The two days since Cabo had been the worst that Lia and Silvio had ever spent together, both in their brief, passionate affair in Venezia and their even more passionate reunion in Las Vegas. After killing the kidnappers and getting Lia to safety, Silvio had become exponentially more withdrawn and quiet. If Lia had done the same, perhaps that would have been the start of a wedge driven between the young lovers; instead of backing off, however, Lia threw herself forward to ensure that no gap existed between them. Silvio had taken several showers a day since the shootings, scrubbing relentlessly at his chest and neck where the blood had spattered on him; when he was in there too long, Lia would come in after him and pull him out. When he tossed and turned in his sleep, Lia would hold him until he quieted. As he stared off with more vacant eyes, Lia would reach out and kiss his hand.

Their relationship, which had previously had such a focus on the physical, became entirely emotional and intellectual during his period of healing; it was a jarring change from a relationship that had seemed to be defined by sex. Slowly, she pulled him back from his dark reflections and doubts, like Orpheus descending into the underworld to retrieve Eurydice; Lia, however, succeeded where Orpheus failed. Slowly, she saw the number of showers decrease. Slowly, the redness on his chest from overly vigorous scrubbing faded and healed. Slowly, the nightmares lessened and eventually stopped. Slowly, she saw her husband return to life as he smiled at her unprompted, initiated more conversations, and then, finally, reached out for her in the night. It was like the first time, re-learning each other's bodies; slowly, they made love once again.

When they'd finished, it had seemed like a spiritual act as well as a physical one. Silvio felt a deep, abiding joy in his heart- a love for his wife that had managed to conquer the darkness within him. He sighed contentedly as he draped an arm around her and smelled her golden hair.

"Thank you, Lia. Thank you."

After a few moments, Lia realized that any reply would be fruitless; her husband had dropped off into a peaceful, contented sleep.

________

The next morning, Lia awoke to find Silvio already dressed. He was wearing a short-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of light pants- an outfit he'd first worn on the cruise that he now seemed comfortable in. Silvio was sitting in the chair next to the bed, with his legs crossed. As her beautiful eyes fluttered open, Lia saw Silvio kneel down by her bedside.

"Lia... thank you. For everything. I hope you know that is what I meant to say last night. I do not expect, magically, to forget what happened, but I believe I feel more like myself now, and you are the one who led me here."

He kissed her hand.

"Come, I have ordered you breakfast. There are some things I would like to speak to you about."

For two days, she watched. For two days, they never left the hotel, and Lia waited patiently for her husband to work through what had happened. 

Not that it hadn't affected her, too. She had twenty years of coping mechanisms, though, built up thanks to her father. Put it away, deal with it later... do what needs doing right now. 

So she did. And when the light and life came back into his eyes again, on that third day, she knew it would be okay. He would be okay. She was free to reclaim her own light. During a room-service breakfast of coffee, fruit, and toast, and eggs benedict, Lia listened to Silvio speak to her about a couple of his Vegas business ventures, nodding along and smiling even as her mind ticked through a mental checklist of things she needed to attend to. 

"Si, yes, I've only visited one of your businesses, and I will remedy that immediately. Perhaps we can meet for dinner at your club tonight? I know you are interested in possibly investing in more, that would be fun to do together! Today, though, I have an appointment. I need to see a real estate agent about properties in Enterprise. I will not be going to see homes this afternoon, but there is paperwork that needs to be signed before we get that far." 

Two separate truths, that combined, created one very large lie. Lia had never lied to Silvio before, and hated herself for it. Her eyes flicked briefly to the Eggs Benedict.

"I must hurry," she said, standing quickly as the acid in her stomach churned. "Shall we meet at the club about 6?"

-

John Watson had agreed to meet her for lunch around noon. It occurred to Lia, too late, that if they were spotted together, it would look as if she was having an affair. Pushing the thought from her mind, she greeted him with a friendly hug and sat down for club sandwiches at a local diner. They chit-chatted about Sherlock, about the incessant heat, and about the stopping power of the newest police-issue, the Model 27.

