Billy smiled and waved Eli into the room.

"I remember you well Eli, not sure I could forget anytime soon actually." He lifted his shirt and showed the large bruise on his ribs that had only just turned that yellow hue that meant it was healing. "Come in sit down. I have something for you."

He placed a cigar box with a large red "M" stamped into it onto his desk. Next to it he placed an envelope.

"I've got a place ticket here too with your name on it. I have need for you to hop over to England and meet with a supplier of my cigars. I need you to bring him these, my own special blend, as well as this envelope. Bring back whatever he gives you. Under no circumstances should you mention that you know the names Integra or Alucard though, do you understand that? It's very important that they recognize you have no connection to those people."

He put a hand on each of the two items.

"Think you can handle that Eli? If you can, you might just get lucky enough to be invited to dinner on Sunday when my daughter comes home."

He put on his smile again while waiting for a reply.

"Always nice to know I leave an impression. Glad it's healing up all the same. I got a few reminders myself, though they've been making friends to keep them company the last couple days. City folk get worked up awful easy sometimes."

Eli turned his attention to the box and the envelope. Delivering cigars to England? That was a new one and not exactly in his normal job description. Something was a bit on the strange side here, and the deliberate mention of two names he'd never heard in his life seemed to reinforce that. Surely he had to know that these people were strangers to him? If they really needed to keep their distance from those names wouldn't it be better if he never knew them?

And dinner.

It was a hell of an offer. These Italian sorts knew their way around a dinner table and seeing the man's daughter was more than incentive enough. She was exciting in the same way as toying with an open flame. You knew full well that if you lean a little too far in, or fan the flame with the wrong thing then it'll all blow up on you and eat you alive. It still didn't put a damper on the rush you got from it.

Then again, he couldn't help but be wary of a father dangling that under his nose. Eli knew where he ranked on the totem pole, and it was shooting out of his league. The offer itself almost felt like approval though and it was enough to raise a smile at the thought.

"I can take care of that for you, hoss. Can't say I'm too familiar with England but I'm always happy to see new scenery from time to time. As for them folks you mentioned I can't say I've heard of them until now, so that shouldn't be any trouble. Are they people I ought to watch out for while I'm there? I tend to make sure I'm loaded for bear, so if there's anybody that might be trouble I'll be more than happy to keep an eye out."

New York Local Time:  9pm.    Milan Local Time:  3am

Oriana sighs. After a long day of planning out the party and discussing diplomatic strategies, Aurora and Brigitte were finally... doing the same thing for hours and hours more. Oriana had helped at first, but now she was bored as hell, and she considered sneaking out to go kill Mattaranzi to just end this. Instead, she picked up the phone and di

Oriana aled it. It was 3 AM here, which meant...  9PM for Tara? Not too bad.

Tara says, Tara, still at her mom's desk, picks up the phone, "Hello, Mastosimone Residence, this is Tara speaking."

Oriana says, "You need to work on that. You sound like a secretary. Or room service."

Tara says, Tara laughed as soon as she recognized Ori's voice across the crackling line, "Well, I have been doing the work of a secretary.  So maybe I'm knocking it out of the park?"

Oriana says, "At least someone is. If I'm locked up for another day doing nothing I'm going to parachute out the window and end this myself."

Tara says, "It can't be that bad?  Five star hotel in Milan... I bet it's lovely there.  I mean, I know you grew up in Italy but... well, maybe that would make it a rather dull affair then, wouldn't it?"

Oriana says, "I'm not really good with downtime. I like to stay busy."

Tara says, "So maybe we should think of something to occupy your mind?"

Oriana says, "That's why I called you."

Tara says, "So you need a distraction?" Tara chuckles.

Oriana says, "Well all my other friends are busy, dead, or possibly killing your family. So yes, distract me."

Tara says, "What are you wearing to the party?  Have you picked something out yet?"

Oriana unbuckles her gunbelt, leaving it hanging on the bedpost where she can easily reach her Beretta, then hangs up her blouse on the chair before kicking off her boots and socks and sliding onto the bed. She takes a deep breath, trying to get tired.

Oriana says, "I was going to try to pick out a dress and go undercover as an assistant, the help, or a whore or a singer or something, but your mother wants me to just be normal and be ready for trouble."

Tara listens intently to her clothing shifting and thudding as Oriana settles in.  She is dead silent, nearly holding her breath.

Tara says, "She must be really worried, or she's on another 'honesty' kick.  With her on this mission, that's probably it.  Thinking about Grandpa Gavin a lot most likely.  How's she holding up, by the way?"

Tara says, "Is she eating and resting like she should?"

Oriana says, "She's fine. I think so. I feel like the last day has been like 4 days long, so I barely remember to be honest. But yea, no problems today at least."

Oriana says, "And I dunno... if she was being honest she'd just sit them down and say 'help us or get fucked'. Not wasting time playing nice."

Oriana says, "Or blackmail them. Or something."

Tara says, "Dad says the party is to draw them out.  She doesn't know them.  Not a one - these men are strangers to her.  Even their names.  She's gotta be scared out of her mind.  I can't imagine the woman in the journal ever doing anything like this.  You're probably better at plying a bunch of old Italian assholes... but don't tell her I said that, okay?"

Tara says, Tara is silent a moment, listening to Ori breathing.  Then she breaks the silence assuming the other woman wants her ... needs her... to prattle a bit.  "I did some practice today.  It was odd and I spent the whole time wondering if my stance was right."

