Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You noticed him across the street as you both waited to cross - he was undeniably hot, in a scuzzy, rockstar kind of way. You made eye contact and he gave you a nervous smile, looking left to right and back at you again. You'd never have expected to see someone like him being so self-conscious. The light went green and you walked towards each other. As you got closer you opened your mouth to say hello-

Out of nowhere a Ferrari sped through the crossing and plowed into him, tossing him into the air. You stood there stunned for a second, then sprinted over to his crumpled body as you tried to remember how to perform CPR. Was CPR even appropriate for something like this? You knelt down next to him, helpless.

“My apologies, cara,” he whispered hoarsely. “I was careless.” He reached up to touch your cheek, and you watched the light fade from his eyes as he went limp in your arms.

You explained what happened to the ambulance crew that turned up a few minutes later, then to the police, then to an emergency counsellor. Nobody could tell you who he was, or whether there was anyone out there who'd want to know his last words. It was none of your business, you guessed, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You took the rest of the week off work and tried to keep yourself distracted.

And then, two days later, you saw him again.

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He stood there like a deer in headlights for a few seconds, then turned tail and sprinted off. His shirt rode up as he ran, revealing a nasty bruise covering the left side of his body.

"Wait!" You called after him. "Please!"

You rounded a corner and found yourself in a dead-end alley. He was a few metres ahead of you, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath.

"Please," you repeated. "I don't understand. You were..."

"You need to stay away." His voice was cold, but you could still detect an undertone of fear in it. You approached him and reached out to touch his shoulder.

"I said stay away!" He shoved past you and dashed into the street. A few moments later you heard the screech of tyres, a dull thump, breaking glass, and then screams.

You stepped out of the alley, dread weighing your stomach down like a lead weight. He was sprawled in the middle of the street, completely lifeless, just like before. A small car was parked across the lanes, its windscreen shattered. You heard sirens in the distance.

Hanging around to deal with the authorities again wouldn't get you anywhere - you had no idea how you’d explain being at the scene of two fatal accidents in one week, especially since they seemed to have the same victim. But you were desperate to understand what happened, and there was no way you could just let him go a second time. They’d have to take him somewhere, right? Probably to the nearest hospital. You turned the corner and kept walking, your head down, until you were far enough away from the scene. As soon as you found a main road you hailed a cab.

"L'ospedale, per favore." You hoped you looked shaken enough that the driver wouldn't bother making conversation. He drove off in silence and you breathed a sigh of relief.

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At the main entrance you checked a map, then skirted the edge of the building and made a beeline for the morgue. The guard next to the door looked you up and down.

“ID?”

Crap . You needed to think fast.

“I… uh.” Not fast enough, unfortunately.

“Oh, you’re one of those . Is this your first time, bella? Maybe you’ll find some ID in your purse. Look for something with the number fifty on it.” He leered at you, blocking the door with his hands on his hips.

“But I don’t- ohh. Okay. Stay right there.” You dashed back to the cashpoint near the entrance and withdrew a few notes. “This is what you wanted, right?” You triumphantly brandished the money in his face.

“Dio mio, bella, are you trying to get me fired? Be a little more subtle.” He casually brushed his sweaty hand against yours, swiping a fifty. “Have fun!” He winked at you. You didn’t know what he thought you were planning to do down there, and you definitely didn't want to ask.

Inside, the corridor was as silent as the proverbial grave. Reality was catching up with you, and you were starting to think this was a bad idea. What if they hadn't brought him here? What if he wasn't dead after all? Even if he was, what were you going to do about it? You turned a corner, lost in thought, and almost crashed into a porter.

He looked you up and down. "Are you lost?"

"I'm looking for a patient… a body," you began. "Male, about 185 centimetres, pink hair. Hit by a car a little while ago." 

“You need ID to be down here, you know."

“Come on,” you sighed. “I just paid the guy upstairs.”

“Ah, that ID. Well, if you could show me again I’d be happy to let you through.” You pulled out another fifty and shoved it in his face.

