Ok, the fifth part is OUT. I feel like a champion! Enjoiiii~ ^^ (btw, is it just me or is this one super lacking in footnotes? xP)
Cosa Nostra: Part 5
Palermo, Italy
January 11, 1963
5:38 am
Eventually, he calmed down enough to reread the letter again. And again. And again. He had to make sure that miraculous piece of paper in his hands was real. Then he noticed something. We? …I should've known. Spain's way too blunt to come up with all this on his own. The detail of it…the perfection of strategy…It almost reminds me of…
"I hope you know what you're doing…" The image of Germany's statured nose and strong jawbone, blue eyes full of fatigue...Why does it have to be that potato bastard! I hate you, Spain! But even as he thought this, Romano had a wide grin on his face that wouldn't go away. His cheek muscles were sore. It didn't really matter anymore who "we" referred to. It didn't matter how they found him. Because Spain was here. Spain came for him.
Romano lay there on his bed for a long time, simply enjoying the pulsating blood that revitalized his entire being. He couldn't think. Nor was he trying to. He closed his eyes, seeing the words of the rumpled letter he clutched tightly to his chest imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. "We're here to get you out Romano…I'll get you out safely. I promise...With love, Boss…with love…"
"P.S…"
As if suddenly electrocuted, Romano sprang out of bed. The rest of the presents! How could he have forgotten?
He rushed to the closet and, wrenching open the door, grabbed the box of Belgian chocolates and the sapphire from behind a disarray of clothing where he carefully concealed them in an attempt to forget their very existence. But now, he understood. Why Spain gave him such strange gifts. Why Spain was behaving so unnaturally. Why Spain looked at him in that way he couldn't describe before. Now he knew what it was. It was knowing. The whole time, Spain knew.
He flung open the lid to reveal daintily arrange pieces of decorated chocolates sitting neatly in white, ruffled paper. There were three tiers. Romano lifted each tier up, hoping to find something underneath. He was disappointed each time. But it couldn't be just chocolates...Then he noticed the lid he had just tossed to the side. On the bottom of lid was a little note that read "No comen.*" The handwriting was unmistakably Spain's.
A deep frown weighed down on Romano's brows. Do not eat? What the hell? Then, a sudden spark of inspiration. The letter was hidden within the pages…so what if…
He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and placed it on the coffee table. Then, with steady and careful hands, he split a piece of chocolate in half. Plop. Colorless liquid dropped into the cup. A faint, bitter almond odor hit his nose and he automatically drew back, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. Cyanide*?
It was indeed cyanide. But it was a very weak concoction. After going through each piece of chocolate, Romano had collected about a cupful of cyanide and another note. The note had informed him that the mixture was not lethal if small doses were used but would definitely induce nausea, dizziness, and eventually fainting. This will definitely come in handy.
A beam of red sunlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains. The refraction hit Romano square in the face. He twisted his head sideways with one arm protecting his eyes from the blinding light, in search of the place the light was reflecting off of. He traced the light to find a brilliant, azure shine that lay partly-concealed in a black, velvet box. It was the sapphire. He had carelessly thrown it on the coffee table and completely forgotten about it during his excitement about the cyanide.
He sighed and grabbed the cold, smooth jewel from its box and examined it closely. But there really wasn't much to see besides the dazzling gaudiness that showed Romano his own disgruntled reflection far too many times.
He shrugged, then decided that there must be something hidden in the box. After twenty minutes of tearing apart the velvet box, Romano let out a frustrated grunt and threw the remnants of the box into the trash. He reclined back on the couch and began to absentmindedly play with the precious stone, tossing it from one hand to the other. What in the name of hell can I do with you? He allowed his mind to wander. It's things like you that make people die, you know. I see it every day, those ugly beasts fighting over your false value. It's all about money. All they care about is money. Not lives. But you won't fool me. To me, you're worth nothing. So why would Spain give me something like you…
Then it hit him. Just like that. So simple. Such an elegant solution. Romano sprang to his feet, then sat down again. It was so obvious. So obvious it was literally hitting him in the face. Why didn't he see it before? Romano didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
It was exactly because of its false value that Spain had given it to him. Its material value. Because those ignorant fools would fight over it. It was the perfect bribe.
