The Final Whumptober fic! :') I can't believe we're at the end of the month. Thank you so much for all the support this month! I'm so glad you have enjoyed the stories and I hope you enjoy this last one as well. This is a Part 5 AU ending, so enjoy!

Prompts Used: disaster zone | trauma | prisoner

Day Thirty-One

Hurt & Comfort

Giorno was vaguely aware of someone dragging his body. He tried to wake up, he had to, he knew something urgent had happened, and he needed to wake up. He had to fight back.

It was a lot of work, but he finally opened his eyes enough to see. He was being carried between two figures, arms draped over their shoulders, feet dragging limply. But he didn't know them, he had no idea who they were. He had no idea what had even happened, the last thing he remembered was being on the airplane…

Giorno let out a soft groan. His wrists ached and his fingers twitched. He could feel Gold Experience still mending his body, slowly, his Stand obviously as weak as he was right now.

He finally got a good look around, seeing they were in some kind of house. They finally stopped in front of a door and one of the men knocked before opening it.

Giorno was carried inside.

"We have him, Boss. Think he's finally waking up too."

Giorno was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground where he rested for a long moment, trying to get his bearings. The room was dark, the only light coming from a single lamp in the corner where a dark figure stood from a chair, making its way over to him.

"Good," a voice came from the figure, deep but with the power to make Giorno's skin crawl.

A pair of expensive leather shoes stopped right in front of Giorno's face. One pressed against his shoulder, pushing him onto his back.

"So, this is Giorno Giovanna? The whelp who joined my organization just to betray me?

Giorno followed the shoes up the expensive suit to the face that was still mostly shrouded in shadow and a shiver ran down his spine.

This was him. This was the Boss. The man they had been looking for.

He slowly rolled over and pushed himself up to his knees, ignoring his body's protests as he watched the man with caution, remembering what Bucciarati had said about his encounter with the Boss. About the strange power of his Stand and his ability to seemingly skip time.

He had no idea where the others were. The last thing he remembered was passing out on the airplane, but he could only assume something had happened once they got to Sardinia. Perhaps the Boss had been waiting there for them.

In that case, though, where were the others? Had they all been captured then? Or had they gotten away and that's why Giorno was here now. Was the Boss planning to torture him for information?

The Boss was still watching him, an arrogant tilt to his head. "I suppose you're probably trying to piece it all together. Allow me to enlighten you."

Something grabbed Giorno from out of the darkness, and he could feel the Boss' Stand energy envelope him. A blink, and he was sitting in a chair in front of a television. The Boss pressed play and footage began to run of a beach and a plane falling from the sky, crashing into the ocean. Giorno felt his breath seize in his chest.

"To think, I spent all this time and manpower trying to find Bucciarati, make sure my daughter never made it here, and it was a plane crash that finally ended it all."

"Where are they?" Giorno demanded, eyes glued to the horrible scene on the television. "Where are Bucciarati and the others? What did you do with Trish?"

The Boss chuckled. "I didn't do anything. I didn't have to. They all went down with that plane. You seemed to be the lucky soul survivor. My men found you washed up on the beach."

Giorno's chest heaved with uneven breaths as the footage changed to that coming from a boat, circling the wreckage. The plane was in pieces. Giorno didn't know how he'd survived that. He vaguely remembered being in the turtle…was that why he had survived? But Mista and Narancia had been in there with him. Where were they?

They couldn't actually all be dead…could they?

"Before you try to make some grandiose protest, we found enough to confirm that none of your fellow traitors survived."

Giorno sat, numb, trembling in the chair. This couldn't be real. How could he be the only one to survive? He wouldn't accept that, he couldn't.

There was a knock at the door and it opened while Giorno was still staring numbly in disbelief at the television.

"Ah, there you are, Fugo."

Giorno's head snapped up at that and looked over to the doorway of the room, seeing that it was, indeed, Fugo standing there.

"I did what you asked," Fugo said.

"Good," the Boss said, turning back to Giorno. "I can see you're surprised, but what did you really expect? Fugo is a very bright young man, of course he would do the smart thing and come to me to prove his loyalty anew after the rest of his team decided treason was the only option. Looks like he made the right choice, doesn't it?"

