Talisman
by slacker

Part II- The Boy Who Would Be King

“Vodka Tonic, straight up.”

The bartender behind the counter gave him a dubious look. “You got ID?” he asked.

Morgan simply stared as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. The crowds around him ignored the obviously 15 year old boy attempting to order a drink. They all knew who he was, or rather, who’s son he was.

Clearly, this bartender was new.

Slipping out his ID, he pushed it across the counter and smiled genially. “There ya go, pal.” His school ID clearly listed his age, height, weight and most importantly, his name. Morgan Corinthos never needed a buddy to hook him up.

He was the hook up.

The bartender looked at the ID and opened his mouth to refuse the drink when his eyes caught something and widened ever so slightly, giving him pause. Morgan’s smile hardened ever so slightly. It was the only thing his Father was good for. The bartender looked back up at Morgan, his confidence replaced by uncertain apprehension. The gears in his mind were clearly going a mile a minute and he was unsure of how to handle this situation.

“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” Morgan offered. He eyed the drink greedily.

“You won’t say anything to..?” His voice trailed off and he glanced about the general area, as if expecting the great Sonny Corinthos to descend on him at this very instant.

Morgan glared coldly at the bartender, taking both the ID and the drink into his possession. “I never say a damn thing to him. Relax.”

Finding refuge at the right side of the foyer, Morgan sipped his drink casually, admiring the view as he waited. Expansive arched ceilings. A curving marble staircase that began in the lobby below, rose up and then split off into two, leading up to the 2nd floor where he stood. From there, visitors could reach the third floor via 2 golden elevators on either side of the room. The fourth floor was a VIP lounge, where his parents were currently situated, no doubt spoiling for a fight with each other. He wouldn’t join them unless he had to.

Architecturally, it was a breathtaking sight and Morgan smiled, knowing it was his sister that inspired such awe and adoration from the community at large. But then, Kristina was blessed with an endless array of talents, it seemed. He wasn’t jealous, considering how her gifts made her the apple of their Father’s eye.

Whereas he possessed little more than a drive to be indistinguishable.

There was some dabbling in less than wholesome activities but Michael and Kristina had both taken to keeping him on a short leash whenever he strayed too far. They understood the strain he was living under but were unwilling to let him fly off the path.

They felt the same burdens he did.

It was strange how a home that should have been full of love, laughing and general happiness could only manage forced smiles, awkward family moments and long silences in between.

When, of course, there wasn’t fighting, of which there always seemed to be an abundance of.

“Morgan.”

A welcome voice pulled Morgan from his thoughts and he smiled as Michael materialized before him. He eyed the drink but said nothing. “Hey,” he greeted, sharing a quick hug with his older brother. Michael’s dark brown eyes surveyed the busy foyer. “They around?”

They.

Michael was hard pressed to refer to his Mother and Step-Father as anything other. They were a blob in his mind. They moved as one, spoke as one and as far as any of the children were considered, thought as one.

Michael had stopped calling his Father, “Dad” the day AJ Quartermaine had been murdered. He’d been only 9 and nearly a year after being kidnapped by Faith Roscoe and then later, by AJ, he’d begun asking both parents hard questions and requests to see AJ.

AJ had taken Michael from Faith and kept him from everyone else for nearly 6 weeks. Michael had never spoken of what went on during that time, but it was clear to anyone had known the boy before the kidnapping that a dramatic change had occurred. Morgan could hardly imagine the old Michael existing now.

Blind. Deaf. Dumb. That’s what Michael called his former self. Sonny Corinthos, it seemed, had wanted to keep Michael that way and had executed AJ in order to do that.

Like most things that Sonny Corinthos did, the direct hit had little impact. It was the collateral damage that showed the most destruction.

Like wanting to call AJ, “Dad” too.

Like Kristina mistakenly calling Ric, “Daddy,” in front of her Father.

Direct hits to the ego of Sonny Corinthos. Delivered by his children. The collateral damage was still being felt to this day. Michael had not stepped a foot inside the family home since his 13th birthday.

“Upstairs, shooting death glares at each other.”

Michael smirked and shook his head. “Come on, she wants to see you before she goes back on.” He took Morgan’s drink and set it down on a nearby table.

Michael turned and strode with assurance down the staircase and towards the employee entrance just past the box office. His strides were long and smooth, his head held high and without even realizing it, Morgan did the same. He wished he could feel the confidence that seemed to ooze from Michael.

Giving a simple nod to the security guard, Michael pushed Morgan through the door and down the long hallways towards Kristina’s dressing area. As always, just before crossing the threshold, Morgan’s eyes flicked up and read the plaque. It meant more now than ever, especially today.

