"Fettered Ties"

Email: Abandoned-by-sanity@pixelcherry.com

Summary: Courtney was gone. Grief drove Jason away, and, in his absence, I became what I despised, but also what I loved with such fierce and fatal loyalty. I became my brother, for my brother, in his name and in pursuit of what he wouldn't take. And it nearly killed me.

Rating: R (violence)

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated to "General Hospital"  But, and I kn0w I've said this before, I really wouldn't have a damn thing against owing Steve and Tyler. *shivers* There should be a law against being that freaking hot… but thank Merlin there isn't!! ^__^

Feedback: Need it, want it, LOVE it.  It makes me smile, unless, of course, they're horribly cruel, in which case it makes me spit fire, and entertain homicidal thoughts.  Just kidding! Seriously though, I love hearing from all of you, good or bad. :o)

(a/n)  I'll just keep the general "don't forget that this is a dark fic" warning going.  Be prepared… we're delving into the inner workings of Mrs. Morgan-Cassadine's mind while she's confronting her brother, someone she doesn't exactly have the warmest feelings toward anymore.  It may get kinda scary, lol.  Also, please note that for the story's sake, Emily is quite non-canon, I realize this, but rest assure that it is necessary. Read on, hope ya like.  Also, there's a detailed a/n on the bottom. Did you really think I would let you all go without talking your ear off?  Silly rabbit! :D ~Loke

(*If you haven't read the A/N from the prologue as well as the prologue itself, please do.  It explains the current scheme of things.  If you don't read it you will be lost here. TY!)

~#~

Chapter One ~" That give and take"

~#~

February 12th, 2013, Present Day.

~

you used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now I'm bound by the life you left behind
your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

these wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase. – Evanescence, My Immortal
~

Port Charles in the winter.  It's my favorite time of year.  Of course, my reasons are different from before.  Years ago I loved the winter because of the holidays and the warmth of spirit that came with them.  It was about the feelings the season brought, the sense of family.  Now, well, now I think it's the snow that gets me.  Just the way a shimmering blanket of crisp, virgin snow can coat the city, cleansing it almost.  Like a new beginning.  A chance to wipe the slate clean.  To start over fresh.  To bury all those dirty little secrets and unspoken breaches of morality and conscience somewhere deep and out of sight, hidden from the good and clean people you have to face everyday, the people who love you.

Like I said, my reasons for being fond of the winter are very different now.  Much less idealistic and nowhere near as warm and fuzzy.  As odd as it may sound, I wait for the winter now, I pray for it.  Because to me it's a sort of confession, the only kind I think I'm worthy of these days.  It wouldn't feel right to do it the proper way, not with all the things I've done, the person I've become.  So, I take the snow instead, and use the cleanliness and purity of it ease my soul so that sleeping becomes a little easier and living with myself not so much of a challenge. 

But I'll tell you a little secret, though: It doesn't work as well as it used to.

The snow came three months ago and instead of scrubbing clean the blood on my hands, I watched my own pool around me, seeping from my body as my husbands anguished cries echoed through the blustery winter air.  So now, as I sit here in my family's penthouse, gazing out at Port Charles in all her snow-covered glory, all I feel is cold inside and just as dirty as before. 

I had been lucky so far.  I had been able to keep the violent reality of my world away from my family, and keep on going, pretending as if the work I did didn't threaten us all, every minute of every day.

But that night in the freshly fallen snow –the seasons first- shattered it all.  And my two worlds collided in a hail of bullets and a torrent of frantic screams.  The once pure snow that Nikolas and Demetri had been playing in moments before ran red around them with my blood, as the life inside me slowly trickled away.  And I mean that quite literally. 

I close my eyes and let the memories drift back to me, the flashes of light, the screams, the muted faces streaked with panicked tears… the burgundy snow.  Fifty-two days ago and still as vivid and confusing as that night.  If I try hard enough I can still feel the searing pain strike me in the gut over and over and then slowly radiate out until everything, absolutely everything burned like liquid fire.  It burned. So hot and heavy the feeling was it seemed as if a boulder sat on my chest, keeping me from taking in the air I gasped so desperately for.  I remembered my straining fingers clawing vainly at the wet ground beneath me, felling so many things at once that I could concentrate on nothing.  It all blurred together, mingling and mixing so completely that my brain only managed to translate it into one recognizable sensation: pain.  The most excruciating pain I had ever felt. 

