The amount of planes it took to cross the world back to Italy tested Fiorenzo’s grit. He hadn’t been able to speak much. He opted to say small things to Chelsea about Florence or her appearance. He couldn’t stop thoughts of what to do next from as they grasped hold of his mind. He was fairly silent. It was hard not to be on a plane. There wasn’t any use in screaming over the loud engines anyways. Fiorenzo was still in shock that his leg hadn’t become infected. That Irish whiskey was good for more than just an occasional sip.

The landing at Peretola airport was the shakiest of all. The tiny plane didn’t help, but to say the airport in Florence was an airport was a stretch. It was a field. There wasn’t anyone around to qualify the place as an airport. The two of them had been masquerading as newlyweds. The Palumbo’s were here to experience Tuscany. The story about the car crash quickly formed after Chelsea bought him the black cane in London on a layover.

Fiorenzo hadn’t been to his mother’s home town. It was beautiful from the view in the plane. He wasn’t sure he even had family in Florence still. Either his mother’s choice in a husband had caused all ties to be severed, or there were no ties left to be cut free. Either way, his mother had never talked about family when she spoke of Florence. She would go on and on about various facts about this place. The history of the town was a point of pride to Saverina Uccello.

Chelsea garnered a lot of looks from the Fiorentinos. She was beautiful and they all seemed to want to tell her so. Fiorenzo had gotten into a couple of heated debates with a few of the locals. It was good for him though. He was happy to let his Italian loose. Luckily it was enough to keep him from losing his temper. He had wanted to take this bullet wound out on someone.  It was nice to be speaking his native tongue so freely again at least.

Hotel Brunelleschi had a wonderful view of Florence. His mother had spoken of the place often. Luckily it was a close walk to just about everything they could need. They booked the room for two weeks. Fiorenzo had tried to talk Chelsea into something much cheaper. He hated that they were spending away the money she had amassed through her illustrious career. All those men had financed quite the little getaway. If things were different, this would have been a lot more enjoyable. It was hard not to smile, even through the pain, when he would see that confused look on her face. The one she kept getting from each person who tried to talk to her.

Fiorenzo tipped the bellhop, Giulio, very well. It was nice to have someone like that on your side. He had been chit chatting with him about the local happenings of the city. They had picked a good time to be in Florence. It was very quiet. When he wished them a good day and was off to leave, Fiorenzo stopped him.

“Invia un paio di bottiglie di vino bianco. Cena dalla cucina. La tua scelta! Grazie!”

He said with a smile. He had gotten used to using the cane. It brought more eyes than he was accustomed to though. Giulio had been staring at his leg. Fiorenzo hated the way his leg had turned into a beacon for gazes. The door clicked shut with Giulio off after their wine and dinner. Fiorenzo was headed for the bed. He stopped when he noticed Chelsea had opened the doorway to their little balcony. He figured rest could wait a moment longer and made his way over to her. He sat his cane against the door.

Fiorenzo wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her in close. The Tuscan breeze pushed through the open doorway. He kissed her on the neck. “I wonder if we just stayed locked away here forever; would it all blow over?” He hobbled back a bit as she turned around to look at him in the eyes. His lips parted in a warm grin. You could feel the release in tension. Hopefully it was one that wouldn’t be fatal. For now it seemed they were safe. Would anyone track them to here? If he could just get this leg to a point of usefulness. If they just had long enough to make a few plans. There was someone here in Florence his mother did speak of often. Fiorenzo would have to do some digging after his rest.  Oreste Merlo had to die.  

“I wonder what we will get for dinner. I have Giulio bringing us up something.. Oh and some wine. I wish they served morphine instead.” He chuckled and looked down at his leg. Fiorenzo left his cane by the balcony door and made for the large bed. This place was so lavish. It was nothing like what Fiorenzo was used to anymore. He lay back on the bed and let out a long deep breath closing his eyes.

“You may want to start brushing up on a bit of Italian. Anche se adoro il modo in cui mi guardi dopo una frase come questa.”

