Fic: Five Minutes To Midnight

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: Five Minutes To Midnight
Chapters: 1/2
Author: csi_sanders1129
Genre: Drama. Suspense.
Ratings: M, but only for language.
Word Count: ~2000
Pairings/Characters: Jason Morgan, Damian Spinelli, The Balkan.
Synopsis: In which the Balkan takes Spinelli and Jason has until midnight to find him.
Comments: Written as comment!fic for suerum . There’ll be a part 2 at some point to wrap things up a little more effectively, but I didn’t want to mess with the timeline that’s going in this and I also got tired of waiting to post it. Comments are awesome and please enjoy!

Jason gets a frantic phone call from Spinelli's cell early in the morning on New Year's Eve. The hacker must be talking at him before he even answers, because he's already in full-rant mode by the time Jason's listening.

"-not who we thought it was! If the Jackal's findings are, indeed, correct, then the Balkan is much, much closer than we previously thought he was. The not-so-trustworthy defense attorney seems to be at the root of our present issues, and he is, in point of fact," Spinelli's hysterical babbling causes him to drag out the relevant information more than strictly necessary, and this proves to be a deleterious flaw when suddenly cyber speak is drowned out by the sound of doors slamming open and shouting and – Jason's in full on panic mode himself now – gunshots that are abruptly followed by pained and terrified noises from Spinelli.

"Spinelli," he says when there's a lull in the noise. Something like a strained groan follows and then there's the thump of something vaguely human-like hitting the floor. "Spinelli! Spinelli! Answer me!" He's shouting into the phone now, heading out the door as fast as he can.

The next thing he hears is the line going dead. He tries to call back, but the phone announces that it is no longer in service. That if he wants to make a call, he should please hang up and try again. He doesn't bother.

He's at the PI Office by 8:22, just seven minutes after Spinelli had called him. He figures Spinelli had to have been here – it's the only place where he'd be working on this project and still be alone enough to be ambushed by the Balkan's thugs.

The first thing he notices is the absence of technology. Both computers – Spinelli's laptop, it goes everywhere with him, and the PC that had been settled on the desk as more permanent fixture – are gone.

The second thing he notices is blood. Drops on the desk and chair that line up with where Spinelli would have been sitting, a bit of a pool on the floor, and smears like Spinelli got dragged through it afterward.

It's not a lot of blood, but it is Spinelli's blood.

He tears his eyes away from it and focuses on what Spinelli was telling him before this. He'd found the Balkan, said he was close, and mentioned Brenda's new defense attorney. That had to be the answer. Theo Hoffman has to be the Balkan or else Spinelli wouldn't have been taken.

Jason is going to kill him.

If only it were that easy.

By 3:30 in the afternoon he's checked everywhere the guy could possibly have been and found nothing. The law offices were abandoned, some of his regular hang-outs were equally vacant, even Theo's home, he's got no idea where else to look.

At 4:55 he gets a phone call. It comes from Spinelli's cell phone – which had also been missing from the office where his protégé had been taken – and he answers before the first ring is half done. He's hoping beyond all logical hope that it's actually Spinelli on the other end of the line, that he's gotten away and I perfectly safe, merely calling to assure his Stone Cold mentor that he's okay and just needed a ride.

It's Spinelli, but it's clear he's not okay.

"S-Stone Cold?" A muffled, rasping voice that sounds like a distorted version of Spinelli's cuts across the phone line before Jason can demand answers, before he can swear to rip apart anyone who dares to hurt Spinelli.

"Fuck," he curses at nothing, pressing the phone closer to his ear as if that will somehow give him the answers he needs to track down his missing hacker. "Spinelli, where are you?"

"Bet you d-didn't see t-this coming, Morgan," Spinelli broken voice mumbles out. "Anything you'd like m-me to make him say? Perhaps 'this is a-all your fault,' or 'you c-can't protect anyone, can you'? Or m-maybe you'd prefer something a-a little less painful; maybe 'I-I love you, Stone Cold'?"

Jason closes his eyes, has to lean back against a wall to keep upright when he realizes what's happening. "Stop it. What do you want?"

"Damian here… is a little tied up. I'm leaving t-town, but you have u-until midnight to find y-your pet before the f-fireworks start. Him or m-me, Morgan. Make your decision."

The Balkan – Theo – has to be telling Spinelli what to say, which means he must be listening, too. "I swear to God that if anything more has happened to Spinelli when I find him, I will not stop until I find you and make you pay for taking him."

He hears a strangled sob that nearly stops his heart and then Spinelli's talking again. "H-how touching. Rather fond of your pet, a-aren't you? I-I'll even help y-you out. You c-can find him at, at the shipping yards."

"He's hurt already, I know he is. I-I saw the blood," Jason continues, "Tell me how bad so I know what to bring with me when I find him."

"This call is your proof of life." Spinelli's voice comes again. "That's all you get."

After that, despite the fact that Jason is shouting into his phone like the crazy person he presently is, the line is dead.

