“If you can be happy for her, if you make yourself work with him… then yes. I can sell Brigitte on the need to keep Rex in check.  I can make her understand that her future and the future of any children she has - depends on Rome’s security.  I won’t spell out for her that her future may end in your bed… that’s on you.  But I know my sister.  I know she is dutiful, loyal and hard as hell when she has to be.  Rex will burn out.  Count on him to die gloriously and make him a legend when he does I say.  Be his very best brother.  Support him and you look like a hero to his men when his grieving widow finally comes to be with you… not a usurper.”

Ren was quiet for a long time, then extended his hand for Tara to shake.  Tara took his hand and shook.  She then pulled him in for a hug.  “You know I love you, right?  I know you’re killing yourself trying to hold this world together, Brigitte can help you with that too.  Let her.  And for God sake, get some sleep and some food into you or you’ll be dead before Rex is.”

Ren hugged Tara, then she felt him freeze. “Nevermind, Tara. Too late.” Tara whipped her head around and saw three black sedans approaching.

“What the hell…?”  Tara immediately began to put herself in a position to try and protect Ren.

“Don’t. They’re here for me. I’m assuming my driver is a particularly adept liar and betrayed me. You and one bodyguard can’t do anything here except die for nothing. Just… let this happen. Help steer Rex away from recklessness as much as you can. Protect my people.”

“Don’t be stupid and give up before you’ve begun.  I’m Rex’s future sister… they would kill me?”  She shook her head.  “Ren.  I can’t let you die.  You’ve never let me down and I’m not leaving you.”

Eleven men in dark uniforms emerged from the cars, accompanied by one man with a suit, who reached back inside and withdrew a sword from his car.

“They won’t hurt Americans. Too much to lose. Goodbye, Tara.” Ren rested a hand on her shoulder, than began to walk toward the cars.

“Sono Tara Mastrosimone, mia sorella è promessa a Rex Reggiano. Ti prometto che il primo tra voi a tirare un'arma o fare del male a quest'uomo prima che possa parlare con mio fratello sarà il primo a morire.”  

Then men looked at each other, then pointed their pistols at Ren’s driver and Eric, dropping both of them with a round of sustained fire before turning their attention to Tara. Ren grabbed her and dragged her back into the trees, heading roughly in the direction of a farmhouse that was the only structure in sight. Tara heard her name, mixed in with other shouting in German.

Tara moved as quickly as she could, “Oh … shit.”  She struggled to catch her breath.  How the fuck did the god damn Nazis find her here?!?

Ren removed a pistol and blindly fired in their direction. For a tense thirty seconds that felt like three months, Tara and Ren ran through the olive grove. When they got to the farmhouse, they rushed inside, and Ren struggled to move a heavy wooden table to block the door. 

“I’m so sorry!”  She blurted out as she helped Ren to move the table.  “They must have followed me!”  Tara looked around the room and began to try to assess the situation.  The men would be here any moment.  They had to use their environment.  It was the only advantage they had.  A stairwell to the second floor, or one to the cellar?  A pinch point either way but one that trapped them.”

“Take one of the windows upstairs,” said Ren. I’ll get one of the windows down here. I hope you brought a lot of spare ammunition…”

“Lot?  Um… not a lot so let’s make our shots count, shall we?  And Ren… if we live through this one… remind me next time I think about coming to Italy that I hate this fucking country, okay?”  Tara dashed up the stairs, since Ren had made the decision for her.  He really had turned into a leader in her absence.  She hadn’t thought much about accepting his orders, she just moved.  There was no time to think and his idea was sound.  Tara positioned herself at the window and waited.

20 Minutes Later

Ren limped up the stairs as quickly as he could, stumbling and falling toward Tara when he reached the top. 

“I’m out of ammo,” he said. His leg was bleeding, and he leaned back against the wall, sweating. “For what it’s worth… I think we got most of them. A few left, including the asshole with the sword. How many bullets do you have?”

“Enough.”  She lied, but not well.  Standing up from her position she moved toward the place where he was standing.  She kissed him quickly, on the lips and with a passion he might not have anticipated out of the woman he knew to love Oriana, and smiled as if making a great joke,  “I’ll be back after I take out the trash. Put your feet up for a bit, okay, Godfather?” She moved then to the door leading into the hallway.  

She figured she had another three shots.  Then she had the knife. The guy with the sword would have to go with a bullet.  Knives were nice, but swords had reach. She could get into close melee with a guy with a gun and possibly win by any number of tactics… but the sword?  It was hard to imagine coming to a sword fight with her grandfather’s knife.

Well, stairs hadn’t always been good to Byrnes… but they were never one to shy from them.  With a quick thought to Ori and a prayer that she’d be safe and that they’d see each other again, Tara decided to do something brave and stupid.  

