Show: General Hospital

Title: Las Vidas de los Corinthos' II: Chapter 32

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: It completely slipped my mind how long I was working on this story. It's over a year old. This time last year, I thought I would be on the third installment or, considering how quickly Part I was written, on the fourth installment. Anyways, I apologise for the slow and sporadic updating that has become characteristic as of late, but hopefully, you'll all think of it as quality over quantity. Thanks for last chapter's comments; I really appreciated each and every one of them. Don't forget to review! Enjoy!

X-X-X-X-X

Jason was frantic with worry.

Delano's last words to him were reverberating in his head. He was not worried about his threat to his life. All his worry was focused on what that sick bastard intended to do with Elizabeth.

Taggliatti/Toreno, whoever the fuck he was – Jason's concussed mind was too foggy to work out the logistics – had left him alone again in his dark cell a while ago. In addition to losing all sense of feeling in his arms and legs, and the throbbing in his ribs where Delano had continuously kicked him, he'd lost all concept of time. It was all the same to him. Knowing Courtney was dead, being away from Liz and knowing that sonofabitch intended to hurt her in some way was abject torture for Jason.

He struggled against his bonds for the millionth time since he'd regained consciousness. With the same result – he was stuck.

Just then, the sliding door opened and an ominous figure appeared. From the height and broad stature of the figure, Jason surmised that it was not Delano returned to torment him. It was someone else and Jason was dismayed to feel his worry mutate into a fluttering sense of panic low in his stomach as the person started walking toward him.

As he neared, Jason hoped he'd wiped all sense of feeling from his face and flicked cold blue eyes up to meet his new visitor.

"Mr. Taggliatti sends his regards." Bruno Destang's voice held a trace of a Brooklyn accent.

Jason's eyes narrowed not just at the man's words, but also upon recognizing Destang as one of the security guards at Elizabeth's gallery showing. "Mr. Taggliatti is a dead man walking," was Jason's glacial reply.

Destang's smile was equally as cold and much more deadly. He shrugged off the heavy leather jacket he was wearing, revealing broad shoulders, thick beefy biceps and a sturdy utility belt studded with twelve wicked looking knives, ranging in size from 2-8 inches long. He pulled the smallest of the knives from its sheath and held it up. It glinted in the feeble overhead light. Jason's eyes followed its ascent and then his eyes met Destang's. No reaction. Destang's smile widened. "He asked that I get you ready for your guest."

Jason took a quick breath of restraint and braced himself for the pain, mere seconds before Destang sank the knife into the fleshy socket between his shoulder and chest.

X-X-X-X-X

"How are you?" he asked, heading towards her and pulling her into his arms.

It was an awkward hug and she was glad when he pulled away to study her face. She was pale, shell-shocked and he loved every single second of it.

"I'm fine, considering," was her quiet reply.

"Do they have any clue as to who did this?" Every question was that of a concerned acquaintance.

"No," Elizabeth shook her head and wiped the fatigue from her face.

"I'm sure your father and Jason are out looking." So sly. He delighted in it as her head snapped up at the mention of Morgan's name.

"Yes," she swallowed deeply and looked away.

Obviously she was lying, but she'd never reveal that her father's Enforcer was missing.

Just then footsteps could be heard and the two looked up to see Alexis coming down the stairs. "Mr. Toreno," she said, as she turned surprised brown eyes in her daughter's direction.

"Ms. Davis," his smile was apologetic. "I'm sorry to intrude on your family time. I thought it would be remiss to leave Port Charles without sharing my condolences."

Alexis nodded in understanding and scooped Kristina into her arms and settled her on a hip. Zico, as was now his habit, went to stand beside her, wrapping an arm around her slender waist. He turned clear amber-coloured eyes on Daniel, as Alexis's hand reached down to stroke his coal-black hair.

Daniel's eyes narrowed minutely as the boy stared unwaveringly at him. He matched Cross's description of the boy who had identified Yates to the police. "Is this Michael?" he asked smoothly, knowing full well that it wasn't, but interested in how the future Mrs. Corinthos or her daughter would answer anyway.

"No," Alexis replied without a falter. She gave no further details, showing Daniel why Sonny had seen her as such an asset – physical attributes aside.

"When's your flight out?" asked Elizabeth, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory.

