Title:When Lightning Strikes Twice
Author:PowerHouseoftheCell
Summary:When Lambo Bovino, a 25 year-old at the end of his rope, threw that grenade, this was definitely not what he expected. Time Travel. No Pairings.
Disclaimer:I do not own KHR in any way, shape, or form.
Author's Note:Guys, I said at least six chapters. Knowing me and my horrible abilities of plot, it'll be like eight to ten more or something. Or maybe six. Who knows? ((Also, if I had to personify my inspiration, it would be an empty potato chip bag. The kind that makes a really annoying crinkly sound.))
OoO
Lambo arrived at the kitchen with little to no difficulty. He hung by the archway awkwardly for a few moments, watching the cooks and servants bustle about the room. It was, what, four o'clock now? They should be getting ready for dinner. He cautiously entered the kitchen, but not a single person paid any notice to him. They were too busy with chopping, dicing, carving, and chatting with the kitchen maid next to them.
"Hello?" he asked the air. A few girls looked up, but they went back to their work just as quickly. "Hello?" he tried again, louder this time.
This time, at least ten people looked up, gazing intently at him before returning to their tasks. He squirmed and was just about to turn and leave when a teen standing vigil over a large pot said, "If you're wantin' for somethin', you're s'pposed ta talk to one of the shiners-the ones who cleans the halls an' bedrooms. But I s'pose the 'ead cook'll wanna talk to ya. She's the one with the pink sash." The boy pointed at a middle-aged woman scolding a girl with long, shiny hair.
"You daft girl! What, you think your pretty locks won't get into the dough? Imagine that! The masters finding a lock of your precious red hair in their pie! No, girl, you get out of my kitchen, and don't come back without a hair ribbon!" she scolded. Her accent told him that she was definitely English, and it had a very no-nonsense tone that was not reassuring towards his quest for sweets.
She then caught sight of Lambo in his leather coat, standing amongst her crew like a gentleman in a workhouse. "You must be the new guest. Welcome to the kitchens; I'm Alice, but you can just call me Chef or miss, thank you. Now, what are you doing here?"
"I was wondering if you had anything sweet."
"I hope he's not as bad as Giotto," the woman muttered under her breath. "Alright, give me a second…" She eyed him suspiciously. "And close your eyes."
He raised a questioning brow but did as requested. Unable to resist asking, he said, "Why?"
"In case you are as bad as Giotto," she muttered again. Then, louder, she said, "So you don't see where I've hidden them. Now hush."
He listened to her maneuver around the others, occasionally stopping to critique or compliment them. He heard her rummage through a cabinet and pull out a paper bag, take something from it, and put it back. He could probably track her movements better if it weren't so loud in here.
She approached him and put something-a cookie, most likely, judging from the texture-in his hand. Then she shooed him out the door. He opened his eyes and examined the treat, discovering that it was, in fact, a cookie, and a sugar cookie at that. He took bites out of the palm-sized cookie as he walked along the hallways, occasionally stopping to exchange idle pleasantries with the nicer servants. He peered into some of the rooms with fancier doors, but they mostly turned out to be fairly uninteresting rooms. A little breakfast nook, a sitting room, a meeting room.
Lambo wasn't entirely sure what he was doing himself, but he had nothing better to do. He got politely redirected a few times (from what were likely the Guardian and servant wings) and subtly prodded for information a few more times. He got tailed once or twice by curious servants and a cautious guard or two, but was otherwise left alone.
Bored, bored, bored.
But unlike in the future, there was no Internet here-something that he dearly missed-to entertain him. He supposed he could return to Lampo's library, but he didn't really have permission, plus he was in the-
Ah, that's right. I'm supposed to be in the infirmary.
You'd think Edda would be roaring for his head, but he supposed she was busy with her other duties.
He should return to the infirmary.
He should.
His eye drooped in mock sadness and he shuffled his feet. Laughing inwardly at his performance, he carefully traced his steps back to the room, wincing as he realized that ignoring your pain for two hours and then lessening your mental control added up toward an unpleasant walking experience.
He finally reached the infirmary, and settle back into his bed with a grimace. The other two were fast asleep, so far into a healing rest that they didn't stir when he walked in. He supposed he had no choice but to follow their lead.