The door swung open and Kristina’s face lit up. “Morgan!” She pulled her younger brother into her arms, giving him a tight hug. He pulled away and rubbed his hand self-consciously over his newly shorn black hair, kept short for years, despite his Mother’s insistence that he allow the curls to grow out.

“So you’ll look every bit as handsome as your Father,” she remarked. She had not noticed every other time she’d observed the striking resemblance between Father and son, Morgan had responded with silence and a deep, frustrated scowl.

He was not his Father.

By his Father’s assertion, he was not even a real man.

“Was I amazing out there, or what?” Kristina’s eyes sparkled as she took a small sip from her bottled water.

“Or what,” Morgan said impishly. Kristina smacked his arm playfully. “Smart ass.”

“You were amazing.”

Kristina beamed. Michael hung back, letting them enjoy this rare moment.

“So, is she up there?”

The jovial mood quieted somewhat with Morgan’s question. Kristina’s gaze flicked to Michael before nodding once. “Right where she should be.” Michael simply gazed back at her.

Morgan cast his eyes down to the ground, trying to be nonchalant. This was a regular occurrence between the two, always had been. Long, silent stares that meant something, Morgan knew that, but he couldn’t quite understand what it was that they shared.

An usher entered the room and glanced at the visitors before addressing Kristina.

“Five minutes.”

“Morgan, can you sit with Kristina’s Mother until I find you? I need to make some last minute calls,” Michael asked, placing his arm on his brother’s shoulder. Morgan nodded, eager to take on responsibility. “Anything else?” he asked.

Kristina bit her lower lip. “Tell her we’ll be together soon. All of us.”

It was within their grasp.

Morgan nodded and left the room, quickly scurrying to where the mysterious Alexis Davis was sitting. He did not remember a thing about Kristina’s Mother, except in the way his own Mother spoke of her.

His Mother had called her obsessed and crazy. That she was delusional and desperate to get their Father back. He wasn’t sure if he believed his Mother’s tales, but he knew that she believed them.

If she hated Alexis Davis, she loathed Kristina’s presence in her home. Her husband’s first child and only daughter, the apple of his eye. The female in the house who received the first hug and tender kiss on the cheek when he came and went. The one who was always in his arms, sitting on his lap and the center of her Father’s attention.

Kristina had hated it.

So had his Mother.

She had resented the competition.

Morgan passed through the double doors and scanned the darkened rows for the empty seat. His heart thumping mightily against his chest, he silently slid into seat, not daring to look at the woman next to him.

“Morgan?”

He turned and found himself staring at Kristina’s Mother. “You look just like Kristina,” he blurted out in a whisper.

Her face seemed to melt at the declaration and she studied him. “So do you.”

“I do?”

He was awed by the remark. Nobody ever said he looked like anyone other than his Father. “You could be twins!” was the usual chortle from his business partners. “Chip off the old block, aren’t you?” they’d say. Morgan Corinthos, heir to the great dynasty.

It made him sick.

He felt like crying when Ric had been killed. He knew his Father had ordered Jason to kill him, just like he’d done with AJ.

He couldn’t be like his Father. He couldn’t ruin the happiness of the people he loved.

Alexis nodded. “Nothing specific, but it’s pretty striking.”

Morgan grinned. “Michael said everything is set. When Kristina is finished, you’ll leave here and head into the employee entrance downstairs. It’ll be unmanned so you won’t have any problem getting through. You’ll get into a waiting car with Kristina and you’ll both take the 45 minute flight from the airport to a private strip in Pennsylvania. From there, you’ll fly to where you need to go.”

“And Michael?”

“He’ll fly to L.A. tonight and join you two in the morning.”

“And you?”

Morgan swallowed hard. “I’ll come eventually. I’m hoping my Mother will come too. I can’t just leave her. Michael wants me to come with him. He says Mom will only break if we’re both gone. I just want to try first, but if not, then I guess I’ll head to Manhattan and stay with Michael’s contact until he gets a hold of me.”

He hated the thought of not bringing his Mother with him. He wanted to save her.

Alexis reached out and cupped the side of his face. “You’re a good son,” she said tenderly. Sudden tears sprung forth, trickling down Morgan’s cheeks. “I hope she thinks so too.” He remember Kristina’s words and wiped his tears. “Oh, Kristina said that we’ll be together soon. All of us.”

“Morgan.”

Morgan’s blood ran cold at the voice. Alexis let out a small cry of horror at the man standing behind them.

The man he was named after stood, flanked by two guards, his blue orbs blazing with fury.

It was Jason.

part 3