Show: General Hospital
Title: Las Vidas de los Corinthos' II: Chapter 26
Disclaimer: See chapter one.
A/N: Thank you for last chapters comments; I really appreciated them; it's nice to know
my sporadic updating isn't making me lose too many of you. As for the events of last
chapter, you all should know me well enough to know things will only get better; Liason
fans don't worry, this story is for you.
To remember: Set in 2005, Kristina will be three at the end of the year, so she's not much
of a baby; series began shortly after the Liason breakup before Liz and Ric slept together
or even before it was revealed he was Sonny's brother, so all the drama about the panic
room and everything else didn't happen.
BTW: Carly and Michael have not disappeared from PC; they're lying low till the next
installment.
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Lay back, Courtney," Dr. Meadows gently directed as she checked her equipment.
Courtney did as she was told, the crinkling sounds of her paper gown against the paper
sheet and her head meeting the pillow with a decided crunch racked her nerves as she
lifted her feet into those awful looking stirrups. She turned her head away from the doctor
and tried to close her ears to the electrical beeping of the machinery.
Try as she might, she could not help but drift back to the conversation of less than half an
hour ago.
*** Flashback***
Dr. Meadows' eyes widened at the blonde's admission. "Really?" After the near hysteria
of believing she could not conceive, the younger woman's lack of enthusiasm was a little
strange.
"I've skipped my period…" Courtney clarified, shivering as she thought back to not so
long ago when AJ, her own husband, had been stalking. "It's happened before because of
stress so, I didn't think anything of it. But it's been almost two weeks and I haven't been
able to keep anything down these past mornings…."
"I see. Well, you have a few options. I can do a urine sample… have you taken a home
pregnancy test?"
Courtney coloured; she had wanted to but had never had the nerve to pick one up from
the drug store for fear the news would somehow get back to her omnipotent older brother
or his equally omnipotent partner. "No," she finally admitted.
"Well, I can do it right now and have the results back by the end of the day, but I can also
examine you right now if that's not a problem."
"Sure," Courtney nodded.
***Present***
"Are you ready?" came Dr. Meadows' voice above her right ear.
Courtney turned her head and looked at the smiling physician, each second that ticked by
sinking her heart further and further. "Yes."
"Try to sit still. This might be a little uncomfortable."
*~*~*~*~*~*
"I got your message," Delano announced over the telephone, sounding very pleased with
himself. "And I also happened to get a glimpse of The Chronicle. Remind me to send
them a nice big fat check come Christmas."
"Will do," replied Lyle, marveling at his mood.
"And, of course, I won't forget Yates. The old boy's still got it." Delano slipped naked
from his bed, listening to make sure the blonde from last night, Sharon Something-or-the-
other, was still in the shower. He padded over to the huge window showing the famous
New York skyline, the only ones seeing his morning wood the buildings and the birds.
"Things are moving right along," he continued.
"Yeah," Lyle replied, though he didn't know the full extent of his boss's plan.
"Has there been any word from the Corinthos camp?"
"Nope, but I know they're snooping."
"Be careful," Delano warned. "I don't intend to make the same mistakes my brother did."
The shower stopped running and Delano knew he had to wrap the call up quickly. "Have
you found the boys?" he asked, referring to those members of Taggliatti's camp who
were especially off the books, the ones that no one, except Joseph, Scaduto, Lyle (who
had been a snoopy little caretaker and now Delano, had known about.
"I found nine -"
"That's fine," Delano broke in. "Have them in place by tomorrow." The bathroom door
opened and Sharon came out, wrapping a towel around her glistening body. "It's time for
a little visit to Port Chuck," he replied before immediately terminating the call. He turned
to the half naked woman who had wrapped herself around him. In the light of day
without her makeup or skimpy clothing, she didn't hold a candle to her.
