
By the time he got his bearings in the new location two things had managed to infiltrate his awareness. One was that he was freezing cold, there was snow and ice under his bare feet and the thin t-shirt and flannel pants he was wearing did nothing to block the glacial wind blowing in off the harbor. The second was how dark it was, there wasn't a moon or any artificial lighting to illuminate wherever they were. Jason looked around cautiously ever mindful of the fact that until his body adapted to the abrupt change from hurtling through space to being once again earth bound, he needed to be careful in his movements.
They were on the docks, his eyes were gradually adjusting to the lack of light and he could make out various gradients of blackness. Straight ahead was a huge unlit expanse of nothingness that rolled and swelled as he watched. It was vaguely shiny and otherworldly and as he regained his bearings, Jason realized he was looking at the ocean. They must have been away from the center of the city because he didn't recognize this as a familiar part of the Port Charles waterfront.
Claudia was standing right next to him though he could only vaguely make out the pale oval of her face inset with a liquid shimmer which were her eyes. "Why are we here?" Jason meant to sound commanding as he asked for information but his chattering teeth betrayed him. He wrapped his arms around himself and jumped up and down in a vain attempt to warm himself. "I'll get frostbite if we stay here too long." He hated the almost whine in his voice, despised being dependent on Claudia Zacchara, of all people, for permission to stay or go, be warm or cold.
"Big baby," she mocked him, "So, it's a little chilly out, what do you expect? It's December in upstate New York, not exactly a newsflash." Jason jumped as she reached a hand over and touched his forearm. Her hand was so cold that she was actually leaching away what little heat his skin retained in the frigid night air. "I wish I could feel warm again." Claudia's voice was soft and full of amorphous yearning as once again Jason felt an unexpected stab of compassion for her flash through him.
He shook her hand off his arm, saying gruffly, "You're dead what do you…" when there was an unexpected noise from behind him.
He swung around, all his senses on high alert. He instinctually placed himself between Claudia and whatever or whoever had caused the sounds. He had forgotten she was only ghost, that it was Claudia Zacchara who he professed to hate. Instead, all that was in his mind was that she was female and it was his responsibility to protect her against any and all threats which might arise from being in such a dismal and unsavory part of Port Charles.
"Relax, will you?" Claudia hissed from behind him, her voice both irritated and amused, "They're why we're here and anyway, no one can see us remember, dummy?" She gave him a little shove for emphasis and he was already regretting his ingrained chivalric impulse.
Jason narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out who was approaching them through the Stygian gloom. He couldn't tell at first, all he was sure of was that there were two figures, one walking in front of the other. The progression of the individual in the lead was erratic. He stumbled frequently and would have fallen several times if the man behind him hadn't impatiently wrenched him back upright by yanking on his jacket.
As they came closer he could finally hear snatches of words over the sound of the wind. "Stop whining, Reynolds, there is nothing you can do to stop this. Face it like a man!" The voice was recognizable but something inside Jason wouldn't allow him to acknowledge it.
"Please, I'll do anything you want, anything at all." The voice of the man in front, Reynolds, was high pitched with terror as he pleaded for mercy.
The duo was almost directly in front of them and Jason's eyes were now so dark adapted that he could see who the second man was, and his heart instantly cleaved in two. "Michael," he whispered, grief stricken.
He desperately wanted to deny what was occurring before his very eyes. Yet, there was no gainsaying his nephew's practiced and brutal efficiency. Michael spun the hapless Reynolds around to face him and pressing down hard on his shoulder forced him to kneel on the icy ground before him. Jason could clearly see that the man was blindfolded, which combined with his devastating fear explained his staggering gait. He swallowed hard, fighting against an uprising of bile that threatened to overtake him bringing him perilously close to throwing up. This cold blooded, cruelly indifferent, vicious blonde thug was terrifyingly reminiscent of Jason in his younger days. He is what Michael would become, was even now evolving toward. For the first time tonight, Jason truly understood why he was being shown these scenes. He realized there was a single imperative guiding his every step from this moment onward, he must make sure they never, ever came to pass.
He turned blindly toward Claudia, "I've seen enough. I get it, I really do. Can we go, now please?"
