What If There Were Two, Side by Side?

Two years later…

"Two years later," Sonny Corinthos grinned, barely able to sit still as Francis guided their car along the winding, dusty road to San Adessi in the distance. "I can't believe it's been that long since we've seen him."

"Poor guy," Ritchie muttered, popping the top two buttons of his white linen shirt. It was unseasonably warm in Italy this summer, and he was glad he hadn't brought his sports jacket along. "Can you imagine, being stuck here all that time?"

Johnny looked out the window at the tiny dusty houses and shuddered. "I bet it's pretty enough at night – all rustic and quaint and shit – but it just looks run-down in the daytime."

"I guess it's a nice place to visit," Spinelli agreed, sweeping his long hair out of his eyes, "but I sure wouldn't want to live here. I don't know how Stone Cold survived."

"Hopefully, he didn't have it that bad," Sonny was quick to explain. "I made sure he was set up with his own house, and that he had plenty of money."

Spinelli nodded. He had insisted on coming along to bring Stone Cold the triumphant news of his imminent homecoming, and he was just glad that the ever-formidable Mister Corinthos Sir had obliged. "That sure was nice of you."

Sonny shrugged, unable to hide his excitement at being able to see his best friend again. "I guess, but I bet Jason was bored out of his mind."

Johnny and Ritchie nodded together. "Poor guy," the Irishman sympathized. "To be stuck here for two years…"

Spinelli looked out the window and shook his head. "He must have had the worst time."

Their boss smiled proudly, his eyes dancing with excitement as the car slowed to a stop. "That's why he'll be so glad to see us – and so glad to get the hell on out of here."

-------------------------------------

"Who was the genius in town that decided it would be great if all the houses…didn't have numbers on them?" Ritchie gestured wildly around him, clearly exasperated. The five of them had been walking around town for almost half an hour, trying to find out where their friend lived. Jason was nowhere in sight, even though the rest of the locals were out and about, washing their clothes by the river, getting fresh fruits from the market, smoking in the shade, or watching the children play in the street.

And none of them spoke English.

"Okay, look, we've gotta be smart about this," Sonny said, gathering his men around him.

Spinelli perked up immediately. "The Jackal could use his extensive hacking skills to-"

"There's no wi-fi in this podunk town, nerd-boy," Ritchie sighed, biffing him lightly upside the back of his head.

The boy gaped at them in horror. "What? No. No! Mister Corinthos, say it isn't true!"

"No wi-fi, Spinelli," Sonny informed him grimly. "And we couldn't use your hacking skills anyway. It's just a matter of walking around and going door to door and just trying to find him."

"We shouldn't have decided to surprise him," Francis muttered glumly. "We should have just visited your associate and come down with him."

"Surprises are better," Sonny snapped. "Now, come on, let's split up and walk around and see if we can find him. Try to talk to one of the locals, see if they can help at all."

"Excuse me?"

Johnny and Ritchie took a step to the side, revealing a petite brunette who was looking up at them with bright, curious eyes. "You speak English?"

Her lips twitched in amusement and she shifted her basket of fruits and vegetables to the other arm and offered her hand. "My name is Elizabeth Marianni," she smiled, "and yes, I speak English. Did you need any help?"

"We're looking for someone," Sonny tried to explain. "And we're not having much luck finding him."

She had a long strip of pale blue cloth wrapped from her shoulder down around her torso, and it shifted a little while the mobster spoke causing the men to stare at her mid-section. Elizabeth blushed and adjusted her hold on her basket so she could adjust the cloth, and the fabric parted enough for the men to see that the squirming bundle underneath was a tiny infant cuddled against her chest.

"My son," she explained needlessly, gratefully letting Johnny take her basket so she could resituate him. The boy, who had been sleeping, was now wide awake and blinking in the sunlight at the five men. He had a wild thatch of hair atop his head, so blonde it was almost white, and big, sweet blue eyes.

She settled the baby and tightened the wide sash that kept him strapped to her, then returned her attention to the men. "Now, you mentioned you were looking for someone? What's his name?"

