Discipline

General Hospital

Chapter ten

"Do you ever think about home?"

Vinny poked his head up at Morgan's question. "Every day," he whispered.

"Do you want to go back?"

"I want to go back," Vinny sighed. "But my family doesn't want me back."

"C'mon, man, you're too hard on yourself." Morgan patted his friend's back. "I bet you've got tons of friends back home."

"No," Vinny shook his head. "I don't." He lay down on the ground, then, placing his palms on the cool ground. "Let's get back to work." He began to exercise.

Morgan talked to Kristina for an hour. He had time to drive back to Kelly's from the Metrocourt, go to his room, take off his shoes, and get the shower water going. It was two in the afternoon, and he felt like taking a shower.

Kristina had known something was wrong with Morgan as soon as she answered the phone, she could probably detect that he had been, dare he say it, crying. In front of his mother, no less. He knew he had left hurriedly, but he didn't want to be seen like that, not by Carly or anybody. He had listened to Vinny cry himself silly for years, and he wasn't going to be like Vinny.

How long had it been since he graduated? Three or four days? It had been six or seven days since he saw Vinny last, then.

"…I told her she was crazy and that she was not going anywhere near my roommate's boyfriend. I mean, what kind of roomie would I be if I couldn't even look out for her, right? Right? Morgan?" Kristina's voice turned from annoyance to concern at the silence of her brother.

"Yeah, uh, I gotta go, Krissy."

"Oh, yeah, you're probably super busy. Well, so am I, keeping my roommate in a relationship and all. I'll talk to you later." Kristina quickly said her goodbyes and hung up. Morgan sighed, letting his phone fall on his mattress soundlessly. Just thinking about Vinny made him want to start crying again—something he wasn't planning on doing.

He walked into the small bathroom, running his hand through the water spewing from the showerhead. If it got any warmer he was going to burn himself, but maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe, then, he would feel what Jax felt as his plane crashed and exploded in the ocean. His own father was responsible for the death of the person who was Morgan's real father in every way that mattered. His love for Sonny and his love for Jax often conflicted him in his childhood. He wished he could have spent more time with Jax. He stepped in.

This wasn't good for him, the heat, and all the thoughts swarming in his head. His head seemed to be causing him a lot of trouble ever since he returned to Port Charles. If he wasn't thinking about Jax's death, he was thinking about the burden military school had been to him, or what T.J. had said about Shawn owing him his father's life, about Robin and her poor, grieving, family, about Michael's sorrow and Abby's family, about Vinny—no. He was not going to think about Vinny.

He blindly reached for a bar of soap and began to lather it on his body. His hands were shaking, but he dug his fingernails into the slippery object so that it wouldn't fall.

"So, Loverboy and Sammy Sosa decided to come back, huh?"

The soap slid over his leg, he watched dully as the beads of water washed away the remnants of the morning.

"Well, you certainly look bigger. I'm sure Sosa gave you all the steroids you needed, right?"

The bar ran up an arm, sending the brunette hairs askew. He went over a strong shoulder, quivering at the memories of old.

"All right, Loveryboy, let's go. First to reach two hundred pushups gets the card."

The soap dropped. He bent down to pick it up, his knees hitting the wet tile harder than he expected. He couldn't get back up.

"Frankie, why don't you show little Vinny over here what it's like to be like us."

Morgan's head had begun to hurt terribly. He didn't want to think about school, he had to stop thinking about school.

"Morgan! Morgan, help! Please, stop hurting me!"

Morgan willed himself to move. He begged with himself to get up, to get his shampoo, to wash his hair and turn off the water, dangerously hot and demanding. He was like a fault line, threatening to split at any moment. The result: an earthquake.

"How the hell did he—he beat you, Paulie! That son of a bitch actually beat you! Ha! Well, I'll show him. You can take the kid."

Tears mixed with water. Morgan realized he was crying. Angrily, he stood, knocking down the bottles of shampoo and soap and pounding his fists against the wall. He told himself he wasn't going to cry anymore. He wasn't supposed to be like this.

"You knocked him out, you knocked him out, Frankie! Ha! Didn't know you had that in you, you son of a bitch! I thought I had the kid? Hey, Loverboy, you better help your friend out, huh?"

Smack. Morgan punched the wall. Blood mixed with water and tears.

"Ah, shit, Paulie, it's the Colonel! Here, give Loverboy the card and let's get out of here."

Morgan couldn't stop trembling, his knuckles were bloody, his eyes red. He grabbed hold of the pipe and turned off the water. He stumbled out of the shower and got dressed as quickly as he could, breathing heavily and choking back unwanted, unnecessary tears. Water dripped from his sopping hair and blood from his hand.

With one last ounce of effort, Morgan picked up his phone and called the first number that came to mind, the only one he trusted.

"General Hospital, how can I help you?"

"I need to speak to Dr. Ewen Keenan." His voice came out hoarse, rough and cracked. Just hearing his sorry voice made him want to completely break down. He swallowed hard, but couldn't get rid of the lump in his throat.

"One moment please." A cheery voice responded on the other end.

Morgan collapsed.