1. Homecoming.
Fio watched the Great Plains roll by. It was the dead of winter, the sky and earth bare and gray. The train's whistle echoed in the carriage before racing and fading into the horizon.
She was going home.
Three months, ninety-one days. A life can change in ninety-one days. Three months ago she wed. A month ago she became a widow. Last week, she miscarried.
It was not uncommon, but she wondered if this was not divine retribution.
The morning after she buried her unborn child she boarded a train at Chicago Union Station. No one from her husband's family came to see her off. They always suspected the circumstances of Ronaldo's death. They held her family responsible. They blamed her for losing two of their sons.
If only she told them the truth.
She was tempted, a few times, when things became unbearable, just so she could see their faces. So everything could end.
But then everyone would have died. Her father, Nero, Uncle Gonzo...
It hadn't mattered, what she did, what she failed to do. In the end, she lost everyone she tried to protect.
"Mrs. Galassia?" The attendant-he could have been Frate's age-knocked before opening. "We'll be arriving in Lawless soon."
Fio touched the shallow depression on her ring finger. "Vanetti, please. That is my name."
"Yes Ma'am."
XXXXX
She had a feeling she had been here before: The two of them standing on the station platform, facing each other, dressed for mourning.
They were still dressed for mourning.
She saw his suit was a nicer cut, even with one arm in a sling. When the Galassia sent twenty soldiers and their top gunman to take control of Lawless, Avilio was the one who formed an alliance with Fango. Two days and twenty-three bodies later, the terrified survivors—sans the gunman—were sent back to Chicago with lasagna and a message: Vivi e lascia vivere. The truce has held since.
Her father, brother, and uncle did not survive. The remaining men—those able-bodied who had not fled—chose Avilio to be acting don.
"Welcome home, Miss." He frowned when he saw she brought two suitcases, but tried anyways, not successfully. "My apologies, we are…" He grunted as he tried to grab both handles at once. "…Shorthanded at the moment."
His neck began to turn red. She chuckled, unable to help herself. "Come on, I'll help."
~To be Continued~
Author's Notes: 91 Days has been a great series so far. Fast paced early Prohibition Mafia revenge tale? Yes please. Episode seven inspired me so I had to write something, which I aim to keep short and sweet like the series.
Given the mid-series point of departure it is unlikely this will conform to canon. Instead, like the summary says, it's my vision of what Fio and Angelo's story could be if they survive.