Written for the RWCW Canon Confused challenge
Traitors Reversed
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
(AU) Risotto and his team are the ones given the task to deliver Trish to her father, and she seems to be just the leverage they've been looking for to renegotiate their status in Passione. However, when Bucciarati shows up, warning of Diavolo's true plans, Risotto has second thoughts. Besides, it's undeniable that his crew has taken a liking to their captive.
The girl was extremely young, that was the first thing Risotto thought of. Even compared to his youngest crew members, she was just a kid, really. It almost made him feel bad for what he had planned, but as long as she didn't cause any problems, there would be no reason to harm her.
Risotto had admittedly been surprised when the task of taking the Boss's own daughter—someone no one had known existed—to him had been entrusted to the hitman's team. It wasn't their usual type of job, but Risotto would be lying if he said he hadn't jumped at the chance.
Perhaps it was because the Boss trusted that they, with their plethora of skills, would be the best to keep his daughter safe.
Perhaps it was because he was luring them in, using this as an opportunity to take them out all at once. Risotto wasn't going to dismiss that possibility.
But it didn't really matter, because he had the best bargaining chip in the world.
After years of struggling, after losing Sorbet and Gelato, fate had finally landed the one thing Risotto had needed most right in his lap and it felt good.
Maybe too good. He would have to make sure it didn't all go to his head. But he was done watching his men struggle, the outcasts even of their outcast organization. He was done scraping for food and rent money for everyone on sparse months. He wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.
Prosciutto appeared at his side, arms folded across his chest. "I know what you're thinking," he said quietly so the others wouldn't hear. "Are you sure it's a wise move?"
"It's the only move we have," Risotto said. "I'm not going to let the opportunity go when it's been dropped in our laps so easily."
"That's precisely what worries me," Prosciutto muttered. "You realize this could all be a trap, right?"
"Of course," Risotto said. "But if we go in knowing that, then we can make plans. Besides, this could just be a test to prove ourselves loyal."
"Which will go out the window when you give the Boss our terms," Prosciutto replied blandly.
Risotto cocked his head to one side. "If the Boss truly is grateful to have his daughter back safe and sound, perhaps we won't even have to go that far."
"You seem incredibly optimistic."
"Maybe it would be good for all of us."
"Um, Boss?"
Risotto looked over to see Illuso standing, slightly awkward, in the doorway to his office.
"Yes?"
"What do we do with the girl?"
Risotto frowned. "You don't have to do anything with her."
"I mean, should we get her food or a drink or something?"
"Is she hungry?" Risotto asked.
"I don't know, she's just sitting there in the living room and everyone's just watching her."
Prosciutto rolled his eyes with a growl. "You're all damn hopeless."
Risotto tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Please just treat her like a normal human being. And try not to scare her. We don't need her escaping before we even get this mission started."
Illuso ducked his head in a nod and retreated.
Risotto sighed. "We'll leave first thing in the morning. We'll be traveling to a safehouse until we receive further instructions from the Boss."
Prosciutto nodded and Risotto headed out to the living room where the scene hadn't changed. The girl, Trish, sat curled up in one chair, while the rest of the crew sat on the couches or stood milling about. The television wasn't even on to provide background noise.
They all snapped to attention when Risotto entered the room though.
"I'm sure all of you have something better to do," he said, an order, not a suggestion.
That cleared the room out and Risotto turned toward the girl again who looked up at him warily.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked her.
Trish simply held his gaze, something that actually impressed Risotto.
"You're the ones who are taking me to my father?" she asked.
Risotto nodded.
"Do you know him?"
"Never met him."
She was silent, chewing her lip, before she asked. "So, is he a good man or not?"
Risotto pressed his lips together, but finally said, "None of us are good men."
Trish paled slightly and Risotto suddenly realized just how intimidating he must look, how uncomfortable it must be for her to be here amongst so many dangerous men.
"You don't have to worry though. No harm will come to you here," he found himself saying, and realizing he actually meant it. After all, they needed her alive. And also, Risotto really had no taste for killing teenage girls.
She didn't look completely assured, but her shoulders loosened just a bit.
