Show: General Hospital

Title: Las Vidas de los Corinthos' II: Chapter 29

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: I feel the review river running dry. I hope sporadic updating or offensive writing has not alienated you. I must confess – I haven't been watching the show lately. Maybe that may account for my lack of enthusiasm over this story, since none of the central characters of my story have been especially endearing in recent times. That said, it's your reviews that keep encouraging me to write, so please don't be stingy – REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW. It'll make me happy and get me writing more.

On last chapter, congratulations to luvr, my 100th reviewer! Thanks a bunch! And mwah! to all those who did review. I hope Courtney's death didn't shock you too much – yes, Sea'Wana she's dead. But, like I said, it all serves a higher purpose. I just wish I knew what, cause when writing this chapter, I was plumb out of ideas (sigh) – another reason to get you to review, lol! Enough with the rambling (haven't had one of these long A/N's in a while). That being said, I hope you enjoy!

X-X-X-X-X

Loft

Destang was sweating.

Anyone even remotely connected to the man knew that this was just not normal. Bruno Destang did not sweat. Even after a two-hour workout, the man barely had a sheen about his forehead. Even after showdowns with thugs he did not sweat.

But this was different. This wasn't just any normal thug. This was Jason Morgan. The only man who could instill a sense of desperation in the otherwise unflappable assassin. The man who would not hesitate to put a bullet in his skull if he had the capacity to do so. Luckily for him, he was out cold, sprawled next to the very much dead body of his former girlfriend.

Destang breathed deeply, trying to calm the cloying fear that threatened to drown him simply because he was in the same room as the man. He didn't feel a sense of victory that he had gotten one-up on the Corinthos Enforcer. The goose egg that would make a more startling appearance on the back of his head when or if he woke was proof enough to him that Morgan was not an invincible god. His mind thought back to the pain other men like him had inflicted only for Jason to bounce back seemingly unscathed. At the very least, the man was a demi-god, Destang conceded.

Like Achilles...Destang mused, once he thought he'd gotten a small hold of his emotions. He wondered, what was this man's weakness? He fished out his cellphone. He couldn't wait to find out. It would be a perverse pleasure to bring the demi-god to his knees.

X-X-X-X-X

PH2

How is it that dreams have the capacity to turn to nightmares so quickly?

It was a question Elizabeth never got the opportunity to ponder.

The images behind her eyelids were sending shivers of delight and heart-stopping pleasure up her spine. Everything was so vivid – the crisp taste of beer on his tongue, the scent – leather, soap and male – that was uniquely Jason filling her nostrils, the rough pads of his callused fingertips stroking her flesh, the slip and slid of his golden muscles over the softer, creamier skin of her body....

When the dream turned violent she didn't know. When Jason's moans of pleasure turned to a silent cry of pain, when the sensual light in his glacier-blue eyes turned dull and dark, she couldn't comprehend. She didn't know when she awoke, practically screaming her head off to see the spot beside her in what she knew was his bed in what was now their room, was empty.

He wasn't there....

Perhaps, that was what made it all the more terrifying. There had always been this strange bond between them. And now, it felt as though someone was slowly cutting away at the silken strands of this bond, toying with her emotions – she knew something was terribly wrong.

X-X-X-X-X

Loft

"We have a problem," Destang announced, much like Officer Cross had several hours before.

Delano cursed softly, wondering what could happen next. "What?" he hissed in inquiry.

Quickly and efficiently, Destang counted off the seconds, knowing that, if anyone was in the building that they must have heard the shots and, if they were brave, may have called the police and/or would be on their way to check.

Delano could barely hold back a crow of satisfaction when Destang finally revealed that he had knocked Jason out cold. As usual, like a cat, he always landed on his feet and his devious mind was already trying to figure out how to use this new hand he'd been dealt with to the best of his advantage.

Morgan was in his grasp! Oh, how the mighty have fallen! "Leave the girl. I still want to read about it in the papers.... Bring Morgan to the warehouse. I have a feeling we have plenty to speak about."