Fury and grief surged through Giorno as he staggered to his feet, fists clenching.

"You traitor," he snarled at Fugo as the other boy finally looked up at him.

"No," Fugo snarled, jabbing a finger at Giorno. "You're the traitor! You came in to my team and you sold Bucciarati a pretty story, but you're just full of lies! It's your fault, Giorno. All of this! You're the one who got them killed! You're the one who killed my family!"

Giorno surged forward, Gold Experience bursting from him as he clenched his fists, ready to swing at Fugo.

But in a blink he was rolling across the floor, gasping for breath, ribs aching. He came to a halt against the legs of a table, curled on his side.

The Boss, still mostly in shadow, was staring at him, his Stand appearing at his side again. "He is right, and completely justified in his anger."

"Still," Giorno grunted, pushing himself up onto his elbows, spitting blood, eyes still narrowed at Fugo. "Bucciarati gave you a choice. You could have just walked away. You didn't have to go to the Boss."

Fugo shook his head. "You don't understand anything."

Giorno climbed to his feet again, arm wrapped around his middle as he took a staggering step. "I understand enough. I understand a traitor when I see one. After everything Bucciarati did for you, this is how you repay him?"

Fugo flew at him, fist slamming into Giorno's jaw, sending him staggering back, unable to defend himself as more blows rained down furiously.

"How dare you?! You don't know anything, you bastard! Just. Shut. Up!"

Giorno was on the ground, curling up against the blows Fugo punished him with, slamming his foot one last time into Giorno's stomach before he stepped back, brushing the hair out of his eyes, which were shining with unshed tears, teeth clenched.

"Are you quite done?" the Boss asked.

Fugo took a shuddering breath and stepped back, ducking his head. "I apologize, Signore."

The Boss chuckled, and reached out to put a hand on Fugo's shoulder, the boy stiffening under his touch. "Do not worry. Your reaction is understandable. As for you..."

He turned to Giorno who was once again trying to push himself upright. "I'll keep a hold of you until I decide what sort of example I want to make of you."

The guards returned and dragged Giorno to his feet again. He was carried down to the basement of the house, past a wine cellar, where there was a small storage room. This is where they threw Giorno, locking the heavy door behind him.

Giorno didn't move, lying there, covered in blood and bruises, every part of him hurting, inside and out.

How could this have happened? It wasn't supposed to go like this. They were supposed to have found the Boss' identity and gone after him together. And now…now they were all gone. It was just Giorno left—and Fugo, who had apparently decided to throw in his lot with the Boss. Giorno may not have known him incredibly well, but he hadn't taken the other boy for a coward.

He couldn't shake the words Fugo had spat at him though. After all, they were not untrue. It was Giorno who had asked Bucciarati to join him in this venture. In this dream of his. And the others had, in their loyalty to Bucciarati, followed along to the same fate. A fate that was all on Giorno's hands.

Tears slid down his cheeks and he inhaled shakily.

It might be selfish, but…just when he had thought he had found people he belonged with, ones he could actually count as friends, it turns out he'd lost them too. Bucciarati had been the first person who had ever genuinely seemed to care about his well-being. Despite the slightly hectic turn their lives had taken, he had always made sure Giorno ate or got a turn to sleep, doing more in a few days, than Giorno's mother had done for his entire life. Mista and Narancia had become like the brothers he had never even dreamed of having, and they worked well together on missions. Trish, though she was quiet, had opened up to him on their journey. Even Abbacchio, who Giorno had been originally convinced hated him, had softened slightly. At least he didn't outwardly sneer at Giorno anymore.

But all of that was gone. Giorno had gotten Bucciarati and his whole team killed because he had been the catalyst that pushed them into going into this mission before any of them were ready. He didn't know what would happen now. What would happen to Napoli. Even in the short time he had known him, Giorno could see how much of an impact Bucciarati had on the city, and how much more influence he would have had as Capo. Without him, what would happen? Surely, the drug trade would only worsen. His blood was on Giorno's hands and, in accordance, the blood of many more. And Trish, who had been an innocent in all of this, having nothing to do with it but by her connection to a father she had never known; he'd gotten her killed too.