As the men charged up the stairs, she charged down. The sword-wielder was absent, and she dropped three men with three shots. Another one died on the edge of her knife, but the last soldier lowered his shoulder and drove Tara into the wall. A showing worthy of Gavin Byrne, thought Tara. But what had she said to Malcolm the other day? No matter how good you are… it catches you, eventually.

Tara was dumped unceremoniously on the floor beside Ren. The last soldier pointed a gun at them, hardly needed, and the swordsman knelt down to study her face.

“You should know,” said the swordsman. “That my daughter was Uta Brickner. You died the day you killed her.”

“You should know, your daughter died like a dog.”  Tara snarled trying to act much braver than she felt - trying not to think of what would become of Oriana when she learned of this.

Brickner kicked her in the ribs and, based on the pain, they were already broken. Tara, in spite of her earlier bravado, whimpered and wept from the agony she felt in both her body and heart.

Brickner stared down at her for a moment. “This sword,” he said, “has been executing the enemies of my family for three hundred years.” As he raised the sword over his head to deliver a powerful downward blow to split Tara’s skull, several things seemed to happen in slow motion.

Oriana skidded around the top of the stairs and her eyes went wide; she didn’t stop running as she saw Brickner step forward to swing his sword down. 

In full sprint, Oriana shot the soldier, then tossed her gun in the air toward Tara before grabbing onto the blade. Oriana screamed in pain as Tara caught the Beretta.  Tara didn’t hesitate, she raised the gun and pulled the trigger, barely taking a moment to ensure that the only one in the bullet’s path would be her target. Brickner.  

Tara tried to scramble to her feet as Brickner fell dead, “ORI!”  She attempted to call out but her body was wracked with blinding pain as her lungs had expanded to exclaim her shock, love, and gratitude.  Instead of throwing her arms around her lover or even thinking to look for other enemies, Tara doubled back over and the way she’d started to joyously declare Oriana’s name, became more of a cry for help.

Oriana was on her knees, head bowed. “If I just shot him, he could have finished you off,” she said, voice strained. “I… wish Jo was here. Ren… doctor?”

Ren pointed at the ground in front of Oriana; there were four detached fingers, and both hands were bleeding profusely.

Tara blinked at the sight.  Her vision wavered.  Tara wasn’t sure if she was passing out from the pain or the horror of it.  Bits of the woman she loved laying there on the floor in front of her, it was almost too much.  “Ori,”  Tara whispered this time, careful not to take too big a breath.  Tara began to dig into her coat pocket searching for something.  “Lucy’s journal.  Sicily.  Fingers.”  She chuckled through the tears.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Fire.”  She managed to whisper, pulling out a lighter, struggling to keep from taking too big a breath.  “Saved his life.  Lost the fingers.  Didn’t bleed out.”  

“Oh.” Ori paused. “Okay.” She forced herself to her feet and stumbled to the only desk that they hadn’t been able to use as a barricade, splaying her fingers out. She was missing two fingers from her right hand, the ring and pinkie, but the left hand was worse. Only two had been severed on her left hand, but the two that remained were barely connected to her hand. 

Tara moved slowly, pulling herself up to her feet and then came to Oriana’s side.  She’d read the story in Lucy’s journal but looking at Oriana’s hands now - what was left of them - she didn’t think she could do it.  Again she felt like she’d faint or throw up or both.  

“I can do it,” said Ren, lurching to his feet. “Find something to put between her teeth.”

Tara nodded, happy to have something else to think about and do.  She couldn’t hurt Ori, not like this.  She’d help.  Helping she could do.  Bending over she picked up her her grandfather’s knife from the floor.  She hobbled back to Ori as Ren used the lighter to heat the blade of his knife.  

“Here.” she whispered, hoping that it sounded comforting.  Tara held the handle of the knife in front of Ori’s mouth.  “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.” 

Ori, her eyes filled with pain, looked up at Tara. “If I pass out, don’t stop.” Then she bit the knife. 

Tara kissed the side of her lover’s head.  “You can do this.”  She whispered through tears, as scared as she’d ever been in all her life.  Scared to watch Ori suffer, scared that she might yet die.

Ori’s screamed through her teeth biting into the leather of the knife- marks that would never fade away. Tara’s arms held her as tightly as they could, but they couldn’t stop the pain- or the smell of burning flesh. When it was over, Oriana wept and leaned forward, crying. After a few minutes of deep breathing, she tried to stand, unsteady. “We need… to leave.”

“Okay.”  Tara whispered, glancing down at the fingers on the floor beside the executioner’s blade.  Perhaps this was the ferryman’s toll today.  Flesh, blood, and bones… how much more could she justify sacrificing for another close call?  A thought for later.  She wrapped her arm around Ori’s waist and tried to steady her.  

“Can you walk?”  Tara asked her.  “I need you to stay awake to get to the car. I can drive… but I can’t carry you.  Ren?  Your leg… how is it?  Can you walk?”  She looked then to Ren, as if finally remembering he existed outside her tunnel vision that hovered on Oriana so exclusively.

