Work Text:
A rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed in the stairwell. It wasn’t long until they reached the right flat. The door was ajar, letting out the noises of the commotion from within - muffled conversation, something heavy moving, maybe furniture, maybe not. Albert opened the door wider, the narrow hallway leading to further parts of the flat sprawled in front of him. The creaking must have caught the attention of one of his men as he emerged from the closest room. The blood seemed to drain from the man's face when he realized who had joined in all that chaos.
“Boss,” mafioso stumbled. “we-”
“Where is he?” Don’s voice was steady and firm. He didn’t need any explanation, he heard enough from the capo who greeted him at the entrance to the tenement.
Mafioso hesitated to answer, but his eyes betrayed him. His gaze shifted for a second too long towards the room he had just left. Don nodded, more to himself than to his subordinate, and took a step forward. Mafioso approached him quickly and stopped him from entering the room by placing his hands on Don’s chest.
“Boss, I insist.”
Don looked down at his subordinate's hands, which were still weighing on his chest. He turned his gaze upwards and met mafioso’s frightened eyes. He instantly dropped his hands and took a step back, but this time Don approached him. He tilted his head and spat the words straight into the subordinate's ear.
“Move out of my way.”
The man disappeared immediately deep into the flat without a second thought, unblocking the way for Don. But before heading to the only place that interested him, he noticed two men in black gloves walking from room to room at the end of the hallway.
The cleaners are already here. At least one job will be done right today. They probably don’t have much time before the cops though.
Albert pushed aside the thoughts about business and finally crossed the doorstep beyond which he was to find something that would destroy his entire life.
The room was small and. There was only a place for some old wardrobe with a door that fell off its hinges and a wooden bedframe with a dirty mattress. The window was left on the latch, causing the night chill air to flow in.
He was near to the entrance, on the ground, with his back against the wall.
Albert entered the room deeper. He moved slowly but without hesitation. He crouched down close to him, just as he always crouched by his side. Albert raised his hand and gently placed it on the back of his neck, tangling his fingers in the ends of his dark curls, while softly stroking his cheek with his thumb. The skin was cold. Albert glanced over his face. The same one he studied closely for over 30 years. The same one he patched up so many times, iced down, sewed up if the wounds were too deep, kissed, simply adored…
His eyes were closed. It was probably the last gesture of respect from Albert’s people. They wouldn’t have dared to change anything else before Don arrived. Albert shifted his gaze lower. Three dark stains spread across his shirt. Albert didn’t have to check to know that the black fabric was soaked in blood, but he still reached out his free hand and brushed his fingertips against the spot closest to his heart. He placed his palm there. Something tightened in his chest when, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t able to feel the rhythm of Vincenzo’s beating heart.
Albert fell to his knees completely. He embraced Vincenzo, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders. He pulled him, in the way that Vinvenzo’s head rested on his chest. Albert buried his face in his husband’s hair, like he always did, he squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling the well known sweet scent, and left the farewell kiss on top of Vincenzo’s head, letting his eyelids and cheeks get wet from the tears for the first time in decades.
Albert didn’t know how much time he spent on the cold floor cradling Vincenzo’s cold body. He lost his sense of space and time. He didn’t hear his men walking around and cleaning up the traces of the massacre that happened in the flat and took too many of their people. That took Vincezno away from him.
Albert wished death would take him too. He couldn’t imagine coming back to an empty house. He would rather surrender himself to the embrace of death at that very moment, leaving the empire they built behind, so that he could spend eternity in the arms of his beloved, tending the garden in the afterlife together.
So when he felt the weight on his shoulder, he didn’t flinch. He hoped that it was the Grim Reaper who took pity on him and came to guide him home.
“Albert…” he heard a raspy voice.
The voice was familiar and irritated him for many years. He tightened the grip around Vincenzo’s body for a second and then he started to straighten up and opened his eyes. The hand disappeared from his shoulder, but Albert could have sworn it left a stinging mark on him.
So the devil himself came to greet him.
“I called my boys off for some time,” the voice continued, deciding Albert is conscious enough to comprehend the full sentence. “But I can’t hold them back forever.”
Albert knelt one knee. He carefully placed Vincenzo’s body in the position he found him in - with his back against the wall. He stroked his cheek one last time, leaving red smudge on his skin, and then Albert finally got up from the ground. He straightened his jacket, as if it would change anything. His white shirt was wrinkled and covered in blood. His trousers collected the dust from the floor. But you couldn’t change the habit. Even at the worst moment of his life he must present himself with dignity. As befitted a mafia boss. Especially when he was about to face his biggest enemy.
The sound of his footsteps echoed through the empty now flat. A steady rhythm led him to a man who violated his grieving. Albert kept his gaze fixed on the floor until he was only centimeters away from the intruder.
“I won’t” -Don raised his eyes, meeting Johnny’s stare- “leave him here.”
The detective nodded as if he expected nothing else, and moved his gaze to some distant point.
“There is one of your men outside,” Johnny stopped himself for just a second, but Albert noticed the pause. “He was the one who tipped me off.” He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to another. “But if you need an extra hand, I’m not a police officer for,” he paused again to check his watch, “23 more minutes.”
Johnny now stared at him expectantly, and Albert used that moment to take a closer look at his son-in-law.
He looked miserable. Johnny had always been skinny, but as a policeman, he could still boast about his muscles, which now had basically disappeared. Dark circles appeared under his eyes, his hair was messier than usual, and his beard was thicker than when Don last saw him. Must have been at his daughter and grandson’s funeral.
“22.” Johnny put his hands in his pockets and went to the window.
Albert only now noticed that the darkness of the night was slowly fading making way for another day. Did he really spend so much time here?
“We both did things we regret,” Johnny continued. He always loved to talk. He didn’t look at Don though. He seemed to find a more interesting view out the window. "We lost someone we loved. We have nothing more to lose.”
“Why are you helping me?” Don felt Johnny hadn’t finished his absurd speech yet, but he had to understand first why he wasn't nailed to the ground in handcuffs yet.
“We are not good people, Don.” Johnny turned to him again. “I’m not doing it to show you a remnant of humanity.” He approached him, shortening the distance between them to just a few centimeters. “I simply have many more benefits leaving you free than in a small cell in the middle of nowhere.”
Albert stared at him, trying to read something more from his face, but Johnny's eyes were completely empty.
“20,” Detective said and came out to the hallway.