Hell… he didn't even like blondes. Meaning, this one was perfect to make him forget.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The moment Eli recited Zico's words Mac sprang into action. He fished the cellphone
from his pocket. Within minutes ADA Jensen was sure to come striding through the door.
The next was to a phone outside in the bullpen and he snapped an order for the book of
mugshots, which appeared at the door, thrust through by the trembling hand of Officer
Kelly.
Alexis, approving off the hasty orders, stroked the little boy's unruly black hair, calming
him further. "Do you think you can describe him for me, Zico?"
"Yes," he whispered, relishing the warm gentleness of her touch.
"This book," Alexis began, taking it from the table, "has lots of pictures of bad guys. Can
you go through this with me and see if we see that bad man?"
"Yes."
That had been fifteen minutes ago. Dara had rushed in like a hurricane, not even taking
the time for introductions or hellos. There was no mistaking the hope that rushed to her
face when Mac explained in terse tones what was going on.
They all turned to the trio – Ric, Alexis and Zico – riffling through the thick book looking
for the man.
Suddenly, Zico paused and pointed to a man with a hideous scar on the left side of his
face. Alexis spoke quickly.
"Are you sure?" Eli translated without having to be asked.
Taggert held his breath.
God they needed this break!
*~*~*~*~*~*
"You made the papers," Lyle said, tossing the paper onto the rickety table and trying not
to choke from the noxious cloud of cigarette smoke that curled above Yates's thinning
hair.
Yates showed a glimmer of uncharacteristic pride at the words of the reporter. He felt it
had been a job well done. "You spoke to Delano?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"And?" he prompted. "No more jumping the gun?" he asked, referring to Rhys's
premature murder.
"Not that I know of," Lyle replied.
"When do I get my money?" Yates asked reaching for another cigarette and lighting the
butt with the almost smoldering one he'd just taken from his mouth. "I got bills to pay."
For one insane reason, Lyle was struck with the irony of Yates's words – the man was
speaking of what he'd just done as if he'd mowed a lawn or moved a bed instead of
murdering a man in cold blood. "You'll get it," he replied, wondering not for the first
time why he'd had to spur Delano Taggliatti into the insanity of this game. "Listen,
Delano's coming to PC," he announced.
Yates paused mid-drag, almost choking on the smoke. With the instincts that had saved
him on more than one occasion in the Vietcong, he knew this visit would spell disaster.
He'd known Delano Taggliatti his entire life, had been a part of the organization when his
father was alive and even when he'd died leaving Joseph as head of the family. He'd seen
him grow from a boy to a teenager and had been the one to take him out of the country
when he'd gotten out of control.
Delano might appear to be cool and calculating to Lyle. He was. Yates would never
underestimate the depravity of the man and, since he technically was head of whatever
was untouched of the Taggliatti fortune; he'd followed his orders without question. But
his coming here to Port Charles was a step up in a strange game that he didn't know the
rules of. And, if Delano Taggliatti was coming here to tangle even more with the
Corinthos Family, more than likely he'd find himself meeting the same fate of his brother
– face down in the Port Charles River.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Courtney tried to ignore the fact that there was a woman probing between her legs and
schooled her thoughts on everything but the present and the fact that her love life was
disaster.
But it was impossible.
How could she not think about those nights of waking up to find Jason imbedded in her,
desperately making love to her?
What a fool she'd been.
How was she ever to forget that look on his face when he stepped into their apartment
that day? It had been written all over his face – he'd been with *her*. Thinking about the
subsequent blowup, tears started burning her eyes.
"Well, everything seems ok," Dr. Meadows announced, breaking Courtney from her
thoughts as she snapped off her gloves. "I'll get those results to you by this evening. Shall
I call you or will you come back for them."
"I'd prefer for you to call me," Courtney said, wondering if the news that she was at the
hospital had reached her brother's ears. "I'll be at work, so you can call Kelly's."
"Will do," the doctor replied with a smile. She paused, watching as Courtney sat up and
slipped off the table. "Ms. Matthews?" she asked softly, "is everything all right?"