“I can,” said Ren. “But not quickly.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to run anymore today.”  Tara said softly.  She prayed the farmer would have a vehicle here, but being that they’d seen no one since arriving she guessed they were out in the fields or gone to town.  In either case, no vehicle was likely to be here.  That meant walking back the way they came to find their car on the other side of the grove.  It would be a long, slow, painful walk.  The longest of her life, she was sure of it.  And that was saying something, consider how long the walk in the jungle actually had been - but this time, she had a lot more reasons to feel the distance and time it took so keenly.  

Tara wished it didn’t hurt to breathe so much.  Walking wasn’t fun.  Talking and walking felt impossible.  If she could she could talk she could try to distract everyone, try to keep Ori awake - but it was hard enough to push them through the grove.  It got harder when they came upon Eric’s body.  She hadn’t even had time to realize that she’d lost him.  Another person who had known her mother in her youth, and her grandparents too, dead.  Eric had a family.  She would have to tell them he wasn’t coming back.  That was on her now.  

It hurt like hell to weep.  Tara tried her best not to, and failed miserably as she put Oriana into the car.

As Ori slumped down, head between her knees, Tara and Ren watched as two more black sedans pulled up next to them.

Ren rested a reassuring hand on Tara’s shoulder as soon as the first man stepped out. “My men. Loyal.” Then he saw the panicked expressions on their faces. “What happened?”

Tara relaxed and slipped down into the car beside Ori whispering, “How are you here…?”

Ori didn’t say anything, but she moved her head slightly so that her cheek pressed against Tara’s hand.

“È successo qualcosa in America. Una guerra,” said one of Ren’s men. “Rex è stato ucciso. Le sette città stanno crollando.”

Tara stared blankly as she heard the words in Italian.  “This country…” She whispered a tear racing down her cheek, this time not for Ori or herself but her sister.  She didn’t have to ask the question. If Rex was gone, well, it stood to reason Brigitte was too. “It’s a curse.”  Tara croaked out the words. “My mother was right. Nothing good happens when we come here. Ever.”  

Tara’s eyes took in the sight of Ren.  She was with him again, as her world back home was burning.  It was a strange relationship she had with him. Tara realized in that moment that it was a strange relationship she had with most people.  Bacchus. Jo. Alejandro. Ori. Ren. Who did she love that felt … normal? When had anything gone the way it had in her books or even the journals left in her care?  Her life was a strange and twisted series of events and people who didn’t fit moulds or places where they’d found themselves. The street rat who would be Godfather. The Catholic girl who loved women and built a temple of lust in the name of a pagan god.  The nurse sworn to heal who constantly chased adventures where she murdered people.  

When is anything ever as it should be?

Tara put her head against Ori and closed her eyes forcing herself to recall a time when things were as they should be.  A time when all the people she loved was no further away from her than across the kitchen table. A time when things were still simple, a time before the Cosa Nostra.

Ren had been conversing with his men, and he climbed into the backseat with Tara and Ori as one of his men began to drive the car away. Ren looked steadily at Tara, then nodded sadly. “Jo called. Confirmed Brigitte was with Rex. They went down fighting.” He swallowed. “She and Alejandro made it out- took your ship.”

“Good.”  Tara managed to say.  “I need to call my brother.  He’ll be worried. Then… a doctor.  I’m pretty sure my ribs are broken. And we’ll need to have them look at Ori’s hands.  I can’t think about … any of it right now.”  She didn’t say what ‘it’ was but her eyes never left Oriana.  “We’ll just… take one step at a time. Call. Then doctor.”

Tara did manage to find one small thought outside of the landslide of self-pity and her own fears.  She looked to Ren, “I’m sorry… for your loss.” She meant it. She knew he didn’t hate Rex. It was just business. 

“Not as sorry as I am for yours,” said Ren. “I’ll handle everything for you here.”

“Eric is family… he has children and grandchildren.  I need him to get back to the states. If you can do that… that would help.”  She said through tears.

“Of course,” said Ren.

Ori reached out to hold Tara’s hand, but she froze mid gesture and lowered it back to her lap. Instead, she rested her head against Tara’s shoulder. 

Tara reached out, carefully, and took Ori’s hand into her own.  She then leaned over and kissed Ori’s cheek - grateful God had spared her life once again.  “We’re done. We’re out. No more of any of this, it’s just us now. Everyone else can go to hell.  I promise.”

Ori just nodded, pressing herself against Tara.

***
Two Years Later

Heavy grey clouds had rolled in over the St. Clair river casting a dark haze upon the early December morning.  A chill northern wind cut down through the trees which complained from thickening sap and lost leaves, bringing with it the promise of snow.  

A blonde silhouette stood on the rocky shoreline looking off towards the rising sun..  She was smaller than the massive man who approached from behind her, wrapping his arms about her protectively.  They nuzzled one another  and kissed.  An intimate, private moment which they did not know had been observed from the second floor window of the home some distance behind them.