Risotto glanced at the clock. "Dinner will be in about an hour. Would you like me to show you where you can stay the night?"
Trish reluctantly got up and followed Risotto as he led her down the hall and to his own room—the only one that wasn't shared, and that he had been sure would be clean enough. He hoped anyway.
"You can sleep in here. Let me know if you need anything."
Trish looked around at the dark interior and sparse belongings and her hands clenched in her skirt. "I don't have anything! I don't even have any pajamas or a toothbrush! Those men just came and took me away the second I buried my mother!"
She covered her mouth as if realizing what she just said but Risotto just went over to his dresser and rummaged around until he found an old t-shirt which he set on the bed. "This will have to be sufficient to sleep in. Tomorrow once we get to our destination, I'll have one of my men go fetch whatever you need."
Trish simply stared at him as he turned to leave the room. Prosciutto had recruited Formaggio to help him with dinner and the sounds of knives on a block could be heard.
Risotto tried not to visualize his own neck on that block. He really hoped this mission ended well for all of them.
They left early the next morning, piling into the large transit van that they used when they all had to travel together. Risotto figured it would be best to stick together for now and they could acquire separate cars later.
Trish glanced around awkwardly as she was ushered toward the vehicle and started to climb into the middle seat.
"Not there," Risotto said quickly. "We don't want you to be seen."
"You're in the back with us, princess," Melone told her with a grin, patting the seat between him and Illuso.
Formaggio reached over from packing stuff in the back and smacked Melone in the head. "Stop sounding like such a creep! He's actually pretty well-behaved, if you believe it," he assured Trish.
She didn't reply but slipped into the back dutifully and took the seat between the two hitmen, attempting not to touch either of them.
Risotto got into the passenger seat as Prosciutto was making sure Pesci had taken his motion sickness medicine. Once the blond got behind the wheel everyone else was settled and they were on their way.
"Hey, you like music?" Illuso asked and Risotto glanced back to see him handing his headphones and portable CD player to Trish.
The girl looked somewhat taken aback but did take him up on his offer and slid the headphones over her ears.
Risotto clasped his hands in his lap and looked out the window, keeping an eye out for any possible trouble. He didn't know why he felt so uncomfortable, so wary. Perhaps it was the nature of the mission. He wasn't used to these sorts of protective details. None of them were. They usually worked alone, quick in and out. Sometimes they would have to schmooze their way into a target's life before taking them out, but for the most part they interacted with the outside world as little as possible.
It was still a relief when they got to the safehouse. Risotto no longer felt like there were eyes watching him.
Out here in the remote vineyard, Risotto at least knew he could see anyone coming, which was a comfort to him.
"Excuse me, Risotto?"
He glanced down to see the girl standing there, arms folded.
"Yes?" he asked.
"You said when we got to the safehouse, that you would get me some things."
Risotto stared at her for a moment. She really didn't waste any time, he thought wryly. Still, she wasn't a prisoner. He bit back his annoyance and pulled a notepad out of his pocket.
"Let me know what you need and we'll get it for you."
"Well, I'm not drinking whatever water is available here, I want sparkling water, from France. If this is going to take a while, I'll also need makeup, stockings, a few magazines would be nice, as well as…"
Risotto stood there with his pen still poised. It seemed that teenage girls, even ones in danger of their lives were entitled creatures.
He finally handed over the notepad. "Write down what you want and I'll send one of my men into town."
He turned to see his men lingering, smothered grins on their faces.
"The great Risotto Nero, defeated by a teenage girl," Melone snickered.
He narrowed his eyes, and glanced over as Trish returned, handing the notebook back. "Make sure they buy the right brands too."
Risotto took the list and handed it to Formaggio. "You heard her."
"What, me?" Formaggio asked as the others jeered at him.
"You have sisters, you'll be better at it," Illuso told him, patting him on the shoulder.
"Where will I be staying here?" Trish asked, looking around.
Risotto nodded to Prosciutto. "Find her a room with little outside access to stay in," he said.
Prosciutto nodded and motioned for Trish to follow him.
Formaggio was flipping through the list. "Boss, we can't afford all this crap!"