Delano terminated the call and Destang stood in the dark, a frown marring his face. He didn't know how much time he'd have before Morgan woke again. He most definitely did not want to tangle with the man and now he wished he'd injected him with a sedative instead of clobbered him over the head. He could rectify that problem as soon as they made it to his car, but that was easier said than done – Morgan was two hundred pounds of solid muscle and he was nothing more than dead weight in his unconscious state.

Destang cursed vehemently in Hungarian, his mother's native language. He had not planned for this! He was not equipped for this! And his time was running out. Someone would have had to hear the shots and would be on their way!

Knowing that freaking out would not aid him, Destang looked around the dark room. In the corner, he spotted the window and crossing to it, counted his lucky stars as he looked down to the fire escape. A glance that had been catalogued in his brain knew without looking that Morgan was dressed entirely in black, as was he, which would make their escape harder to detect. He picked up Jason's pistol from its position on the ground and lifted the nasty little derringer strapped to his ankle, pocketing both firearms for further use if need be.

Grunting, he dragged Jason's body to the window and heaved him out onto the landing, cursing as they swayed and creaked. Quickly, he switched his Mag-Lite on and swept in around the room, checking for obvious evidence. Seeing none, he switched it off and stepped out of the window, pausing to close it behind him. Gritting his teeth, he hoisted Jason over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and proceeded down the stairs, keeping in the shadows as he made his descent. Finally after two breathtaking minutes, his feet hit the ground. As calmly as if he were tossing a bag of feed he dumped Jason's prone body into the trunk of his SUV, next to the lifeless body of Edward Yates. Whistling softly, he sat behind the wheel and calmly drove away.

X-X-X-X-X

Three gunshots.

It kept reverberating in her head, this horrible dream. She woke from it, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. The sound of those three bullets thundering into... something had trapped her for two hours, finally wrenching her from her sleep.

Eunice Simmons, Courtney's downstairs neighbour, lay trembling between her sheets in her bed on the ground floor. I really need to lay off the burritos, she was thinking, even as a sick sense of foreboding continued to splash over her in waves. When she'd woken, the apartment had been silent as it usually was in the middle of the night. But there was something else in the air. Something sinister and Eunice did not like this one bit.

Swallowing heavily, Eunice swung herself out of bed and paced, her mind turning over the events of her dream – no, nightmare. She, like most women on a crash diet, she imagined, was dreaming of being chased by a giant Fat Monster, after falling off the wagon that afternoon and stuffing her face full of burritos, doughnuts, cake and washing it all down with sugary soda. It would have been bearable if the Fat Monster hadn't backed her into a wall and then pulled a gun, firing three shots into her whale-bloated body.

Her fear had been almost suffocating when she realized she couldn't snap herself out of it and so she had relived the horrific experience of being shot three times over and over again.

Oh, Eunice, snap out of it! she berated herself. It was just a dream, she tried to calm herself by repeating. I need a snack. That'll help the nightmares, her conscience pointed out. In denial, Eunice pulled on her robe, grabbed some change and, trudging her way through the darkness, let herself out of her apartment and proceeded down the hallway.

Damn! Eunice cursed when she realized the vending machine had a big 'OUT OF ORDER' sign plastered on it. That hadn't been there the last time I was here! She supposed she should have been proud, considering her last midnight visit had been two weeks ago when she'd vowed for the millionth time to quite eating junk food.

Resigned to having to go back to her apartment without the comfort of a pack of Doritos or at least a Mars bar, Eunice was about to head back when she remembered that there was another machine on the third floor. Five minutes later, she was gleefully tearing open said pack of Spicy Nacho Doritos when she noticed something, seemingly for the first time. There were two doors on the corridor, each leading into the coveted loft-style apartments she could only dream of affording on her secretarial salary. One of the tenants had moved out, leaving a glaring vacancy she was sure was about to be filled before the end of the week. The other belonged to a blonde waitress and her boyfriend. She (Eunice) had only moved to Port Charles about a month ago, but she'd heard the rumours about the man and what he did for a living. The strange thing was that the door to their apartment was wide open, glaringly obvious even in the dimness of the corridor.