Daniel would give them an A for their skillful maneuvering. "Four," he lied, equally as smoothly as either woman, managing just barely to tear his gaze away from Zico. He wanted to leap across the small distance that separated them and crush the boy's windpipe.

"I'm going to take the children upstairs," Alexis said, wishing he would leave. "Thank you for stopping by." Without waiting for a reply, she took Zico's hand and headed up the stairs.

Zico still kept his gaze on Daniel's until he disappeared from sight. As they reached the top of the stairs he turned to Alexis. "I don't like that man," he whispered softly in Greek.

Alexis's eyes were sober and she nodded. "Me neither," she replied. She needed to know why.

X-X-X-X-X

"Jesus Christ!" Garcia cursed, wiping the fatigue from his face. "Did you just hear the same things come out of that weasel's mouth as I did?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I did," was Taggert's dry reply.

"And we're helping that little fucker get away with conspiracy to commit murder."

"We're helping the Corinthos'," disgust dripped from Taggert's tone. "You heard Turner, Jason Morgan offed Joseph Taggliatti."

"A crime of which we, unfortunately, have no proof."

The two detectives turned to see ADA Jensen walking towards them.

"Fuck the proof!" Taggert predictably exploded. "You heard him."

"Lyle Turner's word is not good enough on that count."

"But it's good enough now?" he asked bitterly.

Dara didn't bat an eyelid. "Yes. He's finished," she continued. "You two can escort him wherever it is that he's supposed to be going for the moment."

"Not so fast." Mac entered the conversation, coming out from the suite's living room and shutting the door behind him. "We still gotta find Taggliatti. Turner can help us do that."

"That was not in the specifications," Dara balked.

"To hell with the specifications, Ms. Jensen," Mac replied. "He's still out there and Jason Morgan's still missing. Put two and two together."

"He'd be doing us all a favour," Taggert muttered, not as quietly as he thought he had.

Three pairs of pissed off eyes swung to him.

"I'll pretend I did not just hear that statement, Detective," Mac said. Taggert clenched his jaw but remained mercifully silent. Mac turned to Dara. "I want this to be an open and shut case as much as you do. Turner is a weasel. One look at him and you can tell. In other words, the jury will be able to tell and any decent defense lawyer will be able to poke holes in his story and prove to the world that he'd only croaked in order to save his ass. I want irrevocable proof and he," he pointed beyond the door, "is the only way to get it."

Dara took a deep breath and conceded. "Fine. Get me that proof and fast. Preferably today. If Taggert's hunch that the Corinthos' are digging for info, if you don't watch his back, both Turner and Taggliatti could be dead by nightfall."

The three police officers watched Dara as she let herself out of the hotel suite, her words circulating ice-water in their veins.

"She's right," Garcia admitted reluctantly. "If we don't find Taggliatti first, he's a dead man."

X-X-X-X-X

He couldn't feel his arm.

It was no tingling numbness.

He truly could feel nothing.

In the feeble overhead light, he could see the blood dripping profusely from the wound Destang had inflicted on his shoulder. It was long and deep and, if he looked close enough, he could see the ivory of his shoulder bone beneath a red river of blood. It had hurt something fierce when Destang had slammed the blade home a short time ago.

But now, all the feeling was gone.

This was bad... Very bad.

Because, if he didn't get to a hospital within the next twelve hours, the damage would be irreparable and he would have to lose his arm.

X-X-X-X-X

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah... I have my family."

He wanted to vomit at that word.

"Yeah, you stick together, don't you?"

On any other day, she would've recognized the sarcasm in his voice, but she failed to this time. "Umm," was her simple reply.

"You don't look so good." His statement was genuine, tinged on the fact that, despite all the baggage, she still held him spellbound. "Would you like to take a walk?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened at this suggestion. She thought of all the reporters that would try to barge into her private moments, demanding to know how she felt, as if they had the right, simply because her family tragedy was news-worthy. "No... I don't think that's such a good idea," she said softly. "It was very good of you to stop by, Daniel, but I'm exhausted, and I'd like to try and get some semblance of sleep."

"Ok," he recognized a brush off when he saw one. "Of course, Elizabeth," he pulled her close again, savouring the feel of her slight frame against his, the smell of her hair. He kissed her forehead, remembering for the last time the softness of her skin. "Take care of yourself," he said.