Risotto took out his wallet. "Use my card. It's fine. Do the best you can. Pick up some food and general supplies as well; I'm not sure how long we'll be staying here."
Formaggio nodded. "About a car…"
Ghiaccio tossed him some keys that had been on a hook. "Car's in the garage."
Formaggio nodded and started out before Risotto stopped him. "Be careful. Make sure no one follows you back here."
Formaggio saluted. "Don't worry, Boss, I got this."
Risotto watched him go, and again felt that certain sense of unease wash over him.
He suddenly had a very terrible feeling about this mission.
It turned out he was right, because about an hour later, he got a panicked call from Formaggio.
"Boss! I got jumped."
"By who?" Risotto asked, heart pounding a little faster before he used Metallica to slow it.
"One of Bucciarati's team!"
That eased Risotto's mind slightly, but not entirely. Bucciarati worked directly under Polpo and Polpo was a favorite in Passione. If the Boss was going to send out anyone against them, it might be Bucciarati…
"Do what you can, I'll come to back you up," Risotto told him and hung up the phone.
The rest of the team had already gathered, sensing something was wrong.
"We have a problem," he said. "Prosciutto, you and Pesci take the van and get the girl out of here. Don't even call me with your location until you get there."
Prosciutto nodded and motioned to his brother as he hurried off to collect Trish.
"Ghiaccio, Melone, you two stay here to act as communication. Illuso and I will head out to find Formaggio."
"What's going on?" Trish's voice cut through. "I thought we were supposed to be safe here?!"
"Something came up," Risotto told her. "Do exactly what Prosciutto tells you to, understand?"
Trish paled, but was instantly ushered out by the two hitmen. Ghiaccio handed Pesci a cooler of ice just in case Prosciutto had to utilize Grateful Dead.
Once they were off, Risotto and Illuso stole a car and headed into the nearest town.
It looked like a disaster zone. They pulled up behind the car Formaggio had taken into town. It looked like it had exploded, fire still smoldering around the metal carcass.
"Holy crap," Illuso breathed. "What the hell happened here?"
Risotto was wondering the same thing. It seemed like all the civilians had evacuated, but where was Formaggio.
"Boss?"
Risotto whipped around to see Formaggio limping out of a nearby building, covered in blood and small injuries.
"What happened?" Risotto asked as he and Illuso hurried forward, carefully helping Formaggio to lower himself down on the sidewalk. Risotto instantly called out Metallica to start repairing some of his worse injuries with his Stand.
"That kid Narancia jumped me just as I was done shopping," Formaggio said, gritting his teeth against Risotto's ministrations.
"Did you kill him?"
"Nah, he ran off. Think he thought he'd done me in, though." Formaggio looked up sharply then. "But, Boss, he told me something wild. He said Polpo committed suicide last night."
"What?" Risotto and Illuso both asked at the same time.
"Bucciarati's the new capo," Formaggio continued.
Risotto felt his anger boil inside of him. Of course, it made sense now. Bucciarati would be trying to get into the Boss's good graces by accepting a mission to take out the trouble-making team. It would instantly solidify his place in Passione.
"We can't let them stop us," Risotto growled under his breath as he helped Formaggio to his feet. "Illuso, stay here and see if you can figure out where they've gone. I'll get Formaggio back to the safe house. Prosciutto and Pesci have already gotten the girl out of here."
Illuso nodded, slipping into a nearby car mirror before Risotto and Formaggio made their way back to the safehouse where Risotto had Melone look up anything he could on Bucciarati and Polpo.
"It is true, it's all over the news," Melone told him, clicking around on his computer.
"Never would have thought that fat bastard would shoot himself," Risotto muttered.
"So what do we do now?" Ghiaccio asked.
"We continue with the mission," Risotto said resignedly. "Bucciarati's involvement changes nothing. We'll continued to wait for word from the Boss and move from there."
He got a call from Prosciutto soon after and knowing they had Trish stowed away somewhere safe was at least something of a relief.
The relief was short-lived, however, when he got another distress call from Illuso.
