Disclaimer: i don't own Reborn! this is non-profit entertainment.

AN: i was originally planning a harmless M-rated little one-shot for Lanchia's b-day, but alittle research so the names don't come off the groceries and it developed a plot. *sniff* don't worry, i plan to have the sex up by his b-day.(the Reborn Wikia says it's Dec. 15)

The village was almost like he remembered. A few of the shops had changed; there were even a few franchised places. All the brick and stucco was comforting after all Japan's glass and steel. The fountain in the square was still missing one of the bowls; he chuckled, remembering the boys and their ball game. It was late, dark, but he could still see them in his head. All the people in the piazza; the children running around, women gossiping at each other's windows, even the old men playing checkers in front of the bar.

He had to make amends with all of them.

Walking down the third road off the main street, he smiled in relief to find a light on in the brownstone four doors down. He knocked softly, stepping back as the door opened, a middle-aged woman in a blue housecoat smiling at him. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming Lanchia."

He shouldered his duffle higher, started turning away. "I'm sorry Mrs. Buonarotti, I'll-"

She grabbed his arm, yanking him back. "It's fine my boy. I was worried about you." She let go, started walking away, "Now come in, and let me get you something to eat."

Lanchia stepped in, closing the door as he put his bag down. "That's alright Mrs. Buonarotti; I don't want to inconvenience you any more."

She smiled, chuckling, "Nonsense my boy. I'm usually up this late reading anyway." She walked past the stairs, putting her hand on the door, "Besides, a few biscotti never hurt."

He couldn't help smiling back as he followed, getting ushered to the table as she got his snack. He barely said "Thanks" when the door flew open behind him.

"Mr. Guinizelli's gonna kill me!" a young woman barged in, tying back long black curls as she went to the fridge.

"What are you doing up so early? It's only two," Mrs. Buonarotti asked as the girl bent over, started digging.

"One of the stoves is broke and if I don't start now we won't be ready to open." She blurted out as she pulled a bottle of juice, rushing out of the room.

"Be careful Caprice!" Mrs. Buonarotti called out just before the front door slammed shut.

"Caprice…" it sounded familiar, but he didn't get a good look at her.

Mrs. Buonarotti smiled, "Don't you remember little Caprice, the right hand's cousin? She got the children out before…" her smile softened as they thought back, and his gaze fell to the table. "It's because of Caprice and CEDEF that the whole village knows the truth, that it wasn't really you."

He snapped up at that, "Caprice… but how could she have known?"

"That's something you'll have to ask her," she smiled as she stood, "Now come, I'll show you to your room."

Lost in the thought, Lanchia forgot the cookies and blindly followed, barely remembering to pick up his bag as Mrs. Buonarotti started up the stairs. "This door right at the top is the bathroom, there's two rooms on each side," she stopped, pointing to the left. "You'll be across the hall from Caprice; the other two still need to be repaired." The landlady shook her head, "That the last time I rent to college kids."

That snapped him out of it, "But Caprice is, isn't she?"

The woman shook her head, "She's old enough, but Caprice didn't want to go. All of Orlando's estate went to her, it's not like she can't afford it, but she says she's happy working at the bake shop, she knows she has a home here." Mrs. Buonarotti smiled, "Old Guinizelli and I took pity on her, being left on her own like that. Lately he's been talking of passing the store on to her. Says Caprice appreciates it more than his own kids."

She opened the door, ushering him inside. The queen-size bed was coming from the opposite wall, a small walkway between it and the back wall of the brownstone. The wardrobe and dresser were on the left with a little more space; there was enough room for a desk or a small couch from the foot of the bed to the door. "There's not much space, but there are connections for a tv and a computer if you want. As you just found out Caprice is an early-riser, but she's pretty quiet." Lanchia jumped as she took his hand, placed a key in it. "It's for the front and back doors. The bathroom door locks from the inside. And this," she pulled a skeleton key from her pocket, "is for this room. I trust you'll respect her privacy."

He chuckled softly before he nodded. "If she'll respect mine." Taking the keys, he set his bag at the foot of the bed. He pulled an envelope from his pocket, turning to hand it to her, "Thanks again for letting me stay here Mrs. Buonarotti. I truly appreciate it."

The old woman smiled as she accepted the money, "Everyone deserves a chance to start over Lanchia. But don't think it'll be easy," her smile turned mischievous, "I'll expect you to help out around here too. This is just for the room; you've got to earn the board."