Romano laughed. At what, he wasn't sure. Then, with one last toss and catch, he pocketed the stone as if it was merely a 10-lire*. He walked over to his bed and tucked Spain's precious letter under his pillow along with the FBI document. Then he fell back onto the bed and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Palermo, Italy
January 11, 1963
4:31 pm
Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Romano's excited heartbeat matched the frenzied pitter-patter of his footsteps as he once again found himself racing through those winding alleys toward the ghetto. He had spent two miserable hours touring cocaine factories with Spain while Moretti trailed behind them like a soundless automaton. Now, he was finally going to see Spain in private.
It was the first time that he had ran through these decrepit alleys during the day, and oddly enough, the sunlight almost made the crumbling, red-brown bricks lovely in their own, strange way. As if intuition hit him, Romano suddenly looked up. And was stunned for a moment or two. He had never noticed them. The balconies and windows. The billowing linen and potted flowers that flanked this alley. All this time he thought he was running through the night, alone and in the dark. But all this time, if he had only raised his head a few measly inches, he would find so many windows watching over him, each with fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters residing behind their glass panes. That's right. I've forgotten. The people of Palermo…are still here.
The windows grew dirtier and dirtier, smaller and smaller, until most ceased to have glass on their frames at all. That was how Romano knew he had arrived. The alley fed out into a wider dirt road with rundown shacks lining its sides. The streets were almost barren for the exception of the homeless, who clung together in desperate huddles, ragged clothing ripped and hanging off of their wasted frames. Old men with grey beards, children with grubby hands, women with stringy, knotted hair. Romano slowed to a stop. A deep pang of guilt struck him in the stomach. Is this really what I'm helping to create? God, I deserve worse than hell. All this time, I've been so caught up in my own misery… Romano tried to approach one of the children curled up in a corner, but the child quickly scrambled off, dragging a broken foot behind him.
Romano frowned in confusion, but the frightened looks they all fixed him with soon made him realize. That's right. I'm dressed as Mafioso. He cursed under his breath and finally began to scan the streets for any sign of Spain. But the ghetto was unprecedentedly large. Where could Spain be?
"Scusa, Signor?*" He felt a slight tug on his suit from behind. He whirled around, alarmed, only to find a small boy, only about six or seven, staring up at him with big chocolate-brown eyes. The little boy was clearly not one of the homeless, but he was poor nonetheless. Thin, down to the very bones, and appearing so very frail Romano was afraid a sudden gust of wind was going to blow him away. But the strangest part was that Romano had an uncanny feeling he had met the boy somewhere before.
"Are you looking for Signor Carriedo?" the boy asked.
"Si! Si! Where is he?" he replied, struck by sudden urgency.
But to Romano's surprise, the boy asked him an eccentric question in return. "What type of wine would you like, Signor?"
"Italian!" was Romano's resounding answer.
The boy flashed him a wide grin and, without warning, took his hand. "Come with me, Signor Vargas."
Romano was a bit taken aback at the oddity of this boy's approach, but was too excited to care. He was going to see Spain. He was going to talk to Spain. Finally.
The boy led him into the labyrinthine alleyways, a section that he had never set foot in. Wherever Spain was, he made sure no one would find him. For God's sake, this plan is detail-oriented. Typical German. How did Spain find this kid anyway?
"Signor, was he brave? My fratello, I mean."
The boy's question caught him off guard. His fratello? Romano frowned, confused.
"Do I know him?"
The boy stopped in his tracks. "Signor Carriedo said that you do. My fratello, Paolo. Surely you remember him, right?" His soft brown eyes were panicked.
I'm sure I've seen this kid before…his eyes…remind me of Veneziano's.
Then he suddenly remembered. The light brown eyes and hair. The rounded jowls and straight nose. Though the little boy was not even half his brother's age, the resemblance was still unmistakable. It was the youth. The youth who had given his life. Who had died for him. So his name was Paolo…
"I…I do know him," Romano replied slowly. The bloody images flashed across his eyes. The way he crumpled onto the ground and drew his last breath. "Yes, he was brave. Very brave." Romano forced a smile. "He saved my life."