A policeman himself, he'd had no trouble getting her one. After lunch, they rode out to the desert, and he patiently taught her how to load and fire it. It was entirely different from the Beretta she carried, and had barely familiarized herself with. By the end of the day, when the sun was low enough to get into her eyes and it was time to go, she knew all she would ever know about the weapon, including how to clean it, and where best to conceal it. John drove them back to town, and after she'd paid him for the gun, she also pulled from her purse a small, wrapped box of imported tea.

"For Sherlock. I know he hates the American swill," she said with a smile. She hailed a cab, then, and hurried back to the hotel to freshen up before meeting up with Silvio. It wouldn't do, to arrive for dinner reeking of spent gunpowder and sweat. The Model 27 was in its holster, resting heavily next to her heart, and she would never be without it again. Aurora Mastrosimone was the lioness, but Lia would be the panther, sliding through the opponent's defenses in dark anonymity, tearing them to shreds before they touched what was hers.

It was a wonderful, terrible day when Lia Mattaranzi Violante became her father's daughter. Kissing Silvio on the cheek when she spotted him near the bar, she smiled.

​​​​​​"What do they serve here, Amore Mio? I'm famished!"

Silvio grinned up at her.

"Americano, unfortunately. This place mostly only serves something called "cheeseburger", and it's not even particularly good. Based on what I've heard, it should be closing any day now. That, actually, is something I wanted to speak to you about."

As they took their seats, Silvio ordered the most expensive red they had; he was sure it would be mediocre at best, but better to have wine than whatever the grease-filled punishment this place called food.

"I wanted to speak to you about two things. One... not so good. The other... good. Let us get the not so good out of the way, yes?"

He paused, shifting in his seat.

"What happened in Cabo... I am sorry. Perhaps I should have reacted differently. More strongly. I do not regret anything that I did, of course, as  I did it to protect you. But for my whole life, I have said 'I am a lover, not a fighter'. And now... who can say? Do we think this was an act of your father to retrieve you? Or were these men simply trying to take advantage of us, looking so wealthy? I would like to hear your thoughts. But, either way, I think we must do more. Make sure we are always carrying a gun. Practice using one. Perhaps even a security guard? An apartment that we buy in cash, a safe place for us to hide? I would like to take some precautions, just in case. What do you think?"

Silvio waited; he had more to say, but he did not want to drone on and on without giving Lia a chance to speak, of course.

Silvio listed the things he wanted to do, and Lia found herself somewhere between relieved and guilty that she'd already covered most of them. It was time to come clean about everything she'd been up to, and to take advantage of it all to protect them from what she knew in her heart was coming. When the wine came, she drank it down, took a long breath, and began speaking.

"It is him. I know it is but I cannot tell you how I know. I just do." She watched Silvio absorb this, her certainty, then he nodded for her to continue.

"Every moment we are not together, I've been working. The Berettas we were carrying around... nice for scare tactics perhaps, but not good enough. I've made a few connections, and one of them, a friend, or a friend of a friend, he helped me get something, um. Better?" She pulled her jacket aside, just enough for Silvio to see the Model 27. When his eyes fell upon it, they didn't move again for a long time. When he gave her his attention again, she smiled.

"Don't worry. Not only have I practiced with it, I can disassemble, clean, and reassemble it. As it turns out, I'm not a terrible shot," she said, trying to keep it light before she got to the next part. 

"You need one, too, Silvio. I can get you one, and we will practice together. Protection in the form of men, yes, that too. It happened so fast I forgot to tell you, I managed to purchase a modest DFP. Just in the last two days, I've collected enough money to hire over a dozen men. They are professional, loyal, and reliable. We can trust them," she said. She was pretty sure Silvio had, or was on the verge of, hiring several men himself. The more, the merrier.

"And a safe...house. I, uh. Well. The connection that helped me get the gun, we shared some work, so to speak, and now we are in favor with some of the authorities... namely, the ones that deal with such houses. If we need access, I am sure they will oblige us. This does not get you out of buying me a proper house, though," she winked. She prayed he was ready for the next part. Reaching across the table, she took his hands in hers.