OoO
6:30 PM, Same Day…
He was wakened from a thankfully dreamless sleep by the door to the infirmary.
Civilian footsteps-too loud to be anything else.
"Excuse me, sirs, I've brought your dinners." He slid his gaze from the door to the other two, who had apparently woken up at the same time that he had.
"Thank you…Aria," Giotto said politely. The brunet girl nodded and placed the meals in the laps of the three. They each thanked her, and, after bowing, she left. They quietly dug into the chicken, stew, and pasta.
"I still don't know how you remember all of their names," Lampo said at length, his voice filling the room.
"It's called actually talking to all of them, Lampo," he said, amused.
"I do talk to all of them!" the brunet protested.
"Things like how are you? and how's your family? Or things like give this to so-and-so and can you give me directions?" the blond replied.
"I just- Fine, I admit that I don't ask things like that. But Fath-" the Lightning Guardian abruptly went silent, face blank as stone.
The don sighed and turned to the younger man. "You know better than to follow your father's advice." The reprimand was gentle, though the words were not.
"It's-it's just hard, sometimes," he quietly replied. "I know it's wrong, and I know I should never follow it, but he practically engraved some things into my forehead. 'Never talk to the servants.' ''Always smile.' 'Don't show any of your true emotions,'" he mimicked in a harsh, mocking voice. Whether it was his father figure or himself he was mocking, it wasn't clear.
"Lampo," Giotto sighed. "It's fine. As long as you don't listen to him, it's fine."
The other man remained silent; Lambo was honestly pretty surprised. He had never truly guessed that Lampo didn't get along with his father, but he supposed he had to have some sort of reason as to why he would join the mafia.
The rest of the conversation was made in low enough tones that he couldn't hear either of them, so he shrugged and turned back to his meal, which was very good. Meanwhile, the others' went cold.
OoO
11:45 PM, Same Day
Giotto and Lampo were asleep. He had been, too, up until about twenty minutes ago. But he guess that now was as good of a time as any to confront the…intruder in his head.
He cautiously entered his mindscape, which was wracked with more cracks than it had been earlier. He cautiously wandered down the hallway, halfway hoping that he had imagined the orange glow. But no, it was still there.
And it was growing.
It was emitting from new cracks that had not been there before, the same orange glow that had so comforted him now gave him chills.
And yet…
He couldn't bring himself to be afraid of Sky Flames. No matter how intrusive they were, this orange was almost as pure as hi-Tsuna's, Tsuna's-use their names, you idiot.
He stared intently at the flames, willing any sort of explanation to appear. However, as time passed, he swore he could almost hear very faint voices. They sounded…vaguely familiar. Like the voice from before, not very familiar, but familiar nonetheless.
He knew better than to try to dissuade Sky Flames with Lightning, no, it would just be absorbed. And he wasn't eager to attempt what he had done before now.
So, with that, he left his mindscape and instead focused on finding sleep once more. But it wouldn't come. The orange seemed to bounce back and forth in his brain, mocking him, mocking him…
He was very small, and he was strapped to the chair. A faceless figure approached him, cloaked in shadows, three figures on either side.
Suddenly, they weren't faceless; they were Hibari and Chrome and Mukuro and everyone was there, looking very serious. Tsuna, always in the lead, opened his mouth and seemed to lecture him for a very long time, the others nodding every once in a while, which was strange because he wasn't making any sound at all.
Then the black melted away and he was in Mama's house, sitting at the table at his full size while the others were sososo young around him. They seemed startled at his appearance. He opened his mouth and suddenly he was on the ground with bodies surrounding him and corpses were laughing at him.
And he covered his ears and curled up into a ball and he was in front of his scowling father and he wanted to make him smile, just once, just once. And his father, no, his boss, his father didn't want him as his son and that was clear when he sent on a mission to kill Reborn.
And he knew he was going to die that day but maybe it would be quick because the stories all say that Reborn is efficient-!
And suddenly he is awake again and the he realizes that he is having a bit of trouble breathing and distantly he thinks, oh, another one of those, but there is something very different about this.