The wind blew past Isabella.  Maybe it was the temperature or the smells - or the church, but for a brief moment, she found herself remembering a similar day in the same month many long years ago.

Fumbling hands trembled with a mix of excitement and eagerness.  A blur of kisses, and clothing falling away, two young people alone in the darkness between the pews of a church.  It was the only place they could sneak into and be alone.  Isabella could feel the eyes of Christ on his cross looking down on her as Matteo pulled away her shirt revealing her simple white bra.  She'd never felt more vulnerable or beautiful as she did at this moment.  

Isabella paused, remembering the last time she saw Matteo... Mattie as she knew him.

"Molto tempo, non ci vediamo, Bella."

Mattie called her Bella too.  And his smirk... that smirk was so much like Gavin's... or Gavin's was so much like his since she knew Mattie first.  No, more correctly, he was her first.

Isabella winced. 

There was nothing beautiful or special about what was happening, not the way she hoped there would be, the way the dime store novels said that it would be.  In truth, it was odd, and it hurt.  Her eyes connected with the face of Christ as he endured The Passion.  Her hands gripped the legs of the pew to either side of them just to keep from sliding across the floor with every thrust.

Finally, with a small amount of effort on Mattie's part, it seemed to end. He trembled between her legs, covered in sweat and not even looking at her, gasping her name over and over as if begging for something she didn't quite understand. 

Isabella found it ironic that this was supposed to have been something so special... so important.   The only thing she felt now was wet, sore, uncomfortable, and a bit ashamed as God continued his unblinking stare down upon her.  If there was anything good about this moment, it was only that Mattie seemed absolutely blissful.  She just wished she could share in his enthusiasm.

He was her first in more ways than one.  He was her first love.  

"I'm going to marry you one day, Bella."  He said putting the little carnival prize, a ring, on her finger as the Ferris Wheel brought them up and over the whole of Coney Island boardwalk.

"Don't say it if you don't mean it, Mattie."  She didn't want him to take it back, but her mother had warned her about how boys could be.  But Mattie wasn't just SOME BOY... he was THE ONE.  She knew it, the man she was going to marry. 

"There will never be another woman in my life like you Bella.  Not ever, I swear to you."

Isabella closed her eyes and leaned in to kiss him knowing that Mattie was her forever.

And her first heartbreak.

Isabella opened the door and walked into the storage room and there he was... no... there THEY were.  The wind was sucked out of her lungs.  Everything she thought she knew about the world, everything good, was gone in an instant.  Her love and her best friend...  

"How could you do this?"  She whimpered, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks.  Sorrow and pain blending, tremors of rage ripped through her body.  She wanted to make them pay... Mattie and Teresa both... but instead, she ran as hard and fast as she could from the scene.  

"Bella? Oh Shit! Bella, come back!"  Mattie was screaming to her, but she didn't care.  

Why should she care?  Why be surprised at all, really?  It was just another man, a man who should have loved her, leaving her heart an empty wreck.  For the first time ever, she found herself simultaneously wishing she had a father to kill someone for her... and loathing him utterly at the same time.  She prayed she never actually met Salvatore Luciano face to face because if she did, she'd kill him for sure!

And ironically, her first kill.

"Now..."  She swallowed, "Who's betraying my family?"

"Do you know someone called Antonio Romano?"  Mattie asked.

"I might.  It's a common enough name."  

"He was with your father a few days ago, at the Ford Motor Plant.  He told Garrett he saw your father kill a man, a man you'd been talking with when they'd arrived, but the Agent convinced him that it would be better if he'd seen you do it.  He wants you to flip.  Thought he could put the screws to you better & a whole slew of big fish... he figured your father would never do it, even if he did have him on murder."

"Well, you don't have to worry."  She said honestly.  "Garrett has been handled."

"Garrett is a dog with a bone, Bella."  He stepped closer to her.  "He wants your Dad and he's not giving up.  Even if you did manage to get rid of him, or throw him off your trail, he's just a cog in the bigger machine.  The FBN will keep coming and if you don't have eyes on the inside, you're going to be in a world of trouble."

