It was chilly; a snow storm was brewing on the horizon, even as a front of deceit and betrayal swept through New York city. Godfather Earl's death brought to a close time in the Big Apples for members of many of New York's crime families. With equal measures mourning and optimism, trepidation and anticipation, John and Freddie pack their bags and headed for the airport with John's two best body guards (and closest friends) Jack and Frank in tow. The group made a glum sight, totting along only enough luggage for a few weeks at most and a smattering of finer furniture with which to start a new life in the Windy City. With the vehicles, luggage, and furniture loaded up and stowed away, the crew boarded the newly chartered plane and departed for Chicago; leaving the bright lights and big city behind them.

John stared out the foggy window, droplets of condensation leaving twinkling veins of clarity in their wake as the haloed lights of New York city slowly disappeared beneath them. "Well, I think this will be a good change for all of us. Wot d'ya think boyos? Freddie?" John tried to smile as he looked over everyone.

"I know there is worry, 'ell, I'm worried. I think, though, wit' tuh connections I 'ave in Chicago, this be our best move. Don Torretta said 'e would welcome us, but there jus' be tuh formalities of meetin' an' discussin' wot 'e really needs us to do for 'im to 'ave 'is protection. Work our way up from there as we did in tuh big apple." John inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

"So, speakin' of that, wot kinna businesses should we be thinkin' about to 'elp Mister Torretta's strangle'old on tuh Sout' Side?"

It was silent for a moment before Frank spoke up, "I'll be honest boss, as for your first question? I'm worried. What do you think the rest of the families are going to think in New York?" Frankie seemed to bite his tongue, but spoke up anyway, "And what if it's not as smooth as you think it's going to go? I mean, New York has been our home! Our family!"

John chuckled. "Ta Frankie. I appreciate ya 'onesty." His features shifted to a more serious look. "Tuh ot'er families gave permission... As for Torretta? I trust 'im. 'E's na gonna fuck me over when I 'ave a lot to offer. Don' forget I own part of 'Tuh Sand an' Sea' in Philly."

Frank nodded and leaned back. John looked to Jack who just smiled and shrugged. "I trust ya Sarge."

All three of the men turned and faced Freddie who'd been quiet so far.

"Well lass?" John mused, opening a decanter and pouring everyone a glass of Irish Single Malt...

Even after a shower and a short nap in the car, Freddie still looked like she'd been ridden hard; and for days. Her eyes were tinged with empty exhaustion as she eyed the men now facing her. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she took the glass of whiskey with a quiet nod of thanks. "It's for the best," she shrugged with matter-of-fact flatness. "New York is home. It was mi abuelas home, and one we all fought hard to keep. Pero I know... en mis huesos... she would want me to follow my heart," she mustered a weak smile for John, "and that is what I'm doing."

Sipping her whiskey she shrugged casually, "I can grow weeds anywhere. I can heal people anywhere. What I can't do is pick up the shattered pieces one a fucking week and still get anything done." She spat onto the fine carpet of the plane's aisle, "The Bronx were always hard living, but it's gotten a lot harder as of late. And no amount of the work I do is gonna fix that. So I might as well go somewhere where it'll count." 

Freddie sighed heavily, her gaze trailing off to the clouded window, "As for Mister Blue Eyes, I trust him as much as I trust anyone not in this cabin. I've seen the way he treats his people, and the way he treats other crews. And it's good enough for me. I'll be glad to serve under him for as long as it takes." Leaning her head back against the plush seat and lit a cigarette, "The only thing that worries me at all is actually setting up... place to live, place to work... the practical shit. Sabes?" 

Exhaling a plume of smoke up to the ceiling, Freddie rolled her head in John's direction, "As for business, I figure I'll do what I've always done. People are always gonna get shot or get sick. So I figure I'll always have business. But I'm willing to consider other ideas, if you've got any... or multiple ideas, for that matter." 