Sonny shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Well, see, that's the thing…we don't really know."

Elizabeth and the baby blinked at him. "Beg pardon?"

"We don't really know what name he's going by," Francis explained slowly as Ritchie and Spinelli waved at the little boy.

She wasn't following. "Then how do you expect to find him?"

"We can describe him," Spinelli added hastily. "He's a great big Stone Cold One, with glacial eyes and he's about yea tall and built like a Buick, and-"

"I can describe him," Sonny interjected smoothly when the woman began to look at Spinelli as if he were speaking in tongues. "He's not a native Italian. He has blonde hair that he must have been wearing short when he arrived, and he has blue eyes. He's a little taller than Ritchie over there, and he speaks perfect English and Italian."

Her eyes lit up, and Sonny knew he didn't have to say a word more. "Oh, Jason! You're talking about Jason!"

Ritchie and Francis exchanged glances. "Jason? He goes by that name?"

She nodded hurriedly. "Yes, of course, that's his name. You're friends of his?" They barely had a chance to nod before she was ushering them across the street. "Oh, good, he'll be happy to see you, I'm sure. He doesn't get very many visits from his friends anymore. I'll take you to his house."

"Gee, thanks," Spinelli replied, looking around at the other four for approval. This was a good stroke of luck: a nice young woman in the village that would actually take them right to Stone Cold's door. "We sure do appreciate it."

Sonny followed along, his expression troubled. He had assumed that Jason would adopt a fake name; after all, that was the whole point of hiding out and being in exile after killing a powerful man with powerful enemies. But then again, he should have expected this. Jason might have adopted a fake last name, but his best friend wasn't the sort to pretend, and he would have had a hard time remembering to answer to whatever fake first name he came up with, anyway.

And as long as no one had managed to put the pieces together over the past two years – and it appeared no one had – it was all well and good anyway. Besides, Jason was going home today, so it really didn't matter.

"Whose house is this?" Francis asked as they passed a magnificent stone mansion settled among sprawling, exquisite gardens. "It's beautiful."

"That's my home," Elizabeth beamed. "Well, rather, it was mine, before I married and moved into my own home. My brother Steven lives there now with his wife and my nephews and niece. I can introduce you later, if you like. He loves receiving visitors to San Adessi."

"Thank you all the same for your hospitality," Sonny was quick to say, "but I'm not sure how long we're staying in town."

Her smile became enigmatic. "Yes, that's what Jason said, too."

"Look at that river," Spinelli murmured. "And are those…deer over there? Man, that house has everything. It must have been fun to grow up there."

"I wouldn't know," their charming host replied brightly. "I was born in that house, yes, but my father moved us all to San Gimignano when I was very young. We only moved back when he passed away, about seven or eight years ago. That was when my brother married my sister-in-law Alana, and my sister Sarah and I stayed there until we married."

She led them past a freshly painted wooden fence – so freshly painted that an almost empty bucket of paint and an old brush actually sat by one of the posts – and placed her hand on the door. "We're here. This is Jason's home."

Sonny expected her to leave them at the gate and continue on her way with her son and her fresh produce from the market, and all the men were surprised when Elizabeth easily swung the door open and headed up the walkway to the front door – also open; really, Jason should have known better – of a charming little house with newly painted shutters. For someone who wasn't supposed to stay here long at all, Jason sure was getting a lot of work done on his temporary property.

"Right this way," she sang out as the infant against her chest gurgled and cooed. She jiggled him gently in her arms and stepped inside the house, waving for the men to follow.

Johnny was the first to step inside, and he set down the fruits and vegetables on the dining table that she pointed out to him. It was small but sturdy, and Jason had lain out a pretty tablecloth over it. They'd have to tease him about that later; after all, this was the man that had always used his hands as plates and his pants as napkins. Why the hell would he own a tablecloth?

The rest of the house was similarly cozy. There was a small sofa set in the family room with matching crocheted throws – aw, he really let them hit the jackpot with his interior decorating skills – and glass vases filled with fresh flowers. The walls held several black and white photographs, all framed in plain black frames that looked to be handmade. Maybe their old friend had picked up an extra skill or two while rusticating away here in sun-kissed Hell.