Oriana says, "Thank you very much for the mental image of plying old Italian assholes," compliments Oriana with a sigh. "You might be right. But no one asked me. Which is fine. Maybe I'll get to stab someone else."

Tara says, "In fairness, you did mention that you hadn't worked with criminals before... I'm sure no one meant to over looking utilizing your skills.  Mom knows how good you are.  It's why you're there.  She respects you."

Tara sighs, "You know what let's distract you with something less work related... or would you rather we stay focused on the mission?"

Oriana shrugs, then realizes Tara can't see her and says "Sure. I know. Not bitching. Diplomacy just isn't my thing. Charm? Yes. Crime etiquette? No.

Oriana says, "Whatever you want. I'm bored, so anything's good. Thank God I got some action the other night, or I'd really be climbing the walls."

Tara says, Tara froze when she said action and then she realized that Ori meant the stabbing and NOT time alone with someone.  She was thankful Ori could not see her blushing.  "I could regale you of tales of the kids... tell you about my daydream today regarding Jamaica ... or maybe we could play a game?  What's your pleasure?"

Tara leans back in her chair and gets comfortable, putting her feet on her mom's desk near the knife hole.

Oriana says, "I don't care about the kids. No offense. Daydream, I guess. Then game... although my guess is that your games are pretty tame, college girl, compared to the ones I'm used to."

Tara sounds offended for a moment, "Hey!  Now wait a minute... I can keep up with any game you can invite, Madam."

Tara says, "In fact I'm sure you'd tap out of a game of my choosing before I'd tap out of yours."

Oriana says, "When I was a kid, we used to time how long it'd take to lure men to an alley and steal their wallet. We'd also shoot things out of each other's hands. Those were the boring games."

Tara says, "Do I want to know what happened to the guys once you took their wallets?"  She chuckled.  "Seriously though, those games would be hard to play by phone."

Oriana says, "You don't. And I'm not used to doing anything on the phone. I just used one for the first time a few months ago. We'd give mission updates sometimes, but I never just talked to people. Everyone I knew lived with me for just about my whole life."

Tara says, "There wasn't a lot of phones were I grew up either.  And aside from Bob the Moose who was I going to call?"  She laughed and then her laughter faded, "You really are feeling cagey and surly aren't you?  Let me guess, you've done your daily workout about a dozen times?"

Oriana says, "Two dozen."

Oriana says, "I started practicing throwing knives, even though it's shitty."

Tara says, "Damn.  Long ass day then."

Tara sighs.  "Any other time I got a million things to say to you and can't shut up... you call for a rescue from the mundane and I'm all ... wanna play a game?  God.  I'm sorry Ori.  Times like these I'm... not the best.  I'm kinda the worst really.  I mean... you should have seen me at that first party I went to."

Tara sighs

Tara says, "I'm hopeless when it comes to people skills sometimes."

Oriana says, "Brigitte told me some guy bothered you. You didn't tell me that."

Tara says, "Brigitte has a big mouth."  Tara is silent.

Oriana opened her mouth to say something and shut it with an audible click.

Tara says, "She been telling you anything else?"

Oriana says, "Why's that bad to share? She just wanted me to kick the guy's ass."

Oriana says, "You should have told me at the second party. We could have made a stop on the way there."

Tara says, "And ruined the best night of my life up until then?"

Oriana says, "Had a better one since?"

Oriana says, "All this mob boss power going to your head?"

Tara says, "Maybe one ... but I just, didn't want you to think any less of me than you already did.  And let's face it, we weren't really super chummy at that point... I mean, I think you have only recently relented to the fact that you are helpless to do anything but accept that I'm your friend."

Tara says, Tara was smirking though Ori could not see it, it could be heard in her tone.

Oriana sighs.

Oriana says, "Yeah."

Tara says, "Good.  Then we can never fight about that again and our score card is now all tied up.  1/1"

Tara says, "Okay maybe it's 2/1 to your favor but in fairness I had no idea you were kicking my Mom's ass when I came inside."

Oriana says, "Literally every idea word in that sentence is wrong. It's not good, at least for you, we're definitely going to fight about it, we don't have a score card, and if we did I'd be ahead by a mile."

Oriana didn't seem too serious. She had a hint of a smirk as well.

Tara says, "A mile?  That's generous don't you think?  I'll give you the night in the tent and the day you fought mom but really... since then when have you gotten the better of me?"  She looked at the diamond on her finger and smiled down at it.

Oriana says, "Every time we've ever debated anything. What're those games you mentioned?"

Tara says, "I wouldn't want to bore you with childish games ... I'd just end up making you mad and I don't want to do that.  Forget I mentioned them.  So how many knives do you carry?"

Tara says, "I thought maybe it was three?"

Tara attempts to change the subject

Oriana says, "What're the games?"

Oriana says, 'Knives depend on the situation..."

Oriana says, "... one on the belt. One between my shoulder-blades. You can hook the sheath on your bra strap or wear it around your neck hanging backward- make it look like a choker. One on each calf."

Tara says, "Wait... like a choker?"

Oriana says, "In a situation where I've got to wear a short skirt or a dress with an open back, I usually just tape one to my thigh."

Tara says, "When's your birthday?"

Oriana says, "Hurts to take off, sometimes you cut yourself if you forget about it, but better than not having a weapon."

Oriana says, "I don't know for sure. Sometime in March."

Oriana says, "Both places I lived weren't really big on birthdays. When's yours?"