He destroyed everything and for what? It would have been one thing to take the Boss down with them but Giorno didn't know how he would get the chance to do that now. He would most likely be killed as well as some example to warn against betraying Passione.

A sob tore from his throat, thinking of his lost friends. How cruel it was that he had somehow survived. As he lay curled on the cold stone floor of the cellar, Giorno wished that he had been killed in the crash as well. He felt no hope left, only an emptiness inside that he didn't think he would ever be able to fill again.

Giorno had no way to keep track of the time, except he thought that food was brought to him at least once per day. There was no other interaction besides that, and Giorno stayed in the dark, bruises and injuries healing, losing his strength both physically and mentally due to the meager rations and the passage of time.

He thought it might have been four or five days when someone other than the guard came and he hurried to scramble to his feet as he saw the Boss's figure in the door, backlit by the dim light from outside the tiny room.

"I hope you've been enjoying your stay," the Boss said. "It turns out I need some information. Where were you planning to go after Sardinia?"

Giorno shook his head. "We had no plans." His voice was rough from disuse. "We were waiting to see what we found in Sardinia. We were expecting that you might be there."

The Boss seemed unimpressed, folding his arms and leaning against the doorway. "I can't imagine you didn't have some idea or contingency. Tell me what it was, Giorno Giovanna."

"We have nothing," Giorno said firmly.

A shadow broke from the Boss's and King Crimson appeared, a snarl on its horrible face. The Stand slammed Giorno into the wall, pinning him there as the Boss strode inside, staying in the shadows.

"You would be much better off telling me what I want to know. There's really no reason at this point to refuse."

Giorno shook his head. "I'm telling you we had no plans. If Bucciarati had one he didn't disclose it to me."

King Crimson slammed its fist into Giorno's stomach, forcing him to his knees, gagging. Gold Experience burst out, readying a punch, but King Crimson grabbed the smaller Stand around the throat and wrist, and wrenched Gold's arm behind his back.

Giorno gasped as the pain transferred to him, his still-healing wrist aching. The ghostly pressure around his throat also made it hard for him to breathe.

"You expect me to believe that you got so far without having some kind of contingency?" the Boss demanded. "I'm afraid I just don't believe you."

"Why do you care?" Giorno croaked. "It's not like it matters now. You have me. I'm all that's left."

Giorno couldn't read the Boss' expression while he was shrouded in shadows, but he felt a slight hesitation there. Like something was amiss. But before he could analyze it further King Crimson slammed Gold into the stone wall, throwing Giorno with him. Gold disappeared and the Boss's Stand slammed a foot into Giorno's chest, pushing him flat on the ground, grinding his heel into Giorno's ribs, furthering the fractures already there.

"It doesn't matter to you why I care," the Boss snarled. "You are to answer my questions or the torment will continue."

Giorno suddenly felt nothing but tired. So tired. He stopped struggling and simply lay there under King Crimson's foot, looking up to the glint in the shadows that were the Boss's eyes. "You're just going to kill me anyway," he said simply. "Why should I bother."

A flash of a snarl contorted the Boss's face, his fists clenching at his side.

"You don't make the rules."

"Why don't you show me your face?" Giorno asked before he realized what he was saying. He didn't know why, he just thought it was really important that he see who his enemy was.

King Crimson disappeared, the question seeming to have stumped the Boss entirely.

"Excuse me?"

Giorno pushed himself weakly into a sitting position against the wall, spitting blood on the ground and bringing one knee up to rest his arm across, the other, injured one, cradled around his ribs. "What are you afraid of?" he almost taunted. "If you really are going to kill me, then why don't you show me your damned face?"

The Boss continued to stand in the shadows for several more long moments before he turned silently and took two long strides out the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind him.

Giorno sat in confusion. That entire exchange had been…odd. Not what he expected. Why had the Boss wanted to know where they were going next? It would make no difference now. And why was he still afraid to show his face? Was he so paranoid that after everything he didn't even want the glory of gloating over his captive enemy?

