A/N: Welcome to the end of No New Friends! I hope you've enjoyed your stay in this quaint little New England mafia story. Drop me a line if you have! Until next time.
Jane finds herself alone in the house for the third time between Maura going to the market, meeting Frankie for an update on The Waterfront Lofts in Jane's stead, and finally, running out to Revere to return an apparently very important pyrex to Jane's mother. Jane sulks because she is bored, but also much too afraid to go anywhere to remedy that boredom and defy Maura's order of rest. She contemplates riding over to Desiderio to check on Teresa, given their recent conversation, but ultimately decides against it when it would probably mean she would have to sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future. Jane hates sleeping on the couch.
Then, as if to save her from idleness, her burner phone chirps from the side table. She reaches over with her good arm, wincing with some manageable, residual pain in her injured shoulder.
The number is European. Specifically, Italian.
She presses accept without delay. "Rizzoli," she gruffs, like she does when she answers her phone in English, except she gives her surname its proper, Italianate pronunciation for this call.
"Ciau, Jane," a deep, smooth voice greets her on the other end. Jane hears the clattering of dinnerware. She checks the time on the smart TV, 2:00 PM. That means 8:00 PM on the island, just about time to eat. "Comu stai?"
"Mariu," Jane breathes out. She has spoken to him about six times in the past two months, and as always, his call is a welcome surprise. "Beni, beni, grazzii. E tu?"
"Beni, sì. Vogghiu practicari lu nglisi, ok?" says Mariu del Re, boss of Messina's largest crew. He controls the entire region, and yet, he and Jane speak to each other as friends. They share a mutual respect, and a mutual admiration from her time in Sicily.
They are much older now, Jane forty-two and Mariu forty-five, but they bring out exuberance in each other. "Yeah, I'm good with that," says Jane. Mariu likes practicing his English with her.
"Good. Because I don't have any help when I am on the phone with Paddy Doyle, so I need all the warm-up I can get," Mariu says.
Jane laughs. "Yeah, and he's got that Southie accent, too. It's a wonder you two understand each other at all."
"Are you saying my accent is thick?" Mariu laughs on the line and it crackles. When he speaks, there is no mistaking he is from Sicily.
"You always tell me my accent is American, so aren't we even?" teases Jane.
"That's true, that's true. I always tell you you sound like my grandmother," says Mariu.
"Which, you know, I really appreciate. 'Specially as I get older," Jane quips.
"Agh. You're not old enough to be a grandmother, Jane." Jane can practically hear Mariu's accompanying hand wave of dismissal. "Me though? I am about to be a grandfather."
"What?! Who? Giulietta?" Jane interrogates, sitting up so fast that her reclining seat on the couch pops back up into position. Why hadn't he told her before?
"Yes, she is due in the spring," Mariu answers. "My first is having her first."
Jane remembers seeing Giulietta for the first time at five, how vibrant and precocious she was running around her father's villa. She must be twenty-five now. "That's great, Mariu. Congratulations."
"Thank you," says Mariu. "I am now officially allowed to tell people outside the family. She will be happy to hear that you are happy. And Cristina, Franciscu, how are they?"
"Cristina's great," says Jane. "Once spring rolls around, Maura'll be taking her to any college she wants to visit. Her grades are good enough to get her in anywhere. And Cicciu, he's good too. Smart as his mother."
"We are blessed," Mariu replies. "That is all good to hear. And Maura?"
"Maura's good," Jane replies.
"Good," says Mariu. "Still the love of your life?"
"Yup," Jane answers. "Still wake up fuckin' flabbergasted that I get to spend every day with her."
"I am flabbergasted by it, too," Mariu tries the new word in a gentle ribbing of Jane. "I'm still not sure what she sees in you."
"Me either," says Jane.
"You know, the other day I stopped by that hotel, the Vittoria? The one where you two met. I needed to sign off on a shipment and that old table was still there. I was transported to the past - watching you two have eyes for no-one but each other," Mariu relays this to her with softness in his voice, with fondness.
Jane tries not to cry when she remembers it, too. "Even back then, huh?"
"Oh yes, it was obvious. Even back then," Mariu assures her. "I don't think you got any more work done for me, from that night until the night she left."
Jane blushes, glad that he can't see the effect his words have had on her. "I was a little preoccupied."
Mariu laughs long and loud. "Yes, you were. But when she left? You worked hard, like a dog. Loyal like one, too."