Her dark eyes searched the men's faces as she relaxed into her cigarette, the whiskey washing away some of the weariness around her eyes, "What do you think, Cariño Mio?"

Jack eyed Freddie's cigarette before reaching out to take it from her and still a puff. "I think, whatever you do Freddie, that you can pretty much fix anybody up. I mean hell... My arm's better than it was -before- it got shot." He laughed and offered her the cigarette back.

"I think I agree wit' Jackie boy..." John smirked, leaning over to kiss Freddie's cheek. As hellish as the night had been, she deserved a little doting. "'E's right, ya know. Ya fixed 'im up really well." He nodded and put his arm over her shoulders. "It think there can always be a place for flowers. I don' think fish will be me market in Chicago though..."

John sighed and tapped his chin. "Maybe I can start messen a loan business... Or maybe take a pawn shop an' do some fencin'. Or, maybe a restaurant? Some fancy nightclub? Wot d'ya think for me, lads?" He looked to all of them, then ALSO stole Freddie's cigarette, taking one puff and handing it back.

"There might be plent'y nightclubs an' such there. Need summat different." John bit his lip, laying his head back in thought, waiting for some spitball ideas from the rest of the posse on board.

Freddie smiled, letting the men share her cig without protest. "I don't think I'll do the flowers bit this time. I'm thinking straight medicinals is the way to go... and the hands on work, of course. A crisis center or an apothecary... maybe both," she nodded with resigned pragmatism. "I was looking at the brochures at the airport, and it seems like they've got lots of pawns and bars and clubs  and such already. Though, if you could coin a particularly novel idea, I don't see why it wouldn't fly. But then, I think you can do better." She winked at John tired half-smile. 

"What about something off the wall like... I don't know... a newspaper, or telecommunications... we could handle all the cities PR and information brokerage." Freddie closed her eyes, leaning her head back, "I know the city's hard up. What about low income housing? Buy up all the foreclosed neighborhood and leas 'em out for pennies on the dollar?  Or a garden... I guess you'd call it a farm... we could grow on the rooftops... rent space from people that need the cask and hire locals to help maintain and harvest. Sell the food low and still make a profit. Hell, we could do both for double." There she was again, always with the helping and the growing. Freddie smiled softly, as she imagined her own nice little world where those were actually good ideas. "Let's see... a community center? Maybe a bed and breakfast on the lake? There's lots of things you can do under the table with a boarding house. ...umm..." Freddie took a long drag off her cigarette and slowly realized she was the only one talking, 

"Aw, c'mon chicitos! I can't be the only one with ideas here. Speak up!" She passed her smoke to Jack as if it were a talking stick, "C'mon. Let's hear it." 

Jack took the cigarette and puffed on it a bit. "Mmmk... Well, we could start a day spa? Maybe get somethin' for all the ladies? That newspaper idea isn't a bad one either boss. Though it would be a lot and I think Chicago already has a pretty decent paper. What about..."

Jack trailed off in thought, tugging on the cigarette again and blowing smoke into the upper cabin area. "I don't know boss. I lost it." He chuckled, passing the cigarette to Frank.

"What about a shipping company? We could run a whole shipyard and handle the delivery trucks?" Frank took a drag, unfortunately the last before the cigarette reached it's butt end. He snuffed it out between his fingers and set it on the small table between the four, wishing there was an ashtray.

"Or... What if we made a recording studio for those musicians migratin' up fro Naw'lens?"

John perked a brow, but shook his head. "I don' know tuh firs' ting about recordin' music lad, an' I'm gonna be ya don' eit'er." John laughed. "But I give ya credit for thinkin' ou'side tuh box."

He looked at Jack and Frank, "Lads... We need summat good. Summat that tuh family can use." He pondered everything for a bit... "I'm na sure lads... We'll think of summat though." He looked at Freddie. "For once, I don' 'ave a plane. It's na very comfortin'..." They all laughed together.