"Of course," Courtney responded with a tremulous smile.
**My life's only falling apart before me.**
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Well?" Taggert prompted, looking anxiously at the little boy. He wasn't the only one.
"He says it looks like the man. But it can't be possible. It says here he's been incarcerated
for the last fifteen years. He's eligible for parole in five," she replied, reading the man's
script. She was unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.
Taggert wasn't so skilled at hiding his emotions. "Shit," he muttered.
Even Eli looked like a deflated balloon.
"I think it might be easier if we used a sketch artist instead," Ric supplied. "There's no
guarantee that whoever is committing the murders has been convicted or even been
booked before."
"You're right, Ric," Dara reluctantly admitted.
"I'm on it," Mac replied. He crossed to the door and stuck his head out to the bullpen.
"Lucky?" he called out. "Get Valcor for me," he ordered, referring to the Department's
best and most skilled sketch artist.
"Alexis, can I see you outside for a minute?" Dara asked.
"Of course." Promising Zico she'd be right back, she followed her colleague outside to a
fairly secluded corner of the bullpen.
"Where did you find this little boy?" Dara asked, launching right in.
"Certainly not beating around the bush are we, Dara?" Alexis quipped, looking at the
woman who she'd squared off against on more than one occasion.
"Seriously. As much as I want to find who's murdering these men, this seems mighty
coincidental. That a little boy would just so suddenly show up at your doorstep –"
"He didn't show up at my doorstep, Dara, Jason brought him to me."
"And *that's* supposed to make me feel better?"
"Listen, I never took you for one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dara. I can understand
you're skeptical about this entire situation, but I believe what Zico says. You didn't see
him when he was brought to me. He was so small and so scared. He's been through
enough – he doesn't need people doubting him, least of all the people I promised would
help protect him."
Dara barely resisted the urge to pout. Yet again Alexis Davis had made her feel like a
child. She sought to hide her indignation with logic. "I suppose you'll want his name
sealed from the records."
"That goes without saying. I'd also like –" she paused, "I'd also like for you to put in a
good word with DCFS."
Dara lifted a brow. This would be interesting.
"Zico trusts me. Plus there is the fact that no one else, well besides Eli the baker, can
understand him. It would be best if he stayed with me."
"You live with a mobster."
"Need I remind you those are baseless accusations?" Alexis lied flawlessly.
That damned brow of Dara's lifted again. "Would you rather he go to foster care, where
he knows and can understand no one?" Alexis asked, preying on Dara's sympathy.
"He'll be in just as much danger as he was before. I agree with you when you say there's
a pattern to blatant to ignore, Alexis. You're asking me to put this child's life right in the
path of the oncoming car."
"He'll be protected." Dara didn't seem to want budge. Alexis reached out for her arm.
"Please. You don't understand… Zico needs me."
For those few seconds, two pairs of dark eyes remained locked on each other. Alexis's
urging Dara to accept, Dara's filled with confusion. Finally, she stepped back. "It's not
up to me anyways, Alexis, you know that. But… I'll talk to DCFS on your behalf."
Alexis expelled a breath of relief. "Thank you," she replied sincerely.
Dara was stunned as she made her way back into the interrogation room. Had Alexis just
*not* been sarcastic towards her?
*~*~*~*~*~*
The music was a little more mellow – Dido's 'White Flag' – and, as she painted, she
couldn't help but think how much she'd identified with this song up until a few short
days ago.
Elizabeth sat back on her stool, rolling the kinks in her neck before cocking an eye on the
painting. It was all pink and white and red – she felt deliriously happy. She didn't need to
wonder why. The lingering scent of leather and male in the small room was all the
answer she needed.
As her mind started to wander about that certain dirty-blonde biker, her cellphone chose
that moment to ring. She lowered the radio and reached for the phone. "Hello?" she
asked, without checking the caller-ID.