Tara says, "Christmas.  My parents loved it... me it felt like I shared my birthday with all my siblings which was kinda okay when I was small... when I was older, it was sorta just another example of me having a very uncanny gift for disappearing."

Tara says, "Its... something I'm good at.  Not being found when I don't want to be... and sometimes not being found when I wished someone would notice."

Tara sits up and makes note, 'Ask mom about the choker.'

Oriana says, "Who'd you want to notice you in the woods? Bob the Moose? Or someone in your family?"

Tara says, "Family mostly, it's ... complicated.  Lot of sore feelings.  Maybe not justified, now that I'm older and can understand better, but you can't change how you felt in the past.  You know?  You can only decide what to do with today and tomorrow and just... go forward."

Oriana says, "Yea. I get that."

Oriana says, "What's the game?"

Tara says, "When Gavin and I were little, late at night I'd sometimes climb into bed with him and help him with his alphabet.  We'd play this game where we'd each have to say the first word that came to mind but the word had to begin with the next letter of the alphabet.  Back and forth, you know?  It sounds like a harmless way to pass the time... but it usually lead to Gavin saying something or me... and us talking about it cause you never know what's rattling around in your head until you're tiredly grabbing for the first word in your head." 

Oriana says, "You probably don't want to play that game with me, but if you want to I don't exactly have a lot of competition for my attention right now. It's either you or staring at the ceiling. No offense."

Tara says, "No offense taken.  If we do this right either we find something to talk about or you get so bored you fall asleep and end up making it up to me later that you fell asleep on the phone with me."

Tara says, "I can't lose here."

Oriana says, "You can only lose here."

Tara says, "Oh if we were face to face right now..."  Tara chuckles

Tara says, "A - assassin."

Oriana says, "If we were face to face right now I'd- shit. Uh. Body."

Tara says, "C - children."

Oriana says, "D - Dons."

Tara says, "E - empires."

Oriana says, "F - fuck"

Tara says, "G - Gavin."

Oriana says, "H - help"

Tara says, "I - invitation."

Oriana says, "J - jackal"

Tara says, "K - Ki- Kill."

Tara takes a drink of her tea.

Oriana says, "L - Lu-." Fuck. "Loss."

Tara says, "M - moon."

Oriana says, "N - night."

Tara says, "O -"  She pauses and says fondly, "Oriana."

Oriana says, "P - pain."

Tara says, "Q -"

Tara pauses.

Tara says, "Queen."

Oriana says, "R - rip."

Tara says, "S - soft."

Oriana says, "T - ". Pauses. "Tiger."

Tara says, "U - Unbelievable."

Oriana says, "V - vicious."

Tara says, "W - Will."  She sighs.

Tara smirks.  She says, "Learned a long time ago to go first." Tara laughs

Oriana says, "X - X...ray."

Tara laughs.

Oriana says, "I was trying to think of a fancier one."

Tara says, "Y - you."

Tara says, "Surrrrrrrrrrre."

Oriana says, "Z - zoo."

Oriana says, "Well, this was ridiculous, but at least I won."

Tara says, "I spared you any questions about your choices... wait you didn't win!"

Oriana says, "I had the last correct answer, and my answers were objectively better."

Tara says, "That's not how this works!  Next time we're timing each other!"

Oriana says, "Good. I'll win faster."

Tara scoffs, "Objectively better... the day you have better words than me Oriana Montini I'll ..."

Tara struggles, "Do something pretty bad and you'll wish I hadn't thought of it because I will have CERTAINLY put a lot of thought into it."

Oriana says, "Very intimidating, mob boss. Have you ever actually hurt anyone?"

Tara says, "There's a first time for everything."

Oriana says, "Yeah, there is. Forget I brought it up."

Oriana says, "Don't rush it."

Tara says, "Well, maybe I'm the sort of mob boss who rents that shit out?"  she says mockingly.  "I mean, maybe I'll have a right hand who is brutal and no one would dare cross me for fear that my hand would have to deal with them."

Oriana sighs, tired, as she puts the phone down and slips out of her jeans, tossing them onto the chair with her blouse. She lies more comfortably on her side and moves her revolver under her pillow, switching the phone to her other ear.

Tara says, "You just tucked down into bed, didn't you?"

Oriana says, "Don't get ahead of yourself. I think someday you'll miss answering the phone like you're room service. And what are you, a rabbit?"

Tara says, "I think the sounds are pretty distinct and it's like 4am there.  You'll be asleep in no time, lulled into submission by my unending prattle."

Oriana says, "That's what I'm hoping for. Got anything else you wanted to talk about?"

Tara says, "Will you still come up to Vassar to visit when this is all over?"

Oriana says, "Why? Teach that guy a lesson?"

Tara says, "If I had told you that night... what would you have said... or done?"

Oriana says, "Anything you wanted."

Tara says, "You did what I wanted.  You helped me to find a way to ... get the guys to back off.  At least for a while."

Oriana says, "What'd he do?"

Tara says, "He had a very adventurous hand... and he tried to kiss me.  So... I socked him."  she chuckled.  "And I left.  Embarrassed and pretty sure I'd never leave my dorm again."

Oriana had been quiet, fighting a strange mental image of Tara in a room with Francesco, but she shook her head to clear her mind.

Oriana says, "Good. You handled it, then."

