Something To Stop Jason

I don't even know where this came from. LOts of help from cynical_sweater, though. Who is awesome. Ugh, the boys aren't mine. Kinda ties in to the FBI storyline but is also kind of unrelated. Enjoy!

Something to stop Jason. Something to stop Jason. Spinelli's mind reels with its search to find something he could say that would stop his Stone Cold mentor from leaving him here. Becoming increasingly desperate with each step the elder man takes away from him, he finally blurts out the only thing that comes to mind that even stands some semblance a chance.

"I'm in love with you."

It works, Jason's footfalls falter and he stills completely. "What?"

They've been holed up in some no-tell motel for three days now with no contact from the outside world. No cell phones, no laptops, nothing traceable. And now Jason is leaving him here. All alone in this place - he's not even entirely sure where they are anymore.

Jason's in front of him again, looking something between confused and shocked.

Something to stop Jason. Spinelli thinks again, only this time it's less to keep him from walking out the door and more to keep him from digging deeper into his last distraction. His hands find their way to Jason's arm, latching on for dear life, and he's relieved that Jason doesn't push him away. "Don't go." He says. "Don't do this for me."

"If I don't stop this, it's never going to end." The elder reminds him, and Spinelli knows he's right. When leverage is available, especially leverage that is guaranteed to work, people don't just let it go. And it turns out the he is the perfect leverage to mess with Jason Morgan.

But, Spinelli has also spent three days without outside contact via cyberspace or cell phone thinking this disaster through. "And if you do defeat this particular brand of evil, what's to stop someone else from trying it tomorrow?"

"Then, I'll get you away from Port Charles for good. Out of the country. Whatever it takes to stop them from going after you because of me." He explains, as if he does that sort of thing every day. "You're not going to die because I pulled you into this life."

Spinelli has made countless arguments on this point. Has tried to understand why Jason insists on shouldering all the blame for pulling Spinelli into something he was already involved with before Jason's involvement. Why Jason treats him like an insufferable child on this subject. "But you should die because of me?"

"Yes." A no nonsense answer, but Spinelli isn't letting go of Jason's arm or of this argument until they've to a point that does not involve one of them dying to save the other.

Something to stop Jason. Something to stop this insane train of thought that leads to Jason's own self-destruction. "Cease and desist, Stone Cold. The Jackal will not allow you to sacrifice yourself for him."

Ever since Jason got the tipoff that someone rivaling for the Zacchara's now up for grabs territory had their crosshairs set on Spinelli, Jason has been on an insane level of alert. He'd known this would happen the second he took the FBI's deal but he hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. "I'm not intending to go get myself killed, Spinelli. I'm going to protect you as best I can."

Spinelli's not having it, though. He knows what Jason has sacrificed in the past. He sacrificed Jake and Elizabeth for their own protection; he sacrificed his friendship with Sonny to save his loyal Jackal from the clutches of the Federal ones. Sacrificed his own well being on numerous occasions to save other. And this will undoubtedly be one of those times. "Perhaps you misunderstood the Jackal's-"

"No, perhaps you misunderstood that I am not going to let anything happen to you."

They are totally talking in circles now, and if it keeps up, Jason is going to give up on the conversation and leave. Spinelli can't have that happening.

Something to stop Jason.

He's walking away again. His leather jacket still in Spinelli's hands.

"I'm in love with you." He repeats, because it worked before.

"Be in love with me after I save you, then." Jason shoots back over his shoulder. "Stay here." He says as he closes the door.

A day passes in the slowest 24 hours of Spinelli's life. The room is quiet, the heater doesn't work, and the crappy television only gets three channels. He's been switching between them looking for news of a shootout several states away, not likely to be covered. The equally crappy mattress is uncomfortable and he's about five minutes from going stir crazy because he doesn't know anything. He won't know anything as long as he's in this room. He won't know anything until Jason comes back for him. If he comes back for him.

"He's never coming back." He laments, as he stares up at the cracked ceiling. It's easy to lose hope when you're watching the moments tick by.

A knock on the door. Spinelli's hopes soar and then plummet when someone calls out, "Maid service!"

He vacates the room in silence. The maid looks suspiciously at him. Granted, in this hotel, he doubts that anyone actual checks in to actually stay there. It's typically more of a pay-by-the-hour establishment. She probably just thinks he's up to no good by actually sticking around.

The hotel's small café - probably equally as crappy as the room - will at least be more inviting, and might have a computer he can check the news on, so he slips down the hall and through a maze of corridors and stairs until he reaches the main lobby. Off to one side is the café - little more than a few tables and chairs and a portable coffee stand and sandwich bar. One ancient computer sits in the corner.

"Internet?" He asks the bored looking guy behind the coffee counter.

"Ten bucks for thirty minutes." The guy - Jeff, his name tag reads - tells him, not even bothering with looking up from his magazine.