For a long while dark eyes watched them before returning to the small desk where a cup of tea sat cooling beside an old leather journal embossed with a stylized ‘M.’

December 10th

We prepare to winter again in Cuba.  We’ll be leaving the family today.  I will miss Gavin, Cerise, and Victoria - but I find that it’s best for both of us.  Ori because it spares her the pain which winter brings her hands and me the bone deep pains of the past.  Here the ghosts are still too real.  Liber is no longer about the freedom to be myself, but freedom from merciless memory.

Every Indian Summer it sneaks up on me: the memory of leaving Canada and coming to New York.  Every Autumn it’s the memories of the war with the Godfather of Venice & Francesco Bianchi … burying my parents, Indigo, & Azure.  As the first frost appears I’m heartsore again with the loss of Brigitte, Eric and even Rex.  

Thoughts of what could have been, they threaten to overwhelm the joy of what is.  I know I must retreat back to my House of Pleasures or be consumed by the sorrow and fears that affected the women who came before me.  That fear is a terrible temptress, she’s a siren singing to me a terrible tune whose words promise I can avoid fate by once again picking up my gun and getting back in.  But is pride.  It is my need to try and control a world that can not be controlled.    

In moments where I listen to the song too long, I wonder if I’m not a fool, waiting for my death the way Bacchus did, hiding in my kingdom on the sea.  After all, Mal may be right.  If you’re not preparing for war, isn’t that just the same as waiting for death?  

Brickner was right.  In some ways a part of me died the moment I decided to kill his daughter.  It had been as cold and ruthless a thing as I had ever done.  There was no hesitation or thought, just action.  It was proof that I had finally become that which I’d warned my family against.  With that transformation and all the rewards that followed - there was always going to be a price that needed to be paid.  I knew that going in, but nothing could prepare me for facing the reality of it.  Nothing could have softened the blow of Ori and Brigitte’s sacrifices.

LuckyLucy.  Isabella-Luciano.  AuroraMastrosimone  -- Each of them had gotten more from the world than they had been due, beaten the universe into submission and taken from it (quite unapologetically) lives which were full of wealth, excitement, excess, and love.  They were blessed and cursed and I could easily be any one of them… but knowledge is power, as I try to remind myself.  And the only real death we ever suffer is the one we let fear drive us to.  If one isn’t careful they can spend so much time preparing for what they’re afraid of happening, that they forget to do any living in the meantime.

And so, once again, I honor the women who came before me by learning from their mistakes - I prepare to leave this place of sadness and fears and go back to the business of living until I die.  I am no longer dedicated to the task of enriching our coffers or protecting any single person, but to protecting the spirit of my family & the wisdom they’ve entrusted to me.

Tara glanced at the decorative box beside her on the writing table.  She reached a hand over and gingerly touched the three silver fish atop the lid.  

When Malcolm wakes tomorrow he will find the guns which have protected the members of  the Luciano bloodline for these many years as well as Grandpa Gavin’s knife.  Where he will go, or what he intends to do next, I can only guess - but I will pray for him daily, and hope that God still answers the prayers of unrepentant sinners like me.  

There can be no doubt now where his path is taking him.  I can only hope he finds some measure of joy along the way and no matter how short his life, and no matter how brutal his end, that the journey is worth the price he’s chosen to pay.

-TM

“Finish the weekly journal update?” asked Ori from the bed, where she balanced her heel on her toes. 

“Yeah, just feeling a little nostalgia today.  I’ll shake it off when we get back under the sun and in the open water.  It’s been a nice visit, but I think it’s time to get back to Liber.  If we stay much longer I’ll be tempted to get involved in whatever Izzy and Ma- Antony do next.”  Tara had been trying to use his new chosen name, it was hard to change after all these years.  It felt like, no matter what she did, he would always be Malcolm to her.

“Can’t believe the kiddos are heading out into the world like real people. But… they’ve been well educated,” smirked Ori.

“Yeah, I’ll keep telling myself that until I believe it.  I know Gavin is more worried than I am, but it doesn’t mean I’m not concerned.  Antony a tough kid but we both know it takes more than being tough.  And… well, let’s face it, he’s got a bit of baggage to work through too.  And Izzy… I … god she’s just a kid.  Antony at least has a really solid focus, you know?  He’s serious.  She’s… well, she’s just looking for fun, I think.  And I know that she realizes that the Cosa Nostra is not a game but…”  Tara shook her head.  “Maybe I’m not 100% sure she doesn’t think about all of it as some sort of twisted fucking game.  I don’t know how the hell she and Jack managed to change so much.  I was sure when Jack started walking the straight and narrow it had to be a prank… and her acting out, well I hoped it was just a phase.  Maybe Antony will keep her safe.  Maybe she’ll make sure he … doesn’t take it all too seriously.  Maybe they’ll balance each other out some?   See, this is why I can’t stay here.  I’d want to meddle.  I can’t.  There’s no such thing as a sometimes-gangster.”