Tara says, "It wasn't a big deal... not like what happened to Lucy or my Mom.  I held my own.  I just knew that it was likely to come up.  Some guy was eventually going to want to kiss me again and ... I wouldn't want to.  So, I wanted to avoid any situation where it might come up."

Tara says, "This ring though, it's my ticket to a social life... I think.  So long as Orin's alive.  Poor dear, I almost feel bad having to think up some tragic death story."

Oriana says, "It'll work out fine."

Tara says, "You should sleep.  Close your eyes and think about a day full of meaningful activity.  And at the end of it... something you really enjoy."

Oriana says, "Yeah."

Tara says, "I'd suggest a beach scene but... I don't want to distract you too much."

Oriana says, "What was your daydream?"

Oriana says, "Or regular dream. Whatever it was."

Tara says, "I dreamed you and I went to this marketplace where my Grandpa Gavin took my Nona Bella before they were married.  This little town in Jamaica.  We were wearing these scandalous bikini tops with sarong skirts of the most brilliant colors and these giant floppy sun hats and sunglasses."  She laughed.  "And we were just shopping.  It was just... this nice thought."  

Tara says, "Ori?"  She wondered if the other girl was awake still.

Oriana was quiet for a little while, seemingly either falling asleep or indulging in the thought. Oriana says, "Yeah."

Oriana says, "That's... really nice. Reminds me of when I was a kid, a few of us would get dropped off in town sometimes. We'd have a few hours. Play the wallet game. Window shop. Get into minor trouble. A lot like that."

Tara says, "Sounds like fun.  It must have been like growing up with a whole group of sisters..."

Oriana says, "Most of them were horrible. I'm a bad person, but I only enjoy it some of the time. Half the girls were more fucked up than me. A couple were nice enough. One was actually nice, but she-" Oriana paused, blinking and waking up more. She hadn't meant to think about Lucia. "I don't really want to talk about her. She died."

Tara says, "We don't have to talk about her, but sometimes... having a place to put that down can help.  I'm your friend, Ori and if you... ever do want to talk about her.  I'm here for that too."  She exhaled.  "It's sounds to me like maybe, whatever you all went through together probably made those girls the way they were.  I don't know if it's their fault totally.  Or yours.  The things we do... the things we are... it seems to me that the world has a big influence on that.  It's not the only thing, but it's a big part.  People can change if they want to, but it's hard as hell."

Oriana nodded.

Tara says, "Here's a secret..."

Tara says, "I think, that crazy people don't think they're crazy and sane people worry they've gone mad.  The same way that bad people never question if their actions are good or bad... and good people... they know the difference between the right and wrong they've done."

Oriana says, "I don't know about that."

Tara says, "Oh?  How do you suppose?"

Oriana cracks an eye open to look at the clock. 4:30.

Oriana says, "That's a long answer, maybe. Or not a pleasant one, at least. Not what I want to end with, and I'm falling asleep. Not sure when we'll talk again."

Tara says, "So say something nice and I will too."

Oriana says, "You have horrible taste in friends, but I still appreciate you distracting me tonight."

Tara says, "You won the alphabet game, but this is far from the end of our score sheet, my dearest friend.  We shall have a rematch and I will get the better of you yet."

Oriana says, "Calling me your dearest friend is kind of cheating."

Tara whispers, "Should I call you something else?"

Oriana says, "Yeah. Your only friend."

Tara scoffs. "Good night, Ori."

Oriana says, "Your my only friend too, I think. For what it's worth. Maybe Brigitte after this trip. Couple people who want to kill me. You don't have lots of competition."

Oriana says, "Goodnight, Tiger."

Oriana hangs up.

Tara sits there for a moment with the phone still to her ear and reluctantly hangs up.

Billy seemed to be a kind man. She had food, a shower, clothes, even a nice large bed to sleep in. Sarah was treated better in the last few hours than she had in two decades. Yet she sat on the bed staring at the picture of her daughter all grown up. She sat in the house of the man who had taken her from him. He told her stories over dinner while his other children ate. She showed her pictures as, one-by-one they had left to go to bed. All the while she watched him for something. Some sign of how he was and how he had gotten involved. Eventually, about half an hour ago, the story of the train finally came out.

Sarah understood then.

It was not her daughter that Billy Mastrosimone loved when he took her. He just did it because he could. He did it to be impressive. He did it to get laid. Brigitte was not a tool. Sarah had warned Garnier of that, and now he was dead, Brigitte had said so. She warned the implacable Billy of that tonight,l and he brushed her off in the chauvinistic way the doctors had years ago. He did not tell her she was just a woman, but he did not speak the truth when he told her that he understood.

Brigitte was in Italy, but she would be coming home, and when she did Sarah would be waiting to take her to a real home. One where she was always loved, and not just a token for a man's trophy case.

Slowly Sarah stood from the bed, in the slacks and blouse that had been given to her she gently laid the picture on the pillow and opened the nightstand drawer to then put it away again when she saw a rusty nail. In short notice, it would do.

It was lonely in the large bedroom by himself, but for the first time in nearly a week Billy felt good about everything. Sarah was out of the asylum, the guy who hurt Charlie was dead, the guy who hurt Gavin was still on the run, but he was closing in. he had pulled strings for Aurora and now it was just a matter of waiting for that thread to unravel. Things were looking up, so he decided to just stare out the window a bit at the moon and the city across the East River. It really was beautiful if you let it be. The air was cool on his face too, and his bare chest. As he listened to sirens wailing in the distance he missed the sounds of the forest at night, the running water, the crunch of leaves or twigs breaking, knowing there were things out there, and still somehow feeling safe in the house he built. How was it that he felt safer in the forest than in a mansion?

