Show: General Hospital
Title: Las Vidas de los Corinthos' II: Chapter 11
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: Thanks for the comments.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Port Charles (2 days later)
It came like a thief in the night. Death, robber of life, deliverer of sorrow. It paid a special visit to
the sleepy town of Port Charles, in the Corinthos camp.
Jason's nose wrinkled in disgust. Something was not quite right. With seemingly dispassionate
eyes, he gazed at the body on the ground in front of him. The lean lifeless body crushed beneath
the weight of the two-tonne crate pinning it to the ground, pale lifeless eyes that, ten minutes ago
had been crinkled with laughter, now cold and fixed in horror. **He was only a boy** thought
Jason. Nineteen years old – Angel Martinez - the pride of his family, he was working to help
support his night classes at PCU.
'Freak accident,' he could hear the furtive whispers of the dockworkers behind him. Angel had
been standing below, speaking with one of his supervisors when the ominous snapping of a rope
could be heard even over the din of the hardworking men and the rhythmic lap of the river
currents on the muddy banks.
From his office, he could hear the horrifying crash of the wood upon the teenager, heard his
screams before all the air had been expelled from his crushed lungs. He had been among the first
to come on the scene… his hawk like eyes surveying the area for anything out of the ordinary.
Freak accident? They weren't unlikely on the dock. Human error often caused catastrophic
accidents but very few of them ended in death. Freak accident? How unlikely in this case. He
squatted by the body even as the shrieking ambulance rushed into the compound. His eyes
combed the crate before they found what they were looking for – the sturdy hemp rope that
supported the crates as they were moved from trailer to ground before being stacked was
severed clean, as if cut by a knife, not frayed and uneven as would be the case if it had snapped
under the weight of the crate.
He could feel his best friend's presence behind him, even as he stared once more at the dead
man, moving out of the way as the first policemen arrived at the scene, ordering them to step
away and allowing the firemen and paramedics to attempt to clear away the debris. He met
Sonny's eyes.
Sonny frowned but nodded. It was clear… this was no accident. One of his men had just been
murdered.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Upstairs in his office, Sonny surveyed the crime scene below him. The bright lights of the squad
cars and the ambulance still flashed in the early evening and he could see the bright yellow police
tap cornering of the scene. Taggert had been around, questioning the dockworkers, asking if
they'd seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. But the men were shell-shocked, surprised,
they knew nothing of what had happened.
Taggert's eyes had bored into Sonny and Jason standing slightly off from the milling crowd of
men. His gaze said it all – he didn't believe that it had been an accident either.
That was two hours ago, the last of the policemen were vacating the premises and the final
stragglers of the dockworkers who had been given the rest of the day off drifted past the gates.
Sonny didn't start as Jason came to stand beside him.
"What do you think?" he asked, his eyes riveted on the sight below. He had known Angel, he was
a good boy. Sonny had hired him personally when, despite the protestations of his family, he had
applied for a job. He was keen, hard-working and smart, he would have gone far.
"You saw the rope. It was no accident," Jason replied.
Sonny frowned. "Why him?" he asked, turning away from the window. "He was kid, a dockworker,
nobody important."
Jason said nothing. He didn't quite understand it either.
Sonny pinched the bridge of nose between his fingers – he could feel a migraine coming on.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "I promised her, Jason. I promised that kid's grandmother that nothing
would happen to him!"
"What do you want me to do?" Jason asked, sympathetic blue eyes following his pacing friend.
"To hell with the PCPD, Jas. I want you to find out who did this."
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Knock-knock?"
Elizabeth's head snapped up, a slight frown marring her features as she took in Daniel standing
in front of her behind the door.
"You're supposed to ask, 'Who's there?'" he joked when she said nothing as she opened the
door.
"Why bother when I already know it's you?" she retorted.
"Ouch!" he replied, clutching his chest in mock pain.
Liz heaved a frustrated sigh as she took him in from between the crack of the door and the wall.
"What are you doing here, Daniel?" she asked wearily.
He held up an envelope. "These are yours."
"What are they?"
"Your tickets. For the gallery showing," he clarified. He held the envelope out to her.
She looked at it as though it were poisoned before reluctantly, she took the envelope from him
and made to shut the door.
"Hey," he stopped her from closing the door with his hand. "Aren't you even going to let me in?"
he asked.
"Daniel –"
"Elizabeth, I said I was *sorry*. What more do you want me to say?"
"I'd rather you not say anything at all," she replied.
"Hey, that's not fair," he shot back, barring the door when she tried to close it yet again. "Why are
you being so defensive about this? It's not a secret who your father is, or what he does for a
living."
"You know *nothing* about my family, Daniel, so just drop it will you?"
"No, Elizabeth, I will not just 'drop it'."
