It was already dark when she returned to the base. Her body ached everywhere and her legs wobbled as she walked through the door. Voices could be heard from the kitchen. She distinctly heard Melone's and Formaggio's laughter followed by Ghiaccio's reprimand. He sounded annoyed but dismissive. Not true anger. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, but she didn't dare.

She looked down at the blood still smeared on her, most of it her own. She couldn't be seen like this. She began to limp toward the stairs when Prosciutto suddenly appeared in the hallway and stopped upon seeing her. She hurried up the stairs without waiting for his response. She went straight to the bathroom and locked the door.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. Her clothes were torn, body peppered with bruises and her cheeks smudged with dirt and eyeliner. She was a sorry sight and she turned away from the battered girl. She climbed into the tub fully clothed and sat there. There was something comforting about being hugged by cool porcelain, the cold eased her inflamed skin. She rested her cheek on the ledge and stared at the wall.

She thought about the words he'd said, the way he'd touched her. She had trusted him, but he became violent. He didn't even need a stand to overpower her. She had just frozen up and that was the most shameful part about it. She was an assassin of Passione, she'd killed people without a thought. Yet she couldn't stop it.

She sat curled up in the tub. The cold of its sides was the closest she would get to the cool embrace of the one she craved. She ran her fingers along the tub wall and pretended it was his skin. Her eyes welled up and she clenched her jaw. There was a knock at the door.

"Hey. You look like you might need help with bandaging some of that." It was Prosciutto. She figured he might come to check on her. She didn't even know if she could answer him without her voice breaking. So she remained silent.

He knocked again.

"It looks pretty bad… I can get someone else if that'd be better. Giorno's a phone call away."

"Don't call him," she managed to say. The last thing she needed was more people involved in something she just wanted to forget. She wanted to wash the memory away, to get him off her skin. She took off her boots and stripped off her torn clothes. She turned on the hot water and slid down further into the tub. He must have gotten the hint because she didn't hear Prosciutto again after that.

She felt each cut on her body sting as the water flushed out any foreign bodies. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her head against them. As she closed her eyes, flashes of the earlier horror played before her vision. She eventually found the strength to scrub the last hour from her pores.

It was some time that she sat there contemplating the water and how easy it would be to slip her head beneath the surface and inhale. To feel the burn in her lungs as the fight in her died. The water had lost all its heat by the time her mind finally returned to her body. She considered moving when she heard a voice.

"You've been in here for three hours," Illuso said. She wasn't surprised by his sudden intrusion; honestly, she couldn't believe he hadn't barged in sooner. She resumed the hugging of her knees and turned her face away from the mirror. "Are you okay?"

She didn't respond.

"We just want to help."

"I don't need your help," she murmured. He sighed and despite his silence, she knew he was still there.

"Pro said you seemed pretty fucked up when you came home, and you weren't on a mission. Just wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm here, aren't I? Now I just want to be left alone."

"Fine. You know where to find us." She heard him disappear back into the mirror. She knew she couldn't stay here, they would only hound her more. She stood up and drained the tub. She dried off and wrapped the towel around her. She looked down at the clothes scattered on the floor. She wanted nothing to do with them, so she kicked them into a small pile in the corner, and grabbed her robe, and left the bathroom. She walked down the hall to her room but paused when she saw Melone leaning in the doorway of Formaggio's room.

"—and he'd never seen her like that before. Someone attacked her and she doesn't want to tell us about it," Formaggio said.

"Let's just wait and see what Risotto says first. We can't be reckless, Mag. I know you and Lu wanna go fuck the guys up that did that, but you have to think with a clear head. I want to go after them just as badly but retaliation could make things worse. Things have to be done a certain way," Melone said.

"He's right. We don't know what happened to her yet, or who was responsible. Without details, we'd be running off half-cocked and we could end up causing more trouble for her." She froze when she heard Ghiaccio's voice.

"Man, this is fucked," Formaggio said and she heard Illuso agree with him.

She hurried off down the hall before any of them could see her. She closed and locked her door behind her. It was several minutes that she stood there with her forehead pressed to the door, listening to voices in the hallway. Hearing Ghiaccio's voice eased her slightly. She hoped that they would all just leave it be, but she wasn't sure what Risotto would do. He'd retaliated before against the death of their teammates and they all seemed to have embraced her since she arrived. She was a part of the famiglia now, they really might take it as a personal attack. She just wanted this nightmare to be over.

She laid down on the bed and quickly passed out.