Isabella numbly wiped away the last of her tears with her right hand, if what Mattie said was true - then he was of no use to her father.  Worst of all, he was a liability.

"Let me help you.  If you've got this one rat in your house, Bella, chances are good there could be others.  I can help you find men who'd betray you.  You can handle it however you do... I don't want any part in that, but... let me at least give you a warning before they come bringing hell down upon you and your family."

"Alright."  She lied.  "You're right, of course." 

Isabella watched Mattie's body visibly relax, she watched him flex his fingers and the way his eyes drifted away from her when she'd agreed to his way of thinking.  Each action told a story that she alone knew how to read.  Doubt and fear were replaced by increased certainty as each moment passed.

"Garrett is far more dangerous than we gave him credit for.  He's ... resourceful.  What you've done for me today, Mattie, it's helped me to understand just how far these guys will go."  She shook her head.  "It's a hard lesson, but now I see.  Now I understand.  Nothing is sacred to them.  My father is going to be so very happy when this information is brought to him."  

She puts her hand upon Mattie's cheek, staring into his eyes just like she used to do.  It was like putting on her favorite, and well worn, pair of shoes.  He fit her, their bodies knew each other so well.  Putting him on was an urge that was hard to resist... even now, here, like this and with all the strangeness of this moment. She felt his left hand touch her hip and her skin lit up with arousal. She could FEEL Elias' eyes on them, waiting for her to show her hand.  Hoping for her to give him an order, praying that she wasn't going any further with this than she already had.

"Don Salvatore will want to reward the man who gives him this rat, but not before I do."  She stood up on her tip toes and closed her eyes.  Her lips connected with Mattie's lips slowly at first, but eventually with all the fire that she used to have for him.  She could hear Elias shift uncomfortably next to them.  She wished that he could see all the memories & thoughts which had sped through her mind in these last few minutes; but wishes were for children - and she wasn't an innocent girl anymore.

As their lips parted, she put her forehead against Mattie's and listened to him breathe her name.  "Bella..." 

Her heart raced as her left hand, still holding the gun at her side, held as still as it possibly could so he wouldn't know what was coming next.  Silently, her thumb disengaged the safety.

"You should go."  She said.  

Matteo nodded.  "I'll be in touch soon.  Not right away, the heat will be too much.  They watch me all the time, but I will reach out as soon as I can."

"Goodbye, Mattie."  She whispered and raised her gun as soon as he'd turned away.  

Remembering her father's advice, she took a deep breath, exhaled, and did not blink.  A twitch of her finger and it was over.  Like that night in the church, so much more fuss had been made than was necessary about such a simple thing.  

The echo of the gun firing still rang in her ears as she dropped her arm and watched his blood pooling on the pavement.  She was trembling, sweat covered, staring at him - completely unaware that she was nearly gasping his name over and over.  It was as if she was begging him for something that now he would never understand.

But this wasn't Mattie.  And now, she knew exactly what it was she'd wanted that day... and now, she knew where it truly came from and how to get it.  One final check of her weapon and then, it was time to get down to business.

Approaching the heavy door of the church, Ilaria glanced up at the ornate carvings in the stone archway over the entrance.  Someone had gone to great care to etch angels, cherubs, seraphim, and other adornments in the stone.  It really was masterful work.  What caught her eye, however, were the three words carved in the center.  "Joy - Love - Mercy"

It was the last word that caught in her mind as she touched the heavy door's handle.  Mercy; a word that sounded so sweet, so kind. To Ilaria, however, mercy would always be a gray area, tinged with guilt.

----------

"Lieutenant, before you go for the night, can you please administer Signore Conti his evening medications?"

"Yes, Captain."

Ilaria was just finishing her evening shift at the base hospital.  It had been a long day already, and her feet were throbbing.  A smile crept onto her face, though, as she made her way down the corridor to a small, private room on the ward.  The door was already open just a crack, and it was quiet.

