Summary: they are living normal lives, only a bit estranged. But then a strange man suddenly enters their lives, adding chaos to the once peaceful life of the two. What is his mission? What does he want with them? Will their lives go back to the way it was? AU G27 & all27 fluff…

Disclaimer: I won't and will never own KHR since it will be crappy if Amano-sensei will give it to me…

Warning: Major OOC-ness on Reborn's part, death fic of a certain boss. In addition, bashing of morals (I think)… and lastly, major grammatical errors since I'm a noob.

Beta'd by MS spell checker (it's my best friend… lol)… (^.^)v

"I'm talking here…"

'listening to my thoughts…'

LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION!

Intro: the start of it all….

Three years before…

It has been years since Enrico, the remaining son of the ninth died. And now the Vongola is having a crisis…

The passing of the ninth, Don Timoteo was finally recorded in the history of the mafia, ending his journey in such a ripe old age that he is recorded to have been the longest living mafia boss. This would have been a feat, because people in the mafia have such short lifespan that it is an unwritten rule that a boss should have established his heirs to continue the bloodline.

Even Timoteo, the ninth, followed this rule of thumb. Having three children and an adopted one, he was sure that one of them would continue on this tradition. However, fate likes to mess with people's plans, giving them trials that was sure to leave one crazy and demented. All his sons were dead in an unlikely scenario while the adopted one, Xanxus, had to be enclosed in an icy shell. This forced the old man to continue ruling the family to prevent it from crumbling, carrying on until the last sunset of his life, never given a chance to at least a break of sorts.

That day became a tragedy for them, since the boss of the most powerful family had died. To many, this is a chance to seize the title and prestige it once wore in its head but to the others, it is a chance to destroy the enemy.

It's a sunny day when that tragedy happened, a normal day for some. Just looking at the environment will let you think that nothing will go wrong. However, not at the Vongola mansion. That day, a tragedy befell upon them. And one person clearly understands the sarcasm of it all.

Footsteps are heard echoing in the grim and dark hallways of the Vongola mansion. It pleased him for it made his silent journey to those damn doors a bit lively, though not as lively as his other missions did. He clenched his hands on his sides, as if preparing to take out his trusty handgun in case some foolish idiot decides to catch him off guard or at least break the silence binding the forsaken place. But no one did, to his relief and a bit disappointment.

The man walking is no ordinary person; he had survived the impossible and lived to tell the tale. He walks in with dignity as if it's the only thing he does. He was known for his orange-striped fedora and his chameleon, other than that this man is a mystery.

He walks through this dark and dim hallway. A weak person will expect ghosts to come out and scare him out of his wits but his thinking is different. What he is expecting are assassins going for his blood. As he continues walking, he could feel the pressure pressing him, suffocating him into the darkness.

And there it was…

A threatening aura.

He shoots leaving a hole in the wall. The aura disappeared, as fast as it appeared. 'What was that?' he thought, remembering the similar instances this happened. It happened again, the same aura that seems to follow him. He glanced around like how he was taught, as they drilled to his head to expect the unexpected. Even here, it seems that trouble never leaves him alone.

He passed through the heavily decorated pillars, each carrying angelic symbols that never fit the god-forsaken place. He noticed how perfect the human statues were, though their faces show only pure agony and grievances that mar the perfection of it all. How can a sane person think of these things as beautiful? He would always ask himself. The answer would slap his face painfully: they are killers.

After passing through all of those, he noticed that the decorations changed. Portraits, old and new, hang around its grim walls not really matching the queer atmosphere the place had gained in the last few days. Each eyes had a story to tell, kindness and bloodshed mixing and rebelling against each other. One may glance at these portraits and will decide if that person is a good or a bad one.

Yet, the man remains unfazed. They're only useless pictures that remind them of what they did. The sins they passed from generation to generation. Day after day, he sees these eyes glare at his soul, trying to intimidate him, to make his weakness show itself, to no avail. Besides, he's seen worse man has to offer. Mere portraits are nothing compared to the real monstrosity of humans. And the second reason is… he is the best in the world, nothing more nothing less.

In the last portrait, he stopped completely, temporarily forgetting his goal of going there. He looked at the familiar mirth eyes. Greyish eyes the same color of his hair staring back at black obsidian eyes, it's the same as those times. He is dressed in a brown suit with black pinstripes ran around the fabric giving the impression of a tycoon executive. The man is holding on to a sceptre, like what the kings use but now, it can be a catalyst for flames. The only difference now is that it was alight in flames so pure it's like looking at a reflection of water.

He was Timoteo, the Vongola's ninth boss. The man he only respected and trusted and the same goes to the old man. Serving him for a long time now, he commends his attitude towards his subordinates and fellowmen. Some even compare his kindness and brevity to the first boss of Vongola.