And just when I've all but lost myself in my unfortunate recollections, I hear the faint click of the bedroom door and then the light scuffle of heavy feet move toward me at a snail's pace.   

It's not Nikolas, I know that.  Demetri and he just left with an army of guards to pay Lucky a visit across town. 

So, that leaves just one person.  The only person the guards would even dare allow up here besides Johnny. 

Jason.

And before I can even think his name, mine is on his lips, hitting the air in a hesitant whisper so scant I barely make it out.  I blink against the pale moonlight that engulfs the room, showing no acknowledgement of his presence.  But as usual, my silence is not a deterrent and I hear him move closer until the empty chair beside me gains a familiar profile, one that joins in my stoic gaze at the city lights.

The silence coats us both, not thick or stifling, but comfortable yet oddly distant at the same time. 

God, so much has changed.

There was a time when I would have met his presence with the biggest smile I could rally, shinning so bright with sisterly admiration that my face would hurt. But those days are gone, withered away along with the years.  And now, in the place of our once indescribable closeness, silence is all I can offer him.  It's all I have the strength for honestly.  And it has nothing to do with my still recovering wounds.

In keeping with the trend of these visits, he shows movement first, swiveling his head to stare at me in the soft glow that surrounds us. 

I know what he's thinking. That I'm pushing it, that I'm trying too hard, that I should rest, that I shouldn't go tonight.  But it's only when he speaks that my suspicions are confirmed. 

"Maybe I should go in your place."  Again, his voice is soft, more brotherly than I can remember it being in a very long time.  In fact, the last time I remembered that slight unsure rumble to his whisper was that night in the ICU so many years ago, the night I believed I was going to die.  

I realize how difficult it must have been for him to utter that offering.  But it doesn't matter.  His heart isn't in it and the fact that he allowed it to leave his lips in such an empty manner nurses a spike of anger in my gut.  Six years ago, Jason never would have said something he didn't mean with every part of him.  It wouldn't even have occurred to him to offer unless it was what he wanted, completely. But he did, and it was just another reminder of how wrong everything was now, how backwards.

I shake my head in the dark, knowing he sees the movement and knowing he disagrees. 

"Emily, you're still recovering.  I don't want you to-"

I find my voice then, the quiver I prepared myself for surprisingly absent.  "It's not a matter of want; it's a matter of survival."  As my words dissolve into air, I turn to him, my eyes seeking out his.  "You used to understand things like this."

I expect his head to sink, expect him to break the eye contact he's so uncomfortable with now, but he doesn't.  "I still do," he whispers through the brief hindering of guilt.  Guilt I know is there.  That in itself is an abomination of who he is- who he was.

His meager phrase echoes in my head, goading my emotions to the brink again.  'I still do'.  That's right Jason; somewhere deep inside you he's still there, the brother who could navigate this brewing war with his eyes closed is still in there.  For God's sakes just do us all a favor and let him out. Stop living this living this "I'm a changed man" joke, and just be. 

"Then act like it." The words slip from my mouth in a heated sputter and I know I've done it.  I've reopened the never-quite-healed wound between us, the wound he silently begs me to leave be, the one I never can.  It hurts too much to leave it alone.  "Be the one person who isn't fighting me tooth and nail on this.  At least give me that much, Jason."

I watch his oh-so-blue eyes glass over a moment and then harden in the dark.  He didn't like that.  I didn't expect him to.  "I never wanted this for you, Emily."

It's true; he didn't want this for me.  Hell, I don't want this for me.  But its here and its mine, so what good is a statement like that ever going to do?  "Then take it back.  All of it." My hands lay perfectly still crossed demurely in my lap as my angry tongue begins to wage war with the familiar stranger beside me.  Why is it that I'm always contradicting myself?  Sweet and vicious, kind and ruthless, bright and beautiful yet so dark and ugly, clean to the world around but so very dirty on the inside, always dirty now, never clean.  This life won't allow for it, won't let me be.  "It was always yours anyway, Jase.  You know that."

He nods his head solemnly, silently accepting a truth even his reformed self can't hide from.  This world belongs to him and him to it.  Some things are written in stone.

The flickering signal of an approaching containership catches my attention, and I reluctantly draw my eyes away from him, continuing on the doomed path I can't help but venture down these days.  "We could walk in there together, Jason."  I cringe at the wistful plea in my own voice.  It's scary sometimes how much I want this.  "Show them you're back in power… Just the sight of you would be enough to send Faith into a panic attack."