Giorno didn't entirely know what any of this meant, but he would be keeping an eye out for anything else that seemed off. Something was stirring and he was determined to figure out what.

For the first time since he had been taken captive, he began to feel a little life returning to him. There might still be a chance to take the Boss down if he played his cards right.

"For you, Bucciarati," he whispered. "I'll try for you. And if I die, well…I suppose we'll be seeing each other again soon then."

The Boss did not reappear for the next couple days. Giorno wasn't surprised, but with his new small flood of determination, he wanted something to happen. Anything. He could tell there were cracks beginning to show in the Boss and he wanted to pry at them, see if he could get them to open further to reveal something.

He sat pressed in the corner of his cell one night, not sleeping, hardly ever sleeping, when he heard nearly silent footsteps walking toward the door.

Giorno's ears pricked with interest and a little trepidation. The guards had already brought him food, so who could this be? Especially since it sounded like they were trying not to be heard.

He started to push himself to his feet as he heard the door unlock and slide open, only to reveal a face he hadn't been expecting.

"Ah, it's you," Giorno said warily as Fugo slipped into the cell, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Fugo's expression was unreadable, a mixture of emotions that were impossible to suss out.

"Did you come on order from the Boss?" Giorno asked sharply. "Or just to work out your anger on me again?"

Fugo's face pinched in something between annoyance and shame. "Giorno…I genuinely apologize for that. I was just…angry," he said. "But…like I said then, you don't know everything. Especially not about me." He shook his head and looked away. "After I stayed behind, I felt…horrible. I was so afraid that you would all die and I wouldn't be there." He swallowed hard and shut his eyes. "I know this looks like a betrayal to you; I would think the same, but I came here to get on the inside. In case you needed someone. And it looks like that was a good call."

Giorno watched him, waiting for some sort of tell, but he wasn't seeing anything. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

"Bucciarati did," Fugo said simply. "And despite any differences, I would never betray him. He saved me. I would never throw that away."

Giorno relaxed slightly. "So what now? You think we have a chance of taking down the Boss, just the two of us?"

"No. I know we do," Fugo said and reached into his coat, pulling something out that was wrapped in a cloth. "There's a drop that our team uses to collect messages. I put something in there in code before I came here just in case. I checked back yesterday while I was on an errand to see if there was anything and I found this."

He unwrapped the item and Giorno frowned, seeing a golden arrow. It looked like the one Polpo's Stand used to create Stand abilities, but the arrowhead had a beetle adorning one side of it.

"What is that?" Giorno asked.

"It's called a requiem arrow," Fugo whispered. "The Boss—his name is Diavolo, by the way, or at least that's what he calls himself—has been looking for this for years. I don't know how it showed up there, but I think…" he swallowed hard. "I think, maybe, not everyone died in that plane crash."

Giorno's breath caught in his throat. "You think they're okay?"

"I don't know," Fugo snapped. "I don't want to hope. But they were the only ones who knew about this drop aside from a couple other informants. I can only imagine that if they put this there, their intention was for you to have it."

"What does it do?" Giorno asked.

"It's extremely powerful," Fugo said. "It's rumored to make your Stand unbeatable. I don't have to tell you that this would be catastrophic if it fell into Diavolo's hands."

Giorno nodded, staring at the arrow that Fugo had covered in cloth again. "Why me?"

Fugo gave a wry laugh. "You want to see what my Stand can do with unlimited power? I don't. No, Gold Experience is the perfect candidate. Its power is creation, Diavolo's power is deletion. I don't know exactly what it would do, but regardless, you're guaranteed to end up with something that could have a chance of defeating him. It's all we have."

He held out the wrapped arrow but Giorno hesitated.

"Are you sure this is the best way?" he asked.

"It's the only way."

Giorno nodded and took the arrow. He called out Gold and his Stand turned it into a beetle. It would hopefully stay hidden like that.

"I don't know when the right time will be, but when it comes down to it, I'll stand by you, Giorno," Fugo told him.