He couldn't help recalling all the times he had been in Michael's place, unflinching, resolute, and uncaring about what the person at his feet had to say. It wasn't his problem, he had a job to do, orders to follow and it was just too bad for the poor guy whose time card was going to be irreversibly punched. Jason didn't enjoy doing it. It wasn't personal and he always understood that only the thinnest sliver of expertise or possibly only dumb luck separated him and his victim. This though, this was something else altogether, it was wholly intolerable. He couldn't bear to watch this man, this stranger, who once was a trusting baby lying in his arms, intentionally kill someone and what was even worse appear to take a perverse pleasure in doing so.
Claudia was shaking her head, "We have to stay, I'm sorry, Jason." She was inflexible in her refusal but sincere in her regret.
Jason refused to look, steadfastly he kept his back turned on the all too familiar tableaux unfolding mere feet away from him. Only the shredded remnants of his pride kept him from covering his ears with his hands as he furiously blinked back tears unwilling to let his erstwhile foe see him break down.
"Mr. Corinthos, I'll give the money back, every penny with interest. I swear it." It was Reynolds bargaining for his life.
Michael's voice was a bored drawl, "Even if you could which I know you can't because you gambled it all away, I checked, I couldn't let you. If I let you pay me back then any employee of our organization would think it was all right to embezzle from my father and me. You can see that is simply creating an unacceptable precedent, can't you?" He actually asked the question in a reasonable voice as though curious to know if Reynolds comprehended his reasoning.
The man was crying now, there was a shuffling noise and Jason found he had to turn back around, to watch with fascinated dread the monster he was responsible for crafting. The noise had been Reynolds scooting blindly forward on his knees as he reached out into the air trying to grasp Michael's legs, causing further degradation by prostrating himself before a truly stone cold killer. Michael watched his movements with a detached clinical interest, disdainfully stepping back a few feet every time Reynolds got close to touching him. A gun had materialized in his right hand and Jason realized with a shock of dismayed recognition that it was the twin of his own prized silver Beretta pistol.
"Mr. Corinthos, I have a family, children they need me, they depend on me." His breath was coming in hiccupping gasps. Panic was fast overtaking Reynolds as he doggedly kept moving forward and yet always failing to connect with Michael's legs.
Michael was shaking his head in faux remorse, "That's sad, really tragic. Still, maybe it's all for the best, those kids can now grow up without being hampered by a deadbeat dad who's constantly in debt. I think maybe I am doing them and your wife a huge favor. Maybe I'll drop by someday and tell them exactly how much they owe me."
Reynolds was so far gone, his desire for survival the only remaining functioning imperative of his brain that he failed to hear and digest Michael's casually delivered threat against his family. Yet, Jason fully comprehended his meaning and an involuntary chill of revulsion snaked down his spine.
"It's Christmas," Reynolds' voice was a fatigued whimper as he tried one last time to appeal to Michael's nonexistent conscience.
"That's right, so it is." Michael actually paused as though he were considering Reynolds' claim. "You know, my Mom? She adores Christmas. Every year she gets a huge tree and the family all decorates it and eat tons of cookies and it's all a very holly jolly time." His tone was reminiscent and for a moment both Jason and Reynolds were united in hope as they began to anticipate that Michael might relent. "Yeah, let's do it this way then, in honor of Mom and Christmas and all that." Reynolds was actually beginning to relax as he ceased his forward supplicant motion toward Michael. "See ordinarily, when someone does what you do, steals from the organization; we like to make an example of them so that no one else gets the same idea. First, I would shoot your kneecaps out one after the other. Then I would shoot you in the gut and leave you out here to die and give the gulls something to scavenge." The words were made even more savage by the entirely matter of fact tone in which they were delivered. Jason felt himself tensing again, there was something wrong in Michael's speech and Reynolds sensed it as well, his entire body stiffened in unsure expectation. "Still, you are so right, it's Christmas…" Michael was raising his right hand, the gun rock steady in his grip.
Without thinking, Jason stepped forward and placed himself between Michael and Reynolds who was anxiously trying to ascertain what was happening in his sightless world. "Michael, don't!" It was an order, it was a prayer, it was irrelevant.
Michael fired, the bullet passed effortlessly through Jason and Reynolds fell bonelessly backwards. His body hit the dock with a dull thump. A round, powder edged, black hole-a matched twin to the one Jason had seen earlier on Lorenzo's ghost-adorned the center of his forehead, the blindfold now metamorphosed into a superfluous accessory for dead eyes.
His eyes glittering with fierce satisfaction, Michael stalked directly through Jason and stood over Reynolds silent body for a long moment. Then after carefully placing the gun back in a holster under his jacket, he bent down and grunting with effort rolled Reynolds' corpse over until he reached the edge of the dock. Standing up, he gave a final savage kick and the body fell into the water with a loud plop.