Not very likely, he thought as he exited the apartment, furious that he hadn't been able to lure her out of her tower. Despite the baggage, despite the hold she had on him, the next time he saw her, he would kill her.

X-X-X-X-X

"So, you got my ticket?"

Lyle asked the question as Taggert, Garcia and Mac reentered the living room. He still sat at the desk, hands clasped before him, his rodent-like eyes darting back and forth between the police officers.

"Not quite," Mac said, taking charge of the situation. "Before you get on a plane anywhere, you gotta do something else."

"Something else?" he squeaked. "I ain't gotta do nothin' else, Commissioner. I already told you everything I know."

"Not quite." He clasped his arms across his chest. "Where's Taggliatti?"

"I dunno, Commissioner. I swear on my mother's grave!"

Garcia snorted. "Why do I think your mother wouldn't appreciate that analogy, Turner?"

"It's simple, Mr. Turner," Mac said, his voice deceptively reasonable. He reached into his pocket and continued, "You tell me where to find Mr. Taggliatti," he held up a plane ticket, "and I give you your ticket and turn you over to the marshals until the trial date."

Lyle's eyes zeroed in on the ticket. "And if I don't?" he had the audacity to ask.

Taggert picked up the recorder and removed the tape. "Then your testimony becomes anonymous and I cart your ass to jail... and arrange for you to be held in the same cell as your boss."

"So, Turner," Mac slid his cellphone across the desk, "what's it gonna be?"

Lyle picked up the phone and dialed.

X-X-X-X-X

Just around the same time that Mac was grilling Lyle for Delano's present whereabouts, Benny had strolled back into Sonny's office, where he found his boss staring into space.

Sonny looked up and took a deep breath before demanding, "What did you find?"

"Delano Taggliatti was carted out of PC at age fourteen. He relocated with the Taggliatti widow in New York City. Two years after that, he was relocated with his mother's people in Palermo. After that, it's a mystery. There's no record of him."

"I didn't ask you for his fuckin' history, Benny, I wanna know where he is now!"

Benny should have been used to Sonny's frequent outbursts, but he still quaked at this latest explosion of temper.

"I got in contact with our people in Italy. Mr. Delfino knows of the mother's family. He's expecting your call today."

Guiseppe Delfino was one of Sonny's contacts in Italy. He and his family were another faithful cog in Sonny's network, which, Taggert would break out in hives if he even had a whiff of a clue, was not based solely in the Eastern United States, much less the small town of Port Charles, New York. Guiseppe was an old-school capo, who knew all the gossip. If Delano Taggliatti had 'disappeared', Delfino would know where he was hiding.

Sonny nodded in satisfaction and, when Benny closed the door behind him, picked up the phone and dialed Italy. As it was Delfino's private line, it was answered quickly, Guiseppe's wisened voice coming over the line.

"Signore, Corinthos," he greeted respectfully.

"Signore Delfino," Sonny replied.

"My condolences on your family tragedy."

"Thank you, signore Delfino."

"These are difficult times we live in."

"Yes, they are. I understand you have some information that would be useful in helping me locate the man that did this?" Sonny asked, dispensing with the expectant pleasantries.

"Ah yes, the Taggliatti boy."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, signore Corinthos, but I can tell you who he chose to become after the families chased him out of Italia."

Despite the main goal, Sonny's curiosity was pricked. "Why did you want him out of Italy?"

Guiseppe's laugh was bitter over the line. "He ran territory for his mother's family, the Vittoris," he explained. "Let's simply say, young maestro Taggliatti had, what you Americans say... sticky fingers with money and a happy one with the trigger? He stole from his own family and made the mistake of stealing from the others. Blood is thicker than water – his uncles got him out of the country. I had him followed to America, New York City. I found him and would have taken action but his uncles assured me he would not be a problem – they paid the fines and I promised to leave him alone."

"He changed his name?"

"His name had always been changed, signore. After his escapades in the United States, it was a liability to have the Taggliatti name attached to him. I only knew him by one name."

"What name is that, Guiseppe?"

He unwittingly dropped a bombshell. "Daniel Toreno."

TBC...

A/N: I know it's cruel and unusual punishment to leave it here, but it'll leave you panting for more, right? It wasn't intentional – purely accidental – I was blocked for the moment. I need some ideas – tell me how you want this to progress and I'll try to work it in. Thanks for reading... dontforget to review!!

Cara