"You're one of my oldest friends," Jane senses the need to pay respects, and so she does.
"And you're one of mine. I know we do not talk very often since you moved back to Boston," Mariu says, "but I know that I can count on you."
"You can," says Jane.
"And you know, I always had a good relationship with Tommaso and Mario, too. I want to send an official to see them soon, to pay my respects, but I have no one there, in your area. No Sicilians from my side of the family."
"Hmm," Jane acknowledges him. The conversation has changed, and she is on alert.
"It's a shame," he says. "And you, when are you coming back to the island? Your cousins miss you."
Jane has no cousins in Messina. She is being summoned. "Actually, I plan to make a trip out soon. I've been missing you all, too."
"It wouldn't have to be for very long," Mariu tells her. "Just a couple of days. Bring Maura. I'm sure you both could use a small vacation from your busy lives."
Later, after dinner when the kids are upstairs and Maura is seeing to their Giovanni problems, Jane looks up flights to Sicily.
Maura stands in front of two carry-on sized suitcases, after much cajoling on Jane's part to forego a checked bag. She puts the pair of Jane's socks that she's been holding in Jane's discreet black bag, contemplating if she has packed her wife enough clothing. "Remind me of the temperature again? You're the only one of us who has been to Messina in November."
"Mild. Mid-fifties? Not cold or hot," Jane's carries from the walk-in closet behind Maura.
Maura counts the shirts, inspects their sleeves, and decides that Jane will be just fine. "That'll be a nice change," she says back, because the chill has set in in Boston.
"Yeah," says Jane distractedly. Her voice is much clearer now that she has stepped out.
And, when Maura turns to face Jane, Maura gasps.
"What?" Jane looks up at her, confused. Then she looks down at herself. Boots, navy-colored slacks, black button up…
Maura comes up to her and pretends to straighten the straps of Jane's shoulder holster. Really she just wants to feel the leather and get an up-close view of it on Jane's shoulders. Two unregistered revolvers sit on either of her sides, and the harness crosses at the back to provide a snug fit. "You don't wear this one very often," Maura whispers, right against Jane's jawline because she is still barefoot.
Ah. "And you like it," says Jane, turning her head to capture Maura's lips in a kiss. Maura blushes, and nods without speaking. "You remember when I took out Matty O'Rourke, and you got all hot and bothered? I told you back then, it's ok to like me for my problem-solving skills."
"And you are about to solve a major problem," Maura purrs. "That's extra enticing."
"I'll say," Jane presses their lips together again, and then sits next to their luggage on the bed. "I, uh, I talked to Tom and Mario about it."
"You went to the prison? That was very dangerous," Maura says, a little admonishingly. She quirks a brow and purses her lips.
"Relax. I went to see Tommy, and the guard slipped me in to talk to them in a private room. No one saw me," Jane explains. Maura relaxes, and then folds a cardigan she plans to wear after their appointment tomorrow.
"Ok, and what did they say?" she asks Jane.
"That they understand," Jane says. "It's as close to an approval as I'm gonna get. We talked for a long time, and I think they wanna promote Frankie to take Carlo's place."
Maura gasps again. "Jane, that's… that's amazing."
"Yeah, but he's gotta get his chip first," Jane replies. "Which means… so do I, because they won't let him in if he's workin' for the shadow crew. But once I do, and we get back from this trip, they're gonna have him go down to New York to get sworn in."
Maura finds a place in Jane's lap, and wraps her arms around Jane's shoulders. "I don't want to… what do the kids say? Jinx it. I don't want to jinx anything."
"But?" Jane prods, hands in Maura's back pockets.
"But you could potentially return one step away from being in charge," Maura says. "Of everything."
"I'm loyal to Tom and Mario first," Jane says. "But, yeah. If I stay that way, then this means that I'll probably get everything when they retire, or die. And you? You've been by my side since I was in the mud. If that does happen, you deserve every disgustingly expensive, gaudy thing I'll give you: jewelry, art, clothes, cars, all of it. I'll spoil the shit out of your kids, too."
Maura chuckles, kisses Jane. "Our kids. And you already do."
"I do, that's true," agrees Jane. "Speaking of, we should get all packed up so we can say goodbye. We got a flight to catch."
Maura slides back onto her feet and closes up the two bags. "All done," she says. "Let me get my shoes, and remind me of the plan."
