Kovilka forgets about looking for her own place, and Reborn never reminds her.

She's still in disbelief, wondering if she's going to wake up any minute now, because they've slid into each other's routines so seamlessly. At first, it wasn't much different than usual-Reborn still teased her, just more than usual-but things changed gradually as the days passed. Reborn would come home exhausted from a job and drop onto the couch, laying his head in her lap, and it had startled her at first but she found she didn't mind, especially when he returned the favor. The guest bedroom was used solely as an office now, since sleeping together had just become part of the routine. Kovilka's favorite part of that was waking up and finding him next to her, something she thought would never happen not so long ago.

"Kovilka," Reborn says while they're sitting on the couch one evening, a newspaper in his hands while she's channel surfing, "Why didn't you ever work as a specialist?"

"I think you've asked me that before."

"I did, and you didn't really give me a good answer."

"Ah." She sets the remote down and leans against him, glancing at the paper over his shoulder. "Well, usually specialists only work for one employer, like the same mafia family, and I was trying to avoid that."

"What about now?" Reborn asks.

"Now? I guess...If I had to, I could be a hitman."

"But you don't want to. And you're in a position where you don't have to do things you'd rather not."

"Trying to sell me Vongola again?"

He glances over at her. "Is it working?"

"Eh."

"Really?" Suddenly, the newspaper is abandoned on the coffee table and Reborn pushes her down on the couch, looming over her with a playful smile. "I can be pretty persuasive if I need to be."

"Believe me, I know that by now," she laughs, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck.

Her phone rings on the table, and the look Reborn gives it makes her glad he's not holding a gun. "Just a minute," she says, giving him an apologetic peck on the forehead before detangling herself to answer. It's a number she doesn't recognize, and she's hoping it's Donna Marcelli finally getting back to her. "Hello?"

"This is Kovilka, yes?"

The woman on the other end was not Donna Marcelli, but her voice and her accent were familiar. Kovilka furrowed her brows, trying to recall where she'd heard it before. "Um, yes? Who am I speaking to?"

"What a surprise! You speak Italian now, and quite well." There's a soft chuckle. "You really don't remember your Aunt Sofia?"

"Aunt Sofia?" Kovilka gasped.

"You sound surprised."

"It's just...been a while, that's all."

"It has." There was a pause. "I'm in Sicily now, not too far from where you live, if you want to talk."

"You're…" Kovilka stopped, thinking. "Wait, how do you know...?"

"That you're living in a townhouse with a man?" Sofia interrupts, and then says, more gently, "It's you, Kovilka. You're like family to me, you know? So if it has to do with you, I've made sure to learn all about it. We've been worried about you."

"We? You mean you and my mother?" Kovilka asks, nervous but excited, "My mother is worried about me?"

"Of course she's worried about you!"

"Well, I…." Kovilka glances over at Reborn, who's staring at her intently, obviously waiting for her to get off the phone and explain, "I'd love to see you again. You said you're in Sicily, right? We should go for dinner together."

"That sounds wonderful. Bring Reborn along."

"What?"

"That's who you're staying with, correct? He's a household name, I recognized him the moment I saw him. I can assume you are lovers?"

Kovilka feels her face reddening. "W-well…."

Sofia laughs. "I don't mind if he comes along. He'll be jealous if you don't, anyway."

They quickly agree on a restaurant downtown before Kovilka ends the call, and turns to find Reborn still staring expectantly. "Aunt Sofia?" he repeats questioningly.

"She'd like you to join us for dinner." Kovilka watches his expression carefully. Something's changed in the air since the phone call. "Is...is that okay?"

"That's fine."

"What's wrong?"

Reborn shakes his head. "Nothing. Sofia is a common name. I'm sure I'm thinking of someone else."

Kovilka tries not to interpret his words negatively, but Reborn's reputation is the first thing to enter her mind. "You...you weren't...with Sofia…."

"No," he says immediately, stony face breaking into a smirk, "No, I wasn't. But you sounded worried. Jealous?"

"Well, she's not a biological relative, but she's like family," Kovilka says, "It would've been weird."

"Rest assured, I've never been involved with a Sofia." Reborn stands up off the couch after that, going to get his shoes on, and Kovilka reluctantly follows, wondering what he was talking about.

As it turns out, she doesn't need to ask about it later. She arrives at the restaurant with Reborn and the woman at the front directs them to Sofia's table. Sofia hasn't changed much in the years since Kovilka has seen her; she still had long hair that she braided over one shoulder, still wore long, flowing dresses and still had a gentle face and a kind smile. She waves to them Kovilka returns it, though Reborn's polite smile disappears and he looks concerned instead.

