The remodeling was nearly complete.  Tara Byrne had found the most perfect building for Ilaria's clinic, and contractors had gone to work immediately to make suitable for medical procedures.  The building also had a spacious office for Ilaria, and a good sized storage room.  The office and two of the three exam rooms were finished, and Ilaria had spent most of her days sanitizing and setting them up in case they were needed.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, just before five o'clock, and Ilaria was out in the waiting room dusting and arranging the newly arrived furniture.  The contractors were packing up for the day.  As they left, Ilaria followed to lock the door behind them.  For a moment, she stepped out the door and looked around, taking in the sights of the famous Philadelphia pier that would now be her second home.  There were many other businesses around, and Ilaria hoped that hers would be helpful to the community.

A Yellow taxi skidded sideways as it took a u-turn a little too fast, initially headed north down Columbus boulevard. The back tires smoked as rubber spun ferociously against the surface of the road. After hooking the car around 180 degrees, the driver pulled the car up close to the curb.

"Pull the car somewhere better and wait for me at East Cat."

As crazy as he'd arrived, he took off again. Del Rossi was a little energized. He'd likely let off some steam by thrashing the car down Race Street. The name of the street kind of suited his profession, as a driver for the man who was left standing there, coughing, as the smoke cleared.

Adonis held his right forearm across his chest as he looked down the Race Street Pier. He'd been shot in an altercation. Not unusual given the life. What was unusual, was that he felt he'd done more damage to it when he was beating the shit out of the telephone before leaving the scene of the crime, forgetting he'd been shot on account of the adrenaline still coursing through his body. The rush of epinephrine had already begun to wear off, so he was feeling quite depleted as he forced his way down the pier.

There was suppose to be a crew coming in from Vegas to clean up the mess. So, why not get himself cleaned up whilst that was being sorted. And knowing Charlie Fucking Stobart, he'd soon be required for whatever else would follow it. More carnage, presumably. Not that he minded. He loved a good bit of Winchester pump action. He'd just need to get this taken care of so he could continue doing what he enjoyed. Fucking shit up.

Adonis made his way down the pier at a slow pace. If he were here for something relaxing, like a massage at Liberty Belle or a game of billiards at Hot Shots, he'd have worn something a little more more suited. His jacket was who knows where. His shirt was bloody and untucked and had more than just his own gore on it. He was also anxious, as he'd never been shot before. Where he was headed also had him apprehensive.

There was a thud on the door. Then another. And another. Adonis was ramming his good shoulder against the outside door of the waiting room, repeatedly. He pulled himself back, readied his shoulder for a more enthusiastic effort, and thrust forward again when the door suddenly opened...

With a start, Ilaria spun around toward the door.  Stumbling inside was a man in a bloodied shirt, cradling his right arm against himself.  For the first time in weeks since coming to the US, Ilaria's instincts kicked in and she sprang into action.  The apparently faulty door lock would have to wait. As she approached the injured and seemingly alarmed stranger, the smell of liquor hit her.  Funny, she thought, it's not so different than the base hospital back home.  She came to his good side and firmly took his arm, making sure to steady him as she guided him toward the back.

"Alright, take it slow- I've got you."

Thankful that the first exam room was ready to go, Ilaria brought him in and helped him into the chair beside the exam table.  When he was settled, she reached to a hook behind the door and pulled on a clean, white apron over her work clothes. She moved with urgency, but her voice was calm.

"Look at that, my first customer!  Tell me your name, and how this happened."

How this happened? Should I really be telling a stranger that? She is working on The Pier though. You can't get a spot here if you ain't connected. Fuck it.

"Name's Joe. I ran into a bullet."

The fuck did I say that for?

The delirium was starting to kick in. He felt himself more in his head than usual. He was practically a man of action, and didn't think too much. The heavy drinking at the shit hole he stopped at on the way here wasn't turning out to be such a good idea. He felt much better seated, though, and began to ease into the comfort of the chair.

"Look. That's not the truth." He said, cutting her off before she could respond. He hated lying. Didn't matter what it was about, or who it was he was fluffing to, he hated doing it.

"You work down here, so I'm sure you know what's what. Put whatever story to it you want, but I got shot in the arm."

Joe glanced up at his nurse, blinking, as his eyes were feeling a little heavy on the lids. He was also feeling a little dizzy.

"The name is Joe though. Joe Adonis."