Signore Roman Conti was easily the most well-liked patients in the entire base hospital. Had he not been the father of one of the base commanders, he would have been in a nursing home, slowly and painfully dying of colon cancer.  Instead, he was well cared for by the medical staff on base, and visited often by many officers and staff.  He liked to play chess, and was known to let the younger officers win if they'd sneak him in a flask.  Even Ilaria had fallen to his charms now and then, sharing a bit of whiskey when she knew she could get away with it. 

Once inside, Ilaria could see that Signore Conti was sleeping.  She placed the small tray of pills and a glass of water on the table beside his bed.  Hearing the tapping sound of her shoes, the old man woke up.

"Ah, Ilaria.  Just the angelic face I was hoping to see this night."

Ilaria smiled and patted his hand.

"How are you feeling tonight, Signore?"

Truthfully, she knew the answer.  The elderly man was at the point where the only thing the staff could do was make him comfortable; but even that wasn't really working anymore.  He cleared his throat, which gave way to a cough, and shook his head.

"I am tired, bella.  Very tired."

Ilaria nodded and took the glass of water in her hand.

"You can rest, as soon as you have your medicines. They will help you sleep."

To her surprise, the old man shook his head again, waving off the glass.

"I don't want it." 

His response wasn't cold, but it was firm.  Ilaria cocked her head to one side.

"Do you want me to come back later?"

"I mean I don't want the medications anymore.  I don't want to sleep just to wake up tomorrow and still be rotting away in this bed."

He reached up and took her hand, looking up at her with eyes that reminded her of a child.

"I'm ready to go.  I do not wish to bear the pain of this corpse any longer.  Will you help me, Ilaria?"

At his words, Ilaria's stomach flip-flopped.  She opened her mouth to say something comforting, to encourage him to take the medications; but she could see that he meant it.  He was finished.  The cough was a day or two old, and the staff had been saying that he only had a week, maybe two.  His eyes spoke of more pain in his spirit than in his body; though likely both were devastating.

She put the glass down and put her other hand on top of his.

"Signore, this is..."

Roman Conti coughed again, harder this time.  Ilaria watched, her heart breaking a bit more with every cough. 

"Ilaria, please.  I'm dying.  This world has nothing left for me but one thing.  Mercy.  Please, bella, be my angel of mercy."

His words were as somber and pleading as Ilaria had ever heard from anyone.  She knew in her heart and soul that no one else would do this for him. Without a word, even a nod, she stood and left the room.  She knew what it would take- that part was easy.  With a heavy heart but determined spirit, she walked the corridor to the pharmacy.  

One little bottle, one little syringe.  It struck Ilaria how strange it was that it took so much to bring a life into the world, but so very little to end it. She returned to his room and sat beside his bed, placing the syringe and bottle on the table.  She looked into the old man's eyes again.  There was a peace in his eyes; like nothing she'd ever seen.  It was as if she'd already given him the drug, and he knew he was going home.  She took his hand again, bowed her head, and together in the dim light of the room, they whispered the Lord's Prayer.  When it was done, she made the sign of the cross over herself, then reached back and took the syringe and bottle, drawing the drug up through the needle.  She thought she would be more upset; more nervous. Her hands, though, were steady.  Roman Conti looked at her with a grateful smile, nodding his head.  With that, Ilaria slid the needle into his arm and pushed the plunger down steadily.

The old man closed his eyes and sighed deeply; contentedly.  After she took out the needle, she sat there and held his hand.  She knew the drugs would work quickly.  He never groaned, twitched, or spoke at all.  Ilaria watched over him for two minutes. Finally, his grip on her hand faltered, and the smile faded.  He inhaled softly, and then Roman Conti passed peacefully into the arms of God.

----------

Ilaria exhaled slowly, closing her eyes briefly, then pulled on the heavy door handle.  One last time, she glanced up at the stone archway, the words slipping from her lips as if a prayer.

"Joy...love...mercy..."

The door closed behind her as Ilaria entered the sanctuary, making the sign of the cross, and sat down.

Just one more step... A little further and Luna would be able to enter the church.