I know he's picturing it, wondering what her pointed little face would look like all slacked in shock, but then there's that damn silence again, the one that plays over and over in my head like a broken record of a really lousy old tune.  It's the silence of contemplation and careful dissecting of what to say, not the truthfully impulsive way of speaking that once was his trademark.  Part of me knows I'll always be searching for impulse in his eyes, because finding it would mean everything.

"This isn't my life anymore, Em.  It can't be," he says, his words like acid to my ears, their message leaving that familiar burn in their wake. 

He won't take it back.  And I think I'm finally starting to realize that.  It doesn't matter how many times I ask or beg.  Its not that he can't, like he said, it's that he won't.

He won't let me be free of it, and worst of all, he won't even look at me while he rips away my last hope for normalcy.  God, sometimes I hate him so much.  I hate that he left, I hate that I worshiped him beyond reason.  That I gave up my life to keep his seat warm.  I hate that he never called, or wrote. I hate that I almost forgot the sound of his voice. 

I hate that he came back. 

I hate that he didn't come back sooner.  

"Then I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"  I know how bitter and angry that sounded, but somehow I can't seem to care.

"Let me go for you tonight.  Just tonight," his voice stiffens in a rare brotherly command.  "By next meeting you'll be stronger."

"And what exactly am I supposed to say in the mean time, Jason?  The second Faith and Lorenzo see you…"

Jason snaps his gaze to mine again, and as always, I hold my breath, hoping.  "They won't question Johnny," he says abruptly, like he's just had a 'eureka' moment.   Johnny?  As in 'It's not that *I* want to go in your place, it's that I don't want *you* to go at all. Period.'   I suppose I should be used to that massive let down by now, huh?   It's all I ever seem to get.  "He's your second.  Faith will understand you sending him in… considering."

"Oh you mean considering that the raging bitch gunned me down in the street?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth I see his face falter in the moonlight and his eyes cast themselves to the ground.  I can't stand how he shies away from me now.  It makes me want to scream.  "Look, Jase…" I feel my voice dip away at the sound of his nickname on my lips.  God, it's been so long.  How can six years feel like forever?  "I can't sit and stew.  You know I can't.  It goes against every code our-- my world lives by," I say, my words heavy as I feel that easily reached exhaustion creep into me.  Just speaking takes so much effort now; I have to dig for every word.  "We both know why tonight is so important.  I give her this chance to deny and lie through her perfect little teeth, and then I deal with her."  I pause and draw in a steadying breath, maybe trying to convince myself not to say my next words, the ones I know will cut him.  Hell, probably rip him wide open.  "The way you should have at the beginning."

"Emily…" His voice holds that low, warning growl and wisp of a smile tugs at my lips.  That growl is the only thing that resembles my Jason now days. I try to bring it to the surface as often I can.  "Don't do this, not now."

"Don't do what?  Talk to you?  Try to understand why you didn't finish off that walking mistake when it counted.  Because guess what, Jase?  It never stopped counting."

"Emily, please…"

And 'Mr. Compliancy' is back, completely washing away every bit of false hope that guttural threat his voice held just a moment ago. His gentle plea is enough to touch off a firestorm in my blood and it brings me out of my chair –albeit not the easiest thing to do anymore.  My eyes are sealed on his completely unresponsive form and I feel my breaths getting heavier, more labored as my eyes begin to prickle with freshly sprung tears, tears I will not let fall.  Not ever.  I only cry for the dead, for Courtney, for the baby …for AJ.  And Jason is not dead, even if he thinks he is.

"Where is he?"  The question leaves my lips so fast and with such unbidden fury that I can't stop myself, can't hold back.  It would be pointless now. "Tell me, damn-it!" The demand rattles through the still air like a crackle of lightening.  "Where the hell is he, Jason?  Where's the brother who would have killed Faith Rosco where she stood all those years ago, the brother who would gladly walk into that meeting tonight and finally give that bitch exactly what she deserves?  Because I know he couldn't have just vanished… I know it."  A dry sob squeaks past my lips as I realize he still won't look at me.  I just want him to look at me, to at least try and explain.  I'd take anything at this point, though all I really want is to know why.  I just want to know why. 

My vision blurs with unshed tears and even though I know I shouldn't ask, like before, I just can't help myself. I'm beginning to resemble a runaway train here.  Where has all my control gone to? "Jason… how can you let her live…" God, I hate how small and weak I sound but this is different.  This is about someone who actually mattered.  Someone who was family.  Someone who we loved. "H-how is that she's still allowed to breathe after what she did?"