"Merry Christmas," Michael said caustically as he turned and walked away.
Jason stood in a disbelieving daze as he watched an unaffected Michael calmly leave the scene of a cold blooded murder. He looked after him, his eyes aching as they fought against the darkness but finally he vanished from sight and there was nothing remaining but the almost soundless susurration of the sea.
Claudia touched him gently on the arm, "We need to go, Jason. There are still a few more stops."
He jerked his arm away from her touch as though it was burning hot instead of freezing cold. "What more could you possibly have to show me?" He asked with unrestrained bitterness. "What could be worse than this? Anyway, you don't need to bother, I will do whatever I have to in order to make sure this future doesn't come to pass."
Claudia stepped toward him once more, "I believe you, honestly I do. Still, I have to do as I'm told. C'mon…"
She reached out her hand a second time and he didn't resist her. His brief moment of rebellion ended abruptly as it began. He was too dispirited to try and fight against the implacable forces which were taking him on this extended journey of anguish and hopelessness. He truly couldn't imagine how hell could possibly be worse than the scene he had just witnessed.
Jason vaguely noticed that this particular journey was qualitatively different from the others he had embarked upon with Claudia. The experience was smoother and as they again alighted in some unfamiliar part of town, he didn't feel a compelling urge to be sick. It took him a minute to realize why this trip was so different than the three previous ones.
"You were doing it on purpose," he turned to Claudia, accusing her as he redirected all his frustration and despair toward his ghostly guide. "You could have made it easy to transport me around but you deliberately were messing with me!" Jason was incensed, how he could have ever felt any sympathy for this witch was beyond his ken.
Claudia ducked her head down in what Jason thought was embarrassment until he managed to get a clearer look at her face in the light cast by a nearby streetlamp and realized that she was actually laughing instead. "Yeah," she agreed, grinning unabashedly up at him, "Maybe just a little bit," she held her index finger and thumb up, showing just a tiny amount of space between them, "I wanted to see if I could dislodge that stick up your ass."
Jason stood stock still and glared at her while a muscle in his cheek twitched uncontrollably. He was unforgiving of her petty deception as he mentally berated himself for ever placing even the smalles modicum of trust in Claudia Zacchara, he knew better.
"Geez, all right! I give," Claudia was staring at him, an unexpectedly imploring expression on her face, "Mea culpa, mea culpa… You really don't have much of a sense of humor do you?" She finished on a more defiant note that was evocative of Claudia the bitch as Jason long ago christened her.
Jason turned away from her, not bothering to reply. He ignored her as he scanned the narrow, deserted street they were standing on. It was obviously located in some older industrial section of the town and seemed dimly familiar. He thought they might not be too distant from Corinthos-Morgan warehouses. The weather was just as freezing as it had been by the docks but now it was snowing, mean little spits of hard pellets that hit his exposed flesh and caused him to flinch.
"Why are we here?" His voice was clipped and icy, the recent détente between them summarily ended from his perspective.
"Hey," Claudia responded, clearly offended, "I said I was sorry. Lighten up, will you?"
"Lighten up?" Jason all but snarled as he moved toward her with a fierce rapidity that had her spontaneously backing away from him. "You're taking me on my own personal guided tour of hell and you want me to lighten up?"
"Now you just listen to me, buster!" It was Claudia's turn to move toward Jason, her eyes flashing with fury. "I think I can have any kind of attitude I want here. I am doing the best I can, escorting around a man who can't stand me and who would have killed me if golden boy back there hadn't beaten him to the punch. What do ya think, Jason? Do you think I was the catalyst, the reason that Mikey has learned to like killing and death so much?"
"Shut up!" He screamed at her, his eyes stinging from being hit by tiny, rock hard pieces of sleet. "Don't you talk about him that way, don't you even say his name. You have no right, no right at all!" His chest was heaving and he felt flayed from the inside out as though someone had pried open his jaw and forced him to swallow corrosive acid.
"No?" Claudia was mere inches away from him, her eyes pitch black pits as she hissed furiously at him. "I think I have every right and then some. That kid whacked me, hit me over the head with an axe handle. Then you and Sonny's minions buried me in an unmarked grave. I think that absolutely gives me the right to gripe if I want."