It was not a question he was allowed to answer before he felt a sharp pain in his lower back, when he reached back to grab at it, he stumbled and fell to the ground. He rolled over to push himself up and managed to do just that, but he couldn't get his legs under him. He looked down toward them and he saw the pair of white feet running to the hallway. Who in the hell?! He tried again, but still, his legs wouldn't move. Why could he not move his legs? The pain was gone, it didn't hurt. Whatever it was it was something quick and it would be fine. He just needed to sleep on it. he reached back again, and that's when he felt the blood, and the cold, rusty metal.

"Brigitte?" was the only word that came to him as he tossed the rusty nail onto the bed, and pulled himself up onto it too, laying face down so as not to stain the sheets. He pushed himself up again and onto his feet, but just as quickly collapsed back to the floor. That's when Tara came running.

Tara had been humming to herself and brushing her hair. Her father was in a good mood, and that meant she could be too. She had heard from Oriana tonight and it distracted her for a bit, but that was probably alright. It wasn't really, but today it would be, today was a good day after all. She was still learning a lot though and things were still going on, so in the little bit of time she had to herself, Tara had decided to shower. She was just finishing with her hair when she heard a bang from her father's room. She put the brush down and she sighed.

"Today was a good day dad, I won't ever understand why you're always angry at the world, even on good days. You don't need to fix everything every day you know."

She muttered to herself as she pulled on a housecoat. She realized then just how much she had been thinking about Oriana as the fabric brushed against her skin and she shivered. She had made herself sensitive to the touch just by thinking about the woman?! That was new, and not something she had read about. Her father might have been right, sometimes you just had to do a thing in order to know it.

Then she heard the patter of feet running down the hall and by the time she sauntered her way to the door she had no idea which of her siblings was out of bed, or cousins for that matter. There were so many people in the house nowadays that it could have been anyone. Then another crash from her father's room, things were starting to not feel right. Something was wrong.

She rushed into the room to see her father leaning up against his bed on the floor.

"Tara, go back to bed hun."

Tara shook her head. "Not until you tell me what's wrong. Why are you sitting on the floor? And crying?"

Billy shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye. "I can't feel my legs Tar."

Tara went to her father then and as she attempted to help him up she noticed the slick of red on his back.  Gingerly she touched the wound, unwilling to stand up and turn on a light.  She could feel the rust upon the head of the nail and instantly her gut twisted. 

Brigitte's nail? 

The assassin had one hell of a sense of irony.  It was cruel beyond words!   And yet what sort of professional does something like that?  The journals only pointed in one direction, it was personal - a message but who would ...

NO! 

It was impossible!  She nearly screamed for the guards, but she realized then that the children, namely Malcolm, would be terrified.  Tara had to keep her cool.  If she was wrong then there might still be a killer on the loose... if she was right, there was a crazy killer on the loose.  Neither situation was improved by her panicking.

"I can't lift you."  She said as soft and calmly as she could with her heart thundering in her ears, "Be calm I'm taking you to the floor and getting help.  The assassin might still be in the house.  We'll get you to the hospital but you need to stay calm."

Billy went to the floor, still occasionally sobbing, clearly unwilling or unable to listen to instructions.  He was ice cold to the touch and she was sure he was still trying to move his legs.  He was panicked and in a state of absolute shock.

Tara darted out her father's bedroom door, trembling hands produced the Beretta M1923 that Oriana had given to her from the pocket of her housecoat.  As she did she nearly ran into Effie Maxwell who had clearly heard the noise and had come up to check on them.  "Grab up Ben and Carl.  Silently mind you.  We need them to get my father to a hospital as quickly and quietly as possible."

Effie tried to look past Tara, but Tara nudged her forward, "Go!"

With that, Tara made a beeline for the room that Brigitte used when she was here.  The room Sarah had been given to use and there she found ... nothing.  It was empty.  From the bathroom at the end of the hallway, she could hear a toilet flush and when she turned hoping to see Sarah, she instead found Hadrain, her father's body man for the night.  He'd clearly gone for a shit while Sarah had slipped down the hall to the master bedroom.

Tara stormed down the hallway, her gun going back into her pocket.  She grabbed Hadrian by the collar and violently jerked him down to her level, for a moment she saw shock and maybe fear in his eyes?  "Sarah may just have killed my father - if you have ANY hope of surviving my mother's wrath you had best track that mad dog down and bring her to me - am I clear?!?"

Behind her she could hear Effie and the guys going into her father's room quietly.  She let go of the large man and she snapped, "GO."

Tara put a hand over her mouth and stifled her emotions.  There was no time for tears now.  The family needed her.  Her hand went into her pocket again and held the gun there as she entered her father's room.  The men were putting him onto the comforter and carefully lifting it between them.

"You're gonna be okay Dad.  I've got this.  Just... relax.  Stay calm and don't try to fuss with that wound.  Don't touch it.  Let the doctor's do their job.  I'll look after the kids, and everything else.  I promise."  She followed the men down the stairs and watched helplessly as they loaded her father into the backseat of the car.  She thought she could her Hadrian gathering up a few of the goombas who had stuck around in case her father needed something but perhaps it was her imagination.

As she watched the taillights disappear down the street, Tara realized that her worst nightmare had come to pass.  Her family was under attack and now, the weight of it was entirely on her shoulders.