His silence eats away at my ears, making my stomach turn with anger and frustration, uncontrollable grief and regret so fierce I think my knees will give out from beneath me.  Without even realizing it, an unsteady hand flies to my neck, clutching blindly at the delicate gold necklace that hangs there.  I twist the emerald charm between my fingers as I close my eyes to him.  Those faded flickers of things I don't want to remember, but won't ever forget, begin their twisted showing against my closed eye lids, just as vivid as that night.  Just as sweet… and then just as horrible.  I don't want the memories to come now, but its been so long that part of me wants to revisit, if only just to make this moment a little more painful, punish myself a little more.  Maybe reignite that ball of revenge in my gut that I've forced to lay dormant for so long…

~

I feel her arms around me, pulling me into a familiar hug with an unfamiliar purpose.  She's leaving.  And I can't go with her.  Not this time. 

She pulls away and taps my necklace with the tip of her finer, her bright, consuming smile never wavering. "I knew you'd like it, Em.  The green... it's perfect with your eyes."

I try to match her smile as my fingers clasp around the emerald stone, but I can't.  It's just too bright.  "Courtney, I just… I absolutely adore it.  Thank you so much."

I see the faintest tinge of a blush grace her features.  "Nah, don't mention it.  I'm just sorry you can't come with me this time.  Paris and your birthday… we could have really raised some hell, sis."

A laugh bubbles up and I pull my arms around myself, shutting out the cold night air. 'Sis?'  Did that always sound so nice, so right?  "I know…" I groan, my nose wrinkling.  "But, alas… the life of an intern is anything but conducive to fun.  It's mostly just work, work, work."

The smile on her face fades just the slightest bit, but her eyes… they glow almost as she stares at me, a nearly overpowering warmth radiating from them. I feel her hand fall over mine and she gives it an encouraging squeeze.  "You're going to be an incredible doctor, Em.  I can feel it."

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal.  I mean, medicine sort of runs in the family, right?"

She shakes her head softly as her brow furrows with concern and I no –beyond a doubt- where her mind has drifted too.  "But so do other things, especially now.  Our name has a reputation, Em.  It would have been so easy…"  Her voice breaks away and the tarmac between us becomes her focus for a long moment. My past dalliance with the Life is still so very hard for her to speak about. 

"But it didn't."  She looks back at me and I know she understands it all without me even needing to say it, but I will anyway.  She knows that too.  "When I became a Morgan, I realized what I was stepping into, the life I was becoming a part of.  And I'm not saying the pull wasn't there to let it become more for me, but I also realized that Jason's world, or that part of it at least, couldn't be mine as well.  This business is who he is, as much a part of him as the blue in his eyes.  But just because he's my brother and we have the same name now, doesn't mean that it has to be a part of me too, I get that now.  There are other destinies out there for me, Court.  And I've found mine."

I stumble forward a step as the strong blonde wraps me up in a crushing hug.  "God, Em… I'm so very proud of you. We both are."

When she pulls back, that glisten of sisterly love shining bright in her eyes, I can't help but admire the person in front of me and marvel at just how close we've become.  When I took Jason's name, Courtney and I became family in every sense of the word.  I never thought I could love anyone in quite the same way that I love Jason, but then Courtney came along, and all that changed.  We were meant to be sisters; I've never believed anything so strongly.  "And I plan on being worthy of it, Courtney.  That's why I have to snatch up every stitch of overtime that comes my way.  Its all fuel for that knowledge fire, you know?"

She gives a graceful nod and tucks her hands into her jacket pockets, her long hair whipping around her.  "Doesn't mean I won't miss you, though.  You coming with me for these things has sort of become tradition for us."

"I know, and I wish so badly that I could be there for you.  But from what you've told me, this could really be it, Court."  An uncontrollable beam stretches wide across my face.  I'm just so happy for her and for the future she'll be able to look forward to, God willing.  "By the time you get there and see Dr. Lavaux and hear all the wonderful news he has for you, you'll be so giddy with excitement that you won't even notice I'm not there.  I just hope you hurry back so I can join in the rampant celebrating."

It's her turn to laugh and she flashes that smile again.  "From your lips to God's ears, Em.  And don't worry… as soon as all this is over, I'm never leaving home again.  Well… at least not for any more foreign medical treatments and consultations," she adds quickly.

From behind her I see the pilot signal to us from the jet's door.  "Looks like they fixed it," I say.  "You better scoot before you get anymore behind schedule, Mrs. Morgan."