The youth grinned back, then took Romano's hand again, continuing on his way. "I am glad. Signor Carriedo tells me that you are a very important person. He says that you can save us."
A lump formed in Romano's throat. His tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. Spain…you idiota. Why did you lie to this child?
Romano decided it was time to change the subject. "How come you are here?"
"My father, uncles, and brothers all serve the Family. But last summer, my father seems to have gotten into a fight with some men from work…and they came in the middle of the night. My father and brothers were out working. The men killed my mother and sisters. But I hid. Paolo found me and brought me here. He said I would be safe. But he only came once in a while to bring me some food. He could not come often. Then I met Signor Carriedo, who was kind and took care of me when he was here. But I don't know what to do now that my brother is gone. I can't find my father and I can't go to my uncles. They will not want me." The boy was growing more and more anxious as he went on. Romano quickly interrupted him.
"When did you meet Signor Carriedo?"
"About six months ago. I was being chased by a few boys who tried to steal my bread. The funny thing was, I ran right into him and made him fall. Signor Carriedo, I mean. But he was not angry. Instead, he helped me," the boy explained happily. Romano let out a small sigh. He never gets mad. Even when I would mess up his house and hog his bed when I was little...how ironic that he would form an alliance with Paolo's little brother, of all people.
"Then he told me why he was here. He said he was here to find someone very important to him, who was also very important to us,"the boy continued.
"Us?"
"I didn't understand at first either. But he means the people. Of Palermo that is." The child glanced behind his shoulder and flashed Romano the brightest, purest smile. "And now that he has found you, I am sure we will be safe very soon."
Someone important…could I really be that? And yet those words almost brought tears to his eyes. Tears of joy. To know that he was important enough to bring a smile unto this innocent child's face. To know that he was just that important to Spain.
As they walked down that twisted alley, Romano lifted his head and saw the windows and balconies hovering above. There were dark-skinned women laboring away with multiple children climbing all over them. There were little girls with colorful bows in their hair, blowing at paper pinwheels and singing songs. There were rowdy men drinking beer and playing poker, talking and laughing about nothing in particular. These people had all endured and survived under the rule of the mafia. And yet their lives went on. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps it was not so impossible after all.
"We are here," the boy informed him, pointing to a small corner that multiple alleys opened up to. Dry, eroded remnants of an ancient fountain were built into the corner, a desolate remainder of years gone by. "Signor Carriedo should be here soon."
Romano sat down on the ancient fountain to wait for Spain. The boy turned and ran off, already a bobbing figure in the distance in a flash.
"Wait!" Romano shouted after him. "What's your name?"
"My name is Elpidio, Signor Vargas!" The boy's voice echoed along the walls of the alley. He soon disappeared inside the labyrinth of alleyways.
"Elpidio…" Romano mumbled to himself thoughtfully.
A soft, familiar Spanish accent finished his sentence. "…means hope*."
"Are you insane? You bastardo!" Romano wasn't sure why but his immediate reaction was to slap the living daylights out of the Spaniard, in hopes that when Spain woke up, there was would be at least one atom of sanity in that jumbled Spanish head of his. And he almost did. Almost.
Fist raised high, ready to pound into Spain's gut, gnashing his teeth like an enraged beast. Instead, he stopped, made a frustrated noise, then gave up and lowered his arm. He sat down on the ledge of the fountain and buried his face in his hands. "Merda…Spain…how long have you known? How did you…find out…"
"Romano…" Spain sat down next to Romano and put a gentle arm around the Italian's shoulder. The Spaniard's green eyes were all concern and sympathy.
"Just tell me, you idiota."
Spain sighed. Then he told him.
"Well, five years ago, you suddenly disappeared." Romano raised his head, eyes wide in disbelief. Five years? He's known for the whole five years? "I mean, of course the government office in Rome still claimed that you were working for them, but I couldn't reach you anywhere. When I called your house, you never picked up. And when I called your office, they simply said you were unavailable. Eventually, the office got annoyed enough with me to let in that you had been moved temporarily to Sicily to 'help the developing economy.'" Spain gazed back at Romano with a sad little smile. Two pairs of green eyes stared straight into each other, one heavier and the other lighter in spirit.