Ori shrugged. “They’ll figure it out. The three of them have each other in New York, and they have the house in Dyker Heights. They have training, and they have a shitload of money. Can’t do much better than that, right?”

“No, I guess not.  I really just need to take a breath and let things go forward as they will.  There’s nothing I can do anyway.”  Tara picks up the journal and stands up from the table.  “If I’ve learned anything over the last few years it’s that even with all the best intentions in the world, and tons of money and power, you still aren’t promised even a single day in this life.  All you can ever really do is try to make the most of the time you’ve got and hang on tooth and claw for however long the ride lasts.”  

“You had to mention claws…” grimaced Ori, flexing her remaining fingers. “Just kidding. It’s not a bad day for them.”

Tara smiled, “I like your claws and no one hangs on quite like you.  So…”  She drug out her last word as she put the book into her trunk with all her clothing she’d packed the night before.  “I’m thinking when we get back I’m going to spend most of the first day just sunbathing.  Get my tan back… and try to relax.  Let out all the stress so that I’m prepared for all my very arduous work as Chief Maenad for another long winter.  I honestly can’t wait to see Jo and Alejandro.”

“Mmmmm. Why’s that?”

“Well, it was going to be a surprise but… I’m thinking about cutting my hair short again and I want second opinions.”  She smirked, it was unlikely the hair was really the reason, but Tara was getting better her playful lies.  Apparently when the lie wasn’t about anything important she was capable of telling it - much as she could bluff while playing cards.  It was a safe bet that she might even be able to lie and conceal a surprise party now if she had to.  “What about you, what are you looking forward to this winter?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Ori shrugged. “We’ll find some trouble to get into. Moderate trouble. No jungles. No bullets. I like our life, Tara. Despite everything. We’ll find something fun.” She smirked. “We always do.”

A light rapping on the door caused Tara to tense and then after half-a-heartbeat she walked over to the door having reminded herself where she was and that she didn’t need to be worry here.  Even after all this time, unexpected arrivals still caused her to lock up a bit, even at ‘home.’

Opening the bedroom door she found Antony standing in the hallway.  “Morning.” He said quietly so as not to wake anyone else. The young man looked prepared to go out for a run.  Tara stepped to the side and glanced at Oriana on the bed then looked back at her cousin.  

“If you’re looking for a running partner, I’ve already gone.”  Tara said with a hint of smugness in her tone. She still liked teasing Mal about his habit of sleeping in when he could.  She was a morning person, the truth was the young Byrne was not. “But maybe Ori’s up for it?”

Ori made a sound between a grunt and a growl and rolled out of bed. “Fine. I’ll beat you one more time before you head to New York.”

Antony smiled but said nothing, stepping out into the hallway a bit further and then accompanying Oriana down the stairs in silence.  He got out the door and did a few more stretches giving Ori time to limber herself up. He made a point to not stare and instead looked out towards the big oak in the front yard.  A smile crept onto his face as he looked at the word ‘FAMILY’ scarred deep into the trunk.

Ori glanced over. “You’re looking good. Ready, I mean. For the run- for New York.”

Antony tore his eyes away from the word and the memory of how it got there as soon as Ori spoke.  He looked at her a moment, starting with her face and then her arms and legs. When he realized she’d finished her statement he nodded, and simply replied with a quiet, “Thanks.”  

His blue eyes went skyward, considering the heavy gray clouds, wondering how long before it would actually begin to snow.  “Figured we’d run along the road today. Ground is a bit more reliable. Don’t need to twist an ankle before we head out of town.”

Ori shrugged before taking off at a light jog. 

“I don’t know if I thanked you yet, for the training and for letting us stay at the old house in Dyker Heights.”  

“Billy would have liked that, I think. You triplets will have each other there- and you won’t be crammed into an apartment.”

“Going to be a little odd going back for Jack and Izzy, I think.”  He admitted. “We’ll figure things out, but I’m prepared to look for another place to stay if it’s too hard for either of them.  I don't mind either way.”

“Well, no pressure from me. Feel free to keep the place for parties, live wherever you want.”

Antony listened to the sounds of the woods around them, to their feet on the hard-packed dirt road, and Oriana's breathing.  His blue eyes darted to animals in the woods, birds and squirrels mostly, whenever they moved. It was force of habit now, he’d been practicing so much with Oriana and Tara that every little thing seemed to pull his eyes here and there.  It was as if his eyes were always in motion, always looking for something to be out of place. Happily, there was a lot to look at today, other than his running partner who he knew he would not see for at least six more months.
 

“Izzy might want to throw parties, maybe Jack too, if he reconnects with his old friends.  I guess it would be alright.” He picked up the pace a little, confident he’d rather not have a house full of random people partying.  If he wanted to drink and dance and … other things, he could find parties elsewhere. But, the house wasn’t going to be just his, it was going to belong to Jack and Izzy too.  That meant he had to be flexible. And if he couldn’t be, well, he had to earn cash quick enough that he could get his own place nearby.