Risotto and Melone hurried out to the spot Illuso said he was, and found him lying in the back of the car he'd taken, all the tires slashed.
He looked awful.
"What happened now?" Risotto demanded.
"I…don't know," Illuso mumbled, holding one hand closer to his chest. There was…something wrong with the wrist like the skin didn't fit together perfectly there. "I got into a fight with Fugo and Abbacchio and some blond kid I've never seen before." He met Risotto's eyes with a fearful look. "I thought I was dead, Boss. Fugo's Stand, it's poison. I was infected. But then I woke up here and…I feel like crap, but otherwise, I'm alive—Ow, hey!"
Melone was already taking blood samples. He smiled sweetly. "Just going to do a little test to make sure you're not contagious or anything."
As he plugged the blood into his Stand, Risotto mulled over what Illuso had said. Something about this just didn't seem right. Sure, he was grateful to find Illuso all right, but why leave him alive? Unless Bucciarati's new kid screwed up or something. Risotto knew Abbacchio to be a no-nonsense dutiful second though, and likely wouldn't have let that happen unless it had been for a reason. What that reason could be, Risotto didn't want to hazard a guess.
"You seem to be fine," Melone said with a small frown between his brows. "Nothing to see here."
Risotto looked around, wondering if Bucciarati's men were, even now, surrounding them.
"We need to meet up with Prosciutto," he said decisively as he helped Illuso back over to the other car.
Once they got back to the safehouse, Ghiaccio had finished bandaging up Formaggio at least and they both looked on edge.
"You good?" Formaggio asked Illuso worriedly as the younger man nodded.
"Melone, Ghiaccio, I want you to stay back for a little to make sure no one's following us," Risotto told them. "I'll contact you when we get to the other safe house and then you can come meet us."
"Alright." The two nodded in confirmation.
Risotto made sure Illuso and Formaggio were comfortable before he started to drive them toward the other safehouse. His hands were tight on the wheel. He hated driving, but he liked it even less when he wasn't sure if they had people following them. His two injured team members took the chance to sleep, which was probably good, since Risotto wasn't sure how much of a chance they would get over the next few days.
The second safe house was smaller, but hopefully they wouldn't be here long. Luckily it was stocked enough that Prosciutto was able to make something to eat.
Risotto was actually surprised when they got there, to find the blond hitman being helped by Trish in the kitchen, but then Prosciutto was known to be persuasive. Trish didn't look completely put out though, so maybe he hadn't gone with his usual—you don't work, you don't eat.
"Where are the others?" Prosciutto asked after Pesci instantly appeared with a worried look to fuss over Formaggio's and Illuso's condition.
"I had them stay back for now, make sure no one's following us. They'll catch up later," Risotto told him.
Prosciutto's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Who are the men after us?" Trish asked suddenly. "Enemies of my father?"
"I don't know," Risotto muttered to himself more than anything. Trish pursed her lips and turned back to opening cans of fruit.
Risotto and Prosciutto shared a look before the blond said. "Dinner will be ready soon, but there wasn't much. We'll probably have to run into town for supplies tomorrow."
That hadn't gone well the last time, but they couldn't exactly starve either.
"Uh, yeah, sorry about your credit card, Boss," Formaggio said as he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. "It kinda got flambéed"
"Probably for the best," Risotto replied wryly. "I have some backup cash for emergencies. But not a lot, so we'll have to stick with the basics." He turned to Trish. "Which means you might have to cut back on the makeup. Sorry, Signorina."
"You mean…my father isn't paying you for taking me to him?" Trish asked, somewhat surprised.
Prosciutto snorted. "We don't get paid in advance, and it's been a rough few weeks."
"Oh," she replied quietly. "I didn't know. I just assume since you were like, mafia, or whatever…"
"You don't need to concern yourself with that," Risotto cut in quickly and went over to the pile of luggage that had been placed by the door. "You had my laptop with you I hope, Prosciutto?"
"Yeah, it's there."
Risotto rummaged until he found it and pulled it out, taking a seat in the living room to quickly send a message to Melone on their secure network, so he and Ghiaccio would be able to find them. He already had one from earlier that just read that they hadn't seen anyone following yet.
