The moment Ilaria and Joe stepped onto the tarmac in Paris, two middle-aged men in green dress uniforms approached in lock-step. They both greeted Ilaria with a sharp salute. 

"Bentornato, Maggiore Santoro. Siamo qui per accompagnarti a casa."

Ilaria gave the two a confused glance, but returned the salute in kind.

"English, please, Captain. And it's Second Lieutenant."

The officers took both of their suitcases and led them a few hundred feet down the tarmac to a green transport plane with the Italian flag on the tail. Ilaria slipped her arm into Joe's. When they were seated, one of the officers handed Ilaria a newspaper.

"Generale Ricci thought you'd like to see this."

He turned to Joe.

"May I know your name, Signore, for the manifest?"

As he spoke to Joe, Ilaria looked down at the Italian language paper. There was a large portrait of her father taking up the entire front page, along with a bold headline.

National War Hero and Beloved Commander

Passes Away

They'd finally landed. He stepped onto the tarmac with a little bit of gusto, happy to be off the plane. What he really wanted to do was sit at a card table. Sip some whisky. And blend into the smokey aroma of whatever place he'd fallen into, and would later crawl out of, hoping he still had enough in him to knock on her door.

"Jo... Giuseppe Doto."

He nearly stammered out his Americanized street name, a little taken back by the whole formality of things. It was odd someone would know his real name. Giuseppe was now Joe. Doto, gone altogether and replaced with a slapstick version of his middle name Antonio, his father's name.

This whole situation had him smirking as he simply decided to follow along. He was use to following orders. Just not from the likes of someone in a uniform. For a nurse though, he'd take many an order. But from someone who from outward appearances was a part of some system that took what he did and made it into a rigged affair, he wasn't use to. In fact, he despised it. Jail was that kind, and he'd die before going back.

But it was his humor that would get him through this. So he leaned back, and let the experience be just that. A little something he could look back on at some point. The thought of poker returned. Fuck. Maybe it wouldn't be that easy.

Ilaria's head popped up from the newspaper in her hands. She looked at Joe curiously and folded the paper, putting it in her lap. 

"Giuseppe? Is that one of your fakes? Of course, that's fine, but you don't need to worry about security here. No questions will be asked of you."

The engines of the plane roared to life, considerably louder than the plane from Philadelphia. Ilaria leaned over and spoke loudly. 

"It's only an hour and a half." 

Poker. Whisky. Loud as fuck airplane. He had to keep himself sane somehow as his thoughts kept toying with him. He wasn't use to not being able to do what he wanted and when. An hour and a half?!

"That's fine!" Joe blurted out, a little louder than necessary, then realizing he'd attracted more attention than anticipated smiled as sweetly as he could bare himself to, which based on who he was looking at came easy enough.

"One and a half hours." He said, this time in a lower tone but still with enough vibrancy that he could hear himself talk over the engines.

"Oh, and that's no alias."

Now, a genuine smile. A slightly cocksure one. It just clicked that he'd never mentioned his real name to her before. Such was their relationship. One hot mess after another. Maybe if their dinners went to plan, they'd have similar conversations like they did his first night in the clinic. Even then, he wasn't simply there to get a routine flu shot.

Settling back on the metal, bench seat, Ilaria snapped the five point harness into place. After 14 hours on a plane, her dress was a mess, but she knew there was another outfit waiting for her, in a room that she'd left with really no intention of seeing again.

Take off was fast and bumpy, but Ilaria didn't mind. She distracted her mind from things to come by thinking about Joe. Her hand sat easily in his, as it had practically since they left the Dockside Inn. She let her eyes fall down to their joined hands. Joe had the hands of a fighter. Not just a boxer, but a man who had fought for everything his entire life; something that was confirmed by his comment on the trip from Italy with his family. By contrast, Ilaria had soft, slender, and dainty hands. While she worked very hard at her profession, her life hadn't been so physically taxing. Even at the boarding school, she was the General's daughter. Now, anxiety was setting in. Would everything go come over the next few days change the way he saw her? She knew he valued her down to earth nature and simplicity - but that was not the way life was for her here, and Joe was about to get a big taste of it. 

It was 17:30 when the plane touched down at the air base at Pordenone. From the window, Ilaria could see two black cars, each with two men standing at attention beside them. She rolled her eyes. Was this necessary? Already she was tired of the ceremony. Still, she stood and did her best to smooth out her dress. Turning to Joe, she slid her arm into his. 

