"I hate airports," Eames muttered, moodily stirring this coffee.

Arthur looked up from his book, giving him an annoyed look. "Stop whining. You wanted to come along, so it's entirely your own fault that you're here."

"Yes, but that was before I knew that the stupid French ground staff would be striking again and delaying all the flights! Those people never work! I wish we were in Germany or Switzerland, or someplace else you can actually trust people to do what they are supposed to do," Eames complained.

"Better get used to it," Arthur recommended. "We're going to Italy after all."

"If we ever get there," Eames murmured darkly. Then his face lit up a little. "Say, pet – being half Italian, how on Earth did you end up being such an overzealous workaholic?"

Arthur shrugged. "Good American upbringing, I suppose. What did I tell you about calling me those names…?"

Eames rolled his eyes. "Hey, I only promised not to embarrass you in front of your mafia friends. But we're still in France, and apart from you, there aren't any Mafiosi around. Therefore, I can still call you those names."

"Why, oh why did I agree to this?" Arthur wondered aloud. "It's dangerous, it's foolish and you're already getting on my nerves."

"Because everybody needs friends and people he can trust, darling. Even you," Eames replied earnestly. "Oh look, they're finally opening the counter. Maybe we'll get out of here, after all."


Eames spent half of their flight to Palermo writing a postcard to his sister Katie and the other half flirting with the attractive curly haired flight attendant and watching Arthur get all annoyed about it. So in short, he had fun.

"Won't your other siblings get jealous if you only write to one of your sisters?" Arthur asked.

Eames shook his head. "Nah. Philipp's got other things on his mind right now than his big brother and Julia knows I love her best."

"You actually have a favorite sister?"

"Sure. She's the most sensible one of the lot. Of course, she's the big sister, so she has to be."

"Huh. I always thought you were the eldest."

"I'm the little bastard, remember? Julia was born before my Dad came along and ruined the marriage. She's thirty-seven, but nobody's allowed to mention her age and she hates birthdays."

"So she is actually your half-sister, because you and the two younger ones have a different father?"

"Not quite. We've got an interesting family history, darling. Actually, Julia is the child of Mum's first husband, then she had an affair with my father, and then her second husband came along. Katie and Phil are his kids. That's why they're so much younger. We all have different last names, it drives everybody crazy. Julia got Mum's maiden name after the divorce, I actually have my Dad's name, Phil's got his father's name and Katie took her husband's when she got married last year. That's why everybody started calling me by my last name, it's a family joke. Except Mum of course. She insists on using my given name. But then, she also calls Katie Katherine."

"And I thought my family was strange," Arthur murmured.

"Well, we don't have any mafia connections," Eames replied brightly.

"You have to bring that up at every possible opportunity, don't you?"

"Come on, pet, it's cool. Besides, that's why we're going to Italy, isn't it? By the way, are they picking us up at the airport?"

"I suppose so. I don't know who'll be there yet, but Stella said she would try… which means that Santino is going to be there, too. Don't be alarmed when you meet them."

"I'm not your grandmother. I'm actually capable of appreciating a woman in a biker's outfit. Especially when she has a nice butt."

"Well, don't appreciate her too much, or Santino might shoot you. He's very protective of his sister."

"But he didn't shoot you?"

"No, but he tried to stab me once, drown me twice and run me over with a car three times. Even though the third time might have been an accident, I'm not quite certain. Stella persuaded him to leave me alone eventually."

"Gee, and you're actually friends with those people…?"

Arthur shrugged. "They grow on you, if you survive long enough to get to know them better."


They arrived in Palermo two hours later than they had planned and no leather-clad amazon was waiting for them. Arthur seemed faintly disappointed, but Eames felt relieved. He wasn't particularly keen on meeting Stella Santangelo.

Instead, a lean, dark haired man suddenly appeared at their side out of nowhere. He had messy black hair with the first hints of grey sprinkled in-between and a somewhat dreamy face.

"Emmanuele," Arthur greeted him and the man smiled.