Giorno studied him, surprised. "Even despite everything?"

Fugo looked away. "I understand your motives. I know how much you wish for change, you and Bucciarati both. I respect that, I just can't always see it as a possibility. But…maybe if we actually manage to defeat Diavolo, that will change my mind."

Giorno offered a small smile and reached out to offer Fugo his hand. "Thank you, Fugo."

The other boy clasped his hand after a moment's surprise, and then stepped away to the door of the cell.

The instant he opened it, Giorno knew something was wrong.

"Wait!"

King Crimson stood on the other side of the door and snagged Fugo around the throat as Diavolo pushed in, watching Fugo struggle.

"Well, as I suspected, my little loyal follower, not so loyal. You should know that no one trusts a turn-coat, Fugo."

Fugo choked for breath, eyes fluttering. Giorno took a step forward but Diavolo pulled out a pistol and aimed it at him. "No. Neither of you are leaving this place. I suspected Fugo's true reason for joining me, so I have been anticipating this for a while. Perhaps having both of you here will provide enough leverage for one of you to finally tell me what that damned Bucciarati is looking for."

"So, he is still alive?" Giorno asked, feeling a surge of hope well up inside of him. "Which is why you still hide in the shadows like the cockroach you are."

Diavolo sneered and had King Crimson throw Fugo to the ground. The other teen slammed hard into the wall at the back of the cell and went still on the floor.

The next thing Giorno knew, he was on his knees in chains. King Crimson looming over him.

"I'm sure you were plotting how to get the upper hand over me," Diavolo said. "But know this, Giorno Giovanna. The ability of my King Crimson allows me to see everything you plan. There is no way you can beat me. You're in my court and here, I am king."

Something fluttered into Giorno's hand and he felt the pointy feet of a beetle crawl across his palm. He cupped his bound hand around it carefully, trying not to give anything away as he glowered up at Diavolo.

There was a commotion that could be heard picking up on the upper floor of the house. Giorno glanced up as Diavolo did the same.

"What the hell now?" he breathed.

Fugo stirred, pushing himself upright. Someone burst into the cellar.

"Signore! We're under attack!"

"Damn!" Diavolo spat, before he glanced over at Giorno and Fugo. "Bring them. We may be able to use them as a bargaining chip. And if nothing else, then as an example."

Fugo and Giorno were hauled to their feet and Fugo caught Giorno's eye, one questioning glance that had Giorno nodding back to him.

He was ready to wait for the right moment.

They were dragged up two flights of stairs and out onto a balcony. Giorno almost gasped in relief as he saw Aerosmith flying past the mansion windows before the sound of gunfire crashed. It was them. They were here.

Diavolo hung back by the doors as the guards shoved Fugo and Giorno out onto the balcony.

A bullet ricocheted off the bannister before someone shouted: "Mista! Don't shoot!"

Giorno looked down and saw Bucciarati and Mista standing below. Relief flooded him, just knowing they were alive, but if they didn't play their cards right, it was possible all of them would be dead before the day was done.

"Bucciarati!" Diavolo shouted. "As I'm sure you can see, I have two of your boys. I could kill them—and well I should. I should kill all of you for betraying me, but, I'm willing to offer a deal. Hand over my daughter as you failed to do before and also…" his voice darkened. "I know you found it. I know that troublesome Frenchman was in Rome several days ago, and I know he passed the item off to you. Give me that as well and I will allow you and your famiglia to leave the country as long as you promise never to set foot on Italian soil again."

Bucciarati glowered up at him. "First of all…Boss…I prefer to deal with people face to face. Secondly, I have no idea what item you are talking about, and thirdly, I will never let you harm Trish. I told you that before and I hold to that."

"It seems I should have ripped your heart out completely then," Diavolo growled. "Perhaps then you would have ceased to vex me."

"We still would have vexed you plenty," Fugo said firmly.

"So, we don't have a deal, then?" Diavolo asked.

Bucciarati met Giorno's eyes and he nodded to the capo, letting him know that they had a failsafe—he hoped anyway. Bucciarati turned back to the spot Diavolo was standing and shook his head. "No deal."