“You might want to throw some parties yourself, once you see those girls in New York.”

Antony swallowed, his pace picking up a little more.  “Doubtful.” He shrugged quickly though, “That’s more Izzy’s thing.  I won’t tell her she can’t though. I might even tag along with her from time to time to keep her safe.”

Ori smirked. “Sure.”

He glanced sideways at Oriana, “Maybe I’ll come visit you both next winter?  Tara says Cuba is pretty amazing. I should be situated in New York by then. A little trip somewhere warm and sunny might not be horrible.”  

“You might be bored,” said Ori. “Lots of lying around in the sun and tanning. Not much excitement. Tara and I enjoy ourselves… but no, you should come.”

He nodded.  “You’re right.  I’d probably get bored.”  Silently Antony began to count his steps.

“New York will be good for you. You’ll meet all sorts of new people. It’s what a young person like you should be doing- not hanging around with retirees like your sister and I. Even if we’re young ones.”

11.  12. 13.  “Yeah.  I’ll need to make some connections.  Build up a network.” He said with a very business-like tone.  19.  20. “Already have the name of a guy from Tara…”  24.  25.

“Good. Still, if you get bored… give me a call? Us a call, I mean.”

Antony smirked in spite of himself, “I don’t know if a retiree could keep up with me in the big city.”   34.  35. 36...

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble someday.”

“I haven’t had any complaints yet.”  He instantly wished he hadn’t said it.  Antony turned six shakes of red and his pace doubled almost instantly as he lost count of his steps.

Ori looked like a fox in the henhouse as she accelerated after him. 

“Not bad for an old woman.”  He quipped pushing himself a bit more, letting himself use the moment of speaking to her as an opportunity to admire her body while she ran. She ran in front of him, pushing ahead.

I’m going to miss these runs.  Antony kept pace just behind her, not pushing himself quite hard enough to pass her, but close enough she felt him on her heels - a perfect position to have much better things to look at than squirrels.  “We can slow down anytime you get tired… don’t be afraid to let me know when it’s too much for you. I’ll keep your pace from here just in case you get winded.” He let himself laugh, something he rarely did especially on a run.  Ori got a little distance on him for his moment of levity and talking.

“I can hold my breath longer than anyone else on the Liber, kid. Don’t get too sure of yourself.”

“Kid?  You know only an old woman would call a grown man, Kid.”  He closed the gap between them again. “Not that I’d call you old… to your face.”  

“Just my back? Or did you have something else in mind?”

He didn’t reply.  Instead he tried to force his focus back on the run.  His breathing, anything but how he’d let his thoughts wander.  Her going away had him off his game this morning. Normally he didn’t joke with her quite this much . It was then he realized how much he was going to miss having Oriana around.  Izzy and Jack were great, but they were different. Not at all like him… at least not in the same ways Ori was.  

“That’s what I thought,” smirked Ori. “Oh, and I should mention… Jo will be in New York. She was from there originally, and she has some sort of clinic when she isn’t sailing around with us. I strongly suspect that she’ll be spending most of the winter on the beach with us, but she’ll be back eventually.”

The mention of Jo made the color return to Antony’s cheeks.  He nearly stumbled over a rock, but jumped a second before he made an idiot of himself.  “It’ll be nice to see her again.” He said simply, trying to play it cool.

“Uh huh.”

“So is she younger than you?”  He let himself joke again, hearing the slight annoyance in Ori’s tone.  The temptation of low hanging fruit was just too much to pass up.

She shot him a glare. “No, actually. She just seems like it, because she bounces through life with such a sunny disposition.”

He nodded, “She does bounce … through life doesn’t she?”  

Ori chuckled. “Hey, play your cards right and you can be her midlife crisis. You’ll have your pick of the letter in New York, I’m sure.”

“I prefer my women with a little less bounce, if we’re speaking frankly.” He said admiring Oriana openly again.  Once he realized she might have noticed he picked up his pace and darted in front of her once more. Now it was Ori’s turn to watch.

“So how do you plan to stay in shape on that ship all the time?  You can’t run on a damn boat.” He called over his shoulder. “Do you go to shore just to get in aerobic time?”

“Sometimes. Liber specializes in other forms of exercise.”

He shook his head, she couldn’t see it but he was smirking again.  “Well hell, why didn’t you put that in my workout regimine you wrote up for me to take to New York?  Sounds more fun than 100 squats.”

Ori slowed to a jog again as they passed through a section with lots of trees, waiting to see how long it’d take before Malcol- no, Antony- realized she’d dropped out of the race. She breathed deeply, and sat on a tree stump, obviously winded but otherwise fine.

Lost in his own thoughts, it took him a moment to realize that Oriana had disappeared and when he turned around finally he shook his head jogging back to her.  “I shouldn’t have kept you talking.” He said catching his breath and coming up to where she was sitting. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m stubborn. Just… out of practice. Sometimes I wonder what the point is, since I’m still learning how to hold a gun again.”