Liz frowned. "Well, I guess we have a problem, don't we?"
"This is ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous?!" her Latin temper exploded. "You insult my father then have the audacity to say I'm
being ridiculous?! Just where the hell do you get off, Daniel Toreno?!"
"I've not insulted your father!" he defended.
"So- so- so calling him a mob boss was just your way of paying him a compliment?!"
"Elizabeth, stop it! Just stop it! You're blowing this way out of proportion!" He cut her off again
before she could start again. "I never meant to insult you or your father. It was a simple mistake
and I've apologized for it more than once. But it's my business to pay attention, to know
everything I can about the artists I risk my reputation to represent. This is not a fancy, Elizabeth.
I'm not in this because I think you're beautiful and all I wanted to do was hop into bed with you.
This is *business*. I can't afford to have my reputation tainted because I'm hobnobbing with an
*alleged* career criminal."
"What are you saying?" asked Liz quietly. "That you don't want to represent me?"
"No, of course not," he clarified dragging his fingers through his already ruffled hair. "It would be
stupid and the biggest mistake of my career not to represent you. All I'm saying is there will be
problems because of who you are… there might always be problems. I just wanted you to be
ready for them." His dark eyes looked at her beseechingly.
Reluctantly, Liz pulled back the security chain and stepped away from the door. With an audible
sound, Daniel followed her inside.
"I've always dealt with rumors, Daniel. I'm a Cassidine princess, they're part of my life. I'm not
going to break. Who cares what people think of me?"
"I do. It's my job to care, Elizabeth."
Liz shrugged "I know who my father is, Daniel. I know what sort of man he is… you don't and
neither do other people."
"So, you're more concerned about your father than yourself."
"Stop concerning yourself about my family and be more concerned with my art," she suggested,
padding over to her studio corner.
Daniel nodded and followed her, coming to stand behind her. "So… are we ok now?" he asked
tentatively, his words a warm whisper beside her ear.
Elizabeth shivered in delight. She knew this was not the end, that they would talk of this again.
Her head fell back against his shoulder as his fingers glided up the smooth skin of her stomach
beneath her top. "For the moment," she breathily replied before his lips captured hers for a kiss.
TBC…
A/N: Got this chapter out earlier than usual because my muse was unexpectedly nice to me,
although everything else seems to be going wrong. R&R folks tell me what you think. BTW,
Liason comes in Chapter 13 for sure.
Title: Las Vidas de los Corinthos' II: Chapter 11
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: Thanks for the comments.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Port Charles (2 days later)
It came like a thief in the night. Death, robber of life, deliverer of sorrow. It paid a special visit to
the sleepy town of Port Charles, in the Corinthos camp.
Jason's nose wrinkled in disgust. Something was not quite right. With seemingly dispassionate
eyes, he gazed at the body on the ground in front of him. The lean lifeless body crushed beneath
the weight of the two-tonne crate pinning it to the ground, pale lifeless eyes that, ten minutes ago
had been crinkled with laughter, now cold and fixed in horror. **He was only a boy** thought
Jason. Nineteen years old – Angel Martinez - the pride of his family, he was working to help
support his night classes at PCU.
'Freak accident,' he could hear the furtive whispers of the dockworkers behind him. Angel had
been standing below, speaking with one of his supervisors when the ominous snapping of a rope
could be heard even over the din of the hardworking men and the rhythmic lap of the river
currents on the muddy banks.
From his office, he could hear the horrifying crash of the wood upon the teenager, heard his
screams before all the air had been expelled from his crushed lungs. He had been among the first
to come on the scene… his hawk like eyes surveying the area for anything out of the ordinary.
Freak accident? They weren't unlikely on the dock. Human error often caused catastrophic
accidents but very few of them ended in death. Freak accident? How unlikely in this case. He
squatted by the body even as the shrieking ambulance rushed into the compound. His eyes
combed the crate before they found what they were looking for – the sturdy hemp rope that
supported the crates as they were moved from trailer to ground before being stacked was
severed clean, as if cut by a knife, not frayed and uneven as would be the case if it had snapped
under the weight of the crate.
He could feel his best friend's presence behind him, even as he stared once more at the dead
man, moving out of the way as the first policemen arrived at the scene, ordering them to step
away and allowing the firemen and paramedics to attempt to clear away the debris. He met
Sonny's eyes.
Sonny frowned but nodded. It was clear… this was no accident. One of his men had just been
murdered.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Upstairs in his office, Sonny surveyed the crime scene below him. The bright lights of the squad
cars and the ambulance still flashed in the early evening and he could see the bright yellow police
tap cornering of the scene. Taggert had been around, questioning the dockworkers, asking if
they'd seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. But the men were shell-shocked, surprised,
they knew nothing of what had happened.