He nodded as she patted his shoulder, "Try and get some sleep, you're gonna have a hard day tomorrow."

"Good night Mrs. Buonarotti." He wished as she stepped into the hall.

"Good night dear."

[=======]

The next day dawned just like Mrs. Buonarotti said. The moment he'd stepped into the piazza he felt all kinds of stares. Shock, surprise, fear, anger… but what surprised him the most was the pity and forgiveness. He took every curse and insult for what it was, but he had no idea how to take the prayers for him. He sat on the fountain edge and waited, catching - and dropping - everything that was thrown at him. Realizing people were slowly coming closer, he jumped when he noticed he was in front of the bake shop. "Well, well, it really is true," a gruff voice to his left made him turn. "They said you were coming back to town. I'm surprised to see you out in the open like this, boy."

Turning, he nodded at the older man. "I just want to help out, make amends for what I did Mr. Moretti."

The weather-beaten face smiled. "It's nice to see a young man facing up to his mistakes. If only the rest of them were as responsible as you…" he shook his head before holding out his hand, "Seems I'm short a few ranch hands, I could use a strong back to help me out. You any good with a hammer? I'm got a long line of fence to repair."

He stood tall, chuckling at the rancher's slight surprise, and took the handshake. "Just show me where."

[=======]

Tossing the hammer back into the toolbox, Lanchia stood and stretched. Wiping his brow he smiled as the slight breeze cooled him. An electric beeping made him turn towards the road. A bright red scooter was heading towards him, the driver waving big as she called out, "Lanchia, I finally found you!"

He chuckled as he walked down the fence a bit, stepping over the broken boards as she pulled to a stop beside him. "Mrs. Buonarotti said Mr. Moretti had you out here; she sent me with your lunch." Caprice stated as she took off her helmet, nodding to the basket in front of her. She got off as he picked up the jug of water, taking a deep drink. Watching some water dribble down his neck, Caprice jumped as she realized he wasn't wearing his shirt. "N-Nothing fancy, just some sandwiches," she stuttered, turning away embarrassed.

Putting the water down, he smiled. "Thanks Caprice," he took the bag from her, surprised as the wind blew a long ringlet across his hand. "I don't remember you having curly hair," he blurted out.

Caprice chuckled slightly, tucking it behind her ear. "You wouldn't. I used to get teased about it all the time; the women used to say I had such beautiful curls, just like a porcelain doll. I was such a tomboy that I always kept it braided, remember."

He smiled as he thought back, "Everyone complained to Orlando that you kept begging for training. I was surprised he let you learn how to shoot."

She flinched at his words. "W-Well he said it was for self-defense…" Caprice turned away slightly, "That's all it was… I never wanted to-"

"Caprice," Lanchia stepped closer, putting a hand on her shoulder, "What happened that day, how did you know it wasn't me?" He caught himself as one hand covered her mouth, "I'm sorry Caprice. If it's too hard to talk about, that's okay."

She shook her head as she turned back, looking right into his eyes. "When the screams, the gunshots wouldn't stop I got the little ones together, started leading them out the back. I could hear it coming closer so I passed little Isabel over to Dante and told him to get them outside." Caprice blinked as his hand slid down her arm, "I… I ran down the hall, trying to lure you away… but you cornered me. I kept yelling at Dante to go… you just stared… I even drew my derringer, still you just…"

He pulled away in shock as she continued. "I'm still not sure what it was, but there was something… your eyes were different, it just felt wrong. You… you growled out 'go' so I slipped away. You were still standing there when I got to the end of the hall." Caprice stepped closer, taking his hand as he turned away, "I told the investigators that it wasn't really you, someone was controlling you somehow but no one would believe the fourteen year old that had a crush on you."

They both jumped at those last words, Caprice quickly turned away, pulling her helmet back on, "I-I should let you get back to work." She road away without another word.

"Should have known she'd beat me to it," he jumped, turning to find Mr. Moretti riding up on horseback, "Caprice has always been worried about you. She's always standing up for you."

Lanchia turned back to the road, barely able to see her through the dust cloud. "But why?"

Mr. Moretti laughed as he turned his horse around, "It's never been a crush, my boy. It's obvious that girl's in love."

AN: so, what do you think?