"Un marito prepotente non ha il permesso di accarezzare il gattino," Chelsea uttered, watching with intense satisfaction as Fiorenzo's mouth dropped open in absolute shock. Before he could ask where and how she'd learned to say such a thing, a knock at the door signalled that their dinner had arrived. Still grinning, Chelsea sashayed across the room and opened the door to Giulio's happy face. Why wouldn't he be happy? The 'Palumbo' couple were tipping him obscenely. Once he'd rolled in the room service tray and removed the plate covers with a flourish, he uncorked the wine and poured out two glasses as he identified the dishes. 

"Trenette di pasta ligure, e pollo francaise. Buon appetito!" He exclaimed with a deep bow, tucking the bills Chelsea had handed him into his pocket and leaving, pulling the door closed behind him as he did so. Chelsea immediately headed for her purse and pulled out her emergency joint. They'd earned it. In fact, she was rather surprised it hadn't been blazed away long before now. Sitting down next to Fio on the bed, she helped herself to his matches on the nightstand and lit up, inhaling deeply. While holding in the smoke, she placed the joint between Fio's lips and watched him carefully as he did exactly as she had just done. He needed something better than dope, she worried as she watched him hit the blunt again, hard. Surely she could hint around to Giulio? 

Adding it to her mental to-do list, Chelsea stood and pushed the food cart closer to the bed. The pasta had a green coloring to it, pesto? She loved pesto...but the chicken smelled amazing. 

"We're going halfsies. I can't decide," she said, lifting the wine glasses and handing him one. 

"To the Palumbos. May they have a lovely honeymoon," she said, then polished off her entire glass of wine in one long swallow, avoiding eye contact as she did.

"Evviva Gli Sposi!"

Fiorenzo said raising the glass. He laughed at the way her eyes darted away. It was a real belly laugh as he moved next to her on the bed. The concept of marriage was a foreign one to Fiorenzo as well. He took the down the contents of his own flute. He welcomed the taste of a good Italian Moscato across his palate. The way it would help to ease the thoughts of his healing leg would be a wonderful side effect. 

Whether it was the effects of Chelsea's emergency fix or the smell of authentic Italian cuisine; Fiorenzo's mouth was watering at the food before them. He laughed when she said she wanted to split the entrees halfway from the get. She tended to pick off his plate. It was nice to be distracted. He wondered how long this high would last. Would he have allowed himself something stronger if it was available? He didn't like to be unalert. He knew something stronger might be the only way he could get some real rest.

"I can't figure out how much Italian you actually understand. Non che importi." He said with a chuckle after taking a drink of what couldn't be more than his third glass at this point. The meal had been amazing. The 'Palumbos' ate like they were rediscovering their tastes buds with each bite. "I would pry, but you know. Un marito prepotente non ha il permesso di accarezzare il gattino." He stared over at her and shook his head. He smirked thinking of how he wasn't her husband anyways. Were exactly did she pick up something like that?

Fiorenzo couldn't help but run his eyes down Chelsea from her seat next to him on the bed. On his trek back up her legs he could feel her eyes. She had caught him, but he didn't mind. He still took his time. Eventually their eyes mirrored each other. There wasn't anything that needed to be said. Fiorenzo hoped it wasn't just the wine that had given her cheeks that flush of red. Chelsea took down the last drink in her flute. The clink of glass setting back down on the cart was the signal. The two lovers on hideaway made for each other's lips.

***

Life for the two was amazing in Florence. Fiorenzo blinked, and two weeks had almost went by. It was only the second day there that they had Giulio begin to set them up with a contact for Chelsea. The smoke in Italy wasn't the same according to her, but it helped to keep Fiorenzo's leg from driving him too mad. Giulio had offered to set him up with morphine. It was a path Fiorenzo was too stubborn to take at this point. Why go for it now? Instead room service and lazy Italian afternoons had been his main medicine. That and the company of his Tortora. 

They had ventured out a few times. Slowly Fiorenzo was ok with her leaving for longer periods of time. They were always there in his mind: Oreste Merlo, another hitman, hell Fabrizia's mother Capriana! Someone was bound to be there. It felt that way at least. How would they have tracked them here? It was possible, but they had bounced around from airport to airport for almost two days to get to here. No matter how wonderful the life they were leading tucked away in Tuscany was... Reality would come for them if they did not act. 