She flickers a glance back at the plane before giving me another brief hug.  "I'll see you on Tuesday," she says, her voice so light and happy.  "You take good care of your brother and that gorgeous husband of yours, Mrs. Morgan-Cassadine."  When she pulls back she giggles softly.  "It's funny how hard that is to get used to," she smiles, looking at me with a tipped head.  "The Morgan thing alone was hard enough.  You *so* need to stop changing your name, sweetie."

"Don't you have a plane to catch?" I ask, my eyebrows pitching as I swat at her arm.

"Yeah, Yeah… I'm goin'."  Her flaxen hair twirls up around her shoulders as she turns and walks away, throwing another smile behind her as she disappears up the boarding stairs of Jason's jet.

~

My mind fast forwards and tosses me viciously back into the moment.  The moment I have spent the last six years of my life trying to forget…

~

The scene melds together as I stand, shoulder to shoulder with Jason, watching the jet climb into the night past the faint glow of the runway lamps, until the only thing that marks its path are its flashing lights. 

But then the sky erupts in an orange glow and the air shatters around us with a deafening boom.  My legs crack beneath me and I surge to the ground, the cold tarmac breaking my fall. 

I look up through my haze and confusion and hear Jason scream as his mouth moves in slow motion.  I reach for him but his jacket slips through my fingers and all I can do is watch as he peels off across the strangely illuminated ground.  

And then that's when it hits me. 

Courtney.

Breathing becomes difficult.  Pure terror rips through my body and I'm on my feet again.  I whip my gaze to the sky. 

Now I know why it's not so dark anymore.

As if being held in the sky by the very hand of God, the glowing remnants of pluming amber smoke cast the clouds in haunting orange relief against the empty blackness. Flaming debris pour down against the unyielding ground, meeting the tarmac with that God-awful crunch of steel being twisted and broken.  The black sky is marred orange and red and the ugliest of yellows in their wake; the horrible colors form a dramatic and twisted bloom of destruction high in the winter night.   It looks like someone just set the world on fire.  It looks like hell.

I scream.  Or at least I think I do, I can't be sure.  The only things I can focus on are the clouds and those demented curls of fiery smoke.

But I'm looking for the plane.  Where is the plane?  It has to be there, that's all I can think.  It can't just be gone. 

She can't just be gone… 

~

But she was.  Courtney was gone. 

Gone.

My head spins at the familiar feelings and I have to bite my tongue to steady myself.

As long as I live I'll never be rid of that moment, the moment the closest thing I had to a sister perished with a flash of orange light and a sound that will haunt my dreams forever.  The sound of the world ending.  The world we'd come to know.

He's watching me.  I can feel it, sense his eyes sweeping over my form, knowing from my shuddering and hisses of breath that I'm in it again, reliving it all over again.

He knows this place I'm in well, I imagine.  He's been here before, spent most if not all of the last six years in it and I have to mentally shake myself to drive the point home.

Of course it's worse for him.  Why wouldn't it be?  Courtney was my sister, or as good as.  But she was Jason's heart, his reason for life.  

And she died… because of who he was. 

He won't say it; I won't dare entertain the thought for long.  But we both know the truth. 

War was on the brink of erupting all over again after Sonny and Carly spilt town for greener pastures.  Faith got to thinking that just because Sonny had finally packed it in that Port Charles would be hers for the taking.  She even enlisted a bitter and heartbroken Lorenzo Alcazar to join forces with her and dismantle the remnants of Sonny's forgotten empire.

Only it wasn't forgotten.  Jason was at the helm and doing a bang up job.  See, Faith and Lorenzo made the unfortunate mistake of believing Jason was nothing but a glorified henchman, an Enforcer figure head.   So, when he slapped down their attempts at a hostile takeover, all hell broke loose.  A sick exchange of a life for life painted the town's glossy streets red.  The losses were… regrettable, but minute in the scale of things. Yes, I am aware of how horribly insensitive that sounds.  But you have to understand, being apart of this business changes how you perceive things, and even how you feel them.  It changes you.  See, we- he lost a few men, but as far as the family unit went, Courtney and I were safe.  The bubble was still intact.  So, all was well.

And for the most part, Jason kept his response minimal, not being one to resort to petty killings of unknowns, no matter what the perception of him.  He may have been ruthless when it came to the dirtier things about the business, but Jason wasn't a reckless murderer.  Human life still meant something to him.