She paused for moment, her face oddly still and vacant of emotion. Jason watched her with something akin to curiosity, wondering what she would say or do next as his entire body protested against the searing cold it was being compelled to endure.
"Look, Jason," Claudia stepped away from him in an attempt to defuse the situation. "I know this is hard for you and it's no picnic for me either. Still, don't you get it? You are being given something precious, a chance to fix things, to alter the future. Yet, instead of realizing what an amazing opportunity this is, all you can do is complain! I have no idea why you have been chosen as a candidate for redemption but I know this much…If you don't take what you see and hear tonight seriously and make some changes in your life, you're not the only one who will suffer. I always realized that you're an obnoxious, self-absorbed son of a bitch but I thought you at least cared about other people."
Jason looked at her, his face a study in indecision. They both stood there for several moments wrapped in silence, as the snow worsened. Full size flakes were now falling, swirling in the wind before landing on the ground and already both the street and sidewalks were coated in a layer of white. Finally, Jason sighed and grudgingly nodded. "Okay, show me what you've got."
Claudia looked relieved to have him cooperating again. She turned in a complete circle, peering irresolutely through the surrounding blanket of white.
"Don't you know where to go?" Jason needled her, gratified to see a break in her apparent omniscience.
"It's the storm, I can't get my bearings," she was unperturbed by Jason's attempt to get her to react and show her temper again. "I think…" she was looking across the street, her index finger tapping her upper lip as she considered her options, "Yes, there it is! Come on." Claudia started across the street not checking to see if Jason was following her.
"Yes, your Majesty," he muttered, stepping off the curve and cursing as he was suddenly once again reminded of how cold and vulnerable his bare feet were in this brutal weather. "Shit, I swear if I get fucking frostbite from this-ghost or not-I'll wring her neck!" He followed Claudia through the thickening storm, grumbling an unending litany of complaints.
"This is it!" Claudia's cheeks glowed apple red in the muted light of the streetlamp as she stood next to the entrance of an alleyway that seemed little more than a dark, foreboding slit haphazardly placed between two dilapidated buildings.
"This is what exactly?" Jason asked her, he wasn't really relishing the thought of going into such a dank, ill lit alley, especially with bare feet. There might be rats and there sure as hell would be broken glass.
"Our destination," she announced grandly as though she were a tour bus guide and they had just arrived at the entrance to Buckingham Palace.
Hesitantly, he peered into the unrelieved gloom of the constricted passageway. He had absolutely no desire to go in there but he also knew that trying to refuse would be futile. He wasn't in his Port Charles, he was in the future. Without Claudia being willing to transport him, he couldn't get back to his own time to start fixing everything that was wrong both in his own life and the lives of those closest to him. Taking a deep breath, Jason tentatively stepped forward. Each time he moved forward into the alley he felt around with his leading foot as he tried to ascertain if there was anything sharp on the ground which might penetrate the tender skin on the soles of his feet.
"Oh, for God's sake!" It was Claudia growing impatient with his snail like progression. "Here let me go first." She moved in front of him and as she walked deeper into the alley she ran her own red shod foot over the ground, kicking away any detritus she encountered. "Better?" she threw back over her shoulder, not bothering to hide her irritation.
"Well, if you'd given me shoes in the first place, you wouldn't have to be doing this." Jason reminded her tersely.
Claudia didn't bother responding, she had stopped a few feet ahead of Jason and was looking to her right. Jason caught up to her and followed her line of sight. At first he thought it was just a bundle of rags which had caught her interest. It was difficult to see clearly. They were at the junction in the alleyway where what little light managed to filter in from the street was almost overwhelmed by the complete and total darkness of the deeper recesses of the drab little niche they were in.
Then as his pupils expanded and he could see slightly more clearly he suddenly realized he was looking at another body, his second of the night. It was a homeless person, ill dressed for the winter weather and it seemed as that might be what had killed him-exposure.
Exasperated, Jason looked at Claudia who hadn't taken her eyes off of the corpse. Her face was sad and she almost looked as though she were trying not to cry. "Claudia?" He prompted her, surprised and disconcerted by her reaction. "What does this-he-have to do with anything?"
She turned her head away and her voice came out thick sounding, her unshed tears choking her. "Jason…you have to look. I'm sorry but it's required."
Puzzled he focused his attention on the dead derelict. At first he couldn't tell anything different from what his first, more cursory examination, had revealed to him. There was something, though, some pull on a chord of memory. It appeared Jason did know him. He bent down, frowning in concentration, his hands on his knees as he used the inadequate illumination to try and discern something more about the dead man.