This particular morning was different. Fiorenzo had arranged for Giulio to contact someone for him. All day he had been playing the leg card to Chelsea. He knew their supply was low. Giulio was off today. He had given them his address though to get a hold of him in case of an emergency. Fiorenzo knew Giulio would be there. He should be by now at least. It was already after one. He said he would have the transport to Livorno and the tickets for their boat out of Porto Vecchio arranged. Fiorenzo was really not looking forward to the ride in Giulio's cousin Nello's 1921 Lancia Tetrajota. That truck would surely rattle his leg. They would have to buy a lot of pot off Giulio before they left.

After a large, late breakfast Fiorenzo stared over at Chelsea with a smile. Why couldn't they just stay here? That wasn't practical. Even if they didn't have a Sicilian boss on their heels. They couldn't stay confined like this forever.

"Mio piccola Tortora. Is there much smoke left? My leg it pains me." It wasn't a lie. There was always that present ache. It had dulled down with each passing day. The burning was not gone. It was more like he was just getting used it being there. 

It was the first time he'd actually come out and verbalized his need for it, and that bothered her. She'd thought he was getting better? Chelsea used the phone number provided them to call Giulio and see if he'd be available for a quick deal. While she was there, she'd like to get the tickets for the boat as well, if they could be made available? The busboy assured her that they would be, so Chelsea got herself dressed and ready for another foray out into town. Her first excursions had been terrifying; the people, places, and culture so foreign to what she was used to. She'd learned, though, if she forced herself to just relax, and if she carried a small book of translations, she was able to do small things on her own.

Like calling a taxi. The phrase 'Si prega di inviare un taxi per Hotel Brunelleschi' rolled off her tongue with ease before she hung up the phone and leaned down to kiss Fio. 

"Non fare nulla che non farei," she purred, then kissed him again. A wink and a wave, and she was out the door.

The trip to Giulio's was only moderately hideous. The roads got worse, the people on them got surlier, and Chelsea made up her mind on the spot to start doubling her tips when she saw what he called 'home'. He greeted her warmly as she was paying the driver, instructing him with a brief 'attendere prego' as Giulio stumbled down his crumbling porch stairs and raised a glass of what looked like very flat beer at her. Chelsea got the translation book out again, as she'd done during the phone call, and stumbled through the phrase requesting tickets...but quite fluently asked for dope. Giulio smiled and nodded, producing two envelopes from his shirt pocket with a flourish. One was thin, the other, fat. When he offered up the fat one for Chelsea to inspect with her nose, she nearly swooned. He'd scored the good stuff. 

"Grazie, grazie, grazie!" she exclaimed, giving him a curt hug and a cheek kiss before slipping a finger into the smaller envelope and peeking at the tickets inside. She saw the words 'Porto Vecchio' and stopped looking. That sounded right. Giulio was now rambling on drunkenly about his cousin Nello's virtues, and Chelsea was lost. After she'd shoved a stupifying amount of Italian denominations at him, she began to back up to the cab.

"Telefono?" She indicated with a hand motion while nodding her head, hoping he'd understand that he'd need to call Fio at the hotel for the next part. Giulio nodded and gave her a loopy grin while tossing up the A-Okay symbol with his thumb and forefinger. Back in the cab, the driver circled around, using Giulio's tattered front yard as a turnabout before accelerating back into the town proper.

Chelsea was deposited out front of their hotel not long after, the driver ready to call it a day and collect his fare. After paying him, Chelsea made her way back up to their room.

And found an out of breath Fio looking like the cat who had eaten the canary. Why were his shoes on?

Giulio was owed a smack to the back of the head when he saw him next time. That was definitely a lot longer a walk than he made it out to be. He hurried into the room. His leg was sore from the pace. Fiorenzo just knew that she had to be back by now. He was wrong though. He was just leaving the restroom, the last place to check, when she opened the door.

Fiorenzo tried to catch his breath.