"I hope you're ready for this."

The door opened, and they stepped out into the warm, evening air. As they stepped off the air stairs, the men snapped into a salute. The back door of the first car opened, and an older, bearded man in a heavily decorated uniform got out. At this sight, Ilaria's eyes widened. She stopped and stood at attention, looking at the old man intensely as she gave him a salute. He returned it  slowly, then Ilaria almost leaped into his arms. 

"Zio Carlo, I have missed you!"

She kissed both his cheeks, then stepped back.

"Joe, this is my Uncle Carlo. Everyone around here calls him General Ricci, though. Zio, this is my-"

This gave her pause. What exactly were they? Clearly, they were in love, and as much of a couple as two could be; but they'd never talked about titles. It wasn't necessary. They were just Adontoro, and that was enough.

"-my compagno, Giuseppe Doto."

The name felt strange to say, still not knowing the story behind it. 

When introductions were done and Joe and Carlo had shaken hands, they all got into the second car. General Ricci sat up front, and Ilaria and Joe sat in the back. As the car moved, the General asked in a cheerful, heavily accented voice. 

​​​​​​"So, how was your flight, Maggiore?" 

Ilaria scowled again, chuckling.

"Have I been gone so long that everyone has forgotten? I'm just a second lieutenant?" 

"I hope you're ready for this."

Joe wasn't the type to get intimidated. Not really. He found himself more curious about powerful types. Politicians he didn't care much for. Musicians though. Alexander Knight caught his attention just by his status alone. And being Joe was the right hand to a mob boss, and had rubbed shoulders with some faces the country over who ran not just businesses, but full fledged cities, he felt quite fine with his own place within the world. Even when certain groups would knock on the doors at the pool hall, he'd meet them with a smile and a cheeky bit of banter.

As they stepped out of the vehicle though, some of that seemed to change. He was in another country. He didn't have the usual people around him. He didn't exactly feel safe, not in the way a revolver in your jacket made you and a room full of people looking out for your well being did. So when he met her uncle, Joe was already on the back foot.

No banter. No wry grin. Just a straight faced Adonis accompanied an outstretched hand as Ilaria introduced him.

"Call me Joe." He said with a respectful nod and a firm handshake, making sure it was exactly that, a strong grip. Not too strong. But enough he was taken seriously.

In the next car ride, Joe sat more silent. More focused on the passing scenery outside the window. He was in his head again. But not about poker, or drinking, or trivial things of that nature. He was thinking about his parents. His father, mostly.

For the remainder of the short drive to Ilaria's fathers house, she and General Ricci lightly chatted about inane things. Occasionally, she would give Joe's hand a squeeze. They'd only been in Italy for a half hour, but she already craved quiet time with him.

The cars rolled to a stop in front of a two-story white stucco home with dark wooden shutters, polished brass fittings on the door, and a manicured front garden. General Ricci himself got out and opened the door for Ilaria, then stood with her as she took in the sight.

"I know that you and Signore Dota must be tired from your trip, and I will leave you to rest until tomorrow morning; but there is something I must show you."

He walked ahead toward the door. Ilaria reached out for Joe's hand, her own trembling. They walked up the stone steps, then through the door. It was dim, only lit by the fading sun coming through the windows. There were flower arrangements on seemingly every table and chair. Every mirror and clock was covered by a black cloth.

General Ricci led them to the dining room. On the table sat a black case. He walked over and opened it, then turned to Ilaria. 

"Your father was proud of you, Ilaria. He never knew how to say it, and he regretted that. But he was proud."

From the case, he lifted four patches, a set of gold pins with a star in the center, and a silver medal on a yellow ribbon.

"He kept your promotions going, after you left. He had your assignment changed to special duty overseas. We have called you Major, because he saw to your promotions; and you have been awarded the Humanitarian Medal of Honor for your determination to provide care for Italian citizens in other countries."

Without another word, General Ricci missed Ilaria on each cheek, then somberly turned and left. 

Ilaria stood in silence staring at the case. There was no stopping it now. Those warm tears that had threatened since the day before finally fell freely as she ran her finger over the pins and patches. 

As they reached the table, Joe could sense Ilaria's feelings bubbling to the surface. With Uncle Ricci's words moments earlier, he'd anticipated things to become even more emotional. She was good at not showing her inner world. To Joe, she was more of a rock for him then he'd ever been for her. Their time together had been one wild ride after another at his expense and she was there through it all, by his side.