And Faith capitalized on that 'vulnerability' with the calculating cruelty typical of the platinum blonde.

She went after the one thing my brother cared about more than anything else in this world. 

The love of his life.

She ripped Courtney away from us right before our eyes and while we could do nothing but watch, completely helpless to stop it. 

Sure, she never admitted to it, vehemently denied it actually.  But a woman knows. And when I looked into her eyes searching for a flicker of humanity, a spark of remorse, I found nothing.  Greeted only by the cold darkness of evil.  Evil that was guilty as sin.

It was then, three days after Courtney's death that my role in Jason's world began to change.  I hungered for involvement, I let the all-consuming pull of vengeance wrap me up and toss me down into the dark with Faith.  All I wanted was to see her dead.  And I never shied away from making that desire known.  Loud and clear. 

By my interest wasn't based purely on avenging Courtney.  A lot of it was about filling a void.  See, that was when Jason began to slip away.  After he realized that the plane had been rigged to explode, everything slowly started to unravel.  He came out of the penthouse less and less, took meetings only when I succeeded in making him go- which wasn't very often.  He withdrew from all of us and it seemed nothing could bring him back. 

I exhausted myself trying to reach him.  And for a little while it worked.  I would sit with him in the dark of the penthouse, sharing tears, just talking about her, him asking me to talk about her. 

It scared me to death. 

A madwoman trying to kill me, a sadistic grandmother-in-law, and an overbearing family hell bent on breaking up my marriage?  That I could handle.  But a brother who had only ever been an unbreakable force in my life, reduced to a whimpering child in my arms…? That ripped me apart in ways I never imagined.  It made me realize that 'dying of a broken heart', was more than just an expression.  Because it was happening to him. 

Gradually, as Jason became more of a recluse, abandoning his duties as Boss, I began to realize that something had to be done.  Johnny O'Brien, now the Jason to my Sonny, took me aside one day and begged me to intervene.  He said that Faith was taking Jason's silence for weakness and the buzz here and abroad was that the PC territory under our control was ripe for a takeover and the Black Widow was a prime candidate for the job. 

Needless to say, that information infuriated me.  No way in hell would I let that disgusting woman, the woman who took Courtney from us, get her murdering hands on my brother's territory or anywhere near his legacy. 

I planned to go to Jason that night, nearly two month's after Courtney's death, and force him to reprise his role, to fight, and to accomplish what had been my ultimate goal since falling into my role as advisor: make Faith pay.  Quite a different goal from a career in medicine as an Oncologist, huh?  See, that's what this business, the Life, does to you.  It blurs your lines; it drags you down and bleeds your hope and your humanity from you.  It distorts and skews your reality until all that's left is the dark and the violence.  It did it to Sonny, it almost cost him Carly.  But somehow Jason was immune to that.  It never took any of those things from him.  Maybe because the 'new' Jason never claimed to have a normal grasp on his humanity, that part of him just didn't work right. 

But I disagree.  Jason does have that part of him, its there and it lives.  I know this because I saw the difference.  I saw Jason before Courtney died, and then after.  I saw the light leave his eyes.

Funny, for a man who wasn't supposed to feel anything but anger, he sure did give a good impression of a grieving and broken widower.

And that brings me back to that night, the night I was going to try and put a stop to it all and heave him out of the shadows for good, bring him up and –if I had to- force him to share in my quest for vengeance.  The quest I believed should have been his, not mine.

But I was too late.

I made the familiar trek up those steps and down that hallway to the penthouse that had practically become my second residence.  His door was open, as usual, allowing the faint hallway light to trickle in on the dusty dark of his bedroom.  Except this time my silent encroachment into the shadows wasn't greeted by my softly spoken name, it was greeted by silence. 

Silence and a note. 

There, on the mirror above Courtney's vanity was a simple white piece of paper taped carefully next to the photo of the four of us (Courtney, Jason, Nikolas, and I) that was wedged in-between the wood frame of the mirror and the cool glass itself.  My eyes lingered on the photo, trying to recapture the warmth and the happiness that we had shared that day, the day of my wedding to Nikolas.  But at that moment, as my shaky fingers grasped that flimsy white piece of paper, I couldn't feel anything but dread, deep and overwhelming burning through my entire body. As I peeled it from the glass the photo flittered loose and floated down, landing in the wastepaper basket.  Looking back, it was probably an omen.

I knew what the letter said without even reading it. 

He left.  He took himself and that damn leather jacket of his and he left, left me to deal with it all on my own.