“Please tell me it’s good.” He said with a smirk. The way she was looking at him funny. Why was he walking around the room? “I was going to go down to that little bar and grab a drink or ten. My leg was hurting so I decided I could wait for you here.” The lie rolled off his tongue. His stomach rolled next. He didn’t want to lie to her. That felt so wrong. He moved over to the bed and took his shoes off.

Chelsea never questioned him. It made it feel even worse to have lied. He hadn’t done anything she wouldn’t have done. Had he? Fiorenzo was ecstatic when he saw what Giulio had produced. Maybe that smack to the back of the head wouldn’t have to be so hard. They smoked the rest of the day away studying each other, telling old stories that made them laugh, and overindulging in expensive room service.

The ‘Palumbos’ really enjoyed the rest of their stay at Hotel Brunelleschi. Fiorenzo knew he would never forget it. It was the time here with Chelsea that made him realize what he already should have known. This woman was perfect for him. They had been cooped up in that room for two weeks. Anyone else and Fiorenzo would have had to make for the window at that point. Not Chelsea. Nothing was the same about her than the others.

***

Palermo. Home. He didn’t have to look to see. It wouldn’t matter he could just tell. The boat had arrived. Soon after they were all filing off onto the dock. Their ship came in just before midnight. They made their way down the dock towards the street. Fiorenzo wasn’t even aware of the pain at this point. He was determined. His thoughts were on how he would stab Oreste Merlo. He couldn’t wait. The only time he wasn’t dwelling on it was when he was staring at Chelsea dwelling on his other task at hand.

“I’m glad you are here with me to do this.”

Fiorenzo could tell in her eyes just how happy Chelsea had been to be off the boat in Palermo. It was almost the same look she had when they got out of Nello’s death trap. At least the idiot got them to Porto Vecchio in one piece.

They both stopped with their luggage and stared at each other on the docks. Fiorenzo smiled. His hazel eyes searched over Chelsea. The dimly lit dock put an amber shade over her gorgeous form. It was weird now that they were here and about to do this, all he could think about was Chelsea. She was the woman who would kill to keep him, who would do anything he asked of her, who’s eyes didn’t offend him with their staring, the one he would protect till death swept him away.

“Solo tu.”

Fiorenzo set his things to the ground and pulled out his father’s switchback. He had carried it since the other day when she left for their dope. Fiorenzo flicked free the blade and twirled it. He tossed it one hundred and eighty degrees to grab the stiletto blade. He held the handle towards Chelsea and smiled.

“My mother gave my father this blade. She always said ‘Il modo in cui tratti la morte è una cosa di bellezza.’ The way you treat death is a thing of beauty. My father cherished it, and it’s killed many important men. Who better than the beauty that deals death beside me to carry it on? Chi voglio sposare. My mother would be so proud of you when you stab it through that Merlo bitch’s heart. I’m not convinced she isn’t smiling down upon you for what you did to Fabrizia for me.”

Did she know she did that? They still hadn’t addressed it. Chelsea took the blade from him. Fiorenzo leaned in and kissed her. The tip of the blade hit his chest, but she pulled it away as he pulled her in for an embrace. He didn’t want to leave her lips. He pulled her in close and kissed her passionately. The people passing by them on the docks be damned. It was late anyways; they were off to their hotels or homes. When he pulled free from her lips he smiled at her and dropped down to a knee. The ring that he found when he ran off to Marcello’s had spoken to him when he first walked past it. He didn’t have time, and was pretty sure he was just going to give up on finding one till he got back home. He would have to replace the money he took from their stash to buy it. That is, if she even said yes.

“Chelsea Klausfeur. I’d slit every throat and leave just me and you to walk these lands forever. I only need, but you in my life. È per sempre? What do you say, mio piccolo Tortora? Chelsea Uccello?”

The ring sparkled up at Chelsea. The center emerald cut diamond was crystal clear. There were two sizeable diamonds to each side of it. Just like her beautiful emerald eyes, distracting. She was distracting when she walked into a room. Her ring should be no less. The centerpiece was every bit of 5 carats. The two mirrored on its sides were close to two themselves. The band was made of beautiful platinum.