5:03. He has just less than seven hours to find Spinelli at the shipping yards. Assuming the Balkan is telling the truth about Spinelli's general whereabouts, the ship yards are huge. Seven days would be more realistic a time frame.

He's interrupting Lucky's New Year's Eve less than fifteen minutes later, explaining the situation and as much as he usually hates doing it, asking for help. If he assumes that fireworks equate to some sort of bomb set to go off at midnight, then there has to be some sort of signal coming from it. And Jason's decently sure that Lucky can get his hands on equipment to pick that signal up.

It's not easy, and it involves calling in a fair amount of favors on the Detective's part, but eventually an officer brings over the radio equipment that will allow for them to locate the signal from the bomb. Unfortunately, the device has to be within a relatively short distance to the bomb in order to pick up the signal, which means they'll still have to search for it.

It's closing in on six o'clock before they head toward the shipping yards.

"Mac sent the defense attorney's picture out. If he shows up at any border crossing, airport, or bus station, hopefully we'll catch him. I think he even sent it to private airstrips and docks."

Jason's not thinking about that right now. Priority number one is getting to Spinelli before midnight. He'll deal with the Balkan later if it comes to that.

It's 6:47 by the time they get to the ship yards just outside of Port Charles. Only a skeleton crew is on shift, since it is New Year's Eve and, as expected, none of them know anything about bombs or kidnappings or serious criminal masterminds. Fortunately, there is a decent lighting system in place, so despite the fact that it's well-past sundown now, the innumerable amount of cargo containers before them are well-illuminated.

Jason eyes the rows and rows of containers. This is going to take a while.

At 7:10, they finally get the signal detector up and running.

By 8:55, they've still got nothing in the way of results. The same goes for 9:42 and 10:27.

"Are you sure about this?" Lucky asks Jason, not for the first time since this whole thing started up.

And Jason isn't sure. He's going off of information from the man responsible for all of this. The man who they've been hunting for months now. This wild goose chase could be all about revenge for the Balkan. Why would he risk leaving Spinelli alive, anyway?

He supposes that if the Balkan really is trying to leave town, then leaving another body in his wake certainly won't make escape any less complicated. It's not as if killing Spinelli will make the rest of them forget about the Balkan's true identity. And it certainly won't make Jason back down – if he loses Spinelli to this guy he won't be backing down anytime soon – and he doubts the police will let it go easily, either. The best solution for the Balkan is to let him find Spinelli.

"He has to be here," Jason finally says, as another row of shipping containers are cleared. "Anything else doesn't make sense."

10:59 ticks into 11:00 and the phrase 'at the eleventh hour' has never been so appropriate. Either they find Spinelli now or they're going to be finding him in bits and pieces.

11:07.

11:16.

11:29.

11:38.

Jason watched the minutes tick by and in his desperation to find Spinelli, splits off from the group to widen their search radius. He doesn't have the signal detector, but if he shouts loud enough and hopes hard enough, maybe he can find Spinelli without the thus-far-useless gizmo.

"Spinelli!" He yells, moving through aisles of containers they haven't gotten to yet – and fuck it all, there are a lot of containers they haven't checked yet. "Spinelli! Answer me!"

He stops for ten seconds, listens for any sounds that aren't coming from Lucky and the other officers leading the search from a technological standpoint, and then yells again moving as he goes.

11:42 and still no answer.

"Fuck, Spinelli, if you can hear me, make noise! Spinelli!" Stops moving, listens. Nothing.

And then there's banging. The thick, metal cargo containers are meant to be on huge ships. They're meant to withstand wind and rain and rough seas. It is a wonder that he hears the sound at all. But, it's there.

Jason closes his eyes and listens and tries to figure out where the hell those sounds are coming from. He narrows it down to three potential containers as the clock ticks to 11:46 and trial and error leads him to his second option.

"Over here! Lucky!" He's shouting so much he can feel his voice cracking, but flashlights and police offers armed with bolt cutters are moving towards him and it's 11:52.

"Just hold on, Spinelli. You'll be out in a minute." He says, though he's pretty sure Spinelli can't hear him all that well. 11:53.

11:54, and the police aren't sure whether the container is rigged to explode if it's opened. Jason doesn't fucking care. He grabs the bolt cutters out of some low level officer's hands and cuts the damn thing himself. He's in before anyone can stop him or yell at him about clearing the thing first. 11:55.

At 11:56, he's got Spinelli in his arms. The hacker is barely conscious – it's an absolute wonder how he managed to be loud enough for Jason to hear him. A quick look over reveals a bullet wound haphazardly patched up on his shoulder, a gash and a nasty bump on his forehead that looks like it's from a gun hitting him over the head, and some pretty painful looking bruises. 11:57 and Jason's carrying him away.

11:58 and 11:59 pass as all of those involved in the search and rescue – fuck them all, stupid machine was useless, Jason should have just gone on his own – quickly evacuate the area.

12:00 on January 1, 2011 arrives and the container explodes with an impressive amount of force. Jason can't bring himself to care because the paramedics are trying to get Spinelli out of his arms and as much as he wants Spinelli fixed up and good as new, he's just not quite ready to let go of him yet.