Taggert's eyes had bored into Sonny and Jason standing slightly off from the milling crowd of
men. His gaze said it all – he didn't believe that it had been an accident either.
That was two hours ago, the last of the policemen were vacating the premises and the final
stragglers of the dockworkers who had been given the rest of the day off drifted past the gates.
Sonny didn't start as Jason came to stand beside him.
"What do you think?" he asked, his eyes riveted on the sight below. He had known Angel, he was
a good boy. Sonny had hired him personally when, despite the protestations of his family, he had
applied for a job. He was keen, hard-working and smart, he would have gone far.
"You saw the rope. It was no accident," Jason replied.
Sonny frowned. "Why him?" he asked, turning away from the window. "He was kid, a dockworker,
nobody important."
Jason said nothing. He didn't quite understand it either.
Sonny pinched the bridge of nose between his fingers – he could feel a migraine coming on.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "I promised her, Jason. I promised that kid's grandmother that nothing
would happen to him!"
"What do you want me to do?" Jason asked, sympathetic blue eyes following his pacing friend.
"To hell with the PCPD, Jas. I want you to find out who did this."
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Knock-knock?"
Elizabeth's head snapped up, a slight frown marring her features as she took in Daniel standing
in front of her behind the door.
"You're supposed to ask, 'Who's there?'" he joked when she said nothing as she opened the
door.
"Why bother when I already know it's you?" she retorted.
"Ouch!" he replied, clutching his chest in mock pain.
Liz heaved a frustrated sigh as she took him in from between the crack of the door and the wall.
"What are you doing here, Daniel?" she asked wearily.
He held up an envelope. "These are yours."
"What are they?"
"Your tickets. For the gallery showing," he clarified. He held the envelope out to her.
She looked at it as though it were poisoned before reluctantly, she took the envelope from him
and made to shut the door.
"Hey," he stopped her from closing the door with his hand. "Aren't you even going to let me in?"
he asked.
"Daniel –"
"Elizabeth, I said I was *sorry*. What more do you want me to say?"
"I'd rather you not say anything at all," she replied.
"Hey, that's not fair," he shot back, barring the door when she tried to close it yet again. "Why are
you being so defensive about this? It's not a secret who your father is, or what he does for a
living."
"You know *nothing* about my family, Daniel, so just drop it will you?"
"No, Elizabeth, I will not just 'drop it'."
Liz frowned. "Well, I guess we have a problem, don't we?"
"This is ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous?!" her Latin temper exploded. "You insult my father then have the audacity to say I'm
being ridiculous?! Just where the hell do you get off, Daniel Toreno?!"
"I've not insulted your father!" he defended.
"So- so- so calling him a mob boss was just your way of paying him a compliment?!"
"Elizabeth, stop it! Just stop it! You're blowing this way out of proportion!" He cut her off again
before she could start again. "I never meant to insult you or your father. It was a simple mistake
and I've apologized for it more than once. But it's my business to pay attention, to know
everything I can about the artists I risk my reputation to represent. This is not a fancy, Elizabeth.
I'm not in this because I think you're beautiful and all I wanted to do was hop into bed with you.
This is *business*. I can't afford to have my reputation tainted because I'm hobnobbing with an
*alleged* career criminal."
"What are you saying?" asked Liz quietly. "That you don't want to represent me?"
"No, of course not," he clarified dragging his fingers through his already ruffled hair. "It would be
stupid and the biggest mistake of my career not to represent you. All I'm saying is there will be
problems because of who you are… there might always be problems. I just wanted you to be
ready for them." His dark eyes looked at her beseechingly.
Reluctantly, Liz pulled back the security chain and stepped away from the door. With an audible
sound, Daniel followed her inside.
"I've always dealt with rumors, Daniel. I'm a Cassidine princess, they're part of my life. I'm not
going to break. Who cares what people think of me?"
"I do. It's my job to care, Elizabeth."
Liz shrugged "I know who my father is, Daniel. I know what sort of man he is… you don't and
neither do other people."
"So, you're more concerned about your father than yourself."
"Stop concerning yourself about my family and be more concerned with my art," she suggested,
padding over to her studio corner.
Daniel nodded and followed her, coming to stand behind her. "So… are we ok now?" he asked
tentatively, his words a warm whisper beside her ear.
Elizabeth shivered in delight. She knew this was not the end, that they would talk of this again.
Her head fell back against his shoulder as his fingers glided up the smooth skin of her stomach
beneath her top. "For the moment," she breathily replied before his lips captured hers for a kiss.
TBC…
A/N: Got this chapter out earlier than usual because my muse was unexpectedly nice to me,
although everything else seems to be going wrong. R&R folks tell me what you think. BTW,
Liason comes in Chapter 13 for sure.
