This is a collaboration between me and Eskarina.


Being away from home for a time when your job is to control the largest criminal empire in the country did not make things calmer on the way back despite the fact that hardly anyone had found out about Don Giovanna's absence. He finally began to understand Diavolo and his habit of not having meetings in person. In addition to being a psychotic bastard, the amount of time that people could steal from him with authentic nonsense was incredible.

Feeling stressed, he decided to take a relaxing bath, only to find that nothing had changed; he simply went from being stressed at his desk to being stressed in the bathtub. At least it was pleasant, full of bath salts and dried flower petals that he himself had bred to be especially fragrant. His bathroom was very luxurious, with the bathtub even having a hydromassage option that he helped himself to.

The last notes of twilight light filtered through the Murano glass worked with a filigree of exquisite colors. Candlelight flickered while the notes of recorded piano music echoed with the acoustics of the marble bathroom. The scented water was doing its best to relax his muscles, and it was so effective that he forgot to not dip his blond curls into the water as well.

When he had gotten tired of fixing unforeseen events, he had announced to Fugo and Mista that he would be taking a relaxing bath. Mista told him that he did not understand how he could relax that way. He supposed their little idyll attempt a couple of years ago had failed precisely because of this, because they were so different. Giorno believed in body care, including facial care routines, but above all, hygiene. Hygiene was a bit more liberal in Mista's case; it wouldn't have worked out.

Inadvertently, he thought again of the scene Donatello had caused. In the moment of desperation, he had told the Joestars to hide without even asking them where they planned to go. Now he realized that it had not been the best of his ideas. Perhaps now he could speak with them calmly and even set a trap for the monsters, but of course, it had not been the right time back then, with the corpse of Joseph Joestar still warm in front of them. He had underestimated Donatello too much, and other people had paid with their lives for his mistake.

Thinking about it now, when all was already done and over it, maybe he should have just called the Speedwagon Foundation as soon as he had learned of the danger. He had been too arrogant, thinking that he could arrive in time before Donatello, or that Gold Experience Requiem could overpower him as it had always done with the others before him. But he hadn't wanted anything to do with the Foundation ever since Dr. Kujo had threatened to kill him ruthlessly if he so much as looked like his father or turned into a vampire. Not that he was afraid of the man, but he didn't want to work with him under such circumstances.

He was usually good at making quick decisions in times of crisis, but this time he had felt too useless. Useless. His stepfather's voice was coming back to his head like a migraine. He decided the water was getting cold and it was a good time to get out.

Tonight, he was going to have dinner with the trusted members of the gang, which of course included Trish. The surviving members. The priest's words about the vampiric powers of resurrection came to mind. Every day, he felt more and more lost; only Bruno Bucciarati had been able to exercise a reliable guide in his life. He needed him even more than he had the day he died. He had deluded himself into believing he could handle anything, but he felt younger and more inexperienced than when he was just a goal-minded teenager. But at the same time, he felt old and tired, 200-years-old instead of 20.

He dressed without much haste. That day they would be hosting the dinner at home for his own comfort. Sure, the humility of his comfortable attire was like that of his home.

Wrapped in a Versace robe customized with his name, part of a gift package the designer Donatella herself had sent him, he headed for the closet. Since becoming the Don, he wore black a lot in public, but at home in the immense palazzo in the hills of Rome, he liked to wear brighter colors.

He chose white joggers with an acanthus leaf print on the side with gold seams. They were quite comfortable. Versace sure knew how to make comfortable clothes if you were willing to spend about 700 euros on pants. For the top, he chose a Gucci sweater, perfect for nights in Rome when it was not cold but the temperature had dropped. It was pink, with the Gucci logo forming the jacquard print, and it could be another piece out of any man's wardrobe. For any man who had 600 euros to spare on a sweater, that is. As for shoes, he put on a pair of comfortable loafers from his favorite shoemaker. He did not usually wear anything branded for his feet, as he preferred trusted craftsmen.

He was about to work on his braid but changed his mind after styling his bangs. Curiously, the longer his hair was, the less it bothered him when it was loose. He didn't look in the mirror any further, as it was an informal dinner, and surely the only one who would have taken care of her appearance was Trish. Fugo would come straight from work and Mista wasn't one to worry about his appearance in general.

"But everyone tells me that my name is just comedy from the nineties, that I should change it. I tell them that Dolly Parton has had the same name since the '60s and is an icon," he heard Trish say from the dining room.

"Who's Dolly Parton?" asked Mista.

"You know, blonde, adorable, big breasts and she sings 'Jolene, Jolene, Joleeene, Joleeeeneee'."