His skin was going pale before her eyes.  It was clear the blood loss was already fairly significant. On top of that, the effects of the alcohol had thinned his blood, so the amount of blood lost was a bit more critical than it might have been otherwise.  Quickly, she grabbed a pair of surgical scissors from the instrument tray on the counter and started cutting his shirt open.  She pulled it off and took his good arm again.

"I need you up on the table.  Take it slow, easy..."

She helped him onto the exam table and got a pillow behind his head.  Turning to the counter, she started pulling supplies from the cabinets.  Gauze, bandages, bottles of various sizes, cloths- all got stacked onto the small metal cart with wheels.  Soaking the cloth in alcohol, she began to clean the area so she could clearly see the entry wound. 

"I need to get the bullet out, signore.  Would you prefer to be sedated, or not?  I assure you, this place is safe and the walls have no ears."

She glanced up at him, giving him an assuring smile as she worked.

Another day, another time, he'd probably take the sedation. He usually took it of a night anyways. When drowning his past in bottles of whisky. It was easy. You just unscrewed the top and had at it. He was feeling more and more though, this experience wouldn't be the same. If he agreed to going under, he'd never live it down, no matter the nurse's assurance. He'd know.

He'd know and he couldn't kid himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd find faults and likely see his hair sitting crooked. No matter if it were true or not, he'd still see it. Need to continually comb it. More than he already did. He'd know he didn't man up and so he'd find a way to ridicule himself in other ways.

"No... keep me awake for this."

He grabbed at her arm and squeezed it tight. As tight as he could given his weakened state.

"Awake. Keep me..."

She nodded, not really surprised. In her experience, men in business like this would rather deal with excruciating pain than risk their guard being completely down. Though, the same experience taught her that most would pass out from the pain anyway. This guy looked pretty close to that point. 

The shot was fairly clean, but there was some tearing around the entry wound. 

"I should be able to get it out without having to open you up, unless the bullet itself shattered. We'll hope for the best."

From the instrument tray, she took a stack of gauze pads and a pair of sterile, long-ended tweezers. 

"Deep breath, Mr. Adonis. This isn't going to tickle."

With careful precision, she guided the end of the tweezers into the entry wound, waiting to feel the tips connect with metal. The bullet was more deeply lodged into the tissue than she'd hoped. Luckily, she managed to get a firm hold of it. 

​​​​​​"I have it. You still with me?" 

Adonis was gritting his teeth and snorting short sharp breaths in and out of his nose while she pressed the instrument into his arm. It felt like searing pain, like he was being prodded with a hot knife. He let out a grunt as she got a firm hold of the bullet. It was the last sound he made before he passed out. So much for staying awake.

As the still for the most part stranger kept on with her job, Joe was transported back to a memory. It were as if he was really there, all over again. It wasn't the most pleasant experience. In fact, it haunted him like nothing else.

Not even all the death at the end of his sleeves, the blood that he still felt under his fingernails no matter the amount of scrubbing, none of it came close. It was the reason he drank so much. And the reason he was reluctant to visit the neighborhood nurse in the first place. He believed it to be his karma coming full circle.

Better death this way, and this young, than live old and frail and still not able to shake his ghosts. He never wanted to live that way. In a wrinkled meat suit, still sucking on a bottle, obsessively angry at the world because of his own inability to deal with his shit. He knew he'd be that way, if it got to that point. He'd rather this be the end of him, as he was already part of the way there some days.

The shitty place he stopped at for a drink wasn't new to him either. And he'd return there again, after this experience. It was just his way. But for now, he was stuck in limbo, as Ilaria, his nurse in a shining white apron, continued to work on him.

The rest of the procedure went without complication. The bullet came out in one piece, and left no other damage from what Ilaria could see. Once the wound was cleaned and stitched, she began to apply clean dressings over it. He would be fine, but needed rest. Carefully, she placed his arm in such a way that it would minimize movement. Finally, she took a stethoscope from a drawer and looped it around her neck. Pressing it against his chest, she could hear that his heartbeat was strong and steady. She checked his breathing sounds, which were fine. Taking his wrist, she felt for his pulse and counted. Slightly rapid, but that was to be expected. 

She decided to let him rest rather than forcing him awake just yet. Humming softly, she cleaned up the tray, disposed of the bloody pads, and carried the instruments to the store room to be sanitized. When she returned, she took a neatly folded cloth from the shelf, along with a tiny vial of smelling salts which she waved gently under his nose. 