Jane picks her blazer up off of the dresser and puts it on. "Frankie's takin' you to the old overflow lot at Logan. I have to check in on my friend Carlo, who is at Desiderio right now, when he knows he shouldn't be, so Frankie'll drop me off there on the way. If I ask nicely, Carlo'll give me a ride to the airport, and then we can catch a shuttle while Frankie makes sure he gets off ok."
Maura catches all the euphemisms and workarounds in Jane's plan, and nods. "Sounds great. Our flight leaves at…" she checks her watch, 11:45 PM, "2:03. It's a small charter, one of my father's friends, so we'll probably have to drive right up to the tarmac."
"Good thing our shuttle is a guy we know," Jane jokes. She winks, jostles her keys in her pocket, and nods toward the hall where the children sleep. "Anthony seems like the type of guy that'll do that for us."
Maura remembers Anthony's sweet, young, determined face from earlier in the week. She had also wondered, at that time, how many bodies he had disposed of, because he was unfazed. "I think so," she says. Jane wheels the bags just outside their room, turns off the lights, and then gently shuts the door. They cross into Cicciu's room, where the boy lays sleeping, half out of his covers.
Maura grabs Jane's hand so that they can avoid stepping on piles of clothes and lego pieces. Rousing him would be foolish, because he is notoriously angry when sleepy, so they settle for kissing his head, once each, and then slinking out the way they came in.
Next is Cristina's room. She's fallen asleep with her phone near her head and her stereo still on low. A fan blasts air at her despite the cold outside, and she snuggles up to one of her pillows as she breathes evenly. Maura sits by her feet, rubbing her hand on them through the blanket, and Jane kneels on the floor by her head. Her kiss is soft, but sure, and loud.
It wakes Cristina up. Her eyes dart open, unfocused, until slowly Jane comes into view. "Ma?" Christina asks, "what's wrong?"
"Nothin', baby," Jane says softly. "Mommy and I gotta go on a business trip for a couple days, and we just wanted to say goodbye. Nanna's already here; she's sleepin' downstairs, ok? We'll be back Sunday night."
Cristina sits up. "Where are you going?"
"To Sicily," Maura tells her, "we're taking the red eye."
Cristina slumps back to her pillow now that she has answers. "Me and Cicciu wanted to go," she whines, but it sounds cute, not petulant, because she's still so sleepy.
"I know, and we're gonna take a couple weeks for that trip. We're really only gonna be gone a day and a half. That's nowhere near enough time to see everything you'd wanna see," Jane says. "But call us if you need us."
"Ok," Cristina says. "Bye. Love you."
Jane stands and lets Maura come over to kiss their daughter goodbye. "Goodbye sweetheart," says Maura into the curtain of Cristina's brown hair, "we love you too."
"Just uh, drop me off here," says Jane. Frankie is driving a nondescript black SUV that one of his fellow soldiers let him borrow. Boston nightlife throbs around them on a Thursday evening.
"You sure, Janie?" He asks, looking at her in the rearview mirror. Maura sits up front, and pats his wrist reassuringly.
"Yeah, I'll blend right in," Jane responds. She waits for a few drunken revelers to pass on the strip of bars she's had her brother stop in front of, and then gets out. "My phone's in the back, because I was with you the whole time, got it?" she orders, and Frankie nods. "If I'm not there in like, twenty minutes of the rendezvous time, send the whole goddamn city out lookin' for me." She plans for this to be quick and to be easy.
"I got it, sis," says Frankie. "See you at Logan."
Jane nods. She puts a duffel on the floor of the car. "See you at Logan."
Frankie drives off, and Jane walks the sidewalk, weaving away from partiers and some of the other regulars, Bostonians just out for a few drinks during the almost-weekend. A few blocks down, she sees Desiderio, identifies it by its unmistakable pink neon sign and the line out the front door. She walks right up, and the bouncers smile at her. She waves to them, walks past the line, and leans on the valet booth to see nineteen year-old David Russo making sure the keys are organized just to Frankie's liking. "J-Jane!" he shouts when she knocks on the makeshift table in front of him.
"Hey," she says, chuckling. "Long time no see, huh?"
"Y-yeah, how're you?" he asks.
"Doin' just fine, thanks. Listen, David. I need the keys for a '15 G Wagon, black. Customer says he forgot his wallet in it, and I wanna make damn sure it's there before I sell him any more drinks."