They sit across from her in the booth, and Sofia's eyes flick between them as she leans across the table, steepling her fingers. "How nice to see you again, Kovilka, Reborn," she says. Kovilka glances at Reborn, but it's Sofia who answers the unspoken question. "We met several years ago," she explains, "We'd both been hired by Don Vongola to take care of a massive betrayal within the alliance."

"Don Vongola still talks about you," Reborn says coolly, "And how much he regrets hiring you."

Sofia's smile only widens.

Kovilka feels uncomfortable suddenly, but she doesn't want to be left out. "I figured by now you must be a hitman," she says, "But I didn't know you'd worked with the Vongola."

"Only on occasion," Sofia says, "I avoid mafia where I can, especially foreign. I have associates who might think less of me if they knew."

"I heard Corsican organization were getting along better with Italian ones in recent years," Reborn says.

"People talk. I have yet to see any evidence of this."

Kovilka glances between them uneasily, and Reborn takes notice. "I'm sure she didn't tell you," he says, "But your "aunt" has the nickname "Sofia the Butcher" in most circles."

Sofia laughs. "What a terrible name!" she says, "I don't remember choosing that."

"You didn't. That's just what people decided to call you. You shouldn't be surprised, with the way you treat anyone unlucky enough to end up on the side opposing you."

A memory flashes through Kovilka's mind of one of her many meetings with Sofia in the cellar as a young girl, the woman's voice gentle as she killed a man right in front of her, coldly slit his throat like he was livestock. She can believe that Sofia has such a nickname; she can even see why.

"But let's not talk about me," Sofia says, glancing at Kovilka, "You haven't been back home in quite some time. I'm sure you're curious about your mother and little Anka?" She chuckles. "Well, Anka is not so little anymore, but you'll both be little in my eyes forever."

"How is she?"

"She's doing well, but it seems she might follow in her elder sister's footsteps. She doesn't to herd sheep anymore; she'd rather move to the city."

"Really?" Kovilka smiles. "Of course she does. Is Mom angry?"

"Not at all. She wants Anka to have the land anyway, no matter what she uses it for. She can sell it all later if she doesn't want it. It's worth quite a bit." Sofia pauses. "Not all of it, of course. She plans to give some of it to you."

Kovilka's smile falls. "She's just saying that so Anka won't be upset."

Sofia studies her face. "You don't know, Kovilka," she says softly, "You have no idea how much your mother misses you. When the time is right, she will welcome you home, and she will tell you all of this herself."

"What does that mean?"

Sofia laughs. "When you've ended the blood feud, of course. I know you haven't forgotten."

Kovilka meets Sofia's eyes. "Aunt Sofia, I don't even know who killed my father."

"You do," she says, "You must have crossed paths by now."

"You mean Donna Marcelli, right? I met her, and I don't think it's her."

All traces of warmth instantly vanish from Sofia's expression. She rests her hands in her lap, looking down at them with a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Kovilka," she says when she looks up again, forcing a smile onto her face, "People who are trying to save their own lives will tell you anything. Believe me, I know. No matter what Donna Marcelli tells you, I want you to remember that." She slides out of the booth. "Pardon me, but I just remembered I have something to take care of," she chuckles, "I'm so absent-minded these days. Please enjoy your dinner together. Kovilka, Reborn." She nods her head in farewell and walks away, leaving Kovilka with a ruined appetite and a million questions.

Kovilka tells Reborn the whole story on the way home, from her hazy childhood memories of Sofia to the Italian mafia who showed up periodically on their doorstep trying to bribe her mother. He's silent the whole time until they walk through the door and she finally finishes. "Sounds like a mess," he says simply, and Kovilka gives a tired nod in agreement.

"Do you think Donna Marcelli really did it? Don Vongola said she didn't seem the type."

"I don't know. And while I'll admit Don Vongola has excellent intuition, the Donna Marcelli we know today is not the way she's always been." He shakes his head. "You'll just have to ask her the next time you see her."

"But what about what Aunt Sofia said? What if she's not honest with me?"

"What Sofia said is true," Reborn says, "Sometimes, people facing their death will say anything to prolong their life. But in my experience, there are times when all they want is atonement." Kovilka stares down at the counter, startling when she feels Reborn wrap his arms around her. "You have to decide for yourself if she's telling the truth or not," he says, "But I think it's worth at least listening to what she has to say."

Kovilka nods, relaxing into the hug, but she's bothered again at just how little she knows about her own history and her own family. A part of her wonders if she shouldn't bother asking, and just go look for the answers herself.

But her starting place would be home, and she doesn't think she's ready to go back there yet.