"Elizabeth," came tiny voice through the static.
She could barely hear. "Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?"
"Eliza… it's me… -iel!"
"Who?"
"Daniel!"
"Daniel? Daniel, where are you?" Elizabeth asked. A feeling of guilt threatened to gnaw
the insides of her stomach.
"I'm --- the expressway. About twenty miles --- Port Charles."
"What? Why?"
"Don't sound so eager to see me," Daniel said sarcastically. "I'm just check in --- your
work. --- you forgotten you --- order for Mr. Johansen?"
"No, of course not. It's just I thought I was to call *you*."
"-ey, what's that? Listen, Eli—beth, I can't hear you. Can --- you meet me--- Port ---
Hotel --- an hour?"
Before she could reply, the call was terminated.
Meet him at the PC Hotel in an hour? Did she have a choice?
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth paused behind the host as he pinpointed
Daniel in the crowded dining room. In those few seconds it took to pick him out she
couldn't help but admit: Damn, he looked good!
And he did.
Not that she'd expected for his appearance to change drastically since she'd left New
York City.
As usual he was clad in a designer suit – midnight-blue Armani – a crisp white shirt and
light blue silk tie and his crow's feather hair was still too rakish to be considered
gentlemanly.
Schooling her features to a mask of indifference, she made her way over to the table,
knowing Francis had taken a seat at the bar.
Noticing her approach he took another sip of his Scotch and got to his feet. He smiled
politely and hoped it didn't reach his eyes.
At the guilt that leapt into her blue orbs he knew he had failed.
Damn it!
Why couldn't he hate her?
*~*~*~*~*~*
(noon)
It wasn't often that he did this. But, he had to admit, he had a hidden agenda. Sonny
pushed through the door to Kelly's, Johnny right behind him, and his eyes immediately
went to the blonde pouring coffee at the counter.
Courtney looked up at the sound of the bell and was instantly flustered when she
recognized her brother was heading towards her.
"Miss… the coffee."
"Oh, shoot, sorry," Courtney apologized, mopping up the sodden mess of the spilt coffee.
She quickly turned over another cup and refilled it, trying to still her hand and act
*normal* as her brother took a seat at the counter and flipped over his cup.
Sonny hardly ever went to Kelly's and certainly never for coffee, so there was no
mistaking his intentions as he sat waiting for her at the counter. There was no use
avoiding it.
"Hey," he said softly, reaching for her hand.
She looked up into the sympathetic brown eyes of her brother and willed her anger to the
surface, but it didn't come. Instead, the tears brimmed and eventually spilt over and
Sonny drew her into his arms, the counter separating them, not caring who saw the
Godfather of Port Charles giving comfort.
From the threshold of the kitchen, Penny paused with her order in her hands as she took
in the scene before her. "What's wrong with Courtney?"
Tammy, who'd been in the loop but kept her mouth shut, dropped the bombshell. "She
and Jason broke up. He's back with Elizabeth."
*~*~*~*~*~*
PCPD (same time)
Iris Valcor had been a sketch artist with the PCPD for almost twenty years and had drawn
more than her share of criminals – all with the help of an adult. Rendering a sketch with a
five-year-old who didn't speak English was more than a challenge.
But, somehow, she'd done it. it didn't take a genius to see the fear that crept into the boy
as he looked at the picture that, unknowns to them all, was an uncanny resemblance to the
murderer, Edward Yates.
As Mac handed the sketch to Lucky to mass circulate, Officer Cross asked, "What d'you
got there, Spencer?"
"Sketch for Mac. Didn't say for what."
Cross, who'd been none too pleased with the presence of the Corinthos mouthpieces minus
their clients at the Headquarters all day said, "Lemme see that?"
"Sure," Lucky replied, showing him the picture.
Cross stared at the picture. A feeling of recognition rippled over him but would not settle.
Where had he seen that man before?
TBC…
A/N: Well? Read and Review, please; you know I live for those things.