He stood at the front of the portrait like a child entranced by a butterfly. Unconsciously he removed his hat and, with a hollow sigh, placed it on his chest as if to show respect to a mere portrait. He snapped out of his entrancement, putting his fedora where it belongs at the same time pretending to fix his dark crisp suit as a silent excuse. If one would observe, a glint of respect and regret shone in those obsidian eyes.

But now he is gone…

Now, the only reminder that he had left is this portrait hanging near the door of his intended place. Here is the proof of all his deeds, his actions, and image that he oh so worked hard to do, every sweat and brow not wasted. As a memory left behind to serve as inspiration for future generations, that all may remember the ninth, that he once was alive. That he is different from the others.

He shook out these thoughts and calmly prepared himself. He left the portrait and now faced the huge mahogany door in front of him. He is tempted to kick it and make a grand entrance but '…that would be rude' he humored himself. One last time he checked his suit, fixing its imaginary wrinkles and slowly pushed the door open.

At the same time, the light fills his mind with a memory wanting to be forgotten….

In the last days of the old one, Timoteo was confined in the whitewashed walls of his room. The hospital simply gave up on him, even with all medical advances that they did, they simply couldn't find a cure. A cure for a mere cough, yet nobody knows why it affected him that much. Maybe its old age? Or a new breed of virus? No one understood it. Therefore, they told then just to make his life as comfortable as possible.

The room has many elegant decorations, the best ones in the world, but that didn't do anything to cheer the melancholy mood that surrounds the air. Nor did it raise the hopes of several old men that crowd around the bed. They look at the dying man with rivers of tears flowing, dropping to the white sheets that separate the old man to the world. It's not only them, but also the entire crew and staff of the mansion. Everyone is crying, real or not.

They know that he won't last longer, but as they say miracles happen. So they pray that a miracle will come and let the man live for a few more years. However, that doesn't remove the truth that in a few hours, days or weeks, the kind father, grandfather and boss of Vongola will be gone forever…

He had been there in that time of grief and despair. He had seen and heard everything, from the wailing of the washerwomen to the crocodile tears the rookies shed. But him, he just stared ahead as if he is merely watching a soap opera, complete with the useless drama. He ain't criticizing them, for it is an offensive term, but he only learned to control his emotions. As a hitman, it is a necessity but to the ordinary people, he is a ruthless bastard. But who cares, it's his life anyway.

Timoteo rises from the bed, making the others come out of their stupor to help him. He doesn't want to be a burden to them, but this time he is. Regret filled the old man's heart, not for his helplessness, but for the ones who will continue to carry his burden. He slowly turned his body to where the hitman is located, wincing at every pain that travels up his spine. Raising a shaky hand, he silently motioned the hitman to come closer. The hitman beckoned at the request.

"Reborn…"

That weak whisper, not audible but to his trained ears it's as clear as day. He went closer to the old dying man, taking in his last moments with them.

"I'm giving you one last mission. Please… promise me that you'll be… able to do it." the ninth whispered between breaths. Reborn nodded and glanced at the others that were crowding the place. They seem to have understood the seriousness of the situation and proceeded to get up. Slowly like ants following the trail that leads them to where the food is, they slowly walked to the door. However, they didn't forget to get one last glimpse of the duo before closing the mahogany door.

"What is it ninth?" reborn curtly said. Timoteo smiled, used to the actions of the black clothed man. Clutching the sky ring one last time, he kissed it before holding Reborn's hand.

Reborn looked at him sadly, seeing that he is going to put his burden to another person. This and that the unlucky person having the ring in the future is going to blame him for it.

"I need you to find… Iemitsu's sons and train one of them to be the Tenth… boss of the family. I'm… counting on… you…," he whispered with difficulty.

'Iemitsu, the leader of CEDEF, That guy had a family?' Reborn thought in surprise.

Now that is certainly new information, Reborn agreed to himself. Lemitsu Sawada had been secretive about his family, using the CEDEF's top of the line technology to hide every single detail of his family. Even the inner and upper powers of the Vongola family were unable to decipher those mysterious file that he hid in the database. Nobody knows if he had any children. Now, that will not be the case.

"And…"

"What is it?" reborn spoke up.

"You may… do anything that you… like" Timoteo ordered him, earning a raised eyebrow from the fedora wearing man.

"Anything? Then it would be okay for you if I will personally give him the same trainings that you taught me? I may even overdo it or accidentally kill him. Maybe I will do things that will bring this family problems. Is that okay to you ninth?" he asked incredulously.

"Ye…yes…." Was the reply heard.

Why?

"Why would you order me to do such thing?"