Joe gripped Ilaria's hand tighter than usual as they approached the black case, then let it go as he stood off to the side, his hands clasped together in front of his abdomen, as if in a pose similar to one of his bodyguards. He only ever used this stance when wanting his own inner self to be solid, and his emotions non existent. 'Stay dangerous', the words of Don Mezzo at Liberty Belle Massage Parlor echoing in his mind.

He'd taken in all that was said. His attention couldn't have been pried away no matter the demons tugging at what was left of his soul. Without further waiting, and as General Ricci made his exit, Joe moved towards Ilaria. It was his time to be there for her. He slid his left arm across her lower back as he stood solidly next to her, hip to hip, letting her head drop onto his shoulder, as he glanced down at the case.

After a moment of letting Ilaria let go of what it was that wanted to be released, and allowing himself to be whatever it was she needed in that moment, Joe couldn't help himself.

"So Major Guaio it is, then." He said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Major Trouble. 

His words broke through her grief and caused Ilaria to laugh through the tears. She nodded, swiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. 

"It's fitting, no?" 

She laid her head on his shoulder again for a moment, just grateful to the gods that he was there by her side. 

"Come, my love, I'll show you the rest of the house."

Though a bit larger than the rest of the houses on base, the Santoro home wasn't anything lavish or extravagant. The bottom floor consisted of the dining room, kitchen, a small living room, and a study. At the base of the stairs leading to the second floor, there was a large, painted portrait of Generale Santoro sitting on an easel with flowers and small white candles scattered around the base. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms and a shared bathroom.

With Joe's hand still holding hers, Ilaria slowly turned the knob to the last door in the little hallway and walked inside. Unsurprisingly, everything was exactly as she'd left it. Her bed was neatly made, with a blanket folded at the end. Her dresser was dusted and uncluttered, and her small writing desk still had the stationary and pen she'd used to write her farewell letter to her father on it. 

Hanging on the door of the closet was a green garment bag. Ilaria didn't need to look inside. It was her formal, dress uniform--and it would need attention before the funeral, but that could wait.

The two made their way back downstairs to the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge. Ilaria read it and smiled. 

"Carmen made sure we wouldn't be hungry. She is Uncle Carlo's wife. Second wife. Maybe third - I don't remember."

She opened the refrigerator door and began pulling out bowls and plates. The sight of all the food made her realize just how hungry she was. Within a few minutes, they were seated at the kitchen table with quite a spread between them. After a bite or two of antipasti, Ilaria looked up at Joe and reached for his hand. 

​​​​​​​"I know today has been like a whirlwind. How are you doing with all this?" 

At hearing Ilaria speak and with a mouthful of food, Joe raised his eyeline. He'd nibbled on something they called breakfast and lunch on the first flight but it was nothing that shook his hunger like a well prepared, home cooked meal. Pasta made it all the better.

After placing his fork down, he took her hand in his. Looking into her eyes from across the table, he could see she was still heavy-hearted compared to her usual self. It was expected. Leaning forward, Joe placed his other hand on top.

"With all what, exactly?" He said with a light smile. He knew what she was asking though. 

"You mean knowing that the women I..." He caught himself before he let it slip. He paused a moment before quickly changing what he was going to say.

"You mean with you being more than just a sexy nurse?"

His smile was playful, but then it slowly faded as his tone and facial expression became more serious.

"But it's not about me. We're here for you. How are you feeling with all of this?"

His near-slip of the tongue didn't go unnoticed, but Ilaria had made up her mind some time ago that she wasn't going to press him over words. The feeling was there - she knew it - but sometimes those are the hardest words to say, even for the toughest men. That was something Ilaria had understood from an extremely young age.

"I'm ok. I do not like the feeling of this emotional merry-go-round, and I'd like to get off."

With that, she drained her glass of wine and went about pouring another. Enough wine would do the trick. With enough wine, the walls would blur together and she could pretend they were back at The Dockside Inn tangled in each other and bothering the neighboring guests. 

"Tomorrow will be an easy day. An attorney is coming in the morning to go over the paperwork for the estate, then later in the afternoon we leave for Rome. That's where the real 'fun' begins."

Ilaria's smirk faded quickly. She stood and walked around behind Joe's chair, circling her arms around him.

"Thank you for this. For being by my side through this. So much you don't have to do, yet you do anyway. How did I get so lucky?" 