Tara had fallen asleep on her father’s desk.  The imprint of her father’s pen was in her cheek and her body ached as she heard the knock at the door.  Shooting upward her hand darted into her pocket and rested upon the gun there.

Effie looked at her with tired, sad eyes.

“Oh god…”  Tara gasped, standing up.

“He’s alive.”  Effie said, but something in how she said it, didn’t give her any comfort.

“Effie?”

The woman averted her eyes.

“What is it, Effie…” she waved the woman inside.  Effie did as she was told and pulled the door closed behind her.

“The doctors are saying it’s bad, Tara.”

“How bad?”

“They say he will never walk again.”

Tara blinked.  “I felt it… it was a tiny thing.”

Effie nodded, “Nerve damage, they… they will talk to your mother about it when she comes home.”

“We’ll get another doctor.  A better doctor.”

Effie shook her head, “It’s not like that Tara, this something they can’t really do anything for.”

Tara clenched a fist her side and squeezed her eyes shut.

Effie continued, “He can come home tomorrow.  They’re keeping him overnight again … so they find a him a wheelchair.”

“Someone is with him constantly… do you hear me.”  She choked back a sob.  “He’s not to be alone for so much as a piss.”

Effie nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Tara collapsed into the chair that now felt like a massive thrown.  She wanted to scream.  She wanted to cry but all she could feel was cold.  Tara put her face into her palms and focused on her breathing until the phone rang with its first call of the day.

She looked at it, accusingly and realized … she was the only one here to answer it.  A second ring.  She swallowed.  A third.

Tara picked up the phone, “What?” she eked out, not hello or any formal answering this time… just business.

“Miss Tara?  This is …”  Her father’s operations weren’t going to stop.  Someone had to be here to keep them going.  If she let anyone know her father was hurt, that the family was weak…

“What’s the normal percentage on something like that?”  she asked.

“Fifteen.”

She tried not to think about what would happen to the house full of children if men stormed the place as they had Hollowpoint in mom’s journal.  No.  She had to maintain the illusion that everything was just fine.

“Fifteen is the number today then.  Keep me apprised.”  Tara pulled the ledger towards her and uncapped the pen.  Under the latest entry in her father’s wiry script, she added her first entry in flowing curves, careful to make sure it was legible. 

She hung up the phone. 

It wasn’t long until it was ringing again.

It was only 5am.

Tara had the good sense to have a set of boards acquired for a makeshift ramp and had ordered all the children and staff to help with moving her parents down into Gavin’s room on the main floor.  Gavin was transplanted upstairs.

She thought sitting the kids down to tell them of Billy’s injury was going to be the worst, but they all handled it fairly well.  Perhaps they, like she, felt it was unreal.  Perhaps so much bad had happened in so short a time they were numb to it all now.  Like her, she realized.

Charlie’s skull bashed in.

Will, Angie, and Uncle Volkov all dead.

Gavin shot.

And now, Dad… never walking again.  Still, if she had thought telling the kids was bad… she’d never been able to prepare for the man they brought home in place of her father.  She’d never seen him so, in a word, broken.

It was then the children finally cried.  Isabella first.  Jack tried to comfort her but he was crying too as they watched out the window while their father was lifted out of a car and put into a chair with wheels.  It wasn’t the sight of him needing help… it was his eyes.  Tara was sure she would never forget the look of shame in them so long as she lived.  In her heart, she was sure he was regretful the bitch had not killed him and THAT was the very antithesis of Billy Mastrosimone. 

“Alright, now all of you back to your rooms.  Go play.”  Tara had chased them off.  If they could not control the water works, she would do her best to make sure her father’s pride was presevered.  He would not bear their pity well in this state.

Quickly she looked at herself in the mirror.  Her flat black hair framed her unusually pale continence making her eyes seem huge and luminous.  She had expected to see sorrow there, betraying her emotions, and yet – nothing.  It was a relief to know she could control it so well when she had to.

“Welcome home.”  She greeted Billy.

He did not look at her.  He was silent.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.  Never in all her life had she seen her father refuse food.

“Well, I could fill you in on …”

“I want to sleep.”  He snapped.

“Of course.”  Tara said nodding.  As she watched her father disappear into his new bedroom, she silently had a thought that she would never give voice, a terrible painful thought. 

Perhaps, Sarah killed him after all.

The phone rang and Tara walked over and picked it up.

“Yes?”

“Miss Tara…. I got her.”

She’d told her father on the way out the door she was going to see Addie.  He was so out of it, so depressed he hadn’t remembered that he’d ordered Addie and Dolph to Philly two days ago. 

The day was bright and sunny, the sort of day people smiled and greeted you warmly on.  The butcher did not greet Tara this way.  In fact, he said nothing at all, not at first at least.  The butcher, Herbert Wilson, clearly knew his shop was closing early and he would be moving none of his meat today.

Tara, opening the briefcase discreetly pulled out a wad of bills and passed it to Herbert.  “My father appreciates your discretion, Mr. Wilson.  This should take care of the day’s losses.  Please… lock up on your way out.”

Thank God for Gavin telling her about these cases of money else she wouldn’t have been able to do 1/3 of the business she’d done these past forty-eight hours.  Though she wondered what possessed her father to ever tell Gavin, the least guileless person on the face of the earth, about them.