Fiorenzo stared at Chelsea.

“Voglio stare con te per il resto della mia vita. Will you marry me?”

Chelsea stared down at Fio as a couple rushed back towards the boat, obviously having forgotten a piece of luggage. As she opened her mouth to speak, the smile she'd been wearing slipped into a frown. Confusion set in her eyes.

"Fio?" Not any of the responses he'd been looking for. As he watched, her eyes began a slow roll skywards and into the back of her head, but then snapped down again. These eyes didn't belong there. They were Other.

A small trickle of blood oozed out of the corner of her mouth then, and when her hand grasped outwards, it went for Fio's father's blade, not the large diamond ring. The blade snicked out and she spun, plunging it deep into the gut of Fabrizia's mother. The bloody, torn material now in view on Chelsea's back made it clear that she'd been stabbed herself. The women now looked to be locked in an intimate embrace, the older woman whispering filthy obscenities as Chelsea grasped her tighter, yanking the blade as hard as she could upwards. No way she could reach the heart from this angle, but she was doing a solid job of disemboweling her.

Beyond them, Merlo himself came at Fio, who'd barely had time to regain his feet. Anger has him careless, though. He'd been eating sorrow at every meal for weeks now, and it showed as his emotions made him sloppy with his own blade. He was running with it overhand, yelling nonsense as he swung down in an arc. Fio leaned back, dodging it easily, then leaned back in with his own blade. More adept with blades was he, and the trajectory was correct. In, up. No drawn-out slow dance for Oreste, his heart had stopped due to the long metal tip that had invaded it. As he slumped to the ground, Fio could see that the women hadn't finished their dance yet. It was winding down now, though. The new widow had blood gouting from her mouth and as he stepped closer, he was nearly positive that Chelsea's hand was now inside the other woman's gut. When Fio pulled Chelsea back, the sole, remaining Merlo slid off the blade like undercooked meat off of a skewer. Viscera, everywhere. Before the eyes had finished glazing over, Fio had Chelsea and they were half running, half stumbling back down the pier, Fio shouting at the men on board to pull out of the dock.

“Pronta la fottuta barca! Ti farò un ricco equipaggio!” Fiorenzo had bellowed out to the crew as they took off back for the ship. This was not a long homecoming. Fiorenzo knew he would probably never see the streets of Palermo again. He didn’t even see them this time. It was dark and there was a thick fog blocking out most of the view of her beauty tonight. They were no more than ten or fifteen paces away and Fiorenzo stopped. He turned and ran back towards the scene.

“Keep moving, Tortora!”

He yelled back to Chelsea over his shoulder. The sight of blood running down her back took his attention. His leather sole slipped on the pooling of blood and viscera of the late Capriana Merlo. Fiorenzo’s Tortora was brutal when push came to shove. His leg screamed out as he landed on the not-so-healed-yet wound of his own. An Italian string of curses flew out from his mouth. He slipped his way back up with the bag. The slippery wood of the docks was a lot like ice to his smooth soles. The docks were eerily quiet now. Where were the shots? Where were the screams? Anyone around had seemed to just disappear after such a heinous act. Midnight on Porto di Palermo was not the place to be gawking at the passing of life. People around here knew to just disappear.

He had only grabbed one bag. It was Chelsea’s smaller bag. They hadn’t even blown through half her savings. They would need it to pay off this crew and hide out somewhere. Maybe even pay for a doctor? Fiorenzo’s eyes were focused on one thing only as he ran towards a safe exit. It was the blood on his lover’s back. The way she was not moving so fast. Should he not have told her to keep moving without him? He caught up to her as she began to tumble. His arms couldn’t catch her and Chelsea hit the ground. It was a somewhat elegant fall at least. Knees. Elbow. Head.

Fiorenzo’s father’s blade was still clinched tight in Chelsea’s hand. Her knuckles were white. Saverina would have been proud of the way she eviscerated that woman. She looked up to him. She wasn’t unconscious that was good. His Chelsea was such a fighter. He helped her up, and as gently as was possible, cradled her in his arms with the bag. The adrenaline flowed through him and whisked away all thoughts of his aching leg. Chelsea winced in pain from the quick pace as Fiorenzo carried her on board the ship.