“Why do fish swim?  Why do birds fly?” He asked.  “Because it’s what they are… you can’t stop being you.  That’s the point.”

Ori shrugged. “People can change.  I’ve been in a lot of fights, made a lot of money. Now I’ve made my peace with how things are, for the most part. Don’t get too cocky, though. I’m pretty sure I could still take you in a fight.”

“You have certain advantages.”  he admitted. “But I wouldn’t say it’s a guarantee you’d come out on top.”

Ori popped off the stump. “Well.. time to see how much you’ve learned before I send you out into the wild, I suppose.”

Antony arched a thick dark eyebrow over his blue eye.  “Really?  Now?  After all that running you want me to trounce you?  Right here in the middle of nowhere?  Tara won’t thank me for having to carry you back to the house.”

“We’ll see,” said Ori, flexing the fingers on her right and left hand. Fuck, she couldn’t even really make a proper fist. “Are you ready to start?”

“You sure you want to do this?”  He said looking somewhat reluctant.  

Ori nodded. “Is that a yes? If so, turn around for ten seconds.” She spun her finger in a circle.

Antony sighed and nodded, turning around as instructed.  

Oriana kicked out his right knee and, when he dropped, she gave him a harder kick in the back, sending him forward onto his hands.

“Christ!”  He growled.

“First thing to remember in New York. No one’s going to play fair. The fight’s always happening, and you’ve always got to assume the other person has no honor.”

Ori could see him telegraphing his rage filled lunge long before it was executed.  Antony threw himself at her legs intending to pull her down to the ground with him in a grapple but he was frustrated and acting on emotions a mix of frustration and something that only made the act of being dropped so quickly all the more humiliating.

Oriana hopped up over his lunge, kicking him on the back again as she pushed off and jumped towards the edge of the forest grove that served as their fighting area.

Antony scrambled up to his feet and shook his head, “I hope you enjoyed that, it’s the one and only time you’ll ever do it.”  His tone was no longer playful.  He was ready to fight her now.  Now he was present and in the moment.

“Good. Just make sure no one else does it either.”

She dropped into a combat stance, waiting for him. Antony moved up to her, stepping forward to test her footwork just as Oriana had taught him to do. She slid out of the way of his grasping arms and gave him two swift kicks upwards into his stomach, knocking him back and staggering him slightly. 

“Got to be quicker, Ant.”

He shook his head, clearly disapproving of the nickname.  “Just trying not to bruise your ego to badly before I end this.”

Needing to make sure his ass could cash the checks his mouth was writing, Antony lunged forward as if going for her arms again, at the last possible second he dropped lower than he’d faked - catching her fist in his face as opposed to the body where she’d been aiming.  

Grabbing Oriana around the waist he pushed her hard up against a tree trying to ensure she couldn’t get any real space to make another attack on him.  “I could hold you like this all day.”  He quipped knowing it wasn’t true, but excited to see how she was going to try and break his hold on her.  

Oriana’s legs snaked around him, just as he felt her remaining fingers in her hair- and her lips on his. She kissed him slowly, taking her time and taking the lead as well as the index finger of her right hand traced his jawbone.  The moment their lips touched, his eyes had flashed open in a sort of panic and once it seemed to occur to him that Ori meant for the kiss to happen, his body relaxed a bit and he began returning the kiss.

Twenty seconds in, she tried to punch him in the face, but he caught her hand. She sighed, frustrated, and kept kissing him.  It took him only a moment to roll his lips away from hers, panting to ask, “Was the punch to win … or do you want me to stop?”

As if to answer him, Oriana leaned back against the tree and pulled her t-shirt over her head. When she tried to choke him with it, he easily ripped it from her hands and cast it aside. Her grey eyes blazed as she kissed him again, feeling his hands holding her up by supporting her thighs.

She tried one more surprise attack, and he easily parried it without interrupting the kiss. 

“Whoever trained you knew what they were doing,” said Oriana, frustrated but with a light in her eyes. 

Antony kissed her again, thinking about how it was possible she’d managed to lose only because she’d wanted to - but then dismissing that.  Oriana didn’t seem the type, of course, she hadn’t seemed the type for anything happening right now and had he more wits about him he was sure he could make himself care more.

“Time for you to claim your prize, I think,” she said, as her kisses dropped to his neck.

For a short while it seemed he wouldn’t stop, that he was happy to do as she’d offered he could but then she felt him tense and lower her to the ground.  The look in his eyes was lust, but face showed a battle within his mind was clearly happening.  His body and mind were not on the same page with regard to this experience.

Antony finally managed to find a single word that likely justified most of his reluctance, “Tara.”  He shook his head, the desire and shame painted clearly on his face fighting for dominance of his emotional state.

“She knows. She approves. We’re… complicated.”