"Very well," Diavolo said and King Crimson appeared. "We'll start with the double traitor first."

Giorno had no time to waste as the terrifying Stand started toward Fugo, Giorno opened his hand to make more room for the beetle.

"Stop!"

Everyone froze as Diavolo pointed toward Giorno. "The beetle. Where'd the beetle come from?"

"What?" Giorno asked, trying not to look frozen in terror. Had Diavolo already looked into the future? But even then, what was the harm in a beetle?

Giorno let it crawl under the tail of his coat as King Crimson grabbed his bound wrists and turned his hands roughly to show empty palms.

"What?" Diavolo murmured.

The small distraction was enough for Narancia to make a strafing run with Aerosmith. Giorno summoned Gold Experience and he and Fugo dove to one side, landing hard. The guards were taken down with Narancia's bullets as Giorno rolled over with a wince and a small moan.

"Giorno…" Fugo breathed as he stared, wide-eyed at the other teen.

Giorno stared downward at himself, at the golden arrow piercing right through the center of his chest and into Gold's as the stand crouched over top of him. Gold's mouth hung open in a silent scream of pain and Giorno choked up a mouthful of blood.

"WHAT?!" Diavolo screamed, forgoing his paranoia and running directly out onto the balcony. "How did you get that?!"

Giorno wasn't paying attention. All the sounds around him were fading into the distance. All he could hear was the crack that resounded as a split ran down Gold's torso.

"Giorno!" Fugo cried, reaching out in horror as Giorno and Gold both collapsed on the ground, shuddering.

Diavolo stopped, and let out a chuckle as he watched Giorno struggle. "Ah, so my vision proved correct anyway, it seems." King Crimson kicked Gold Experience in the head, the Stand's body shattering further, before standing there with Gold's head under his foot like a conqueror.

"I won, Giorno Giovanna," he sneered downward. "You're dead."

The next few events happened within the span of only a second.

Someone, probably Mista, shot from below, the bullet slamming into Diavolo's shoulder. He staggered back, at the same time Gold Experience burst in a blinding flash of light.

Giorno felt the power surge through him, the arrow slithering out of his chest, healing the wound behind it. Gold's old body cracked open, revealing a new form that shook off the old shell and met Giorno's eyes with a knowing gaze. The chains that bound Giorno and Fugo turned to vines and snapped.

"Gold Experience Requiem," Fugo breathed, looking terrified and in awe at the same time.

The power brought Giorno and his Stand hovering above the ground, glowering down at Diavolo who was staring in a mix of horror and fury.

"Giorno!"

He barely heard Bucciarati shout from below before everything changed, sound cutting out as everything was thrown into a dark landscape, Diavolo and King Crimson walking past in front of him like afterimages. It was like Giorno was both in his body and out of it at the same time.

"You have the power of the arrow, yes, but that doesn't mean you will have the victory," Diavolo said, voice directly in Giorno's ear, his solid form behind him. "I am king. And those who go against me will suffer inevitable death."

Giorno watched as the King Crimson afterimage strode up to his own, slamming a fist through his chest and ripping out his heart. Gold Experience crumbled into dust.

"That is your fate, the future has already been written," Diavolo said with satisfaction. "What you're watching has already happened. You're already dead."

"You speak of inevitable death." Giorno and Diavolo both glanced over as Gold Experience Requiem spoke. "But what of eternal death?"

"What are you talking—"

The whole atmosphere shifted again, Diavolo's eyes widening in horror as his afterimage multiplied hundreds of times.

Gold Experience wrapped his arm around Giorno, pulling him backward. "You haven't predicted everything. You can only see so much and your range doesn't reach me. That is the power of Requiem."

"You…" Diavolo tried before everything shattered.

Giorno blinked. They were back on the balcony, Giorno and Gold Experience hovering above Diavolo who stared blankly at them from below. They stared at each other for a long second before Diavolo grabbed for a gun at his belt.

There was a gunshot, but it was Diavolo who collapsed to the side, toppling over the railing as blood sprayed from his head, only to crash onto the ground below.