That sense of foreboding returned doubly and, ignoring all the tips from the police, she ventured cautiously down the hallway. Everything was eerily quiet, another fact Eunice now seemed to observe. "H-h-hello," Eunice called. No reply. Eunice's gulp was clearly audible. She had by this time made her way to the door. "Miss? Is everything alri-"she had pushed open the door even wider, and the dim light from the corridor spilled into the room, highlighting the calamity... and the body.

Eunice fainted.

X-X-X-X-X

Officer Lucas Lorenzo Spencer Jr. a.k.a. Lucky had his hands full. As a junior officer, it was his job to keep the witness calm whilst leaving the discovery of the crime scene to the more experienced officers on the case. This wasn't the case tonight – he had to do both – and the chubby twenty-something who maintained a vise-grip on his arm wasn't making it any easier.

"Three gunshots," she babbled for the millionth time, turning terrified eyes to him. "She was alone up there."

Lucky's eyebrows skyrocketed. This was the first new sentence she'd said since his arrival. "Who was, ma'am?"

"The blonde woman. On the top floor... no one else lives up there."

"Do you know her name?"

"No," Eunice shook her head. "She's a waitress though...."

Lucky's eyes widened, a sickening sense of disaster traveling up his spine.

"At the diner, Kelly's," she continued.

Lucky felt as though he would vomit. It can't be, his mind shouted frantically. "Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, really pretty?" he asked shakily.

"Yes," Eunice seemed to be on the verge of tears. "She had a boyfriend... the other tenants were talking about how he's in the –"

She broke off, never getting a chance to finish because Lucky had bolted up the staircase, slipping his gun from the holster as he went.

"He went that way!" she shouted, pointing to the stairway as a few other officers arrived at the scene.

Not sure if she meant the perpetrator or Lucky, Taggert nodded and hurried up the stairs, his partner Garcia, who'd returned from New York City just that afternoon, a mere step behind him.

Despite knowing that, unless the perp was a complete fool, he would be long gone, Lucky still proceeded with caution. He had reached the third floor and was peering around the corner down the dark corridor that led to what he presumed was Courtney's apartment. He was halfway down the corridor when he heard footsteps behind him. He looked back to see Taggert following behind him.

At this point, Lucky should have paused and allowed Taggert, as commanding officer, to overtake him but he continued to head the way, much to Taggert's displeasure. Once at the door, the sight of the mangled lock was not lost on him and he knew whatever he would find inside would not be pretty.

Cautiously, he pushed open the door, peering into the darkness beyond. By this time, Taggert had reached him and, casting a censuring glare at the younger man, reached for his flashlight and turned it on, its powerful beam slicing through the darkness. Immediately, all three officer's eyes shrewdly took in the mess – shards of glass and ceramic lay everywhere as did numerous magazines that looked to have been swept to the floor in an obvious struggle. The beam swept into the corners, looking for any lurking shadows – they found none.

Garcia, who had also switched on his light, choked as it swept over a large lump on the rug by the couch. "Shit!"

At the sound, Taggert pointed his flashlight in the general direction he realized his partner was pointing. "Oh, Christ!" Taggert bemoaned, as he recognized the face of the body.

Lucky felt the bile rising rapidly in his throat and just barely managed to keep it in as he stared into the empty blue eyes of Courtney Matthews.

X-X-X-X-X

Harborview Towers

Elizabeth shivered despite the warmth as she stepped out of PH2 into the hallway. It was just one in the morning and she couldn't sleep. The fact that Jason was not beside her was making her even more nervous. The guard stationed outside the door of PH4 nodded in greeting. "Is there something you need Ms. Corinthos?" he asked politely, taking in her dazed look.