Tara watched the man leave and then went into the back, pulled open a door and went down a steep set of stairs into a basement that smelled of mildew and old blood.  She covered her nose as she descended and found Hadrian waiting for her with Sarah tied wrists to feet behind her back lying on the floor in a puddle of her own piss.

The man removed his hat and asked contritely, “Your father?”

“Alive.”  She said while looking at the woman on the floor who closed her eyes, clearly disappointed she had not been able to accomplish her goal.  She was very glad she hadn’t said anything more than that.

Tara stared at the woman.  She thought about the things she could say, to get her to share some reason for her deeds… but did it matter?  She wasn’t on Mattaranzi’s payroll.  Ori’s handgun felt heavy under her jacket.  She was not yet used to wearing a shoulder holster.  That, she presumed, would come with time.

No, despite the timing, this wasn’t Mattaranzi’s doing.  She was just some troubled woman who had, in her fucked up head, found some reason to stab the only man in her life who had ever shown her a moment of kindness.  The man who had saved her dau-…

NO! 

Brigitte was Aurora’s daughter.  This woman, after stabbing Brigitte’s ‘Papa’, she lost the right to any claims on her sister.

Dad should have left her in that hell-hole to rot.

“Kill her.”

Benjamin Franklin once was quoted as having said, ‘Three men can keep a secret if two of them are dead.’

“No!”  The woman began to beg as Hadrian pulled out his gun.

One.  Two… Three people in this room know the fate of Sarah Berdet. 

"You fucking bitch ..." 

Behind his back Tara did the same, mirroring his motions exactly, using him as a stencil for how the act was done. 

Hadrian might have failed to protect my father…

*BLAM*

*BLAM*

… but he succeeded in helping me with my first kill.

Trembling she stumbled back from the two bodies in front of her whose blood was now racing each other down the drain in the middle of the floor.

She fell against the wall and slid down, staring at them, questioning her humanity and all that she once held so dear.  That girl in the forest, the one who read the journals and wept… the one who had begged each of her siblings and her parents not to leave their happy life … what good would come of it.

As her butt reached the cold cement she dropped the pistol and fidgeted with the diamond ring on her hand, eyes still locked on the bodies before her.  Something would need to be done with them.  SHE had to figure that part out on her own and unfortunately, none of the ideas from the journals were easy work.  If this was to stay secret… it would have to be her and her alone.

This was a theme in her life and right now, she strongly suspected it wasn’t ever going to change.  The thought of that, not the bodies, that finally broke her.  Tara folded over onto herself and began to cry.  She cried for family and all they’d lost, she cried for the innocent girl she’d been and had now chosen to leave behind, but most of all she cried for (once again) being right when being right was oh so fucking wrong.

It would be nearly 2am before Tara finally slipped back in the front door quietly, wearing a new outfit that included Oriana’s jacket and carrying her father’s briefcase.

It was done.  Now, she could finally sleep for three hours before the nightmare would begin again.

Billy had slept on and off all day long. If there was one good thing about sitting all the time it was that he never really had to find a comfortable spot to fall asleep in. He had a chuckle about that a short while ago, to himself, when nobody else was around. Mostly because it was followed directly by sobs and then half a bottle of whiskey. He had rummaged through some things though, even managed to pull himself into the office at one point and search the safe and look over the books. Tara had been keeping up on things all day long, and he briefcase was gone too. So when he made a phone call to the operator, he decided to wait until she got home. When he heard the front door close, he waited to see her silhouette in the doorway. That's when he cleared his throat.

"How's Herbert?"

He smiled at his middle daughter and then threw his arms open to her. It was an entire day for him of being alone and afraid. Unsure of the future, and now, the future stood directly in front of him. He knew that life was about to get hard, and there were going to be good days and bad days. More good than bad probably, but the good ones would come as soon as he was better again.

"Come here, sit on my lap, or the couch, whatever you want. And we can have a drink and talk about what happened today huh?" He patted his lap then, and frowned when he realized he did not feel it. Another thing he had taken for granted that he would have to get used to for a while.

Aurora’s first kill had been the gunman who killed her first lover, an act in the heat of passion – something she did before she’d even realized the severity of it, muscle memory and training put into motion by grief. 

Nona Bella had killed a man who had not paid what he owed to the Luciano Crime Family because she hoped to impress & earn the love and respect of the father who had never been a part of her life as a child. 

Lucy Fazzone’s first kill had been an act of self-preservation on the mean streets of Chicago. 

Tara had no journal, but if she had one she might have come home to write that she’d committed her first murder as a way to avenge her father…

"How's Herbert?"  Billy smiled at his middle daughter and then threw his arms open to her.

Tara stared at her father a moment in disbelief and weariness, trying to reconcile the man with his arms open to her with the one who had been wheeled into the house almost twenty-four hours ago.  Stoically she walked into the room she put the case down onto the couch.

"Come here, sit on my lap, or the couch, whatever you want. And we can have a drink and talk about what happened today huh?" He patted his lap then and frowned.

“I’d ask if you didn’t think I was too old to be sitting on my father’s knee, but I’m sure I know your thoughts on that.” 

Billy held out his hand toward her, and the expression on his face said that he’d heard something in her tone that had given him to know that while he was the one in the wheelchair, she was the one who was hurt.

She touched his hand as if he were glass and found herself surprised when his giant hand closed around hers and pulled her to him with all his usual ferocity.  His legs might not work but the rest of him clearly had no troubles.