"Mr. Adonis, you're all done. Open your eyes for me..."

She squeezed his hand gently, in a rhythm, to help bring him around. This also served to keep him from startling awake and jarring his injury too much.

​​​​​​

​​​​​

​​​​​​"I have it. You still with me?"

The last thing he heard before slipping into the dream world. Before coming back to, it was a something little less concerned for his sense of well being. The sound of a body clunking against the bonnet of his car before he hit the skids. It reverberated through his being, and just at the moment Ilaria had brought him back into the state of the living.

"Mr. Adonis, you're all done. Open your eyes for me..."

He immediately sucked in air through his nostrils with rapid force, the dream world and this one mixing together like a bad cocktail. He slowly forgot about what he'd experienced while out. It was the usual drill. Wake up out of a nightmare in a cold sweat, or drink the ability to dream away entirely. He figured he didn't get enough down on his detour here, then that thought quickly faded too as he blinked his eyes in focus.

Adonis looked up at the nurse. He didn't know who the hell she was. But he was somewhat glad she was able to do what she did.

"Did we win?" He asked with a sleepy sounding voice. He'd been up for a few days straight with minimal sleep, on top of his stupidity to drink and neglect a gunshot wound.

Ilaria chuckled softly.

"Any day you survive a gunshot wound is probably a win, my friend.  Come, let's sit you up.  Take it easy, though."

She placed a hand between his shoulder blades to support him as he sat up, then unfolded the cloth and began to tie it over his shoulder into a sling for his arm. Her voice was relaxed, now, as he was out of the woods.

"Now, I know you are probably going to want to run right back out there and fight- or drink- but you need to rest.  Between the alcohol thinning your blood and the amount of blood you lost, your body needs time to regenerate your blood supply; or you're going to pass right out again. I have rooms upstairs where you can rest, if you like."

When the sling was properly in place, Ilaria stepped back and looked him over once more, making sure there were no other injuries missed in the rush to fix the bullet wound.

"Whatever you say, doc."

The initial apprehension he had come in with had turned into appreciation for her work. If she was able to mend his arm and save him from himself, at least this once, maybe her advice was best adhered to as well.

"Whatever you say." He repeated as he moved his legs and torso, making sure the rest of him was still functional also.

As he let Ilaria guide him to where he'd be resting, he thought back on the events that transpired. On the warehouse that was left in more of a mess than himself. And the bodies that'd hopefully be cleaned up on his return. He could've been one of them. Maybe it was a sign to make some changes.

Walking slowly upstairs, Ilaria could tell Adonis was starting to sober up. He had a deep, thoughtful look in his eyes as they went along. She led him to the guest beds nearest her room and the kitchen. After getting him settled, she stepped back and gave him a warm smile.

"You know, I have a new coffee maker I haven't tried out yet. Maybe you'd like a cup?" 

Coffee. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a cup, or stopped to smell the sweet roasted beans of it. He'd been full throttle since day dot, since he stepped out of the big house and into the streets of Philly. Maybe this was the start to making some of those changes.

"Why not." He said as he wriggled himself comfortable and returned the smile with a light smirk of his own.

She seemed like a good sort. Like she actually cared. Maybe it was because of her profession. He'd have to ask her how she got into this line of work at some point. For now, he just enjoyed being around someone without the need to feel like he should check he still had his colt with him.

With a nod, Ilaria turned and walked out of the room. The kitchen was just next door, and she had stocked it the day before. She opened the new can of coffee and prepared the filter. Within a few minutes, the aroma of strong coffee filled the air. Even the scent was relaxing. Ilaria couldn't help but smile. She had her first patient in her first clinic - she was finally doing what she wanted. Well, almost. She still hoped some day to gain those two letters at the end of her name. For now, though, this new path was exciting and satisfying. 

With two mugs of coffee on a tray with cream and sugar bowls, Ilaria returned to the room. She sat the tray on the small table between beds, then sat beside him on a chair.

"How do you take your coffee?" 

​​​​​​

"I'm really not sure." Joe said with a look of confusion. How had he not had a decent cup of coffee to this point?

"However it usually goes, I suppose?" He wasn't confident at all in answering this question.

Adonis sighed, then couldn't help but chuckle. He was feeling very relaxed. Tired, but relaxed.