The crew had already begun to take off. Fiorenzo had them waiting, they were expected to wait longer though. He told them if they weren’t here by daybreak they could leave without him. The ten grand upfront had sealed the deal. Fiorenzo hadn’t told them what they were waiting on either. They surely weren’t expecting to flee the actual scene of a murder. The barrage of cursing from the primo uficiale stopped short when Fiorenzo stared him in the eyes then looked back down to his now pale, Chelsea.

Fiorenzo quickly explained to him what would happen if the ship didn’t move. He also was let me know that their other payment would be doubled. Chelsea and Fiorenzo had made friends with a few of them in the short trip. Well their money had made friends. The couple wasn’t much into entertaining guests on the way over. The crew had already been to work though. They wanted their eyes off of the horrifying sight of all the blood. Most if it was Saverina’s. Chelsea’s front was covered from the brutal disfigurement she did. Fiorenzo swore she was headed to grab her heart out by hand. Fiorenzo carried her to their quarters and yelled out for them to bring the medical supplies and whoever was proficient immediately.

Hopefully that puttana hadn’t hit anything vital. How deep was the stab? Chelsea was breathing fine it seemed. That was a good sign to Fiorenzo. If she had hit her lung… Fiorenzo couldn’t think like that.

With his blade he cut free the dress around the entry. It wasn’t extremely deep. He knew it had missed her spine by the way she ran, and the only thing to hope for now was that there wasn’t a major artery bleeding. It seemed like a lot of blood, but he couldn’t tell. He was just worried about her. His hand stroked her hair and as he looked out at the kit a man opened for him on the bed. Chelsea tried to look back at him and shook with pain.

“Hold still mio piccola Tortora. I’m not leaving. Ti amo. This might hurt though.”

Fiorenzo then began to attend to her stab. She wasn’t bleeding profusely when he blotted away the stab. It looked like Saverina had skimmed off her shoulder blade. That was going to hurt for long time. It caused the blade to head in diagonal and hence more superficial. It took a lot of debate, but he allowed a man named Ambrogio, who everyone assured Fiorenzo had stitched up half the crew and was profecient, to begin to sow her up after he cleaned the wound.

He pushed the hair out of Chelsea’s eyes from his other side of the bed. He moved over and let Ambrogio go to work. Fiorenzo had never done anything like that, and was afraid he would butcher her. He stared into Chelsea’s emerald eyes as Ambrogio doused the wound in alcohol once more to clean the wound before he began to work. Fiorenzo grabbed and extra roll of gauze and offered it towards her mouth.

“Il mio bel Caos.”

She'd already bitten her tongue, wanted nothing else in her mouth. A bloody hand reached up to push it away. The man offering it to her...she knew that face. He looked worried. He was safe, though. Whole.

Here. Which meant she shouldn't be. That was the deal. 

There was pain, but nothing she couldn't handle. There was someone behind her, working on her back. She would have killed him too, had the face in front of her not been there. She would have silenced every beating heart on the boat.

"In quo est ipsa profecta?" She asked the face in front of her. He blinked, confused by the Latin, and by the off-key voice delivering it. When no response came, she sighed. Metal pierced flesh as a needle began to create a jagged track of stitching down the curve of her shoulder. She winced, but nothing more, just continued to stare at the face in front of her, the one she was tasked to destroy armies for. Why? She didn't know. It's just the way it was.

Long minutes later, it was done. The man behind packed up his things, uttered words to the other in front of her, and left. She sat up fully, and the spot beside her was soon occupied. She began to understand some things then, as his scent washed over her. 

"Ire debeo," she muttered in that not-quite-right voice. She wasn't sure how, though, and as she was puzzling her way through the problem, she saw something in the man's eyes. Just a flicker, but she saw it. Everything else fell into place.