She landed on his lap as she had dozens upon dozens of times in her life.  She looked down at her father and when she met his eyes she felt as though he could see what she’d been doing these last hours.  Her heart sank as fast as two cinder blocks plummeting to the bottom of New York harbor.

Billy ran a hand through Tara’s hair, causing her to rest her head on his shoulder.  It took her only a moment to pull her knees up to her chest and rest her whole body on him – listening to the sound of his heartbeat steady and strong.  She felt her father’s arms enfold her. 

“I’m sure you know by now what they pulled out of your back?”  She whispered. 

“Yeah.”  Billy’s voice rumbled softly.

“We can’t let Brigitte know, Brigitte loved Neil so much but the fact she kept the nail all this time… she’d blame herself.”

Billy sighs, "Yeah, I know. Maybe one day when things are better, when I'm better,”

Oh God, he’s in denial.  Daddy.  My poor daddy, there is no getting better...

“… we can all talk about it. But I don't want to talk about Brigitte or mom right now. I want to talk about you. What's going on in my little girl's head? I mean, you've got more knowledge bouncing around in there than I could imagine, plus the whole thing with your girlfriend, and having to take all of this on today? Jeeze, I fucked up kiddo."

He kisses her on the head and Tara furrows her brow.  Tara couldn’t conceive how her father could possibly feel like her, a victim of an attack, had fucked up.

"Sorry bout that, but hey, there's always ice cream.”  Billy leaned his daughter's body weight against him and started to wheel toward the kitchen.  “And I see you found your savings account. That was supposed to be a surprise you know."

“I needed the money.”  She said.  “Don’t be mad at Gavin.  I asked for his help and he came through.  People got paid, the business didn’t stop...” she nearly added that no one knew about what happened to him but by now that surely wasn’t true.  Too many bodyguards, people at the hospital… too many eyes to keep that secret.

“As for what’s in my head, there’s not much Dad… just a desire to sleep for about a week as soon as mom and Ori and Brigitte are home safe.”  She got off his lap in the kitchen and went to the freezer pulling out a few cartons of ice cream.

“I am curious how you knew about me visiting the butcher today.”  She said realizing then that her father couldn’t reach anything.  Even the pull drawers for silverware were at his eye level.  Billy seemed to notice this about the same time she did.

Tara sighed.  Killing two people hadn’t prevented this moment and a thousand others like it that were ahead of them. 

Billy nodded and pointed to the drawer.

"We're eating right out of the carton tonight. Just grab a pair of spoons and we will be all set."

He pointed at the phone. "When you get a minute, pick up the phone. Don't dial a number, just pick up the phone and see what happens." He smirked as he watched his daughter do as she was asked and he could faintly hear a woman's voice on the other end.

"Operator, how may I connect your call?"

Billy nodded. "Now ask her to connect you to the last person you phoned, and to give you their name." Tara repeated the words and the woman on the other end moved to connect her.

"Your last call this evening was to The Bank of New York Miss. I'm connecting you now, please hold." And then the line began to ring. Billy nodded.

"You can hang up anytime you want now Tara, and come have some ice cream."

He wheeled his way over to the table, which again was slightly higher than he wished it would have been.

"Well shit, at least I can rest my head on the damned thing if I get tired." He pushed back and sat instead in his chair simply eating from the carton with a spoon without the assistance of a surface.

"So, you just want to sleep huh? Think you can do that without nightmares?"

He knows.

Tara sighed and closed her eyes, her head falling backward so she was looking toward the ceiling.

"I had hoped that this would be my cross to bear..."

"And you have learned that for as smart as you are, your old man is still one wheel ahead of you."

Tara can't help but guffaw, "We're making jokes about it now?"  She pulled the ice cream over and put a bit spoon of vanilla into her mouth letting it melt on her tongue.

"You see any better way to deal with it? What am I gonna do? Billy Mastrosimone doesn't go down without a fight, and this is no exception. You watch Tara, I'll be up and about in no time." smiles

Tara wanted to say something, but what?  Crush his last rays of hope, send him spiraling back to that black place he was in before he came through the door?  Tara couldn't be that one.  She'd taken on the one burden.  Let making him see reality be someone else's responsibility.

"For the record... Hadrian killed her."  She said softly looking into the carton as she spooned out another scoop.  "I made sure no one would find either of them."

Billy nodded. "Well, that's that then. You gonna take a shower and head to bed soon? I don't think I'm sleeping tonight, I'll probably be up working." He ate another spoonful of ice cream. "One of my kids wrote their chicken scratch all over my workbooks. I'm lucky it wasn't in crayon."

"Chicken scratch?"  She said arching an eyebrow high.

Billy nearly drops his spoon. "Holy fuck do you look like your mother right now." He puts the ice cream on the table and makes his way to Tara, hitting the corner of the cabinet on the way and shaking his head. When he gets to her, he pulls her in tight. "Who told you you were allowed to grow up huh?" He nuzzles his face into her so she can't see him cry.

Tara holds her father wondering if the tears were as much for her growth as everything that had happened.  She realized then she was sitting there in a leather jacket, eating vanilla ice cream, talking about the murder she just committed and her father was poking fun of her.  Even if she hadn't stood the same height as her mother or had her hair color or eye color ... she would likely remind him of her right now.

And he was clearly in need of her now, perhaps more than ever.

"Shhh.  Hey now, I don't think I'm growing any more than this so it's likely I'll always be your little girl."  She kissed him and as she held him she whispered, "She'll be home soon.  She'll probably call tonight... you'll see."