The dying man closed his eyes "I trust in you Reborn. If I know that the future heir will be trained by you, then I may… rest in peace…"

He was taken aback. To order him such a thing, he must be desperate to continue on this legacy. He wants him to raise the future boss to be a kind and selfless one, just as the other candidates save for Xanxus.

Understanding the implied message, Reborn nodded with indifference after learning his last mission, yet his heart shedding tears. He started to get up when Timoteo's hand gripped his shoulders. Looks like the old man ain't finished yet. Timoteo smiled and whispered something in the hitman's ears. The hitman's eyes narrowed in surprise, then anger and finally reluctance.

The sound of the door opening shook him out of his reverie, revealing the guardians of the ninth. They look like they haven't slept for days, dark circles decorating their tired, weary eyes that still have its uses. One by one, like how they went out of the room, they entered. Slowly, but still fast enough to return to their original positions they had a while ago.

A few minutes passed, and then Don Timoteo suddenly hitched. This acted as a cue for his guardians to stand guard, to wail his name, words choking out. Short sudden breaths were heard, not the once long and silent breathing. His guardians were shouting that he should hold on, but the weak don merely smiled at them.

With wide eyes, he sees the pain Timoteo is enduring. As the time passes by slowly, so is the beating of his heart. A second later a beep echoes around the room.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep…

All was silent and grim, the beeping of the machine never stopped. Its like time has stopped for them. That is until a pin dropped to the ground. Its silent sound woke all of them from the daze that suddenly surrounded the place.

A nurse tried to suppress a sob, to no avail. Choruses of wailings and grieving follow her. All of them started to cry. The guardians clenched their fist to keep from losing their focus while the others just let out their emotions.

Reborn started to walk away from the heartwrenching scene when his boss' words echoed in his head.

"let others enter your heart, for one is not complete without company."

What did he mean by that? Is he implying that he is incomplete, that he should mingle with others? Him, who slain many mafia members with joy and happiness in doing so?

Death must be making him talk like that.

He always had been alone, never wanting company from others and never needing it. he pushed them away, in fear of being hurt and hurting others. Scratch that, he enjoys combat but only to those he hate. No, he ain't heartless. He is only merely doing his job. Through the years, those obsidian eyes had seen death and punishment. All those sights made him lose his spark until he turned into a selfish killing machine.

When he realized how deep his sin is, he resolved to exile himself. Many years he lived alone without any human contact. Here, he honed his skills, studying the style of using guns to the fullest and practicing his fighting skills with wild animals. However, as they say, no man is an island. And he learned the full meaning of the lesson after nearly lost his life.

The ninth was the one that saved him from himself, giving him a chance to redeem himself. Timoteo was the one that opened his heart again, that told him that he is accepted in his family no matter what he did in the past. But now that he's the one who need support, he merely looked at him like he's an uninteresting fly. Moreover, he had the nerve to whisper him those words!

He's not alone, he's merely pushing people away. But why do his eyes sting at that thought? He feels a deep black void in his heart that's crushing his emotions. It's like squeezing into his soul, making it hard to breathe. Why is he feeling like this?

It's hard to push the irritating feeling away. But it's harder to stop the urge to let out his tears. No! He mustn't… he mustn't let out his tears damnit!

He had been alone ever since he can remember. He grew up alone, fought alone and survived alone with no one teaching him what's right nor wrong. But here lies the one person who accepted him. Cold, lifeless and dead, just like the ones he killed with no mercy. The only one that he trusted and trusted back. Once again, he is alone in this harsh world with a dying wish to fulfill.

And that alone is enough for one to cry…

But not him…

For he is the greatest hitman in the world….

Author's rants:

Finally! After some time disappearing from the face of this planet, I'm alive! And having another fic to publish. Now this fic is pure family fluff, which means no YAOI people! However, this story will not be like one of those pure candy fluff fics out there (*stares at 'raising a family' and 'just like the sky'*) but I'm planning to make this story more realistic and may even border to dark themes. So I warned you…. If you're not interested then it's easier to press the back button.

This is just the short introduction, so if you are confused about something, that's the plan for this chapter. Yeah, I failed at writing angst. And I just wrote what my fuzzy brain is thinking.

Ps... yes the mafia exist here…

pss... as for my other story, I'm rewriting it so it will be easier to read

Additional notes:

Now, I'm having doubts in posting this story since FF . net are deleting stories they seem offensive or rated M. also, I read a/ns complaining about a group called CRITICS UNITED that bashes stories for no reason at all. That's the reason why I'm quite hesitant to post this story. I planned to post this two weeks ago but due to the ongoing war here, I didn't. But I tell you, I won't leave this site cause this is where I discovered many things.

Though if they delete this, I'm outta here... Livejournal seems to be a good place to start...

constructive criticism, no matter how harsh it is, is accepted...