Elizabeth took a breath, feeling foolish for wanting the comfort of her parents. "No," she said. She'd turned around on the pretense of returning to her apartment when the ding from the elevator resounded in the quiet hallway. Her spirits rose immediately, sure that Jason was going to round the corner any second now and they would laugh about her nervousness before finishing what they had started earlier that evening.

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

Marco, the night guard's brow wrinkled as he realized that there was more than one person heading towards them and was indeed very surprised and annoyed to see Detectives Taggert and Garcia striding towards them. Lucky was part of the group, hanging behind his commanding officers, but his was the only face Elizabeth was focused on. He seemed surprised to see her and his shoulders slumped even further. He wouldn't – couldn't – look her in the eyes.

Liz stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She truly seemed like a fragile woodland creature standing there in the golden light of the hallway in an oversized T-shirt and shorts, her cobalt blue eyes huge in her beautiful face. Finally, Lucky looked up and what she saw made her opalescent skin paler. His heart was in his eyes as he opened his mouth in greeting and he caught a look of anguished comprehension even as she shook her head in denial. Elizabeth's knees buckled and, had Marco not been standing behind her, she would have slumped to the floor.

"Jesus," Garcia cursed.

They sprang into action immediately, Marco cradling her body as Taggert leapt forward to open the door.

"No," she whispered, her voice filled with grief as Marco gently carried her inside, the police officers following close behind.

Above them footsteps could be heard and soon Sonny and Alexis careened down the stairs clad in their nightclothes.

"Elizabeth!" Alexis exclaimed at the sight of her daughter cradled in the guard's arms.

"What the hell is going on here?" Sonny demanded to know, taking stock of the fact that the PCPD were in his house at one in the morning. "Isn't it a little too early to be harassing my family Detective?" he asked sarcastically, his face rapidly turning red.

The looks exchanged between the cops should have clued him in, but his anger and concern for his daughter blinded him for the moment. Alexis took Liz from Marco and held her close as she kept watchful eyes on the other men.

"Well, answer me!"

Taggert surely ached to insult Corinthos but there was a time and place for everything and this was most certainly not the time or the place. Instead, he cleared his throat, thoroughly regretting having to break the news. Despite their differences, he too had a little sister who he loved dearly, and he couldn't imagine the pain he was about to instill. "There's been another murder," he said, much more gently than he thought even he was capable of.

Sonny's eyes screwed shut and the room was quiet for a few long seconds, except for Elizabeth's continued murmurs of, "No...".

"Who was it?" Alexis asked the dreaded question.

Elizabeth sat up, tears streaming down her face and her nose burning as she anticipated the worst. Lucky ached to comfort his friend, but couldn't.

"It was Courtney."

Sonny felt as though he'd just been sideswiped by a Mack truck or, at the very least, hit in the stomach by a bowling ball. Either way, all the breath left his body in a rush and Garcia, who had been filled in on what had happened in the many months he had been in New York City, watched in awe as the great Sonny Corinthos' knees literally buckled and he sank heavily to the couch next to fiancée and daughter.

Sonny struggled for breath and he shook his head in denial as Taggert's words washed over him. Alexis's grief was quieter and she hugged Elizabeth fiercely to her bosom.

Lucky swallowed hard as he watched his friend, the girl he'd once loved with all his heart and soul, keen for the loss of her aunt. The noise, or maybe the electric charge of grief in the air seemed to have woken everyone up because both Taggert and Lucky looked up to the stairs to see Zico and Kristina poised by the railing holding each other's hand.

"Mama?" Kristina called softly in confusion.

Alexis looked up to see them and her sobs became audible. Sonny opened his arms and the two children hurried down the stairs and he wrapped them both in a tight embrace.

For the next few minutes, the Penthouse was filled with the sound of the weeping of Alexis and her children. Sonny remained stoic although silent tears were streaming down his face.

Taggert and the rest of his entourage stood in awkward silence, watching the family grieve. Lucky discreetly wiped his eyes and felt his friend's pain – he knew she took death hard. Garcia cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice was husky with sympathy, "You need to go down to the station Mr. Corinthos. There're some papers you need to sign and you need to verify that it's your sister's body."