"Sure," David turns to the wall of keys. "Uh, uh, here! Here it is." He hands her the keys without any question, happy to do something to please the boss.
"Thanks, kid," Jane tells him. She twirls the keyring on her index finger, and wraps around toward the back of the building, to the parking structure they share with a bunch of the other businesses around. Bobby is at his usual perch on the side door, and he nods to her. "Hey, Bobby," she greets back, and keeps walking until she gets to the structure. She glances down at the ticket on the key, and climbs a flight of stairs to get to Desiderio's valet area.
Right in space 203 is Carlo Talucci's G Wagon.
Jane looks around for spectators, or anyone for that matter, and when she sees no-one, she pulls some nitrile gloves on and unlocks the door, propping it open just so with an umbrella she finds inside.
Then, she runs the key back to the booth, returns, and slides in the backseat to wait.
Jane hears Carlo before she sees him. He is on the phone with someone, his voice bellowing throughout this floor of the structure. She lowers herself even more on the seat, and waits. He loiters outside of the car in the sallow lights for a few more minutes, finishing up a call with a person who must be Alessandra.
"I told you," he says, thought it's muffled because he's not inside the vehicle, "I ain't seein' her no more, Alex. I'm on business. And if you don't believe me, frankly, that's not my fuckin' problem. Nah, if you must know, I'm over at one of the clubs, checkin' in on some lines of credit I've been givin' out. You know what? Fuck you too. Don't call me."
Just after he hangs up, he presses the fob to unlock the door, and lumbers into the driver's seat. All the better, thinks Jane, he's had a few drinks. He ignites the engine, and that's when she clicks the revolver she's pulled out of her holster. "Hey Carlo," she says, smiling at the eyes that catch her in the mirror. "How are ya?"
"Jane-" he throws his hands up in surrender after he shrieks, but she cuts him off.
"You're not supposed to be here, Carlo, sniffin' around Rizzoli business. But you wanna know how you can make it up to me?" she asks as she nuzzles the gun into the side of his slicked-back hair. "Take me to the airport."
"What?" Carlo is petrified and confused.
"Take me to the overflow lot for Logan. The one that don't really get used anymore. You know it?" Jane insists, digging the barrel in a little more.
It pinches Carlo's scalp and he winces. "Yeah, yeah I know it, Janie."
"Then drive," she orders. He obeys, and they exit the parking garage, headed towards East Boston and the airport. "Wanna know where I'm goin'?" she asks him after several minutes of silence. He doesn't answer, so she continues. "Sicily. On business for Paddy Doyle. Says he's not too happy with the communication with Mariu that's been goin' on, thinks I can do better."
This gets Carlo's attention. She sees anger battling with fear on his face. He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles are white and purple. "I thought Paddy said he was holdin' off on that."
"Well, plans change," Jane says. "Especially when you try to kill me, Carlo."
"That was Gio, not-"
"Oh shut up," Jane pistol whips him and the car swerves. He rights it even though his vision is blurry. "You know what he told Maura right before she killed him? That you told him to. He said, 'when the boss tells you to do somethin', you can't just look the other way,'" Jane says. Carlo doesn't say anything, so she continues. "And when I get there, I'm gonna find out that the shit you've been feeding people about Mariu wanting to move H and girls into the country is a lie. That actually, you and the Russians seem to have somethin' goin' with the Palermitani, and those guys in Corleone. I'm gonna find out that not only are you tryin' to push me out, you've been tryin' to push Mariu and Paddy out, too. How well you think that's gonna go over when Tom and Mario come home, huh? And they find out you betrayed them?"
"Jane-" Carlo wheezes, but again he is interrupted.
"But I don't think you were thinkin' about that. I think you were tryin' to accumulate power so fast that by the time they get out next year, you'd be top dog, and they'd have to concede the throne to you. Really, Carlo? After all they've done for us?"
Carlo pulls into the empty lot and cuts the engine. "Listen, Janie," he pleads. "I can cut you in with the Russians. Think of all the cash that's gonna start flowin' in as soon as I set up this deal! Who gives a fuck about Paddy Doyle, or the DiVincenzo brothers? You and me can be makin' money hand over fist, run it all together."