Still no word from the Boss himself, which was making Risotto increasingly nervous.
With the message sent to the remaining team members, all they could do was wait. They ate dinner, everyone unnaturally quiet. They were all subdued, and it was no wonder why. Risotto would feel better when Melone and Ghiaccio were back with them and once he knew what exactly they were supposed to do. He couldn't understand why the Boss hadn't given them further instruction yet.
Unless it's because he's waiting for Bucciarati to catch up with you, his mind supplied unhelpfully.
There was still something about that that didn't track though, because if the Boss had sent Bucciarati and his men to take Risotto's team out, then why leave Illuso alive? Formaggio could have gotten away by some fluke, but Illuso had apparently been healed by someone. It didn't make sense and was giving Risotto a headache.
He watched Trish as she pushed food around her plate. She didn't seem as entitled as she did before. Maybe the situation was finally starting to hit her. As annoying as it had been for her to assume they could make anything she wanted magically appear, he was beginning to feel sorry for her. She was just a kid after all. One who had just lost her mother and was being sent to a father she knew even less about than they did.
Risotto sighed and stood from the table to go check if there were any new messages on his laptop.
They didn't hear anything for the rest of the night and Risotto sent the others to bed because there really wasn't anything else to do, and he knew that Formaggio and Illuso were both exhausted.
Risotto dozed off on the couch, until he was woken up sometime in the middle of the night by a car screeching to a stop outside the safehouse.
He was up instantly, Metallica awakening as he shot to his feet, prepared for anything.
He hadn't been expecting Melone trying his best to carry Ghiaccio through the door.
"A little help," Melone panted.
Risotto rushed forward to relieve Melone of his burden, picking Ghiaccio up completely and carrying him over to the couch as Melone slumped against the door. The others were coming out to investigate, sounds of shock and worry washing through the room.
"Were you followed?" Risotto demanded as he looked over Ghiaccio. The hitman was covered in blood.
"No, but…should probably ditch the car," Melone said.
"I got it," Prosciutto said as he hurried out the door.
"B-boss?" Ghiaccio's eyes fluttered open as Risotto pulled his coat open to try and better see the wounds.
"It's me," Risotto told him. "Lie still."
"C-cold." The man shuddered.
To his surprise, Trish appeared with a blanket in her arms. "Here," she said, slipping past Risotto to tuck the blanket around Ghiaccio.
"I'll make some tea to get you warm," Pesci said, hurrying toward the kitchen.
"Formaggio, there should be a first aid kit somewhere in here," Risotto barked at the hovering hitman before he turned to scrutinize Melone. "Are you hurt?"
"Couple bullet wounds—snakebite."
"Snakebite?" Illuso demanded.
"The new kid," Melone said, sinking into another chair as Risotto left Ghiaccio for a moment to check on him. "Can turn stuff into plants and animals. Giorno Giovanna, he's called." Melone winced as Risotto grabbed his arm to inspect the wound.
"Poison?"
"It's fine, I cleaned it out," Melone said, trying to reclaim his arm. "Ghia is a lot worse off."
"I've already got Metallica working on him," Risotto told him.
Formaggio came back with the first aid kit and they finished doing what they could for their injured team members. That was four of them out of commission now, or, close enough. If it came to a real fight against all of Bucciarati's men they would be screwed.
Trish and Pesci came out of the kitchen with mugs of tea and handed them to the injured parties. Formaggio helped Ghiaccio to sit up and sip the hot drink, but he still seemed pretty out of it. He's lost a lot of blood.
Speaking of, Risotto had a lot of it on his hands from tending to his injured teammates and went to wash it off, swallowing hard as he watched the red flow down the drain. Blood didn't bother him, it couldn't with his job. But there was something about it being his teammate's blood that unsettled his stomach.
He was surprised to see Trish standing in the hallway when he got out of the bathroom, arms hugging herself.
"I—I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't want any of you to get hurt because of me and…"
"It's just part of our job," Risotto cut her off, somewhat sharply. "We're here to get you to your father. If we die in the process that's just how it's going to be."
