Note: Okay, we have a very long chapter here. In which you will finally understand EVERYTHING.

I had no choice but to have an insanely long dialog here. I tried to keep things clear and not forget anything, so I will need your help here:
Is there anything you feel has been left out that I should have explained?
Is there something that's not clear enough to you?

There will still be answers in the next chapters of course, but the main stuff is here so go ahead if you have questions, just so I can complete this chapter if needed before I post the next one :)
If I don't deem necessary to add anything here after your reviews, rest assured that I will reply to every question in a PM :)
Thank you for your help!

Mello
My parents showed up once again the next day. I couldn't take this anymore. Everything was going wrong and all I wanted was to die. I should have died the day of the accident, if things were meant to end like that with Mail. I didn't have a family, I had lost the one that was my world, everyone around me just didn't care, except for the nurse but what could she do for me? She was kind, but that was not enough to heal the giant hole in me...

I didn't even know if I'd be able to walk again, I still had a hard time staying awake for a normal amount of time, without counting the excruciating headaches and my laboured breathing even for the simplest move. Of course things were better than when I had woken up from the induced coma, and Dr Zimmerman kept on telling me that my recovery was going well and fast because I was young and strong, but even he couldn't tell me how I would be when I'd leave the hospital, or even when I would finally leave, without speaking of the hospital itself, but my bed at least.
I could now sit for real. Great. Oh, and my broken hand was healed, too. Wonderful. My heart was still broken to pieces, so I didn't give a fuck about my progress.

I wasn't one to dwell on self pity, but it was way beyond that. I felt unable to function. I wanted to kill myself each time I woke up because I had to face my moral pain and it didn't stop stabbing me. I tried to sleep as much as possible because that's all I could do to stop aching. It had been a week, a full week, and I was oscillating between trying to convince myself that Mail was a bastard and that I was better off without him, and that I had to be out of this bed as soon as possible to confront him before I moved on, and replaying all our good times over and over in my head and cry and rage because it couldn't be true that it was over because Mail wasn't such a coward to leave me like that, and there had to be an explanation to this, and then it was generally getting worse because I started to imagine that they had found this as an excuse to hide the fact that something had happened to him and they didn't want me to know he was dead or something not to compromise my recovery and... it was a neverending loop of thoughts, one worse than the previous one.

If I wasn't crazy already with my train of thoughts, my parents' visit was very close to making me fully insane.

They tried to convince me to come back with them once again, in the same conditions that they had exposed to me before: I had to pretend I wasn't gay anymore, until my grandfather died, and then I could fuck off back to the US if I wanted.
Except that this time, they said something that ticked my curiosity.

I had started the hostilities as soon as they had entered the room: "I'll never change my mind about staying in the US, what made you think I would leave this time?"
"But your lawyer-" my dad began, but the bitch cut him off.
"We thought that since that little shit finally left the picture, you would realise that there is nothing here for you." she spat with an expression on her face that I couldn't be mistaken about: she was trying to hide a satisfied smirk.
"How do you know that?"
"It's not important," she said quickly, trying to short-circuit my father before he said anything, she obviously knew she had slipped up and was trying to cover things up, "We'll be generous if you agree, I'm sure there is something we can offer you that you'd like, holidays, a nice apartment, a new motorcycle... anything."

I looked at her, bemused. She was being nice? Something was off, really off. Especially because she was offering me, possibly, a new motorcycle when it was the reason why I was stuck in this bed. It was obvious she didn't care about another accident, if I needed any more proof that I could die and she wouldn't blink an eye.
"Mihael, we are tired of this. You change your mind once again, don't make us do preparations if you decide against leaving after that!"
It wasn't just a slip-up. If they thought that I had changed my mind to the point that my departure was already set up, then someone had to have told them that I had expressed the will to come back to Germany. This, and that Mail had broken up with me. She named the lawyer so I didn't have to go very far to know the answer.

What was going on? Why was my lawyer suddenly trying to make me leave? Whose side was he on?
Mail! Mail hadn't left me, I was suddenly pretty sure about that. It was all clicking into place: for some reason, some people really wanted me to leave, and were trying all means to reach their goal. But where was Mail then? Had they told him the same? But he would have come to me for an explanation, so why didn't he show up for a week?
I had to champ at the bit for now because there was no one I could trust to get answers, though.