"By that point I was starting to…freak out, you might say." A small chuckle. "So I went to the only person I could think of: Germany. He was the most familiar with your home's situation and is quite an expertise in, um, this particular field."
"Oh, Spain, why did you have to go to that potato bastard?" Romano interrupted Spain with an irritated sigh.
"Like I said, he knew what to do. And he's not out to get you, despite what you might think. I mean, he may be a serious fellow, but-"
"Ok, ok! I get it! Just go on!" Romano sulked. Spain laughed and ruffled his hair. Romano shoved his hand away with more force than necessary.
"So, Germany sent Boss on a reconnaissance mission to Rome. I went to your house, but it was completely emptied out. Even all the furniture was gone, and the floor was covered in dust," Spain continued in a more lighthearted tone.
"Si…they burned everything…to get rid of any potential evidence…" Romano mumbled wistfully.
"Then I paid the boys at the office a good visit. But come to think of it, I don't think they enjoyed it very much." Spain laughed sheepishly, scratching his head while he recalled that he had threatened that poor nervous man with an unloaded gun. Unloaded, but very real. Romano scrutinized the Spaniard suspiciously. Did he threaten someone for me? No, he can't have. Spain...this is Spain!
"Boss should apologize to him…but, ahem, so we found out you were in Palermo. Of course, we had no idea why, but it didn't take Germany long to figure it out. He pulled some strings and I came to 'investigate' a few times. Sometimes I really wish I had his logic, you know, but then again, what else can you expect from Prussia's hermanito5…"
Romano remained silent, lost in thought. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to feel. Germany, whom he had always so eagerly antagonized. Germany, whom he had always went out of his way to trouble. Germany, whom he himself knew he would not have voluntarily helped if their roles were reversed.
Suddenly, Spain seized both of Romano's hands in his own and fully faced the absentminded Italian, an indescribably intense and earnest plea in his bright emerald eyes.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Romano panicked. He swore at himself for being so stupid. Why did the energy drain out from his entire body like that? Just from the slightest touch.
"Romano."
"Wh-what? You're scaring me!" The look in Spain's eyes was killing him.
"I need you to forgive Boss."
"What are you going on about y-you…"
"I wanted to come for you sooner, I swear I did! But we had to wait for the right chance! We had to wait for you to come back just once, so we could learn about your situation and formulate a plan! Because Germany said if we simply barge in then everyone could end up getting hurt! I-I'm so sorry, Romano! I'm so sorry that you had to endure all that time…"
Silence. Romano did not know what to say. Except for one word. "Idiota."
Followed by an outburst. "You bastardo! You stupid, stupid bastard! You…you…ugh, YOU!" Why do you have to be so oblivious? And not make any sense?
Spain was in a frenzy. "Romano, Boss is really s-"
"No, don't you dare apologize! If you apologize to me, who the hell am I supposed to apologize to?" Romano pointed an accusatory finger at him emphatically.
" Wha? But…"
Romano sprang to his feet. "Ugh! You're always so stupid! Why in hell would you apologize to me? Look at yourself! You wasted so much energy just to come here and save me! And I haven't even uttered one word of thanks! All I ever do is get myself in deep shit and wait for you to bail me out! So don't ever utter a single word of apology ever again!"
Spain's bewildered expression suddenly grew serious again. He stood up and faced Romano. They were barely an inch apart. Romano could feel his own quickening heartbeat pounding deafeningly in his chest. He could only hope that Spain did not hear it, too.
Then, Spain suddenly broke into a smile. It was one of those smiles that Romano hated so much. The one so full of simple kindness and understanding, with a twinge of melancholy. It complicated everything.
Spain put a gentle hand on Romano's shoulder. Gentle but somehow firm at the same time. "It's Boss's job to take care of Romano."