It was not hers to take, but she wanted it anyway. Leaning towards him, she stopped just short of their noses touching, and inhaled deeply. It was nearly intoxicating, that scent. He didn't move away, so she tilted her head and buried her face in his neck, biting down on it. A hand landed on her lower back, pulling her closer, and she half-stood abruptly, just far enough to throw a leg over his lap and settle into place on top of him, teeth never releasing their grip. She was bleeding him now, the coppery taste of their mixed blood on her tongue driving her while she expected to be stopped. He was not hers. Why wasn't she here? Was she gone forever, dead on that dock back in Palermo? 

He wasn't stopping her, either, his eyes flashing back and forth now. One moment, recognizable. The next, foreign, alien. But so much like her. Maybe she would be allowed to have that one? 

The next morning, Chelsea woke abruptly to the sounds of the boat docking back in Tuscany. Confused, she tried to piece together why they were here on the boat again, and why her back stung so badly. Turning her head, she found Fio watching her. Her last clear memory of the night before came then, and she grinned happily.

"Of course I'll marry you, Cucciolo."

Was this why she didn’t talk about Fabrizia? He could feel the energy pouring forth from this woman. His Chelsea? No. This was the one he caught in the shower that night. The one he cleaned up for after the brutalization of the Merlo that started this whole ordeal. The Latin hadn’t thrown him off as much as the complete shift in her eyes. They were piercing into him. Fierce. Sharp. They reminded him of the two daggers stabbing through him into his own eyes.

It pulled at him. Her gaze tugged into the part of him that Fiorenzo felt when someone couldn’t stop looking at him. That piece of him that couldn’t back away. It was the piece of him that had caused so many cleanups. It was changing in him. Her bite pulled it out stronger. His hand disregarded her injury and pushed her lower back firm into him. This woman was his. She was the one that deserved to be with him.

He stared up at her from his position. This wasn’t his Chelsea. His eyes flashed from love to that thousand yard stare. One moment later he was caressing her staring up at the woman. The dead spot within was winning. He had claim her as his own. This was his Chelsea. This was all of her. It was the Other half of her. That was the part that would just assume slice the world away for him.

That next morning he awoke wondering just exactly why his neck was so sore. The pieces were there, but it was all a blur. He wasn't sure how long he had stared at her sleeping form. Thoughts of last night's short trip to Palermo replayed in his head. Fiorenzo’s eyes brightened when she turned to stare at him. Her first words of the day. What more could he want to hear?

“You’ll always be mine. Mio piccola, Tortora.”

***

The way they never asked questions made Fiorenzo pay the crew more than just double the price negotiated. He wasn’t worried about it. They would be able to make money back home. They could go home now. There wasn’t a family of black birds waiting to strike them. Were there? Was there anyone that held ties to that still kicking? If anything they probably just kicked off quite the power struggle in Palermo. Oreste had been foolish. He should have not let his emotions take hold. Did he think Fiorenzo had been the one to do that to Fabrizia? It wasn’t important anymore at least.

They had to meet Nello at one of the seediest dock inns that Fiorenzo had ever been inside. They were in good spirits though, even if Chelsea had to take things so easily. The dimwitted cousin of Giulio stopped them by a clothing shop to buy a few outfits. It was a very rushed trip. Fiorenzo spent a good ten minutes explaining to Nello in very rapid Italian how he should drive on the way back to Florence. Once he was convinced Nello had gotten the point, Fiorenzo allowed the trip to continue. He didn’t want Chelsea’s stitches to open back up or cause her any pain.

Hotel Brunelleschi was a welcome sight for the weary and recently engaged couple. Fiorenzo noticed how the attendant noticed Chelsea’s ring first off this time. Why did ‘Mrs. Palumbo’ only now have a rock on her south paw? The daggers Fiorenzo shot the man made him realize he wasn’t curious enough to ask the question on his tongue. He must have assumed that the missing luggage wasn’t something to be questioned either.

Giulio didn’t even offer to grab the bag from Fiorenzo. It was obvious he knew exactly what must be in that bag. The doorway to the room there in their Tuscan hideaway was like walking through tranquility. You could feel the relief. It was obvious on both of their faces. Chelsea made for the shower with wink and wave to Fiorenzo. He shook his head and looked at Giulio. He raised his eyebrows and put his hand to his lips indicating about weed.