Sonny nodded stiffly as he held his younger daughter in his arms. Zico sat on his knee – there was an understanding of the pain in his amber-coloured eyes. It was very disheartening to see. "I'll be by in the morning," his voice cracked and he looked away.

"Of course," Taggert said brusquely. He took one more look at the family and shook his head – so the Corinthos' were human. He thought he'd never live to see the day when he sympathized. He motioned his partner and Lucky to follow as the guard escorted them out. Lucky tried to catch Elizabeth's eye, but her face was buried in her mother's shoulder.

As Marco shut the door behind them and took his place as sentinel, Taggert was still shaking his head as they filed down the corridor. One of his theories about the murders had just been completely disproved. One part of him just hadn't been able to shake the feeling that Corinthos had somehow been responsible for the deaths although another part had been swift to point out that, while there was a definite professionalism, it was not Sonny's or more specifically Jason's MO. No, Morgan would have snuck up on him with his Glock or staked out 200m away – one silenced bullet and they wouldn't even have heard the 'am!' in 'Bam!' Then, another part pointed out that Corinthos was smart enough to try to throw them off their trail, so maybe Jason would have offed them the way they'd bitten the dust. But no part of his body could guess as to why Corinthos would want his sister dead. There was a simple answer – he didn't. So, there went the usual suspect and as usual, they were back to square one.

Garcia was mulling over similar theories and questions in his head. His beef with Corinthos wasn't as legendary as his partner's and he hadn't been around the past several months, so he offered a new perspective on things. As he stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the building, his brow furrowed. He paused suddenly and Taggert looked back at his partner in confusion. "Where's Morgan?"

X-X-X-X-X

This particular room in the warehouse looked like a bad set from a B-rated horror flick. The walls were dank and musty, there was only one door and chains with disturbing little hooks hung suspended above them. It looked much like a curing room – which it had been for fifty years before the Quartermaines had sold it to the Taggliattis in order to make some quick cash. Now Delano Taggliatti had a more sadistic yearning – no more hams or slabs of beef – he ached to string the great Jason Morgan up.

Said man sat tied to a metal chair underneath a hanging bulb emitting the feeblest of lights. His hands were tied behind his back in an intricate knot with a ten-string rope – thank God for Boy Scouts! His legs were also strapped behind the chair ensuring, should Jason wake up, he wouldn't try to get creative like Jet Li and cut off his air supply like what seemed to happen in those martial arts movies. The back legs of the chair were wide spread, so it would hurt like a bitch when Morgan regained consciousness.

Delano took the time to study the man and had to admit he was a prime example of male perfection. The body beneath the T-shirt and jeans was tight and muscular; he had a GQ face – high cheekbones, strong jaw, smooth skin – and blonde hair and blue eyes. Delano understood beauty. Morgan could have made a fortune off his looks. Delano hated him even more.

All Jason felt was cold and a depressing darkness. There was a sharp pain at the back of his skull and a pounding behind his eyes. As he slowly drifted back to consciousness he tried to reorient his body to a more comfortable position – he failed miserably, not realizing his hands were tied.

Delano watched this with a gleeful eye, eager to get the show on the road. He walked slowly toward Jason, his footsteps echoing eerily off the walls. He stopped right in front of his quarry and, quick as a viper strikes, grabbed a handful of Jason's spiky blonde hair and yanked his head back. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and a sadistic smile found its way to Delano's face as he recognized shock, confusion and pain in the ice-blue depths.

"Hello, Morgan..." he said, his voice sweet as molasses, though the taint of sarcasm and hatred was a thinly veiled aftertaste.

As Jason's vision focused, he could only stare in shock as Daniel Toreno stared down at him.

TBC...

A/N: I don't think that Delano's identity is much of a surprise, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless. I'm sorry about the lack of delays but I got shipped off island to my dad's where I didn't have a computer – I forgot the disk I write chapters on anyways, so I'm soooooo sorry. Please review and the next chapter won't take as long, I promise.

Cara