Blood immediately shot to Romano's face, painting his cheeks an unwillingly deep red. He was taken aback by the confidence in Spain's answer, as if he truly believed every word he said.
"Spain…you…don't actually believe that, right?" I knew it would come down to this one day…I knew that I'd have to face it eventually…
But Romano regretted his words as soon as he saw the startled hurt reflect in Spain's eyes. "I…I meant to say that…for all these years…you've always…and I just…"
But Spain's eyes had already dimmed. No. Not dimmed. They grew solemn. Solemn, but so strong…radiating vibrations. His gaze bore into Romano's eyes, heavy and powerful. He in leaned in. Romano felt the hot breath on his face, and caught himself subconsciously holding his breath, his entire body tense with…
Spain closed the narrow gap between their lips.
And there was nothing. And everything. Nothing and everything at the same time. Because at that exact moment, Romano had nothing to hate and everything to love. Time stopped passing. He stopped thinking. For one moment, he knew forever. Forever living, forever breathing, forever young. Forever blissful. With Spain. His eyes were tightly shut. All he could see…colors..light…fireworks.
Spain pulled away gently. The vibrant colors settled in his mind's eye into a glowing, warm haze. Romano opened his eyes to see bright, sunny, smiling green eyes gazing back at him sincerely.
"Never doubt, Romano, that I love you."
They sat in silence on fountain ledge. Romano was turned away from Spain, arms crossed, his face crimson as he sulked. Spain slung an arm across the his shoulder beseechingly.
"Romanooo..." he whined, "You make Boss so sad."
"Sh-shut up! Y-you pervert!" Romano fumed.
Spain grabbed his arms and shook him back and forth, like a little kid begging for candy. "Romanooo...but Boss has more to tell you!"
"Wh-what…" Romano was reluctant, but turned back to face Spain. He quickly averted his eyes at the triumphant grin on Spain's face.
However, Spain was serious again. "Can you make it to the docks tonight? Germany will have a boat over here by midnight. We'll cut straight to Naples." He grinned.
But Romano hesitated. He had been so relieved that Spain had come for him and couldn't wait to escape this miserable place at the first opportunity. But ever since this afternoon, he had been mulling over something in his mind…perhaps he was wrong? Wrong to leave? The thought of all those people behind all those windows…and Elpidio. Elpidio had said that he was important. Elpidio believed in him.
Slowly, he came to a decision. "Hey, Spain…listen. I can't leave. Not yet."
"What do you mean?" Spain was quizzical.
"I have to see this thing through to the end." He was now determined. "You've seen what it's like, for the people I mean. And the gunfights…it's just like a confused web of guerilla warfare*. There's no rhyme or reason and civilians just end up getting hurt."
"So what you're saying is…"
"I can't desert them. Not now of all times. I have to end it. The core of this whole damned thing is the La Barbera brothers. If I can get rid of them, then the war will wear itself out quickly. It won't be hard either. The La Barberas are losing ground."
Spain said nothing. Romano was nervous, afraid to glance at the other man's face. He did all this…came all this way… and this is what I tell him…It was hard to swallow the guilt, but he had to. If he abandoned the city now, he would regret it for the rest of his long, miserable life.
"I'm really sorry. But it's my duty. As a nation…" his voice trailed off into the soft breeze of the blazing afternoon.
"Of course." Romano snapped his head up at this unexpected response to see Spain grinning down at him.
"Didn't you wonder why I gave you all those Christmas presents if I just expected you to leave with me tonight?" He grinned cheerfully.
"Wha-?But how did you know? I didn't even know!" Flabbergasted was the right word. The only word. Everything made sense now. Why Spain gave him all those weapons. Why Spain had told little Elpidio he was their savior. Because it was a subtle reminder. Of who he was. Of his duty. And his duty was to fight. For his own people whom he loved.
Spain shrugged nonchalantly. "Just…kind of had a feeling I guess, "he smiled knowingly. You liar…
"But, anyway, I'll fight with you." That was the last thing Romano wanted to hear.
"No! I won't let you!"
"You think I'm just going to let you face all that by yourself again? No way!"
"But-"
"Plus, I've got more experience with guerilla."