It was then that I knew what had to be done.  I let the unread note slip from my hand as my decision -the one I regret so fiercely now- was made before the note even hit the floor. 

I would take over for Jason, I would hold his seat and run his territory until he returned, and return he would.  Jason always returned.  Always.  The idea overwhelmed me at first but Johnny assured me that if anyone could do it, I could.  Jason was my brother, after all.  The great Enforcer Morgan turned fearless Mob General.  And suddenly abandoned, his troops needed a new leader.  Johnny and Max pledged allegiance and assistance immediately.

That night I called Myer.  I played it cool, prodding to see if he knew of Jason's flight from town or of any instructions he may have left.  And when I discovered he hadn't, I announced myself acting Boss.  I was accepted with open arms (I always assumed Johnny and Max had a great deal to do with this), if you could believe that, and allowed to take the helm with little to no dissent among the ranks.  In truth I expected more of a battle from Jason's men, the head of the Morgan territory now being run by a woman for the first time in history and all.  But that wasn't the case.  After all, I was a Morgan.  In their eyes, that was all that mattered.

Instead, the real battle erupted on the home front or former home front as the case was.  Edward was furious, Monica and Allan beside themselves, Ned disappointed, clearly.  Skye shocked but careful in showing her displeasure with my decision.  And Grandmother… well, she loved me and while I suspect it pained her to see me wield such power in such an ugly world, she supported me as only she could, with a gentle smile and a soothing hand. 

But Nikolas was the best.  I know he was never comfortable with the idea and that he feared for me, and for our then three-year-old son, but he stood beside me always, never placing himself in front of or behind me.  During those initial months, Nikolas showed me the true meaning of boundless and unconditional love. He was my partner and soon we came to run this town together.  After all, as he had told me one night, "Who better than the Cassadine Prince to guide you through the ruthless ways of the world?".  That was very true, and sometimes having him with me was one of the few things that kept me going, kept me from loosing myself completely.  

But even that soon became too much.  As the realities of my new life began to sink in, and my duties became clearer, I preferred to have him out of it.  In short, I didn't want the man I loved to see me being judge, jury, and –when need be- executioner.  I still wanted to be Emily, his beautiful and feisty little Emily.  I couldn't have him look at me and see all the lives I'd ended, all the people I'd hurt in the name of business.  The idea of Nikolas perceiving me that way killed me, it still does. 

Just another burden in my life, I presume… another self-inflicted side effect of my doomed decision.  I've sorta have gotten used to those.

But back in the here and now I look up and meet my brother's eyes.  He's trying to talk to me as he used to, to say to me all the things his newfound self can't seem to squeeze out.  I see his lips move to part as he considers what must be a scowl on my face.  I'm so tense and so upset now I don't know how it can be anything else.  It certainly isn't a smile.  I haven't truly smiled since that day in the snow, and I probably won't again for a very long time. 

"I don't understand it, Emily," he says finally, his words so soft yet so strong and full of emotion.  "I know what I should've done… what you wanted, but I… Em, I couldn't." 

My eyes glaze at his broken reply.  At least he feels something, I think.  At least he understands what that woman deserves.  That way he can forgive what I'll do to her.  Because for what I have planned for the bitch, he may be the only one. 

His whole body shifts then and he's almost out of his chair, that familiar expression of determination all over his worn face.  "I didn't go anywhere, Em, not really," he says, blindly reaching for my hand in the dark.  It feels like he's trying fix something, to undo what's become of me in that one touch.  He pulls me forward and I'm trying, oh God am I trying to understand.  I know it's not the transformation that I'm still so hopeless waiting for, but it's still something, whatever it is.  My breath hitches as I search his eyes for the brother I lost so long ago. "I never left, Emily"

Confusion rips through me.  What is he talking about, 'never left'?  Of course he left.  He's been gone for nearly six years.  "Jason you more than left, you were gone… to all of us." I try to pry my hand away but his grip only tightens and he pulls me closer.  He wants me to sit, he wants me to listen, that much I'm aware of.  But before I can listen I need to speak, I need to tell him how much he hurt me.  "You never called Jason, never wrote, nothing.  Six whole years of nothing.  I didn't know if you were dead or alive.  Do you even know what that did to me?"

Nodding slowly, his eyes shoot to the ground again. "You have to understand, Emily," he says, tugging on my hand one final time, not satisfied until I'm sitting again, peering back at him at an even level. "I may have packed up but my mind never left here, never left you."