"Leave it, Trish. The only international artist he knows of is Raffaella Carrá," said Fugo.

"I'm thinking, Jolene is a really nice name, so maybe Jolene Una can be my stage name..."

"Well, as much as of a lovely name it is, it doesn't suit you," Giorno said, entering the dining room. "Trish Una, both the name and the person, has enough personality to make them likable, whatever a bunch of idiots may say."

Between his time in Florida and hers in London, they had not seen each other in months. It was a shame that Trish didn't want to be part of Passione and had taken up singing. He didn't doubt that she could do it, but Giorno could not help but think that Trish would have been a great help to his work.

"Giorno! Caro mio, how was it in America?"

"I didn't like the weather, the food was inadequate, and the people were even worse. How was England?" Giorno answered sincerely without divulging many details.

"Oh, so it seems like we had similar experiences, but you smell too much like flowers. If you've been forced to the point of taking a relaxing bath, it must mean that your trip was worse. Tell me everything while we have dinner."

As the daughter of a monster that had tried to kill her, Trish understood Giorno's feelings better than anyone about meeting his brothers. Giorno told them everything that had happened. They were all Stand users and had fought against very strange things, so everything that had happened to him and what the priest had said did not seem too bizarre for them. There was so much to take in all at once, but even so, Giorno had a doubt that was eating away at his heart.

"If what the priest said holds true, I think I could try and bring Bruno back."

Trish was silent. Although Bruno had been an important part of her life, she had known him for only a very short time. However, Fugo and Mista were different cases. He had saved their lives so long ago, and they were part of his small dysfunctional famiglia for years.

Fugo couldn't forgive himself for leaving Bruno when he had needed him most. Many times, he thought that if given the chance, he would give everything he had to bring him back, but he knew that it was impossible. But now suddenly, there was an opportunity before him. He knew what he wanted. He saw Mista's eyes, deluded as well, but he had to play the devil's advocate.

"You know that I, more than anyone, want to see him again, that I will always regret my past actions, but we have to ask ourselves if this is what he would have wanted. If there is something like Heaven, it's obvious that he is going to be there. Even though he was a mafioso, he did much more good for the world than he did bad." Fugo was only verbalizing the words that the others were thinking. "Not only that, we don't know what condition he'll return in. Perhaps he'll return to us as an irrational undead. I do not want that for Bruno. I also do not want him to return as a being trapped in his body without the ability to feel."

"I don't want that for Bruno either. I was there when he met his end, Pana. I wouldn't do that to him," Giorno replied quickly. "But if the opportunity really exists..."

"I understand what Pana is trying to say. Near the end, didn't he also go blind? But I don't think it's just a physical problem... Maybe he has no reason to come back," said Mista

"Being alive will always be better than being dead, I suppose, but..." Trish began when the others were silent. "Bruno was dead, you told us that the wounds did not affect him. And yet at that moment, when he bled and began to deteriorate, it was as if he really had died then, even more so than when Diavolo killed him."

"We can't forget Nara. Bruno wouldn't forgive us if he saw that you brought him back with some kind of vampire magic power while Nara remains dead. If that depends on his will at all..." Fugo said with a broken voice. "I miss Nara every day. You know that I would gladly offer myself in exchange for him to live again, but it's not only that. If emotions and his will have anything to do with it, knowing that the others are not there would destroy him."

"After Bruno died, you know, after the church... he really only ever looked alive when he was with Abba," Trish said. "I may not have known Bruno as much as the two of you, but I like to think that one day someone will love me the way they both loved each other. What I mean to say is, you can't bring just one, either out of regret or because he will not want to return without the love of his life. But this brings up another question. Maybe you'll be able to bring one of them back all good and dandy, but what about three?"

"Giogio, if you think you're capable, I'll be there to support you and help you. But if you're not sure..." Mista said with more softness than usual.

He thanked them for their help and told them that he had to retire to review a few things. It was true, he had a lot of work to do. Since it was his ability, they told him the decision was ultimately his to make; it had taken years to build that level of unconditional trust they now had for him as their boss. He should have been able to take it without having to ask the others, but he didn't feel capable. He felt… useless. He was tired of everything, especially feeling incapable.

He told himself he didn't have to explain what he's doing as he took the keys to the Maserati MC12 and headed for Napolés. He realized halfway through that it might not be the best car for what he wanted to do, but he had others in Nápoles that were more suitable. A car ride from Rome to Nápoles typically lasted about two and a half hours, but with the Maserati, no respect for authority or fines, and taking into account that it was late and there was little traffic, he was able to make the trip in a mere hour and a half. It also helped to know that if he had a traffic accident, GER would activate.