Ori could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as slowly his head began to nod in the affirmative, as if he was talking himself into something or justifying it or coming to accept it.  “Complicated.”  He repeated the word before stepping toward her.  “I get complicated.”  He reached out a hand toward her, as if afraid she might not want him to touch her again.

“This is a one time thing, before you leave. I love Tara, and the two of us are committed to each other. You’re a friend, and this will be fun. Even if you don’t believe it now, you’re going to meet a lot of girls in New York. Chase the ones that make you happy- that’s my only condition. Agreed?”

“I …”  He let his fingers touch her upper arm, he sucked in a sharp breath as if just feeling her skin were a thrill.  “I don’t want that.”  He shook his head.  “It’s… complicated for me too.  I want to keep things simple.  Girls… relationships, it’s … too much.  Too messy - maybe for fun.  Maybe a night, but chase?  No.  The closest to that I’m ever gonna get is chasing behind you.”  He gave a sad smile.  

“It’s fine that you think that now. But if you see a girl you like, you chase her. If you don’t, you can pine after me forever. Deal?” 

He looked at the ground blushing, “Pine?  No… I mean… I like you, you’re strong, beautiful… fun.  It’s just, I don’t want to love anyone.  Ever.  I want you… like this, but not like that.  Do you understand?”  He furrowed his brow.

“Yea. I do.” Oriana looked at him for a moment. Then she kissed him again, more passionately than before.

2 Months Later

Cuba

“Hey Izzy, it’s Ori. Yeah. And how’s school going? Good. Look, I’ve gotta run. I want to hear about all your classes when I call you tomorrow. You’ll get your degree, unlike that slacker sister of yours. But could you put Mal on real quick?” She paused for a moment. “Hey. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Two months… you’re in the clear. Yea, I’ll call tomorrow like normal. Gotta run.”

*

Tara was dozing in a chair on the beach, listening to the steady rhythm of the waves when someone dropped a paperback book on her stomach. It slid off her stomach onto the sand, and Tara smiled as she heard Jo cursing.

Jo picked up the book, dusted the sand off it, and put it back on Tara, who glanced at the title.

Sara Maglione and The Lost City of Gold.

“Do you want to read it yourself?” asked Jo. “Or do you want all the bad news now?”

“Oh my god!”  Tara got excited, her face lit up brightly as she clutched the book tight in her grip.  “So I’m Sara Maglione? Or is that you or Ori? Oh my god!!!” She giggled. “And what bad news, what could possibly be bad about being a character in my very own book?!?”

“Well, there’s only so much that Roland could get by the censors, thank God. But let’s just say that the major subplot of the book is the battle between the brunette, blonde, and redhead about who winds up with the hero.

“Who ends up with him?”  Tara arched an eyebrow.

“All of us,” smiled Jo. “Although that fact does bother the dimwitted servant ‘Emiliano’. Alejandro is going to bust a gut laughing when he reads this.”

Tara’s jaw fell open.  “HE KNOWS!” She roared with laughter.  “I KNEW he wasn’t asleep! Oh my god! He switched himself with Alejandro in the story, didn’t he?!?”

Jo nodded. “It’s probably… 60% fiction, 40% truth. And most of the truth is the jungle and the temple. And… well, us.”

“Well, you knew he’d be taking some creative license.  Of course, I’m honestly just excited to read all about our adventure through Roland’s eyes.  I mean, I’ve read other people’s stories my whole life, it’s kinda exciting to think about reading a book that’s about me for once.  Does he at least give us some finer qualities than just our curves and pouty lips?”

“Of course. You’re the brainy one, I’m the nurse, and the blonde is… well, Ori had to get toned down a lot. She’s mostly an assistant archaeologist.”

“So a lot less maiming and killing in his story and a lot less dead Nazis?”  she chuckled. “You know what one of my larger regrets about that whole adventure is?”

Jo’s eyes flashed. “I do, but tell me anyway.”

“I lost my hat.”  She said nodding. “I loved that thing.”

“Oh,” said Jo, a little surprised. “Well at least you can afford a new one after that adventure, huh?”

“That’s true.”  She smirked. “So… we all get with Roland in the book, huh?”

“It’s heavily implied. Nothing graphic, though, of course.”

“If that man managed to change spots with Alejandro, he would have died of a heart attack - you know that right?”  She laughed, and Jo joined her.

“I’m going to get a drink with a little umbrella,” said Jo, as Ori emerged from the ocean and started walking towards Tara. “Do you want anything?”

“Nulla che non prenderò quando torneremo sulla nave - supponendo che tu non sia impegnato in un'emergenza medica.”  She winked at Jo. “OH! You mean drinks… a gin fizz please.”

Tara whistled at Oriana.  “Look at you - like Venus emerging from the waves.  That is literally the most lovely swimming suit ever made, or maybe it’s just the woman wearing it.  I haven’t yet decided.”

“Well,” said Ori as she swiped Jo’s drink. “We’ll have a lot of time together for you to decide.”

“We will,” said Tara, looking at Oriana with a smile. “We will.”