"I won't leave, and this is the last time I am telling you this. Don't ever come back. You're not my parents anymore, I don't want anything from you, I'm legal in Germany so there is nothing you can do about that. Just forget me just like I'll forget you."
I closed my eyes, exhausted, hoping they'd be gone when I'd open them again. I heard steps, but not the door closing back after being open, so I forced my eyelids open. My parents had indeed left, but the lawyer had entered, and he was staring at me and looking like he was trying to find his words.

"Do you have more lies for me?" I asked, closing my eyes again.
"We did that for your own good Mihael."
He didn't even bother denying. At least we'd gain some time by not playing more mind games.
"What can be so good for me in Germany? A hearty family life?" I chuckled, but it hurt around my ribs.
"You wouldn't have had to stay there forever."
"You seem to know a lot more than you should." I had the feeling he was informed of more than what I had told him, more than what he could have possibly heard during my conversations with my parents while he was present, and it made me quite nervous to think that in the end, he had never been on my side, that it had all been a play and he was a pawn put there by my parents.
As if he could guess my train of thoughts, he replied: "We had to try. We had to push you to take the most reasonable option, now... it didn't work so-"
"The most reasonable option? We? Who, we? Explain, and don't lie, because I swear, I'll risk killing myself over this but I'll punch your teeth out of your mouth one by one if you dare telling me one more lie."

The lawyer took a chair nearby, and sat close to the bed, facing me. I straightened, ready to hear whatever he had to say.
"As I was saying, it didn't work so I have no other option than to tell you the truth. But first, let's set the records right over what's been said lately. You're smart, you probably understood by now that Mail hasn't broken up with you-"
"And you're not even ashamed to tell it just like that." I was mad at the lawyer, but at the same time so, SO relieved that it had indeed been a lie that the positive feelings took over the anger.
"What about Mail? Where has he been these last days? I can't believe he agreed on that..."
"Let's talk things out in the right order, okay? I'm sorry that we had to resort to something like that, but there was no other way to cut all the ties you have here. For your own safety – and Mail's – the best way to go was for you to go back with your parents. It wouldn't help our case much, but keeping you both alive was our priority over everything else-"
I cut him again: "What case? Why are you talking about keeping us alive? I was the only one concerned, and as far as I know, taking a plane wouldn't kill me now." My heart was beating faster because I sensed that the story was a lot more complicated than I thought.
"Mihael," the lawyer breathed heavily, "Stop cutting me, or I'll never be able to explain."
"Sorry..." I kept silent from that moment.

The man crossed his legs, and after seeing that I would indeed keep my mouth shut, he began talking again.
"Mail has been locked in an apartment owned by the FBI, because we needed him to stop interfering. He's not really happy about it, but he wouldn't just stay home with his parents so we didn't have a choice. We never told him about the fact that we told you about the break up. He was already out of our way so it was useless to add to it. I promise, someone, more than certainly the prosecutor or someone working for him will go and explain to him exactly what I'm about to tell you. You'll be able to talk to him on the phone after that."
He noticed that I was dying to ask him something but was doing my best not to interrupt him, but he caught my drift.
"I can't tell you when he'll be allowed to visit you, but as soon as it is possible, he will be there."
I smiled, and the man seemed to relax a bit.
"I'll go grab some coffee, do you want some?"
I nodded, and waited patiently for him to come back with the two paper cups. It would probably be a long talk, and he was right to think I'd need the caffeine.

My mind was boiling with everything that had happened lately, and all the questions I had. But I guess it was better to wait for the conversation to be over, the lawyer would probably give an answer to many of them. Mail and I had never been over and just this was enough to make me care a lot less about the rest.

"By the way, I never really told you who I really was so I suppose it's time." the man said as he handed me out a cup of coffee and sat back down, "My real name is Andreas Lehmann, but call me Andreas from now on, I work for the Internationaler Terrorismus und Internationale Organisierte Kriminalität, I was a lawyer before I applied there, that's why I was able to represent you until now, but my real job was to assure your safety among other things. I work hand in hand with the FBI over the case concerning your parents. We have put off telling you the truth for as long as we could but now we have no more way to protect you if you're not aware of the situation in its whole."
"I had already guessed that they were not as clean as they looked... this business, it's something illegal, right?" I asked, but I almost choked on my coffee when he precised the nature of said business.
"Your grandfather runs the most powerful Mafia branch in Germany, Mihael..."