"So, in all this I don't even know who to thank." He winced a little as he shuffled on the bed, feeling the soreness in his arm as he also tried moving it in the sling, pointing it towards Ilaria momentarily before letting it hang comfortably in the sling again.

"I pretty much owe you more than just fixing this, don't I?" He didn't want to say it, but he felt like he owed her a heavy debt.

It wasn't everyday you had a qualified professional around these parts to seek in an emergency of this sort. Many bodies would end up in or near the Delaware. Some unrecognizable to be claimed by loved ones at a later date, if they even surfaced at a later date. He felt the pang of what could've been. It irked him. And he felt ashamed for letting it get to this point. But, he also felt thankful.

"I owe you a great debt, Miss..."

"Ilaria. Don't bother with the 'Miss' silliness. Just Ilaria."

She took a mug of coffee from the tray and handed it to him with the handle toward his free hand, the kind smile still sitting on her lips. 

"I drink mine black - that's how my father always drank it, so I suppose it's just how I've always had it. Give it a try, and if you want to add anything, I'll get it for you."

Ilaria watched as he took the mug, then picked up her own. 

"And, please, don't even think of any debt. Caring for others is what I was made to do. I am a very lucky woman to have this place, here, in America. Where I come from, a woman doesn't have her own business. Not without a man. I came here hoping to work my way through medical school and become a doctor. I answered an ad for a family medical professional. Silly me thought I would be working for a couple and their children. Imagine my surprise when I showed up to an interview with Joseph Ligambi."

Even these weeks later, she still got a chuckle out of the misunderstanding. 

​​​

Joe let his lips touch the hot black coffee a little too quickly, not use to the caution one needed to take when sipping on a ready made hot cup of Joe. Sometimes you had to get burnt before you learnt your lesson, and the scolding he felt on his upper lip as he jerked his head away suddenly was exactly that.

"I'm guessing we let this cool first." He said as he licked his lips and held the cup in his good hand, letting it rest on his knee. It made sense. Complete sense. He should've known this. He couldn't be this daft, could he?

He gave an awkward smirk and raised his eyebrows, as if saying, 'yes, I'm an idiot.'

"Oh, Ligambi?" Joe said with a curious voice and a few nods of his head.

He knew the name. Everyone knew the name. The Don from Las Vegas was well known the country over. And with her unveiling of information, he realized, she mightn't be as connected as he initially believed. He thought her to be one and same with the life he was apart, and what had lead him to be here, scolding himself with a simple drink. He thought she was of the life. Maybe she was just mixed up in it instead.

"So Miss..." He paused to correct himself. "Ilaria, so Ilaria, what is it you know about what we do exactly.."

Joe's tone was more a request than a question. He cautiously went back for another sip as he listened to her response. He wanted to taste how it was, as it was, before adding anything more to it.

There was something about his interaction with the coffee that seemed...different; as if he were acquainted but unfamiliar. It was curious to Ilaria, but she chalked it up to disorientation from the blood loss. 

Placing her cup down on the side table, she settled back in the chair and crossed her legs at the knees. 

"I come from Venice, Italy. The presence of the honored men and their business is nothing unfamiliar to me. While I do not get know the particulars of each family in the states, I can't imagine it's much different. This is why I was not frightened away when I met Don Ligambi. I am a healer, yes, but I have other abilities that the Don thought useful. So, here I am. Daughter of an Italian Generale turned Cosa Nostra soldato."

That was the first time she'd said it aloud. The details of her new occupation had been something she'd kept secret--especially from her father- but it was nice to be able to 'spill the beans' to someone who understood. 

"Ah, Venice? I'm from Monetmarano." He said with a light smile. Joe was both happy to be speaking with another Italian native, and also to have successfully tasted the coffee without burning his mouth.

The taste was kind of bland, but maybe that was how it was suppose to taste? Liquor had a certain kick to it. Some more so than others. All, a certain experience, like you were on a journey and the liquid was a stream taking you along. This beverage so far had him feeling like he'd want to get off at the nearest embankment. But he politely smiled as to not offend his host.

"It's near Naples. I left when I was young. Too young to remember. I hope to return someday."

His thoughts trailed off. He momentarily remembered his mother and father, both now deceased, whom he came over with to as a stow away. He then quickly diverted the conversation back to Ilaria, who he was actually interested in speaking with. It wasn't everyday he was able to have a civilized conversation with someone, without it being about business.

"Do you remember much of where you grew up?"