Title: Las Vidas de los Corinthos' II: Chapter 26
Disclaimer: See chapter one.
A/N: Thank you for last chapters comments; I really appreciated them; it's nice to know
my sporadic updating isn't making me lose too many of you. As for the events of last
chapter, you all should know me well enough to know things will only get better; Liason
fans don't worry, this story is for you.
To remember: Set in 2005, Kristina will be three at the end of the year, so she's not much
of a baby; series began shortly after the Liason breakup before Liz and Ric slept together
or even before it was revealed he was Sonny's brother, so all the drama about the panic
room and everything else didn't happen.
BTW: Carly and Michael have not disappeared from PC; they're lying low till the next
installment.
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Lay back, Courtney," Dr. Meadows gently directed as she checked her equipment.
Courtney did as she was told, the crinkling sounds of her paper gown against the paper
sheet and her head meeting the pillow with a decided crunch racked her nerves as she
lifted her feet into those awful looking stirrups. She turned her head away from the doctor
and tried to close her ears to the electrical beeping of the machinery.
Try as she might, she could not help but drift back to the conversation of less than half an
hour ago.
*** Flashback***
Dr. Meadows' eyes widened at the blonde's admission. "Really?" After the near hysteria
of believing she could not conceive, the younger woman's lack of enthusiasm was a little
strange.
"I've skipped my period…" Courtney clarified, shivering as she thought back to not so
long ago when AJ, her own husband, had been stalking. "It's happened before because of
stress so, I didn't think anything of it. But it's been almost two weeks and I haven't been
able to keep anything down these past mornings…."
"I see. Well, you have a few options. I can do a urine sample… have you taken a home
pregnancy test?"
Courtney coloured; she had wanted to but had never had the nerve to pick one up from
the drug store for fear the news would somehow get back to her omnipotent older brother
or his equally omnipotent partner. "No," she finally admitted.
"Well, I can do it right now and have the results back by the end of the day, but I can also
examine you right now if that's not a problem."
"Sure," Courtney nodded.
***Present***
"Are you ready?" came Dr. Meadows' voice above her right ear.
Courtney turned her head and looked at the smiling physician, each second that ticked by
sinking her heart further and further. "Yes."
"Try to sit still. This might be a little uncomfortable."
*~*~*~*~*~*
"I got your message," Delano announced over the telephone, sounding very pleased with
himself. "And I also happened to get a glimpse of The Chronicle. Remind me to send
them a nice big fat check come Christmas."
"Will do," replied Lyle, marveling at his mood.
"And, of course, I won't forget Yates. The old boy's still got it." Delano slipped naked
from his bed, listening to make sure the blonde from last night, Sharon Something-or-the-
other, was still in the shower. He padded over to the huge window showing the famous
New York skyline, the only ones seeing his morning wood the buildings and the birds.
"Things are moving right along," he continued.
"Yeah," Lyle replied, though he didn't know the full extent of his boss's plan.
"Has there been any word from the Corinthos camp?"
"Nope, but I know they're snooping."
"Be careful," Delano warned. "I don't intend to make the same mistakes my brother did."
The shower stopped running and Delano knew he had to wrap the call up quickly. "Have
you found the boys?" he asked, referring to those members of Taggliatti's camp who
were especially off the books, the ones that no one, except Joseph, Scaduto, Lyle (who
had been a snoopy little caretaker and now Delano, had known about.
"I found nine -"
"That's fine," Delano broke in. "Have them in place by tomorrow." The bathroom door
opened and Sharon came out, wrapping a towel around her glistening body. "It's time for
a little visit to Port Chuck," he replied before immediately terminating the call. He turned
to the half naked woman who had wrapped herself around him. In the light of day
without her makeup or skimpy clothing, she didn't hold a candle to her.
Hell… he didn't even like blondes. Meaning, this one was perfect to make him forget.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The moment Eli recited Zico's words Mac sprang into action. He fished the cellphone
from his pocket. Within minutes ADA Jensen was sure to come striding through the door.