"Benvenuto a casa, Arthur."

He waved them towards the exit and they followed him to a parking lot.

Emmanuele drove in silence, either he wasn't very talkative to begin with, or thought it impolite to speak to Arthur in Italian while Eames was there. Eames suspected the former, though. They drove for about half an hour, before Emmanuele started fidgeting in his seat. Finally, he stopped at the side of the road. He exchanged a few sentences with Arthur.

"He wants to blindfold both of us," Arthur explained, dangling a couple of dark blue rags in front of Eames' nose. He frowned, apparently not happy with the safety measure. "That's new."

He turned back to Emmanuele, who merely shrugged apologetically, muttering "Antonio", as if that explained everything. Apparently it did, because Arthur rolled his eyes. "I should have guessed that… alright then, lets humor Antonio…"

He handed Eames one of the rags and taking the other.

"That is so Hollywood," Eames commented mirthfully while putting on his blindfold.

"I know," Arthur replied. "Antonio has been watching the wrong movies."

Eames chuckled.

"Contento?" Arthur asked Emmanuele.

"."


Emmanuele allowed them to take off their blindfolds – which he hadn't checked by the way, it would have been easy enough to cheat – as soon as he had stopped the car again. Eames looked around as they got out of the car. They were standing in the graveled courtyard of what look for all appearances like a large, old farmhouse. There were even a couple of buildings to the side that could have been stables and down the hill; Eames caught sight of a vineyard and an orchard.

"So your fabled mafia boss lives on a farm," he teased.

Arthur shrugged. "These days, he prefers the peace and quiet out here, and in his position, he can make people come and see him. He has no need to travel, there are lots of people at his beck and call.

"È in giardino," Emmanuele said, before disappearing into one of the stable buildings.

"Not a very sociable fellow, is he?" Eames asked.

Arthur ignored the comment and moved to the left, rounding the house. Eames followed him and they stepped into a well-kept garden, surrounded by little stone walls and overshadowed by two great old apple trees. It was still warm enough to sit outside, and the old man sitting in a wooden lawn chair, reading a leather bound book appeared to be enjoying the sun. A small black dog lay at his feet and in the vicinity, a woman sat on a stone bench, knitting. Somewhere in the house, another woman was singing, her voice muffled but audible.

The old man looked up when he heard them approaching. He had a tanned, weathered face covered in many wrinkles and laugh lines. He did not look the part of an intimidating mafia boss.

He slowly got up to great them, his movements slightly stiff after sitting for too long in one position. He smiled at both of them, holding out his hands to Arthur, who took them rather stiffly and immediately afterwards found himself drawn into a hug. The old man said something that Eames didn't catch, but Arthur frowned as he broke free.

"So," the old man said in heavily accented English. "This is your friend, yes? Welcome to my house."

Eames inclined his head. "Thank you." Apparently, there was no need for introductions. When he looked up, he saw that the woman had retreated into the house.

"Where is everyone?" Arthur asked.

"Ah…" the old man waved a vague hand. "Here and there. Stella was waiting for you at the airport, Arthur, but when you did not come, she decided that she had better things to do and left again. It is not nice, letting a woman wait. Not smart, either."

"I'll apologize to her later."

"You do that. Bring her flowers."

"Stella hates flowers."

"Macché! Every woman likes flowers." He paused a moment before adding. "It is good to have you home with us again. You should come more often. Family is important, Arthur."

Eames, who had been looking back and forth between them, decided that this was the right time to ask a question that bothered him. "Hold on a second – how closely are the two of you related…?"

Arthur raised his brows, apparently not amused. "Whatever gave you the impression that we are?"

Once again, Eames looked from him to the old man and back. "I know that appearances can be deceiving, lo- Arthur… but there is a certain family resemblance between the two of you. In fact, he looks like he could be your Dad."