"Hey! That's a lie! I had the Risorgimento* only several decades ago!"
"I fought against Napoleon*!"
"…"
Spain sighed and cracked a small smile. "Boss is happy to help, Romano."
Romano chewed on his lip. "Ugh! You! I hate you, you idiota!" He was flustered, but defeated.
"Haha…" Spain chuckled and ruffled his hair, then he rose to his feet, motioning for the other man to follow.
"Come on. We better drop Germany a call."
"Wait…just one more question…"
Spain waited with his usual saintly patience as Romano continued to chew on his bottom lip. He had been itching to ask this the whole time.
"…Does Veneziano know?" It would kill him if he knew. It would.
Spain shook his head. Romano breathed a sigh of relief. "Good…oh, and there's a bomb under his house…"
"¡Dios Mío!*" Spain exclaimed, "For all this time, too! But it's ok now. He's over in Naples with Germany right now. He hasn't got a clue. Thinks he's there on vacation. Well, he is, but, you know…"
"Bastardo…" Romano grumbled at the unpleasant thought of his brother's clinginess to Germany, suddenly unwilling to go with Spain to make the call. But as always, he did anyway, the reddening sunlight filtering in from above as they slowly chatted off into the distance.
1 No comen- "do not eat" in Spanish
2 Cyanide- a chemical compound commonly used in blood agents, or fast-reacting chemicals that are potentially lethal if absorbed into the bloodstream. Usually, we see cyanide used in movies as pills spies use, but yes it does come in liquid form.
3 Lira- official currency of Italy before 2002 (introduction of the Euro, which right now isn't doing so hot…). Coins came in 1, 2, 5, and 10 (lires).
4 Scusa, Signor?- Excuse me (informal), Mister?
5 Elpidio- it means hope in Italian, Spanish, and some other languages...
6 Hermanito- little brother in Spanish
7 Guerilla warfare- an irregular form of warfare in which small groups of armed combatants use mainly ambushes, sabotages, and the like against larger armies. If used correctly, this type of fighting is quite effective, especially during revolutions against government armies. Its specialty is in its mobility.
8 Risorgimento (1815-1871)- "The Resurgence" was an Italian political movement that ended with Italian unification. During this movement, the South Italian revolutionaries, aka the Redshirts (Camicie rosse), led by master of guerilla warfare Giuseppe Garibaldi "the sword," fought and unified most of South Italy.
9 I fought against Napoleon- Spain is referring to the Peninsular War (1808-1814), which was a part of the Napoleonic Wars, in which Spain and its ally Great Britain fought against France for control of the Iberian Peninsula. By that point in history, Napoleon had basically taken over continental Europe (literally taking over some countries and forcefully allying others. And continental Europe refers to everyone except for Iggy. We can't live without you, Iggs! :D), Spain included. Spain was the first to fight back, and soon other countries followed. This war is known for the emergence of large-scale guerilla warfare, hence the reference.
10 Dios Mio- Oh, my God in Spanish.
Ok, several things.
First of all, you guys might (or not) have noticed that I changed the title from La Cosa Nostra to simply Cosa Nostra. This is because an awesome reader who is actually Italian commented and told me that it should just be Cosa Nostra. And also, I'll be changing some details (especially in the first two chapters) about Italian culture and Italian diction, etc because this awesome reader also pointed out a bunch of the mistakes i made. that's what u get for abusing google... xD (it's hard for a non-native.)
Secondly, the next part WILL BE THE LAST PART so I'll be wrapping up next time, which means super intense whoo! God, i was originally planning for four parts. and it's dragged onto six. xD well, i hafta admit i'm kinda sad that it's ending. TT_TT
Third, I should've done this a long time ago but i forgot to, so here it is. Disclaimer: some minor characters such as Moretti and Paolo are completely fiction and not associated in any way to history or Himaruya.
Finally, i hafta apologize once again for any inaccuracies, especially culturally based and language-wise because googling doesn't always give you the right answer. xD i do NOT speak a WORD of italian or spanish so please tell me if anything's awkward or wrong or something. Anewayz, reviews? :D