The next was to a phone outside in the bullpen and he snapped an order for the book of
mugshots, which appeared at the door, thrust through by the trembling hand of Officer
Kelly.
Alexis, approving off the hasty orders, stroked the little boy's unruly black hair, calming
him further. "Do you think you can describe him for me, Zico?"
"Yes," he whispered, relishing the warm gentleness of her touch.
"This book," Alexis began, taking it from the table, "has lots of pictures of bad guys. Can
you go through this with me and see if we see that bad man?"
"Yes."
That had been fifteen minutes ago. Dara had rushed in like a hurricane, not even taking
the time for introductions or hellos. There was no mistaking the hope that rushed to her
face when Mac explained in terse tones what was going on.
They all turned to the trio – Ric, Alexis and Zico – riffling through the thick book looking
for the man.
Suddenly, Zico paused and pointed to a man with a hideous scar on the left side of his
face. Alexis spoke quickly.
"Are you sure?" Eli translated without having to be asked.
Taggert held his breath.
God they needed this break!
*~*~*~*~*~*
"You made the papers," Lyle said, tossing the paper onto the rickety table and trying not
to choke from the noxious cloud of cigarette smoke that curled above Yates's thinning
hair.
Yates showed a glimmer of uncharacteristic pride at the words of the reporter. He felt it
had been a job well done. "You spoke to Delano?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"And?" he prompted. "No more jumping the gun?" he asked, referring to Rhys's
premature murder.
"Not that I know of," Lyle replied.
"When do I get my money?" Yates asked reaching for another cigarette and lighting the
butt with the almost smoldering one he'd just taken from his mouth. "I got bills to pay."
For one insane reason, Lyle was struck with the irony of Yates's words – the man was
speaking of what he'd just done as if he'd mowed a lawn or moved a bed instead of
murdering a man in cold blood. "You'll get it," he replied, wondering not for the first
time why he'd had to spur Delano Taggliatti into the insanity of this game. "Listen,
Delano's coming to PC," he announced.
Yates paused mid-drag, almost choking on the smoke. With the instincts that had saved
him on more than one occasion in the Vietcong, he knew this visit would spell disaster.
He'd known Delano Taggliatti his entire life, had been a part of the organization when his
father was alive and even when he'd died leaving Joseph as head of the family. He'd seen
him grow from a boy to a teenager and had been the one to take him out of the country
when he'd gotten out of control.
Delano might appear to be cool and calculating to Lyle. He was. Yates would never
underestimate the depravity of the man and, since he technically was head of whatever
was untouched of the Taggliatti fortune; he'd followed his orders without question. But
his coming here to Port Charles was a step up in a strange game that he didn't know the
rules of. And, if Delano Taggliatti was coming here to tangle even more with the
Corinthos Family, more than likely he'd find himself meeting the same fate of his brother
– face down in the Port Charles River.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Courtney tried to ignore the fact that there was a woman probing between her legs and
schooled her thoughts on everything but the present and the fact that her love life was
disaster.
But it was impossible.
How could she not think about those nights of waking up to find Jason imbedded in her,
desperately making love to her?
What a fool she'd been.
How was she ever to forget that look on his face when he stepped into their apartment
that day? It had been written all over his face – he'd been with *her*. Thinking about the
subsequent blowup, tears started burning her eyes.
"Well, everything seems ok," Dr. Meadows announced, breaking Courtney from her
thoughts as she snapped off her gloves. "I'll get those results to you by this evening. Shall
I call you or will you come back for them."
"I'd prefer for you to call me," Courtney said, wondering if the news that she was at the
hospital had reached her brother's ears. "I'll be at work, so you can call Kelly's."
"Will do," the doctor replied with a smile. She paused, watching as Courtney sat up and
slipped off the table. "Ms. Matthews?" she asked softly, "is everything all right?"