At the mention of fun, Joe returned the smirk. He didn't know what she meant but so far things were interesting. He felt a little like an oddball out here, like a fish out of water, but he was with someone he'd travel the world to find so he'd made up his mind in the car ride over he was going to make the most of it.

"Thank you for this. For being by my side through this. So much you don't have to do, yet you do anyway. How did I get so lucky?"

"Well.." Joe began as he raised his hand, placing it on her cheek. He gave her face a rub, smiling.

"I think it was that soap on your face that did it. How could I resist that bubbly personality?"

He was referring to a moment he hoped she would remember. He certainly did. He hadn't been the same since.

Ilaria grinned at the memory- clearly remembering the way she felt when his hand brushed her cheek that first time.  She'd never felt that way before, and she hadn't felt the same since. 

By the time the meal was done and the bottle of wine mostly gone, the sun had set.  She put the plates into the sink to deal with later, then took Joe's hand and led him back upstairs to her bedroom.  Ilaria was ready to feel anything but grief- to concentrate on anything other than ranks and ceremony.  She closed the door to the bedroom and gazed at Joe with clear intent. The wine had more than lightened her mood, and despite the hazy edges of her vision, he looked like the angel she needed and the devil she wanted. 

Reaching behind her, she pulled the comb away that was holding her hair up.  Glossy black curls cascaded down to her shoulders as she began unbuttoning the top of her dress. Her eyes absolutely smoldered as the garment slid to the floor.

How did he get so lucky was the thought that pulsated out of his shiny blues. He'd not had the same amount of drink that Ilaria did, but again, it wasn't about him. It was about her. And as she gazed at him, he could tell what it was that she needed. To be loved, and fucked, and lost to the moment. It wasn't about him, but he sure as hell was going to enjoy all of it, all of her, and make sure she knew just how much he loved and desired her.

---

Blinking his eyes open, the next day came sooner than he expected. Ilaria had passed out shortly after they had Christened her bedroom. He was left to his own devices for a few hours, before he also lost himself to a much needed sleep. The plane rides. The formality of the day. The whirlwind of emotions. It was more taxing than Bowden on his most profitable days. And for Joe, he declared all of them lucrative based on how much he willingly dumped into the Purgatory coffers.

Rolling over, Joe noticed she was nowhere to be seen. He took a satisfied breath in as he closed his eyes again, her perfume still lingering on the pillow. The night was a gift enough. The new day needn't start out as giving, he thought, then made himself more comfortable hoping to get a little more sleep in before the hectic rigidity of Major Guaio's life slapped his ass back into gear.

"Gratzi, Signore. Have a wonderful day."

Ilaria closed the door behind the small, wiry lawyer with whom she'd spent the last hour. Previous to his arrival, she had spent some time going through the house, marking things she wished to have shipped back to the US, and what could be donated to charity. She'd woken up around 4 in the morning, and couldn't fall back to sleep. After spending a few minutes watching Joe peacefully resting, she'd gotten up and dressed. 

The clock read 9:30 when she wandered back upstairs. She smiled softly and climbed into bed beside her lover. No amount of wine could have dulled their passion the night before. It had been perfect - exactly the release she needed. This day seemed more manageable for it. Her fingers walked up his chest, followed by her lips as the sun streamed in through the window, warming the skin of his face. 

"Good morning, mia amore. I hate to wake you from sweet dreams, but, I can offer coffee."

She chuckled a little. 

A smile immediately began as Joe felt her touch. No amount of sunlight rays beaming down on him could compare, but he was enjoying them together as he was awoken from a light, and very pleasant sleep. His eyes slowly opened. Joe reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it against his chest.

"Coffee sounds good."

She'd popped his caffeine cherry the night they'd met. If he wasn't so drawn to whisky, it would now be his drink of choice. A night out with Bowden had him trying them both together. Not a bad little combo of pick me up and ease me down. Coffee alone though, his mornings were better for it than a shot or two of liquor.

"Where'd you get to?"

Ilaria rested her chin on his chest and grinned as he kissed her hand. 

"I woke up early, couldn't go back to sleep, so I just took care of a few things until the attorney arrived to deal with my father's estate."

Her expression, at those words, had a touch of hesitation as she continued. 

"I'm either going to need a bigger room in the clinic or bite the bullet and find a real house. I have a lot of furniture now."

Leaning up, she kissed him and then got up. 

"I'll go put the coffee on and fill you in on the rest of the day when you come down."

Her eyes lingered with him for a few more moments before she turned toward the door.