"We will do whatever you say is best. But Silvio, I really believe our best course of action is to be offensive. Go offensive? Go on the offensive. We should hit him where he's least expecting it... in his own home. In Venezia."

Could Lia actually pull the trigger on her own father?

Staring at Silvio's face, and contemplating the absence of it, yes.

Yes, she absolutely could.

Cazzo. "It could not be my father", he had hoped for. "It is him"... not so much. But, if she was sure... Silvio nodded. He trusted his wife. He raised an eyebrow, however, when she showed him his new gun. 

"I am glad you have connections, fiore. Perhaps I should get one of those, too, as you said."

He listened, drumming his fingers.

"You have been very busy as I have run my businesses, eh? You can tell of these things, you know. I support you, whatever you would like to do. And to think I was worried about you being bored when I would go spend the day at the movie theater."

Silvio smirked.

"You are a rose, fiore, not just in beauty, but with thorns of your own. You know I am friends with the Mastrosimones. They could help us too, I'm sure. But I understand if this is something you want to handle yourself. Our own business. And, speaking of business... that was the other thing I wanted to speak to you about. We have paid down around half of the debts I've incurred... but I would like to expand. More businesses."

He ticked them off.

"A bathhouse for this Godforsaken desert. A Venetian restauarant. And, perhaps most interesting to you, a shooting range. I found one on the outskirts that has a solid foundation and only needs minimal reservations. Let us focus on that first, and then have us practice before we jump into the fire, yes? I will focus on building our financial lives, while you focus on safeguarding our lives, yes? Hire your people, acquire your weapons, practice your skills."

Silvio reached out and took her hand.

"And when you say that it is time, I will follow you in whatever you choose."

She couldn't help but smile at the way he appeared to take it all in stride. Her fingers tightened around his as the wine coursed through her empty stomach. Maybe it was the drink, but maybe they were even better now, stronger, even, having been broken and put back together more tightly than before? 

Time would tell, as it always did.

"All of those things, they are perfect. I will do whatever I can to help in your ventures. I may not be around as much as you are, here in Vegas, but I will be here often enough to assist," she said, then proceeded to explain the ridiculous profits to be made drug-running across the country, and how it would soon clear Silvio's debt altogether. She had bodyguards now, and would be enveloped within them wherever she went.

The money she made would also finance a small arsenal, a private plane, and a trip to Venice, if and when that time came.

First things first, though.

"So, this firing range, it is first on your list? That would be ideal, for obvious reasons. And an authentic Italian restaurant, Silvio! How wonderful, are you hiring a chef from back home? I confess I have my concerns over this bathhouse... please tell me you aren't hiring old girlfriends!" She chided as she raised her glass and finished the wine that she didn't need, and probably shouldn't be drinking. 

It felt good, though, this moment. It felt right. Simple joy, happy conversation. 

Perhaps it was just a calm before their storm. Pushing the ugly thought away, she stood, pulling Silvio up with her. 

"Does this place have a dance floor? If not, let's go create one."

Silvio grinned at his wife. He called her his flower... but that was more a figure of speech than an accurate depiction. Flowers stayed were you planted them and were dependent on others; his wife was a powerful, ambitious woman, and he loved her for it. 

"You must tell me about your adventures in these other cities. I have rarely left Las Vegas since arriving here; the farthest I've been is Los Angeles", he admitted sheepishly.

"The range, the bathhouse, the restaurant, perhaps a tailor's shop... these are all things I'd like to pursue soon."

Silvio looked mock-offended.

"You know, I do not have that many old girlfriends."

He intentionally did not look at Sofia Rossi, one of his bartenders, as they passed by her.

"And does this place have a dance floor? I will show you..."

Leading Lia Violante passed the bar and the dining tables, Silvio showed off the large dance floor and the band that was playing; Frank, the trumpet-playing band leader, saw the Violantes and switched to an upbeat, active dance number. As they began their spinning dance, Silvio pushed all thoughts of the future from his mind.