"Of course," Courtney responded with a tremulous smile.
**My life's only falling apart before me.**
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Well?" Taggert prompted, looking anxiously at the little boy. He wasn't the only one.
"He says it looks like the man. But it can't be possible. It says here he's been incarcerated
for the last fifteen years. He's eligible for parole in five," she replied, reading the man's
script. She was unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.
Taggert wasn't so skilled at hiding his emotions. "Shit," he muttered.
Even Eli looked like a deflated balloon.
"I think it might be easier if we used a sketch artist instead," Ric supplied. "There's no
guarantee that whoever is committing the murders has been convicted or even been
booked before."
"You're right, Ric," Dara reluctantly admitted.
"I'm on it," Mac replied. He crossed to the door and stuck his head out to the bullpen.
"Lucky?" he called out. "Get Valcor for me," he ordered, referring to the Department's
best and most skilled sketch artist.
"Alexis, can I see you outside for a minute?" Dara asked.
"Of course." Promising Zico she'd be right back, she followed her colleague outside to a
fairly secluded corner of the bullpen.
"Where did you find this little boy?" Dara asked, launching right in.
"Certainly not beating around the bush are we, Dara?" Alexis quipped, looking at the
woman who she'd squared off against on more than one occasion.
"Seriously. As much as I want to find who's murdering these men, this seems mighty
coincidental. That a little boy would just so suddenly show up at your doorstep –"
"He didn't show up at my doorstep, Dara, Jason brought him to me."
"And *that's* supposed to make me feel better?"
"Listen, I never took you for one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dara. I can understand
you're skeptical about this entire situation, but I believe what Zico says. You didn't see
him when he was brought to me. He was so small and so scared. He's been through
enough – he doesn't need people doubting him, least of all the people I promised would
help protect him."
Dara barely resisted the urge to pout. Yet again Alexis Davis had made her feel like a
child. She sought to hide her indignation with logic. "I suppose you'll want his name
sealed from the records."
"That goes without saying. I'd also like –" she paused, "I'd also like for you to put in a
good word with DCFS."
Dara lifted a brow. This would be interesting.
"Zico trusts me. Plus there is the fact that no one else, well besides Eli the baker, can
understand him. It would be best if he stayed with me."
"You live with a mobster."
"Need I remind you those are baseless accusations?" Alexis lied flawlessly.
That damned brow of Dara's lifted again. "Would you rather he go to foster care, where
he knows and can understand no one?" Alexis asked, preying on Dara's sympathy.
"He'll be in just as much danger as he was before. I agree with you when you say there's
a pattern to blatant to ignore, Alexis. You're asking me to put this child's life right in the
path of the oncoming car."
"He'll be protected." Dara didn't seem to want budge. Alexis reached out for her arm.
"Please. You don't understand… Zico needs me."
For those few seconds, two pairs of dark eyes remained locked on each other. Alexis's
urging Dara to accept, Dara's filled with confusion. Finally, she stepped back. "It's not
up to me anyways, Alexis, you know that. But… I'll talk to DCFS on your behalf."
Alexis expelled a breath of relief. "Thank you," she replied sincerely.
Dara was stunned as she made her way back into the interrogation room. Had Alexis just
*not* been sarcastic towards her?
*~*~*~*~*~*
The music was a little more mellow – Dido's 'White Flag' – and, as she painted, she
couldn't help but think how much she'd identified with this song up until a few short
days ago.
Elizabeth sat back on her stool, rolling the kinks in her neck before cocking an eye on the
painting. It was all pink and white and red – she felt deliriously happy. She didn't need to
wonder why. The lingering scent of leather and male in the small room was all the
answer she needed.
As her mind started to wander about that certain dirty-blonde biker, her cellphone chose
that moment to ring. She lowered the radio and reached for the phone. "Hello?" she
asked, without checking the caller-ID.
"Elizabeth," came tiny voice through the static.