Spinelli tosses down a twenty. "Okay, half an hour, a coffee, and a bagel, if you please."

Jeff hands him a cup and a couple dollars and change and points him toward the coffee dispenser. "Help yourself. I'll get your bagel in a minute."

"Ugh, thanks." He goes about fixing his coffee, which tastes more like mud than anything resembling caffeine, and waits for the computer to boot up.

That alone takes up five minutes of his thirty and he wonders whether or not that counts against him. The computer whirrs and buzzes in protest as he loads Internet Explorer. Not his idea of a good web browser, but it will do the trick for now. He knows better than to log into anything that can be linked to him so he settles for checking the news sites for Port Charles.

Nothing. Nothing relevant at all. The last of the fallout from the bio-toxin crisis has ended. Snow storm on the horizon. Standard stuff. Nothing about mob wars escalating or shootings. Good.

So where is Jason?

"Here's your food." Jeff calls just as the computer beeps to inform him that his time is up. Fastest half hour so far, he thinks to himself as he crosses to grab the plate.

"Thanks." He mumbles again as he slips back towards his room.

Spinelli has only just entered the correct hallway when a blast rocks the building. Everything is hot for a moment, and then inexplicably bright, and everyone suddenly things begin to hurt. His face, his hands. Not badly, just a dull sort of throbbing that is really rather annoying.

"Someone's down here!" He hears someone shout, when the light finally stops. Alarms are going off now, all around him. Smoke alarms. Car alarms outside. He can hear sirens fast approaching, too, and he imagines that he's been lying there longer than it seems.

People keep trying to talk to him, and he really just wants to go to sleep. Paramedics come rushing in a moment later, or at least he thinks it's a moment, it could take them a week or a second, he's not sure which. His perception of time had vanished since Jason left him here. "Stone Cold..." He mumbles as he's hauled outside on a stretcher.

The sky is too bright and he's still too hot. But the medics don't seem to hear him correctly. "He says he's cold." One says, which is clearly not a good thing. "Shock?"

"No." Spinelli reiterates, or tries to his voice isn't working in conjunction with his brain anymore.

But, luckily, someone does it for him.

"Hey, hey, stop!" Someone shouts from the crowd of people behind the yellow police tape.

Spinelli would recognize that voice anywhere.

"He's not cold. He's asking for me." He hears Jason explain to the passing paramedic.

And suddenly the paramedics find their previously unhelpful patient moving rather quickly toward the stranger on the other side of the tape.

"Stone Cold." He sighs, the pain of the few burns and singes he received courtesy of the explosion all but forgotten as he leans against the elder's frame. "You're okay."

"Are you?" Jason inquires, eyeing the paramedics who look torn between salvaging the care of their patient and avoiding the wrath of the rather annoyed looking man holding onto him.

Spinelli looks down at his injuries for the first time. It's hard to see much of anything under all the soot and ash, but he knows he did get hurt. "I'm a little overcooked, but otherwise..."

Jason points him back to the stretcher, and ducks under the tape himself. "Whatever he needs, do it." He tells the paramedics, who seem somewhat relieved that the man is not yelling at them, and has in fact actually calmed their patient down.

It only takes a couple of bandages and a bit of burn cream to fix him up, and they keep Spinelli on oxygen for a few minutes before the medics declare that he's good to go. They recommend getting him to a regular doctor soon but for now, he'll survive, they say. And Jason is suitably appeased.

"What happened?" Spinelli asks. He knows something exploded, but he doesn't know much else.

Jason pauses in their progress across the parking lot."See that big hole in the wall?" He points to what was once a room on the second floor. "That's where you spent the last four days."

Spinelli gapes. "Oh." He blinks at the still smoldering remains of the cracked ceiling. He imagines the television with only three channels as it gets soaked down by the firemen. "So someone..."

"Tried to kill you." Jason finishes for him. "While I was meeting with the FBI."

"What?"

They've reached Jason's rental car, instead of climbing in, though, Jason leans against the frame, and Spinelli does the same. "I did what you asked. Didn't go after the guy who threatened you." He explains. "The Feds are the ones who got us into this mess, so I figured they could get us out."

Thoughts of Jason being under permanent control of the Federal Ones come to mind and he closes his eyes in distress. "The Jackal hopes that Stone Cold did not offer another deal in return for my safety."

"No. No deals." Jason answers. "They let us out. We're done. You and I, we're out of here. We'll get out of here and never come back. Go wherever you want." He promises, his arm curling around the younger's frame and his chin resting on the top of Spinelli's head. He smells like ash and fire and explosives, but someone tried to bomb their room, so it's kind of understandable. He ruffles Spinelli's hair as he moves to climb into the car.

Something to stop Jason.

"I'm still in love with you."

Jason grins, and moves to press his lips against Spinelli's. He tastes like soot, too, but Jason doesn't really mind and neither does the younger man. "I know."