There was one of Jason standing in profile looking out at a river, most likely the one that ran behind his house. There was another one of him teaching two young boys with dark hair how to throw a football. And another one was of Jason and a tall man with curly dark hair, both of them dressed in matching black pants and white linen shirts with matching champagne flutes in their hands, laughing at something out of line with the shot. Several other photos hung on the other walls, but they were too far for the men to get a closer look.

"You don't have to wait with us," Sonny said, trying to usher the young woman out as politely as he could. "We're fine."

"Don't be silly," she replied absently as she unwound the sash that held her son against her and tossed it carelessly onto the couch. The baby yawned and settled his hand on the pale skin exposed by the neckline of her dress, just under her collarbone. "I'll go get Jason for you."

And before they could tell her that, no, really, they'd be fine (and could she please leave, because they had important, private matters to discuss with their friend?) Elizabeth turned and walked into one of the back rooms, presumably the bedroom.

"Kinda nosey, isn't she?" Johnny murmured to Ritchie. "Back home, Jason barely let anyone into his penthouse. I don't think he's the kind of guy to be happy about this chick walking in like she runs the joint."

"Uh…guys?"

Spinelli was standing, slack-jawed, gaping at another photo that hung on the wall. This one was of a young couple on their wedding day: a boy in a suit and a girl in a tea-length lacy white dress. "I think she does run the joint."

"What are you talking about, Spinelli?" Sonny was just about to walk over to see what had the boy looking so stunned when he heard his best friend's voice in the bedroom.

"Jason? Jason, where are you?"

That was Elizabeth. She'd apparently found her neighbor in his master bedroom.

"There are some men here to see you."

"Some men? Here?"

That was Jason. Sonny and the others perked up immediately at the sound of his voice, but the tension and suspicion there was unmistakable.

"Some men are here looking for me? Did they say anything to you? Did they do anything? Elizabeth, did they hurt you? Come here, let me-"

"Hurt me? No, Jason, of course not – Jason! You put that gun away! Not in front of the baby! For heaven's sake, they're very nice. There are five of them. Well, four men, one boy. Two of the men are quite tall, and with dark hair. The other one's shorter, and he has dark hair, too, but it's curly. And there's one with white hair, and one boy who talks very strangely. I didn't understand him – it must be your crazy American culture that's rubbed off on him."

His sigh of relief was audible, even in the next room. "Sonny. It's Sonny and Spinelli and the guys. Come on."

They heard movement, and the guys collected toward the middle of the room just as Jason walked into the living room. He broke out in a rare grin as soon as he saw them, unable to hide his excitement.

"Sonny! Spinelli – guys. You came – Francis, Johnny, Ritchie. It's good to see you again!"

But the men couldn't return his warm greeting. It was very hard to return a greeting, after all, when one's jaw was scraping against the floor.

Jason arched a brow. "Guys?"

"Oh, my God." Spinelli latched onto Sonny's arm as the mobster gaped at his friend. "He has a thing."

Jason stared at the boy, clearly not following, and all five men were quite unnerved at the two identical pairs of blue eyes that zoomed in on Spinelli. "A thing? I have a thing?"

"A baby," Spinelli corrected, now hiding behind Sonny and peeking out. "He has a baby and it's looking at me."

Jason looked down at his son, who looked right back up at him, and then glanced at Elizabeth. His wife had obviously recognized the names of his friends from their long conversation the night before their wedding – the night he scaled the wall to her second-story bedroom and told her everything and then said he'd understand if she wanted to call off the engagement and the wedding – and was now doing her best not to laugh.

Giving her a beleaguered but amused look, Jason adjusted the little boy in his arms and looked proudly back at his old friends.

"Guys, this is my wife, Elizabeth. And this," he lifted the baby a little higher, nuzzling the boy's downy hair when he gurgled, "is our son."

The End.

« Last Edit: Nov 21, 2007, 5:07pm by Huma the Guma »