Andreas gave me time to let the information sink in, but that was a lot to handle. I didn't even have words to express how sick this made me feel all of a sudden.

"Do you want me to continue in German?" he asked suddenly, "Maybe it would be less tiring for you?"
"No! No, I don't want to hear German anymore. Ever." This was true. It just reminded me of everything I hated.
He nodded.

"As you already know, you're not blood related to your grandfather and your mother-"
"Can we stop calling them as such, please?" I never, ever wanted them to be linked to me this way.
"Fair enough. Mr Ourakov – the grandfather – is actually Russian. There is not a real German Mafia per se, it's more a fight between the Russian and the Sicilian Mafia to take over the market in Germany, and as for today, the Russian Mafia dominates it pretty much. The daughter wasn't allowed to succeed him, Ourakov is very sexist and to his eyes, there is no way a woman could run the business, but Ourakova is greedy, and she managed to make a deal with her father: if she found a husband suitable enough in the eyes of her father, he would pass the reins to this man. Ourakov accepted because he would never have a son and he knew it, he and his wife were too old already, and he'd rather keep things in the family, so that was the best solution. That's where your father comes in the story... Can I still call him your father?"
"I share the same name so calling him my father or Mr Keehl is pretty much the same I guess..."
"Your father was widowed for less than three months, and your mother got her hands on him pretty easily. He had a child at charge and as you already noticed, he's pretty helpless and easily controlled. She didn't need much to get him to marry her not long after they met. He was a rising star in politics before your biological mother died, and that's precisely why she needed him: he had the right connexions. To be honest, we suspect that she made her homework long before your mother died, and that she isn't a stranger to your mother's accident, but we could never prove it."
"She killed my mother?!" I was stunned. Everything I had thought to be my story until now was being replaced with a truth that was really hard to believe, but somehow, it made more sense now.

"I only noticed recently how much my father let this b... woman manipulate him, he wasn't like that before. At least not with me."
"We have good reasons to think that he was the one to slow down the process recently, he's protecting you somehow."
"What do you mean?"
"Ourakova wouldn't have come here to convince you so many times if it wasn't for your father. She would probably have blown the hospital by now. We've been monitoring them for years, since she married your father actually."
"So you've been monitoring me as well?"
"Yes... that's how we knew that you weren't aware of what your family was really doing."

I finished my coffee, and Andreas took the paper cup out of my hands so I didn't have to move. I could see that being able to tell me the truth made him look more relaxed. I had been hard with him for a reason, but I could understand now that it hadn't been easy for him either. Nothing had been done with the purpose of hurting me or Mail, but there had to be collateral damage to their decisions, it wasn't something they could have avoided.

"So what if I had gone back to Germany?" I asked, because everything was still really confused as to what their motives were.
"I'm getting to it. When you left for the US, the FBI got involved because we didn't know at that time if they'd reveal things to you or not one day, since you were the only heir in line for the succession, and that once Ourakov would pass away, your father would succeed him, and from this moment, you'd become a target for the opposite branch. As long as Ourakov was in charge, the Sicilians had no interest in you because they know you're useless to him, so you're not a pressure mean. But your father, no matter what happened, still cares, obviously. We've bugged their hotel room here in LA each time they came, except for the time being, and your room as well and there were a few conversations that proved he's not always so weak in front of her, he still has a role to play with his political connexions, and he knows she needs him."

It was hard for me to believe that. He had been so openly against my relationship with Mail, or my homosexuality in general...
"Sorry to interrupt but why didn't you bug their hotel room this time?"
"We lost track. We weren't aware that they had left Berlin to come back here, which told us that they were taking the level up a notch because they had never deemed useful to cover their tracks before. They kept on acting like a normal couple visiting their son but things were suddenly different, and if they had to go unnoticed, it may mean that they are now aware that they are under surveillance. That's why you have cops out there and that we had asked Mail to stay home with his parents."
"And he refused."
"Yes. And he interrupted your conversation with your parents at the moment Ourakova had a hand on you. It was just bad timing but she might have taken this as a clue that he is involved in the surveillance, and he was in real danger from that moment."
"You think it was a test to know if my room was bugged?"
"We think so."
"But why didn't you simply explain this to Mail afterwards?"
"Do you really think that knowing you were in real danger, he would have stayed home?"
"No..." Of course not. Mail would have camped here in my room ready to set anyone laying a hand on me on fire.