Jane ignores that. She refuses to give it the dignity of a response. "Get into the passenger seat," she commands him. He doesn't move. "Get in the passenger seat, or I'll blow your fuckin' head off," she tries again, her voice hoarse and deadly serious. Carlo scrambles over the console and heaves himself into the passenger side. "You know, it's a damn shame that all this betrayal got to you, made you wanna take your own life, Carlo. Especially when you got so much to live for."
"What?" he asks again, his own voice high pitched and desperate.
Jane lunges from the backseat, wrapping her arm around his neck and holding the revolver to the side of his head again. "Come for me and this is what happens," she grits her teeth, and then pulls the trigger before he has a chance to beg for his life.
He slumps to his side, dead.
Blowback is all over the dash and on Carlo's window, but luckily, there is minimal on her because of how she was placed, and her overall practice with such matters. She opens his hand and lays the gun in it, in a classic suicidal pose. She snaps off her gloves, uses the inside turned out to open the door, and shuts it just in time for Frankie to pull up next to them.
She walks over to his SUV and he rolls Maura's window down. "Hey brother," she says to him.
"Hey, Janie," he says. There are only a few light towers and the night sky to illuminate them.
Maura opens the door and steps out. "Come here," she says to Jane, and takes a wipe to Jane's cheek and nose when she approaches.
Jane wiggles her nose like a child whose mouth is being cleaned of food residue. "Thanks," she says despite her discomfort. Her hair is next, where just a few droplets hit. Her blazer and her shirt got the most of it, which is why she brought the extra change of clothes. She opens the door and grabs her duffel, opting to disrobe in the lot and put on a more comfortable outfit for her flight. She stuffs the soiled tops, her pants, her guns, and her boots into the bag and zips it up. "Get rid of this bag, would ya? Make sure it never sees the light of day," she tells Frankie. "And drive him where we agreed he should go."
"You got it," Frankie says. "Desiderio it is."
Just as he hops into Carlo's car, another one pulls up behind them. Anthony smiles at Jane and Maura from his rolled down window, and tips his Red Sox fitted cap at them. "Need a ride?" He asks.
The two women share a private smile, and then climb in.
When Jane wakes, she is naked, and she is in Maura's arms. Specifically she is in Maura's arms in their room at Villa Monreale, in the exact one that Maura had rented nearly twenty years prior. The bed is new, and the decor has been updated, but she would know the room by the emotion it evokes alone.
They had arrived on Friday evening, exhausted, and treated themselves to a seaside dinner after checking in. Then, rather than explore what Sicilian nightlife had in store for them, they had elected to sleep in preparation for Jane's rather monumental Saturday morning.
Maura must notice Jane's ruminating on all these things, because she kisses Jane's forehead sleepily and sighs. "You have to know how proud of you I am," she whispers.
Jane burrows closer to Maura's chest and nips the round of a soft breast. "Well, I couldn't have done it without you," she says.
Maura smirks. "I know," she replies. "I made you who I knew that you could be. And you loved me all throughout the process."
"Still so humble," Jane chides her, "some things never change. But you're right. Today is a result of all of your vision, your handiwork." She rolls over, and then sits up on the edge of the bed. Maura rises, too, and scoots over until she can stroke Jane's back from behind.
"I think the handiwork portion belongs to you," Maura teases. "But I'll take the credit if you're giving it. Are you ready? For this morning?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," says Jane. She stands, letting the sheet drop to the bed, and she stretches.
"You deserve this," Maura tells her. "You deserve what is about to happen to you."
Jane nods, and makes her way to the bathroom.
An hour later, they have bathed and dressed for the day, and made their way to the street just outside the hotel. Jane has been instructed to wear all-black, and so Maura does the same, not wanting Jane to feel alone. Jane stands in front of Maura, lips clamped shut in nervousness, but eyes alight in excitement, and Maura is compelled to reach out and touch.
She runs her fingers between Jane's tucked-in button up shirt and her suit pants, even though the tuck was fine before. "There," she says, patting Jane's hip, and Jane surprises her by taking that hand and lacing their fingers together.
"It's about a ten minute walk from here," says Jane. "He's right on the beach."
"Ok," Maura says, sensing that the less she talks, the better.
They stroll through the overcast atmosphere up a small, hilly road, alternating silence with chats about their children, or their work, until they reach a massive villa. Two wrought-iron gates connect in the middle, and two guards, with semi-automatic rifles hanging across their fronts, nod to them.