"Is it done?" Giorno asked, not quite believing or even understanding what had just happened.

His Stand turned to him with a small nod. "It is done."

Giorno and Gold Experience settled back onto the balcony. By this time the rest of the team had made their way into the house and up to them, bursting out onto the balcony.

"Giorno!"

Mista caught him first, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him off the ground with a grin. "You conniving bastard! We all knew you could do it."

"Yeah! I don't know what happened, but…wow!" Narancia cried, slapping Giorno on the back.

As soon as Mista put him down Bucciarati appeared, a proud look on his face.

"Giorno."

Giorno threw aside all his usual reserve and barreled into Bucciarati's arms. The man staggered back a step, but gave a surprised laugh, hugging him back.

"I'm so glad you're all okay," Giorno murmured into his shoulder.

"As am I," Bucciarati replied softly.

Giorno pulled away to see Abbacchio standing there. The goth snorted, but reached out to ruffle Giorno's hair.

Fugo reunited with the others and came up to Bucciarati. "Bucciarati…I'm sorry…"

"No, Fugo, I gave everyone a choice for a reason," Bruno said simply and reached out to cup Fugo's face in his hands. "In the end it all worked out for the best anyway. Perhaps it was just how it was meant to be."

Giorno glanced over to see Trish standing off to one side, arms folded over her chest. He realized she had just seen her father get killed. He started toward her. "Trish? I…I'm…"

Trish surprised him by throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. "You don't have to apologize," she told him, breathing out a sigh, almost of relief. "I'm just…I'm glad it's over."

"Yes," Bucciarati said wearily. "Now come. We have a lot of work to do."

That night found them back in Napoli, at Libecchio. Everyone looked a little worse for wear, but the hot food and company went a long way in cheering everyone's spirits.

"So, what happened?" Giorno asked finally. "How did all of you manage to survive the plane crash? And the arrow…"

Bucciarati glanced over at Trish. "Well, it was mostly thanks to Trish who discovered her own Stand ability."

The girl blushed slightly. "Spice Girl's ability is to turn things into rubber. While the plane was crashing I was able to create a sort of safe room from a bunch of seats. It wasn't easy to get out of the wreckage, but we did it."

"I still don't understand how you ended up so far separated from us, Giorno," Bucciarati added grimly. "We had to assume you were dead, at least until we saw the message in the drop from Fugo."

"But how did you find us?" Fugo asked. "You never explained that."

"Being dead is not necessarily a bad thing," Bucciarati replied with a small smile. "Before the Boss caught on that we had survived, we were able to go to Sardinia as planned and Abbacchio used Moody Blues to figure out the Boss's identity."

"While we were looking it up, we came across a Frenchman by the name of Polnareff," Abbacchio added. "He's the one who gave us the arrow to defeat Diavolo."

"After what he told us about the arrow's ability, we all figured that Gold Experience would be the best candidate for the Requiem power," Bruno said. "Thankfully, we had a man on the inside to help get it to you." He smiled at Fugo who looked down at his plate. "After that, we thought we'd give you a little help."

Giorno nodded, still slightly bewildered. "I just can't believe it's actually over," he said quietly.

"There will be a lot of work to do," Bucciarati cautioned. "A change in power is never easy. However, I feel that because the Boss was so hands off, it might not be as hard as one would think. And I will be beside you every step of the way, Giorno."

Giorno felt his determination swell inside of him. They had won, beaten impossible odds, and now they were sitting at the top. He wasn't scared though, because he knew his new team, his new family, was going to be there for him every step of the way.

He lifted his glass of wine. "I think a toast is in order," he said as the others all took up their glasses as well. "To the future."

"To the future," everyone else replied as they drank to the hopeful future Giorno was determined to make a reality.

Thanks again for reading! I am going to start posting a long angst heavy Part 5 fic next week, so keep an eye out for that!

If you want to follow me on Tumblr, request fics, or chat with me about headcanon you can find me at lady-wallace

I also post fanart on Instagram at ladyofinkandpaper

I also do fanfic and art commissions on ko-fi under ladywallace (you can find info on that through my Tumblr)