However, as she moved from her original position - she was horribly entranced by a flashback from many years ago. Her body stiffened as she tried to catch her breath, but she held a hand to her temples and rubbed it gently. Maybe she was just getting a headache, but really - she was still traumatized even after years of taking her first kill. It was a matter of guilt and atonement. She felt that if she could kill the one person that did her friend wrong, Luna would be able to receive justice for her. As she stood still outside the church doors, she felt extremely sinful for thinking about this kind of situation in her head. She intended on coming here for the usual Sunday mass, but it seems as if the devil had captured her once again - to remind her of the suffer she put herself through.

The flashback presented a very vivid memory - and it didn't help that she was wearing the same sweater she wore on the day she decided to take vengeance into her own hands. It was the darkest of nights, and Luna remembered showing up to the house of her friend's killer. The same brown sweater she was wearing was the same one she had to put in the laundry multiple times just for the blood to be washed off. None of what happened that night was accidental - and Luna had intended to make her friend's killer suffer the same way her friend did. It was only fair that he got the same treatment. Well at the time, Luna thought that could be the only solution to her problems. In the end, getting revenge never really lessened the pain - but actually made it worse because now she had to deal with the fact that she had killed someone. 

Surely she wouldn't go to hell for this?

She only had good intentions, yet the main outcome of the situation was that she just became another murderer. On the bloody night, she had entered his backyard as the fence was wide open. It looked like a trap at first, but he wouldn't recognize her if he tried. Luna was good at keeping her identity secret - especially from people like him. She liked to think that she was always in incognito mode, but when a situation like this would arise - she was willing to break it to get justice for her friend.

Luna was fast approaching the entrance of his back door, and as she did - her hand was rested on the gun holster attached to her hip. If she heard anything even the faintest of footsteps, she would take her gun out and point it at them. Just as she was about to pick the lock of the back door, she was suddenly pulled towards someone's hard chest. Luna widened her eyes as she felt two strong hands cover her mouth to muffle the screams that would come out. She tried so hard to pry his fingers from her face, but he was much too forceful on her. Luckily, she was able to put her defence skills to the test as she raised her back leg and aggressively pushed behind her where her foot smacked against his crotch. The man let out a harsh groan as a result and stumbled backwards, eventually tripping over something.

Luna was able to get away.

She turned around and noticed he was crouching on the ground now probably holding onto his precious nuts that would soon be dysfunctional. She didn't waver in approaching him in a cynical manner. Surprisingly he didn't bother to get up after she kicked the heel of her black boot against his ribs.

Had he really given up that easily? She thought to herself at the time. Even though she was relieved that she didn't have to do much to fight back, she was disappointed because Luna was expecting a fight to break out. 

She wanted him to suffer the same way that her friend did, but Luna quickly changed into her panic mode, which ultimately made her take the pistol out of the holster and brutally put a bullet through the killer's head. She had such a great plan for how she would make him go through hell and back, but unfortunately she was overwhelmed by the whole situation and decided to do the easy way out. Nonetheless, the blood that splattered onto the fence behind him probably made more damage than planned, because there was too much to clean. It had been her first kill. Even though she had training in how to deal with these kind of situations - it was the first time she ever had to apply the things learnt. The inexperienced girl she was ran away from the scene of crime, and hopped into her vehicle where she would arrive home later to wash the brown sweater that she had ruined. This wasn't Luna's proudest achievement, but in her mind at the time - she thought it was logical and necessary. Luna was loyal to only a few people, her friend being one of them. Her name still lingers in the back of Luna's mind.

Lux. Her name literally meaning 'light' - who she was exactly. Lux was the light in Luna's life, and it is ironic that the darkness had consumed her. As Luna remembered the blood on her hands and clothes that night, she felt even more paranoid now for no reason. There was no one out to get her. No one even knew that she had killed him - mostly because no one ever thought she was capable.  How could an innocent, pure, christian girl like Luna do such a thing? Right? 

Her hands were shaking as Luna snapped back to reality. The uneasiness of the flashback seemed to grow stronger as she finally entered the church doors, but told herself a silent prayer in hopes to calm her beating heart.