I can't even explain how deeply those words cut through me, how much they meant.  But even with all they signified to me, it still wasn't good enough, it wasn't a reason, they didn't explain anything.  "Then why," I ask, only mildly aware of the raw desperation in my plea.  "Why did you leave me all alone?"  There, the question I've wanted to ask for six years now.

His eyes rake over my face and I can see the uncertainty pooling in them.  Maybe he doesn't even know.  Maybe I'm being horribly unfair here even asking this stupid question to begin with.  "Emily," he says finally, so soft I barely hear him.  "I didn't mean…"he struggles with himself here and I can see the battle going on inside him. "This town, this building even… Em, she's everywhere."

Sadness, pain, regret, and a bit of arcane anger flow violently between us by way of our clasped hands, and suddenly I know my own game has just collapsed on me.  This is too real, too painfully real.  I don't want to play anymore.  I can't go back there, can't see how broken he is, can't feel that all over again, not now.  Funny, I asked the question, I pushed, but I'm still not ready for it, not ready for any of it.  I rip my hand away and get to my feet, refusing his attempts to help me. 

I got this far without him.  I don't need him now.  

"Emily--"

"I'm going and that's final."  By the look on his face I know I've successfully changed the subject.  His eyes harden again, all softness gone and a strange form of relief comes over me.  It's better this way.  What on earth was I thinking trying to go back down that road, trying to reopen those wounds?  I'm such a fool… fighting suits us so much better now.

He steps forward, but I intercept his movement and go for the door, my back to him, my hand poised on the knob.  "You may be Boss now," he says from directly behind me, tiny hints of his old self seeping into his tone.  But that all they are, hints. "But you are still me sister and I still care about your—"

"Do not!"  The roar that escapes me even manages to make me flinch.  "You gave up the right to care six years ago," I say, pivoting to him, my voice reaching an even and somewhat disinterested tone.  The sudden transformation in me has pulled his brow into a confused frown.  Good.  I want him to be just as lost as I am.

"That wasn't about you," he bites out angrily, and then curses himself for loosing that precious new control of his.

"No, you're right.  I wasn't about me at all, Jason" I say, my voice never wavering. "It just ruined me."  I blink and then pull the door open, stepping clear of his path.  The suggestion in it is clear. 

I want him out.  Now.

For a moment that feels like an eternity he stares at me like I'm some horrible mistake, some distorted imposter wearing his beloved sister's face. After he finally leaves I shut the door and fall against it.  With closed eyes I feel my legs give slowly as I slide to the ground in an exhausted heap. 

I am a horrible mistake.  I am an imposter.  I'm cruel, selfish, hard, and brutal.   Haven't you been listening?  I'm nothing like the gentle and caring girl I used to be or the woman I wanted to become.  I'm Emily Morgan-Cassadine.  I'm the ruthless bitch who rules Seventy-five percent of the Port Charles Underworld.

I don't have a heart anymore. 

And now even Jason knows it.

~#~

(a/n)  See what I mean about dark?  I just wanted to clear up a few things.  One:  The prologue said this would be about restoring Jason, and that's very, very true.  But -and I think this is a given and something that will happen inevitably- in pursuit of that goal, of bringing her brother back into the Life, Emily will restore herself as well.  Because, and I think you can plainly see, she is a drastically different person now, very bleak and a brutal realist.  She's massively hurt by Courtney's death, Jason actions, and furious with herself for choosing to pick up where Jason left off.  She hates what the Life has done to her and the person she wanted to be- which, given Emily's true character, was the only way I could do things in order to keep this even vaguely true to form.  She's very near a breaking point here and barely, barely dealing with what being in power for six years has turned her into.  But, as I'll show later, her life does have a few redeeming qualities, Nikolas and her son being two of them.  But even that is on dangerous ground.  This story will be about healing.  But for the characters to heal, I'll have to damage them considerably first, and share more history as we go.  A lot of things have transpired in PC over the last six years. Just be patient, all will unfold eventually. :o)

Two: AJ.  Yes, he's dead.  And further confrontations with Emily's family will show more on this, but that will come later. 

Anyway, let me know how you liked this chap, and please feel free to ask questions as I know this fic must be horribly confusing if you don't reside in my head where, thankfully, I have it all mapped out. *lol*  Reviews are good for the soul and input is always welcome! Take care! ~Loke

Next Chapter: Jason's POV: confrontations of the Cassadine kind and a crashed meeting.