"That doesn't make it right," she said.
"It's not about being right or wrong, signorina, it's about being loyal," Risotto spat with more vindication than he had planned. To her credit, Trish didn't flinch. She just continued to stare at him.
"And are you loyal to my father?" she asked.
Risotto froze, jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. How the hell was he supposed to reply to that? If he said anything snide, she could tell the Boss and that would be it for all of them.
"Of course," he said as sincerely as possible. "Now, it's best you go to bed."
Thankfully, she did what she was told and headed further into the house toward her room.
Risotto ran a weary hand over his face and went back out to the rest of his men. They were all subdued. Risotto headed toward the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, knowing he wouldn't be sleeping that night.
He was relieved when Prosciutto came back on foot from dumping the car, reporting that he had seen no sign of Bucciarati or his team in the area. Risotto had a feeling it wouldn't be the last they'd seen of them.
He sat up most of the night, keeping an eye on Ghiaccio. The next day was pretty tense as they continued waiting for news, but it did give the injured team members some much needed recuperation time.
He went himself into town to pick up some food, refusing to put any of his men in danger again. Luckily the trip was uneventful.
When he got back, Ghiaccio was sitting up and complaining again, which was a good sign. He had to do a double-take at the sight of Trish sitting at the kitchen table with Pesci, painting his fingernails green. She seemed to be getting along well at least.
Prosciutto greeted him with a grim look as he held a basket of clean clothing. "You got a message while you were out."
Risotto recruited Formaggio to get the rest of the groceries out of the car as he hurried toward his temporary room, taking a seat at the small desk.
There was indeed a new message. From the Boss.
Risotto clicked on it, barely breathing.
He returned to his men soon with a feeling of finality. They were all staring at him, including Trish.
"The meeting with the Boss is going to happen tomorrow," he told them. "We're instructed to go to San Giorgio Maggiore where I will see Trish to her father."
"Wait, alone?" Illuso asked.
Risotto nodded. "The Boss instructed that only myself and Trish are allowed to set foot on the Island."
"But—"
Risotto shot a look at Formaggio and the man shut up. He turned to Trish instead. "We'll be leaving first thing in the morning."
He then turned to go back to his room.
Prosciutto caught him before he could close himself inside.
"I don't like this," the blond said quietly. "You know this is a trap, Risotto."
"Most likely," Risotto replied grimly. "But the Boss is paranoid. It could just be that."
"You don't believe that."
Risotto shrugged. "What else are we going to do? We have the Boss in front of us and Bucciarati at our backs. This could still be an opportunity."
"And what are you going to do? Waltz in there and threaten to slit the girl's neck if he doesn't agree to your terms?"
Risotto's mind flashed to the imagine of Trish sitting with Pesci, bringing a blanket to Ghiaccio…he couldn't actually hurt her, he knew that. But he couldn't really explain to her either that he needed her as a hostage so that her father would give them enough money to pay rent on a monthly basis.
"I'm not letting you go in there alone. Formaggio could shrink us—"
"He's injured, he doesn't have the energy to shrink all of you, especially now," Risotto said. "Besides, I'd rather you all stay as far away as possible."
Prosciutto's face contorted in fury. "You can't just throw your life away because you weren't able to stop Sorbet and Gelato's murders."
Risotto froze, and realized for the first time that maybe Prosciutto had a point.
"I can't lose any more of you," he said before he could stop himself.
Prosciutto shook his head. "I know you have an issue with survivor's guilt, and I understand, believe me, but without you this team falls apart and we're all lost."
"What are you saying?" Risotto asked him finally.
Prosciutto sighed heavily. "I'm saying do what you have to, but don't be stupid about it."
Risotto nodded. "Alright. I think I can manage that."
He hoped.
He didn't sleep that night either. Risotto was wondering whether he would ever sleep again. (Perhaps he would be dead by tomorrow night and he wouldn't have to worry about it, he thought wryly).
He was looking at maps of the island, mostly to see possible escape routs, but at some point in the night he could hear someone get up and head toward the kitchen. They were very light footsteps. Could be Melone or Illuso, but he had a feeling it weren't.