She could barely hear. "Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?"
"Eliza… it's me… -iel!"
"Who?"
"Daniel!"
"Daniel? Daniel, where are you?" Elizabeth asked. A feeling of guilt threatened to gnaw
the insides of her stomach.
"I'm --- the expressway. About twenty miles --- Port Charles."
"What? Why?"
"Don't sound so eager to see me," Daniel said sarcastically. "I'm just check in --- your
work. --- you forgotten you --- order for Mr. Johansen?"
"No, of course not. It's just I thought I was to call *you*."
"-ey, what's that? Listen, Eli—beth, I can't hear you. Can --- you meet me--- Port ---
Hotel --- an hour?"
Before she could reply, the call was terminated.
Meet him at the PC Hotel in an hour? Did she have a choice?
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth paused behind the host as he pinpointed
Daniel in the crowded dining room. In those few seconds it took to pick him out she
couldn't help but admit: Damn, he looked good!
And he did.
Not that she'd expected for his appearance to change drastically since she'd left New
York City.
As usual he was clad in a designer suit – midnight-blue Armani – a crisp white shirt and
light blue silk tie and his crow's feather hair was still too rakish to be considered
gentlemanly.
Schooling her features to a mask of indifference, she made her way over to the table,
knowing Francis had taken a seat at the bar.
Noticing her approach he took another sip of his Scotch and got to his feet. He smiled
politely and hoped it didn't reach his eyes.
At the guilt that leapt into her blue orbs he knew he had failed.
Damn it!
Why couldn't he hate her?
*~*~*~*~*~*
(noon)
It wasn't often that he did this. But, he had to admit, he had a hidden agenda. Sonny
pushed through the door to Kelly's, Johnny right behind him, and his eyes immediately
went to the blonde pouring coffee at the counter.
Courtney looked up at the sound of the bell and was instantly flustered when she
recognized her brother was heading towards her.
"Miss… the coffee."
"Oh, shoot, sorry," Courtney apologized, mopping up the sodden mess of the spilt coffee.
She quickly turned over another cup and refilled it, trying to still her hand and act
*normal* as her brother took a seat at the counter and flipped over his cup.
Sonny hardly ever went to Kelly's and certainly never for coffee, so there was no
mistaking his intentions as he sat waiting for her at the counter. There was no use
avoiding it.
"Hey," he said softly, reaching for her hand.
She looked up into the sympathetic brown eyes of her brother and willed her anger to the
surface, but it didn't come. Instead, the tears brimmed and eventually spilt over and
Sonny drew her into his arms, the counter separating them, not caring who saw the
Godfather of Port Charles giving comfort.
From the threshold of the kitchen, Penny paused with her order in her hands as she took
in the scene before her. "What's wrong with Courtney?"
Tammy, who'd been in the loop but kept her mouth shut, dropped the bombshell. "She
and Jason broke up. He's back with Elizabeth."
*~*~*~*~*~*
PCPD (same time)
Iris Valcor had been a sketch artist with the PCPD for almost twenty years and had drawn
more than her share of criminals – all with the help of an adult. Rendering a sketch with a
five-year-old who didn't speak English was more than a challenge.
But, somehow, she'd done it. it didn't take a genius to see the fear that crept into the boy
as he looked at the picture that, unknowns to them all, was an uncanny resemblance to the
murderer, Edward Yates.
As Mac handed the sketch to Lucky to mass circulate, Officer Cross asked, "What d'you
got there, Spencer?"
"Sketch for Mac. Didn't say for what."
Cross, who'd been none too pleased with the presence of the Corinthos mouthpieces minus
their clients at the Headquarters all day said, "Lemme see that?"
"Sure," Lucky replied, showing him the picture.
Cross stared at the picture. A feeling of recognition rippled over him but would not settle.
Where had he seen that man before?
TBC…
A/N: Well? Read and Review, please; you know I live for those things.
