In another life, I would make you stay [Sea Devil Week 2015]

Day 1: Mafia/Crime

Prompt: Mafia/Crime, in or after the 1940s (either one or both is a boss or victim of mafia/crime lifestyle when they meet either during the 40s or during the aftermath)

Two shots of Limoncello and some plans of homicide to discuss: just an average conversation between the boss of American Mafia and his sister – except that it might have been the last one.

"I am dying, my heart is becoming more and more weary" he announced, not giving up another gulp of alcohol, though. "Maybe it's some sort of punishment for my crimes, who knows…"

The woman pretended to look surprise, but she actually already knew what was lately going on behind the eternal strong facade. "I am sorry" she said eventually, just because it was what she felt she had to say.

"You're not" he objected immediately, but calmly. And right then, an unexpected chuckle escaped his lips. "And I'm glad of this. You have exactly what it takes to be a leader."

Her susprise was no fake now. "Wait, are you saying that-"

"Yes" he interrupted with the same strange calmness. "I am telling you that, after my death, you are going to be the next boss… Donna Cruella of the Gold family, isn't it amazing, dearie?"

There was a sparkle of proud in his eyes and that told her he was not playing with her. To everyone, Don Rumplestiltskin was an unscrupolous, ruthless man, but she knew that he would have done everything for his family, that family whose ancestors came from Sicily and was meant to hold power, that family which now was reducted just to the two of them. And sadly, he was no immortal as he would have liked to be.

"Oh, darling, I am a really terrible person, I promise" she eventually replied, suddenly standing up from her chair and reaching him. "But giving all the power to a woman? Many underestimates a girl in diamonds and furs… What would the others say?"

"Futtitinni about the others!" he exclaimed in a perfect sicilian accent, which despite his attempts came out very often. He had raised quickly his look to her with a trace of anger, but as soon as that flash came, it was already gone. "Let me take care of the others… You just have to take care of one simple thing" he continued and now his lips curved into an almost evil smirk.

"Which thing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She was one of the best killers of all and she was usually thrilled by the idea of committing some evil deeds, but yet in that very moment she felt a bad presentiment and his next sentence proved her feelings to be right.

"Killing the mole, of course. We don't need her anymore" he replied, shrugging slightly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Two weeks before they had discovered an infiltrator among the newest members, but they both knew that killing her would have been not only a message of power to the police, but also a message of loyalty from Cruella to the entire organization.

She had in fact stiffened and for a short while she remained still and breathless, not daring to say anything. Her worst dream and her worst nightmare were both becoming true in the same moment, as she was seeing her hopes to conciliate everything – power and love – falling apart. She had to choose, because she couldn't have everything.

But in the meanwhile her brother was still looking up at her and his smirk was a mirror of the choice she had already taken after all– since she was born, actually.

"Com'on, sister, aren't you tired of being an ordinary picciotta?"

She would have never gone back to where she had started: that was the promise she made to herself before starting the car. Denying any attempts of conversation, she drove fast for about twenty minutes, until she reached a contry road desolate enough. Only then she stopped and only then she moved her eyes to her right. She looked at the black woman for some seconds, but didn't dare to say anything; actually her face itself didn't convey anything at all.

"Get out" Cruella said eventually in a hiss, clearly hinting her to be quick.

And Ursula Fishman, one of the first black policewoman of New York, didn't hesitate too much. Years and years after the mafia made her now predict what was going to happen: she knew she was going to die. However, what she didn't predict was that it would have been Cruella the one to get rid of her. That same Cruella that she had tried to understand, save and love, that same Cruella that looked in her eyes while they made love and promised to protect her. Where was that Cruella now? She had been bought and sold to the system, of course.

"Where should I go? Near that tree or is better if I remain here in the middle of the road?" Ursula asked boldly and she couldn't help but feel a strange urge to laugh. "I never thought it would have ended like this… Are you really going to kill me? I thought what was between you and me was real and-"

"Oh minchia, darling! Shut up!" the next boss to be suddenly exclaimed. And as her words came out of her mouth, a gun came out of her fur. "Don't even talk about real, when you were the one to lie, to betray and to leave" she spat then, holding the gun still, maybe in an attempt to get herself angry enough to pull the trigger.

She didn't know which of three things hurt her the most, but surely she was hurt and well, she had killed already for less. And yet, here she was hesitating, having second guessing and unconsciously trying to find a way out.

"What had they offer you? Cruella, don't do this, we can still…."

"No, we can't!" she interrupted again, as a flash of desperation appeared in her eyes. "Don't you see? We can't!"

As their eyes met – really met for the first time -, Ursula suddenly fell silence and then nodded, as a hint to go on and shoot. A tear fell on her cheek though; she wasn't crying out of fear, but rather of disappointment and blame – mostly toward herself. Yes, in the last moments of her life, she was blaming herself because she hadn't been careful: she had fallen in love with a future boss of the mafia and in the end she had both betrayed her love and her ideals.

Cruella immediately noticed that tear, but she didn't want to see, she didn't want to think, she didn't want to feel pity. And so she just closed her eyes, took a deep breath… And then she pulled the trigger, just like that. When she opened them again, she just spotted the woman she still was in love with, lied on the ground with her eyes still opened and a bullet in her heart.

She knew she would have probably had nightmares every night and she would have thrown up every time memories would have brought her back to that moment, but for now she didn't feel anything at all. And she just smiled, almost proudly. Futtitinni – her brother's voice was the only thing she could hear right then.

*Futtitinni literally means "don't care", but it's also more like "don't care about little things, focus on the important thing of life".

**That's the lowest level of mafia organization.

***A typical exclamation equivalent to "Fuck".

So, let's give start to the SD Week! I hope to write something for all the prompts and I hope you'll like my try:) I put some sicilian words in this first oneshot and also replaced gin with limoncello - because of reasons. By the way, this is my 100th story here on and I'm kinda proud of myself for this goal! LoL

See you tomorrow with the prompt "Road Trip".