Risotto got up and headed out to see what was going on. The last thing they needed was for the girl to make a run for it now.
But Trish hadn't left the house. She hadn't gone farther than the living room, curled into one corner of the couch with just the dim light from the kitchen illuminating her shuddering shoulders. Risotto pressed his lips together, but didn't have much trust in emotionally distressed teenage girls, so he stepped into the room and flicked one lamp on.
"Can't sleep?"
Trish startled and looked up at him, hurriedly scrubbing at her eyes that were obviously wet.
"I didn't mean to wake you up," she said quietly.
"I was already awake," Risotto told her as he sighed, heading into the kitchen where he grabbed mugs and some of that cheap cocoa mix that he secretly liked, but would never admit to. He was surprised to find that there was any here in the safehouse.
He made two mugs and carried one back to Trish, sitting down on the couch a couple feet away from her. She looked at him, surprised when he handed her the mug of cocoa.
"I—thank you," she said after a second, clutching the warm drink close.
"It will help you sleep," Risotto replied.
Trish gave a watery smile. "That's what my mom used to tell me."
Risotto took a sip and glanced over at her. "I'm sorry about your mom."
"She was sick for a while, I knew…I knew it was coming but…" she sniffed, clutching the mug tighter. "I just still felt like I wasn't prepared."
"It doesn't matter how quick or how slow it is, you're never actually prepared for the death of someone you love," Risotto told her quietly.
"I don't want to go to my father tomorrow," Trish blurted out suddenly.
Risotto paused with his mug halfway to his lips, staring at her. "Why?"
"I don't know anything about him, aside from that he's the boss of some criminal organization," Trish said. "My mom loved him once, but he doesn't even sound like the same person. If he knew about me this whole time then why does he only care now? Where was he when my mom was dying, wishing she could see him one last time?" Tears of anger streamed down her face. "He means nothing to me! He was never there! He doesn't have the right to tell me what to do, to take me away from my home and the only people I've ever known! I just want everything to go back to the way it was!"
Risotto set aside his half-finished mug and leaned forward on his knees. "Change can be hard," he said. "But…this might not be a bad one. It's possible your father only just heard about you upon the announcement of your mother's death." He didn't know why he was reassuring her. He knew what kind of man her father was, and yet, who was to say that even a cold-blooded man couldn't care about his own daughter? "Maybe…maybe he wants to make things right. And who knows? Maybe you can even change him for the better?"
Trish sniffed and turned to look at him. "Do you believe that, Risotto?"
"Do you?" Risotto asked before he could allow any hesitation to cross his face.
"I don't know," Trish whispered. "I'm just…scared."
"It's okay to be scared," Risotto told her sincerely. "And it's okay to be mad. As long as you don't let those feelings consume you."
Trish still didn't look convinced, curled on the couch in pajamas that looked like she had borrowed from Melone.
"I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you," Risotto said quietly, realizing just how much he meant that, hoping against hope that he would actually be able to keep that promise come tomorrow.
Trish sat there silently a moment before she simply slumped to the side, face buried against his shoulder. Risotto sat stiffly for a long few seconds before slowly raising an arm to tuck around her shoulders.
He swallowed hard as he sat there and held the kid comfortingly. He might have to rethink how tomorrow was going to go.
The next morning dawned early, everyone quiet, pensive, Risotto the most. He kept watching Trish but she didn't say anything or allow any emotions to show.
They all piled into the van and drove to the docks where they would be able to find a boat for passage to the island. Risotto could see it in the distance, the bell tower of the church where they were supposed to meet with the Boss.
Risotto acquired a boat and they all stood on the docks, waiting. He turned to Trish. "Ready?"
She was pale, but she gave a small nod. She quickly turned to hug Pesci and several of the other men before she made her way to Risotto. He offered his hand and she reached out.
"Risotto Nero, you don't want to get in that boat."
Risotto looked up, shocked by the sudden appearance of Bucciarati and his team. The hitmen instantly surrounded Trish, pulling her into their folds as Risotto faced the rival leader with a glower.