"God, no!" He was on his knees, sinking down onto the cold, filthy ground unmindful of sharp objects or rodents. He reached for him desperate to touch him, to shake him, to bring him back to life. His hand passed right through his shoulder and touched the clammy brick wall the body was resting against. "Spinelli!" His cry of grief rent the snow filled air as he faintly registered the sensation of a gentle hand come to rest on his own shoulder.
He was long dead, undisturbed by his visitors from the past. His eyes were open staring into an unknown eternity, a light layer of frost covered them making them seem opaque and creating the illusion of blindness. Snow lay on his bare head. It dusted his shoulders and naked hands which were clenched in the tight determination of rigor mortis around a brown paper sack, hard and unyielding as it contoured around the bottle it held.
Jason swallowed, he was beyond desolation as icy tears ran unchecked down his cheeks. He remembered he wasn't alone and suddenly he was on his feet grabbing wildly for Claudia. His fingers were digging unmercifully into her arms as he held her and shook her, forcing her to look away from Spinelli, to meet his eyes.
Claudia was unconcerned by his treatment of her, she didn't seem to feel any pain from his iron grip. "He was always so kind to me," she whispered to Jason, tears matching his own were coursing down her face, "He treated me better than I deserved. Such a sweet boy…" was her final epithet.
"Take me back, now!" He gritted through clenched teeth as he steadfastly refused to look any further at the wrecked loss of promise laying scant inches away. "I need to fix this. I understand that this is unacceptable. Just take me back."
He was pleading, he would get back down on his knees and beg her if necessary. He possessed an insatiable need to get back to the penthouse, to see Spinelli, to talk to him, to reassure himself that there was still time and that he could change this intolerable version of the future.
Claudia stared at him with compassion as she reached for him and for once he stepped willingly toward her, eager to leave this place. All he wanted was to be where he belonged, in a place and a time that he could control.
They weren't in his bedroom at the penthouse, they weren't at the penthouse period. No, they were still outside, the storm was still raging and Jason was matching it with his own outraged fury as he registered his betrayal. "Claudia!" He yelled, the word carried away by the uncaring wind.
He looked around him, she was nowhere in sight and he couldn't tell where he was, the snow formed an impenetrable wall of moving, churning white which confused him. He lurched forward having no idea if he was heading in the right direction or not and beginning not to care. His hands and feet were numb and he was seriously starting to contemplate the concept that he might die out here, wherever he was in this alien time and place, alone and cursed, never having the opportunity to make things right for those he loved.
Jason's forward motion was abruptly ended as he walked into something hard and unyielding. It was starkly black against the unceasing white and he ran his hands over it in overwhelming relief at finding something manmade. It was a wall and he knew it, immediately recognized it. "The Quartermaine mausoleum," he said incredulously as he continued to feel the flat panels of the black granite carved with the names of family members and their corresponding dates of birth and death.
Jason traced the wall from end to end until he knew where he was in relationship to it and the people he most cared about who were buried here. He sought out the familiar cornerstone that was Emily's plaque and after a few moments of reflection turned his attention to Alan's marker followed by the one belonging to Lila. Using his fingertips he searched for some new engraving that could possibly give him a clue as to why he might be here. He wasn't surprised, after his earlier visit to the Quartermaine living room, to find a freshly inscribed tablet that he managed to decipher as belonging to Edward Quartermaine. He felt a flash of regret at the thought of the old codger's passing. He had been a force to be reckoned with but he was hopefully now reunited with Lila and that would be the appropriate completion to their larger-than-life love story.
Finally, he discovered what he was looking for, another block of the eternal granite, directly below Emily's marker, was currently chiseled with words but he knew it had been blank the last time Jason visited his sister's grave. His fingers trembling, he read the deeply incised words-Jason Morgan, beloved son, brother, uncle.
Jason's legs gave out and he slid down the snow slick wall to collapse at its base, his head propped against his own tombstone. This then is what the entire evening had been leading up to-this time, this place, this face to face meeting with his mortality. It appeared that Jason Morgan wasn't indestructible, immortal or above the precepts of biology after all. The proof of that thesis was incontrovertibly etched into the stone he was resting his head upon.
"Claudia," his voice was hoarse and strained, he knew it couldn't be heard above the howling of the wind but somehow he didn't think that mattered. "I'm ready. Take me back…"
A/N: Reviews are appreciated