Just as Jane is about to speak, they open the gates. No verbal communication required. In fact - it's discouraged. Jane and Maura walk through, take a paved path that opens into an ornate, green courtyard with a Greek fountain at the center, with running water that babbles into a basin tiled with the most vibrant of blue and green ceramic at the bottom. The home itself looms over the landscape, with its architecture in the Sicilian style: arab influences married to Roman features, with stone columns that outline the outer walkway before they reach a door.
A man, all of 5'8" and maybe seventy years old, opens that side door, and beckons them inside. He isn't someone that Jane has seen before, so she makes sure that Maura's hand remains in hers as they cross the threshold.
The inside is just as magnificent as the outside. Brown tiled floors hold vibrant rugs of blue on them, and leather furniture softens what would otherwise look like a museum, for all its paintings and statues. They barely have a moment to admire the interior design, however, because as soon as they turn into a hall, there is another door to their right. The older man opens it, and it creaks.
In this room, which appears to be a study - the tile and the rugs are the same, but there are built-in bookshelves with titles in several languages and a desk in front of the window that looks into another courtyard - about twenty men and three women gather, also in all-black. They form a semi-square with that ornate desk behind which Mariu del Re stands.
They are all Mariu's captains.
Jane understands that she must drop Maura's hand now, and make the last few steps alone. Mariu waits for her. She can tell, because there is a very sharp, long knife in front of him, and the likeness of a skull on white paper under it. She's heard tales about the ritual before, and the ambience does not disappoint. The curtains are drawn over the window, and there are candles lit throughout the room.
When Mariu walks out from behind his desk, Jane chances one last look at Maura, who stands with the man that let them in, blending in with the rest of the capi on the side of the room closest to the door. As quickly as she confirms Maura is ok, she turns her attention back to Mariu. She crosses her hands over her belt buckle and stands straight. With her boots on, they are eye to eye.
He stares at her for a long seconds, and she stares back, knowing not to cede any ground. Apparently satisfied with that, and pleased enough to make an exception for her wife to be among them, even for this part, Mariu begins. "Se lecitu giovanotta, da undi veniti?" Young one, can I ask you, where are you from?
Jane has prepared for this exchange since she got his call. She knows what to say. "Da undi se disponi," she continues the script. From whence decisions are made.
"E decitemi ancora, amica, sempre se lecitu, sutta cu caminati?" asks Mariu. And tell me again, friend, if you please, who do you stand for?
"Jo camino suttu u cielu e supra a terra. E undi vaiu cca mia favella sacciu purtari saggezza, sangu, e unuri," answers Jane. I walk under the sky and on the ground. And wherever I go, my words bring knowledge, blood, and honor.
Mariu nods. He tamps down on a smile. They are nearly finished. "Scusatemi ancora, amica, perché facete l'omu?" There is no way for him to say this in a way that fits her gender, so he asks her unaltered: Excuse me once more, friend, why are you one of us, a made man?
Jane rolls her shoulders back and nods once to herself for confidence. "Jo fazzu l'omu pí sangu e pí unuri, e pí scacciari infami e tradituri," she says. I am one of you for blood and for honor, and I hunt down the unworthy and the traitors.
Mariu claps her shoulder one time, and moves from in front of her to stand at her side. He holds her chin. He has the knife in his other hand, and he makes a swift, clean incision to the front of her bottom lip.
She leans forward, and lets her blood drip onto the skull. It pools, filling in and smearing the black ink on the paper with plump, jagged lines of red.
She is made.
Mariu fishes around his pocket for his kerchief. However, as he roots, Maura steps forward, emerging from her place amongst his captains, separating herself from them, and putting her hand on his wrist. "I've got it," she tells him. He nods, returns her smile, then steps out of her way. Maura takes his place in front of Jane, her own handkerchief in hand, and dabs the lip of New England's future boss.
Those around them relax their posture, even smile, because the deed is done. Some start congenial chatter in Italian and Sicilian, rooted to their spots, but letting their minds wander to everyday life again. Jane becomes herself again as well, sniffing and with glossy eyes. "So listen - now that that's over with," she says to Maura, ignoring the rest, "you wanna get outta here? Get some gelatu?"
"I'd like that," Maura answers. "And lucky for you, I know a place."
A/N: The dialogue between Jane and Mariu during her swearing-in is actually Calabrisi - I couldn't find a Sicilian initiation script, but I figured the languages are very similar and it would do just as well. The cutting of the lip is an old mafia rite, but I really liked the imagery.