"You're interfering with my mission," Risotto said darkly. "If you continue to do so my men will fight. With all of us together, we may not be so easy to pick off."
Bucciarati's face remained stern. "That was not my intention. I have information that I think you should hear before you take the girl to the island. Will you be willing to talk with me?"
Risotto glanced at his men. He knew they were ready to fight, but if Bucciarati just wanted to talk then he supposed there wasn't much harm in it. It might at least give him an idea of what the Boss was planning.
"Very well," he said, folding his arms over his chest.
"Risotto," Prosciutto said cautiously, stepping forward as if to join, but Risotto shook his head.
"Stay with the girl," he said firmly. "All of you."
"My men will also stay here," Bucciarati assured.
The two made their way to a secluded area where there were just shipping containers and finally Risotto turned to Bucciarati.
"The Boss sent you to feel us out, didn't he?" he asked grimly.
Bucciarati's eyebrows pinched. "No, he did not."
"Then why are you here?" Risotto demanded.
"I told you, I came to bring you information."
"Then why have you been doing your best to take my men out up to this point?"
Bucciarati straightened his shoulders. "My men didn't actually come out of those fights unscathed either. We did try to reason with them, but they seemed to be under the impression that we were there to kill them."
Risotto grunted. "If you're not here to kill us, you better convince me of that."
Bucciarati nodded. "It's no secret that the Boss is corrupt, I'm sure you know as well as the rest of us. But he's recently become paranoid about people finding out his identity. He believes that his daughter might have information about him no one else does."
"She doesn't know anything about him," Risotto said quickly. "She didn't even know who he was until a few days ago."
"Still, she might be the only key to figuring out the Boss's identity."
Risotto's hands clenched. "And what's that to you? You don't get it, do you? You and your men get to walk around the city in fancy suits and eat at expensive restaurants. The people adore you, they respect you. My men are left to the dregs, doing the Boss's dirty work for unstable pay. You don't know what it's like to watch your men go hungry because it's between food or paying the rent. I need the girl as leverage to get the Boss to listen to me. I've lost men, and I'm not going to lose any more. So if I have one chance to bargain—"
"It's not going to work," Bucciarati cut in sharply. "Listen to me, Nero. The Boss wants his daughter dead. You deliver her to him, he's going to kill her. That was the last thing Polpo told me before he died."
Risotto froze, breath caught in his chest. "You're lying," he growled.
"Why would I lie?" Bucciarati asked. "We're not so much different, Nero. We both want what's best for our teams, for the city we live in. I think you see the potential of Passione and what it could be given the chance."
"What exactly are you talking about?"
"I have a proposition for you," Bucciarati told him. "Join me against the Boss."
Risotto stared back. "Treason?"
"My team is going to climb to the top. And you're welcome to join us there," Bucciarati said. "I can't promise there won't be loss of life, but I think we'll all have a better chance together, don't you?"
Risotto shook his head. "How can I believe a word you say?"
"This about it—if the Boss really wants Trish dead, you go to that island alone, he kills both of you and then has his men take out the rest of your team before they know what hit them. He's not interested in leaving loose ends. So I propose we join forces, figure out what the girl knows, and make our plans to defeat the Boss together. What do you say?"
Risotto's head was reeling. He would never have considered working with someone like Bruno Bucciarati, and yet…there really was no reason for him to lie. He hadn't killed any of Risotto's men even though he could have. And if he was right about the Boss then any plan Risotto had would be for nothing anyway.
He took a deep breath. "Alright. If we're doomed anyway, then maybe it's best we're doomed together."
Bucciarati smiled and held out his hand. Risotto shook it firmly.
"I'll need to discuss it with my men, of course," he added.
"Of course. By the way, Risotto," Bucciarati added softly. "You know that any of the establishments in my territory that pay protection would gladly serve Passione members for no cost?" He shrugged. "I'll tell the owner of Libeccio that he can be expecting you and your team from now on."
Risotto just stared at him as Bucciarati made to turn around back toward their waiting teams.
Maybe…maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this is exactly what Risotto had been waiting for.
He hurried to follow, trying to decide how he would break the news to the others that they were traitors now.