The old man smiled again, and a ring of laugh lines appeared around his dark eyes, giving his weathered face a thoroughly innocent grandfatherly look. "It is not that close," he replied, and once again Eames noticed that his English, though heavily accented, was actually quite good. "He is my grandnephew, the grandson of my older brother. We were four brothers – Dominic, who was the oldest, Giacomo – that's your grandfather," he nodded at Arthur, "me and Gaetano. And then there were the girls – well, still are, in case of your great-aunts Alessia and Elena. They are formidable women now, and you would not want to cross them. Giulia died last summer, though." He looked at the two younger men, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Forgive me. Family history and family gossip become all the more important to you, the older you get. Speaking of family, Arthur – do tell me about your sister. I watched her latest movie with half a dozen of the boys, and they were plastered to the screen. She's a pretty one, Lucia. First actress in the family, as far as I can tell."

"I do hope you did not tell anyone that she is family," Arthur replied, a frown disfiguring his handsome face.

The old man huffed and waved a vague hand. "Of course not, since you forbid me to do so. I would sure have liked to show her off as my grandniece, but I gave you my word. You are keeping your side of the bargain admirably, so I am keeping mine in return. How is little Nico holding up? He must be getting bored with nothing to do up there. But then, he gets to be around a beautiful woman day and night, so maybe it isn't that bad." Another one of those whimsical smiles. Eames felt sure that he would have started to like the old guy by now, had he not seen the tension in Arthur's posture that wouldn't subside, no matter how many of those smiles were cast his way.

"Little Nico?" Eames put in, making an incredulous face. "Wait – are we talking about the hulking guy guarding Lucia's doorstep, who looks about ready to wrestle down a bull?"

The old man chuckled. "Well, I knew him when he was just a little boy, playing in the mud with the other children. He is the youngest son of Malena Bertani, Renata's mother… you do remember Renata, don't you Arthur?"

"She is married to Antonio? Or was it Federico…?"

"Federico. You have been out of touch for a while, haven't you? Not remembering your cousin's names?"

"Well, seeing that there are about three dozen of them…"

"Federico is Giulia's younger son. Antonio is his elder brother, he's married to Nuria, they have two little boys and a girl."

"Talking about little girls," Arthur cut the ramblings of his great-uncle short, "did you know that there was a twin sister of little Giulio?"

The old man blinked, apparently taken by surprise. "In my dealings with Gabriele, there was only talk of the boy. I did not know that Sara had two children."

"Well, in fact she has four, but only Giulio and his sister are also children of your son. Maybe Gabriele neglected to mention her, because he thought you were only interested in the boy."

"Is she alive?"

Arthur nodded.

"Then I'm interested. What is her name?"

"Alessandra."

"You will get her for me." It was a calm statement, not a direct order, but definitely not a question either.

Arthur didn't seem too surprised, but none too pleased either. "Gabriele will not give her up willingly. Especially not now."

"In that case, he will give her up unwillingly," the old man replied, shrugging. "I will send some of your cousins with you. Are you staying?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Then tell me where they will find you."

"Gabriele is currently living near Siena, whenever he is not away on business, because his wife is from that area and refuses to leave. She is twenty years younger than him, and he seems very eager to please her. Chances are that he is keeping Alessandra with him. She is definitely not staying with Sara and the other children. I will meet whichever cousins you send in Siena, the first Saturday of December. Since they are all good Catholics, they will have no objections against meeting me in the cathedral around noon."

His great-uncle cast him a wry look. "They might not. But maybe the master of the house would voice some objections…? I wonder, Arthur…" His eyes ghosted to Eames, who had a sudden suspicion that the old man knew a lot more about Arthur's private life than Arthur himself was willing to admit. He certainly was perceptive; you had to give him that.

Arthur shrugged "He's accepted enough men with bloody hands into his houses. I doubt there is even one of my sins that would stir his curiosity."


Hi everyone, thank you for those wonderful reviews on the last chapter! I apologize to Kiraling and everybody else who wanted to see Arthur's reaction to waking up and finding Eames snuggling up to him. You will get to read that scene as a flasback a couple of chapters from now.