She slept late into the afternoon the next day. She only felt mildly better, things still ached. She didn't really feel hunger, nor did she wish to leave the room. She didn't want to see anyone. They would just ask her questions that she didn't want to answer. They would try to dredge up memories, make her relive it all. She took off the robe and put on a pair of sweatpants and a cami, then crawled back into bed. She laid staring at the wall just thinking. She didn't have the strength to do anything else.

There was a knock at the door and Pesci's voice could be heard on the other side. "Hey, I wasn't sure if you'd eaten anything today, so… I'm leaving a sandwich here outside your door. Whenever you wanna talk… I'm here." That was all he said, then she heard him walk away from the door. She squeezed her eyes shut and cried.

She lost consciousness at some point and when she opened them again, it was dark and she heard loud arguing from downstairs. Formaggio and Ghiaccio were yelling at each other, but about what she couldn't tell. Prosciutto yelled a couple of times too. There were other voices all weighing into whatever discussion was happening and dread welled up within her. She already knew it was about her. She'd never sequestered herself this long before and she imagined her silence must have unsettled them.

After almost a half-hour of the noise, she heard a soft knock at her door. "Hey, you in there?" It was Ghiaccio. She sat up and looked at the door. "It's just me. Can you open the door?" She was already walking across the room before she thought about it and unlocked the door. She looked at him standing there. His brows furrowed upon seeing her. She probably still looked pathetic even though she'd cleaned up a bit. She was still covered in cuts and bruises. She didn't want to know how bad she looked.

"They asked me to come talk to you," he said. She just looked at him. Of course, he only came because Riz made him. It wasn't out of some actual worry for her. Even in the depths of despair she still found she clung to dreams. You can't have that in this line of work. Gelato and Sorbet did and look where that led. It only makes you weaker.

"Why?" Her voice was distant, like waking from a deep sleep.

"Prosciutto seemed to think you might actually talk to me." She walked away from the door and back to the bed. Ghiaccio followed her inside, closing the door behind him.

"Guess he knew after all..." she said absently as she sat down on the bed again. She leaned against the wall and looked out the window next to her.

"Knew what?"

"That I would do anything you asked." She continued to stare out the window but saw him shift slightly in her peripheral. He must have been uncomfortable, but she hardly cared right now.

"What happened yesterday?" His tone was soft but serious.

Silence.

"Pesci found your clothes in the bathroom and decided to wash them for you. He found the torn underwear."

She remained silent, boring holes through the glass. Of course, he would have told Prosciutto and it wouldn't be long until they'd all heard which means Risotto definitely knows. Suddenly the argument made sense. She bet Formaggio had been beside himself to go looking for the guy while Prosciutto and Ghiaccio tried to talk sense into him.

Ghiaccio took a deep breath.

"Just gimme a name." His voice was low and menacing.

"It won't do anything," she said flatly.

"I think tearing out his fucking throat and watching him bleed at my feet is doing something!" he snapped.

"The damage has already been done! Nothing will change that!" She retorted.

"And letting him go without fucking consequence? To do it again? Does that sit well with you?!" Ghiaccio quipped in return. She swallowed her shame as her eyes burned. She knew his anger well. He wasn't mad at her but that didn't mean his rage couldn't burn her anyway.

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"Just tell me who the bastard is! You fuck with one of us, you fucked with all of us!" He was out for blood now. "Tesoro, please." Some of the others had used the moniker for her in the past but she'd never heard it out of Ghiaccio's mouth. It made her look at him.

"I can't."

"Why?! Why are you protecting him?!" He yelled.

"I'm not," she said evenly.

"Then tell me!"

"Names have power, Ghiaccio. I don't expect you to understand that," she said quietly as she ran her fingers through her bangs in frustration. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He seemed to be considering her words.

"Silence only gives it more power. You break that hold over you by speaking," he explained. "Don't let him have this kind of control."

She mulled that over a moment. Everything he said was true. Evil only grows when good does nothing. So she relented and finally spoke the name. He nodded, then sat down next to her on the bed.

"I would do anything you asked of me too," he said quietly. She blinked back tears. "I promise, he won't hurt you again." She nodded and he reached out slowly to touch her cheek. His hand was cool just like she'd imagined. They looked at one another for a moment before he stood up and turned to go.

"Ghiaccio?"

"Yeah?" He turned back to look at her. She returned her gaze to the window.

"Make him suffer."

"Absolutely, tesoro. We all will." She heard the door close as he left.