When the man pulled out and envelope and handed it over with a smile Fiorenzo chuckled and tossed it to the bed. He retrieved some money for Giulio. On top of the agreed upon fee for the transport and smoke, Fiorenzo added another few hundred. Giulio gave him a puzzled look, but smiled and shrugged.

“Ho bisogno che tu organizzi qualcos'altro per me. Questo è più importante.”

Giulio nodded and let him know anything he needed would be taken care of quickly. The man was getting more money than he had seen in the past few years over this last month. He was obviously appreciative and listened intently to the details that Fiorenzo began to spit at him.

“Cucciolo!” Chelsea yelled out from the bathroom as the sound of water hitting expensive travertine echoed out from the lavish shower into the living area of the suite. Fiorenzo smirked. He went over the details again. “Un prete e un altro testimone.. Eh, Nello?” He laughed and shrugged as he undid the last button from his shirt. Fiorenzo told him to send up an assortment of entrees for dinner and two bottles of champagne. He threw his shirt onto the bed and gave Giulio a raise of his brow. With a shake of his head he quickly made for the door. Giulio spat apologies for not taking a hint very well the whole way.

“I’ll be right there, Tortora. Don’t overdo it. You’re going to tug loose those stitches.” He smiled at her standing there about to get into the shower. How the hell did she get that dress off? She had to be in pain. It was her right? Was it the Other one he had met recently. Had he met her before? Maybe Fiorenzo should brush up on a bit of his Latin? No, no it wasn’t that side of her staring at him with the steam building up behind her.

“Maybe we should have reserved the place for more than two weeks?” He said half to her half to himself.

“L'eternità non sarebbe abbastanza.”

Fiorenzo smiled and moved towards her. He would surprise her after they washed away the death of two blackbirds with the arrangements. The two cousins seemed like too many eyes for Fiorenzo. It didn’t matter to him though. Chelsea was to be his. Forever. He knew she would be anyways. It was the only way it could be. If she wasn’t, how could he hold back that side of him with her not there? She pushed it deep inside of him, yet now it seemed she was able to bring it forth. Well not her. His Other.

***

A simple ceremony, for two incredibly complicated people. Chelsea and Fiorenzo stood in front of the open balcony doors of their hotel room, hands clasped between them as they stared at each other. The minister Giulio had found was, of course, another cousin. He stood before them in a dark suit, with a very old, leather-bound book in his hands. 

The entire ceremony took place in Italian, with Chelsea receiving cues from Fio as he squeezed her hand. Giulio and Nello stood to the side, poking each other and grinning like fools. Chelsea was pretty sure they'd been into the dope, and wondered if maybe the cake they'd brought wasn't loaded, as well. It sat off to the side, looking not unlike an oversized petit four, with lovingly applied, and quite real, tiny rosebuds.

As Chelsea stood there listening to words she didn't understand, she was grateful she'd chosen the dress that she had. Cream in color, satin, and ankle length, it was the first one she'd found that had an open back and didn't pull at her stitches. Fio was in a charcoal suit, by her request. Darkest greys suited him so perfectly.

There was a pause, and Fio was squeezing her hand. She was supposed to say something. 

"Prima che tu lo chiedessi, io ero tuo e io ti sono devoto in ogni modo. Ti sposo senza esitazione o dubbi, e il mio impegno per te è assoluto. Ti amo, Fio."

Polite golf clapping from Giulio and Nello; the two had been laughing their heads off in the bathroom earlier with, or more likely at, Chelsea, who'd been struggling to learn the words. The minister turned and shot them a glare that silenced them immediately, then continued on. Fio spoke soon after, but of course she understood none of it. The ceremony concluded, champagne was poured, and handshakes and hugs ensued. 

Once the minister took his leave, the cousins went to slice the cake as Chelsea pulled Fio back towards the balcony, where a perfect summer breeze pushed past them and into the room.

"I don't know what you said. Something about leaving me if I got fat?" She grinned, rising on tiptoe to close the several-inch gap that even 3-inch heels couldn't help her with in order to kiss him.