"Your father doesn't care that you're gay, I thought you might like to know that."
"It didn't look like it the last time I was in Berlin..."
"His ways of protecting you might not always have been in the most considerate way, but there's something more you need to know about him: she had already greased the paw of many politicians on his behalf when they got married, even before he knew he was marrying the daughter of a Mafia boss, and when he finally knew it, it was too late. He wanted to withdraw but all his professional relationships were already corrupted and thinking he was the one paying the bribes, if he did withdraw, they would turn their back to him, and you were at risk of being killed as a revenge. He did that for you only, all these years."

I was more than surprised. So my father loved me?
All the fights we had over my sexuality then? Why?
"I can't tell you why he did everything he did, we never bugged your home, it was impossible, and from what I witnessed here in this room, I guess it hasn't always been a breeze, but you have to believe me, he never stopped trying to keep you safe, but be aware that his situation was tricky, and he might have had to go along Ourakova's every will and wish to calm things down with her so she wouldn't go after you."
"I see..." So my father wasn't completely a bad guy...

I started to cry. The informations, the relief, everything was washing over me and it was too much. I needed to talk to Mail, there was so much I had to tell him...
"Will you tell Mail all of this?"
"It's up to you. He already knows about the Mafia, but that's about all, I actually only need a word from you and we'll tell him everything as well. You decide which parts have to be left off-"
"Tell him everything. I have nothing to hide to him... But wait, since when does he know?"
"For a while now... even before you woke up from coma."
My jaw went slack. He'd known for that long?
"Don't be mad at him for not telling you. The prosecutor was the one to advise him not to be the one to tell you. It's already hard enough to hear, it shouldn't come from the one you love."
"I see... but I'm not mad at him."
Actually, it was pretty much the opposite.

"I have another question." I dried my tears. There was still too much I needed to know.
"Go ahead." Andreas replied patiently.
"Wouldn't it have been easier to tell everything to Mail and me beforehand? I mean, knowing all of this, I might have accepted to go back to Germany with them. Mail would probably have tried to convince me to do so as well, if it meant we were safe."
"We couldn't take the risk of you going there knowing what you know now. The tiniest slip-up and you were dead."
"Oh."

It was still weird to picture the whole story, it played like a bad movie in my mind, with some kind of surreal feel. But hearing that I might get killed was kind of a cold shower. It forced me back into reality, and fear as well.

"So what now? I mean, the option of me going back to Germany is now out of the question, so what do we do from here? And what will my parents do?"
"That's the difficult part Mihael. At that point we have good reasons to think that your father has no say in the matter anymore, he probably used all of his cards, and there is only one way for Ourakova to regain her father's trust and convince him to revocate the disowning."

Andreas didn't want to say it, I could see it.
"Will she kill my father?" I asked, thinking I knew the answer.
"She might one day, but that's not on her list right now considering she needs his connexions." he breathed deeply, "She will kill you MihaeL. She will get rid of the gay son, and prove that she is ready to do whatever it takes for the family business. She might even make it look like your father did it, just so Ourakov considers him able to be the man of the situation, because she still is a woman and Ourakov will hardly get past that fact."

I got sick. Andreas quickly gave me a recipient so I could empty my stomach, and called the nurse to care after me.
"Give him something for his nerves." he ordered.

Miss Double Ds stared at him for a few seconds, and Andreas had to show his badge this time, because she had no idea who he really was as well, and was about to tell him off.
"I'm not the bad guy, don't bite me." he offered a smile, to which she replied.
"Lucky for you because if you hurt my boy or try to teach me my job again, my hand is going to have a word with your face." she was still smiling but Andreas took the hint anyway.

She injected me the same thing as the previous week, and I felt immediately better, although sleepy as hell.
Andreas told me I could call Mail when I'd wake up, they would inform him of everything in the meanwhile, and that I was well guarded so I shouldn't worry for now.
I barely nodded, comforted by the fact I would talk to Mail soon, and drifted to sleep.