"Grazie, that’s all in order,” he said, stuffing the cash in his pocket. “Doctor Ultello just took your guy in for an autopsy. Last door on the left, across from the staff showers. If you think you can stomach it." He grinned unpleasantly. 

As you neared the room you spotted the man through the window, laid out on a table. A woman you guessed was Doctor Ultello was busying herself preparing an array of instruments.

The first time you'd seen him he'd looked so full of life. Now his clothes were drenched with blood and his skin was colourless. His face was serene, like a marble statue. Just as you thought you'd been mistaken, that there was no way he could still be alive, his eyelids fluttered open.

"Stop!" You shrieked, bursting through the door. "He's not dead!"

He and Doctor Ultello both turned to look at you, startled.

"I told you to stay away," he groaned wearily. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "How did you find me? Why are you following me?"

Doctor Ultello seemed incredibly unfazed by her corpse opening his eyes and talking - in fact she started babbling excitedly.

"Welcome back, D! Guess what? This is the first time you've been hit by a car twice in a row! Two days apart, too, that’s closer than usual. It’s really going to skew the statistics, you know."

“It’s her fault! She tracked me down! She knows!” He snatched a scalpel off Ultello’s tray and pointed it at you with a shaking hand. “Tell me why you followed me here!”

"I- I just- You were-" This was a terrible idea, you knew it. You'd ignored his dying wishes and now he was going to stab you.

“Stop freaking out, she’s more afraid than you are. And give me that, you’re more likely to get hurt than she is.” Ultello gently removed the scalpel from his grip and put it on her desk. “Now breathe. Slowly. She’s not here to hurt you. She just wants to know what’s going on. Don't you?” She looked at you expectantly while the man glowered at you.

You nodded gently, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. The doctor seemed friendly enough - maybe she'd be able to tell you what was going on.

"So, Doctor Ultello, you already know each other?" You hoped you sounded more casual than you felt.

"Of course! He's my little medical mystery. And please, call me Monica." She seemed awfully cheerful, considering the situation. It was probably a good thing she didn't normally work with live patients, you thought.

"Has this, uh, happened before? What’s wrong with him?"

"I'm right here, cara. You may direct any questions to me." He appeared to have calmed down enough to hold a conversation with you.

"Um. Okay. I don't really know where to start." You took a deep breath and collected your thoughts. "I watched you die… twice. Who are you and how are you still alive?"

He sat up and began to speak. "My name is Diavolo, not that it means much anymore. I've been trapped in a cycle of death and resurrection for the past four years. The longest I have survived in that time is six days."

"Trapped in a what?" None of this made any sense.

"A cycle of death and resurrection!" Monica piped up. "He dies, he ends up back here, I patch up the worst of it, let him sleep it off and then he's on his way again. Oh, let me tell you how I found out about him! It's a funny story. When we first met he wasn't quite awake-"

"I was awake enough…" he growled under his breath.

"I mean, who expects a corpse to wake up at all? So he just lay there watching me cut his liver right out! Healthiest liver I've ever seen in a man his age." She ruffled his hair gently.

"Monica, please do not discuss my liver with her."

"Gorgeous organs, all of 'em,” she continued, ignoring him completely. “So then his body was sent off for cremation, he woke up again, escaped, got himself run over, and ended up back here. My first thought was twins, since, you know.” She slapped him on the back and he flinched. “A hunk like this doesn't normally land on your slab more than once. But he was still covered in scars from when I'd performed the autopsy. When he woke up and started screaming I knew something really special was happening. And I've been helping him out ever since!"

"You talk too much, woman." Diavolo sighed melodramatically, but you were too fascinated to end the conversation.

"And that happened four years ago? You’ve been monitoring him since then?"

"Yep! I'm keeping a log." She unlocked a drawer in her desk, fumbling with the keys in her excitement, and pulled out a thick notebook. "There's a spreadsheet I use to track his stats, too, but this is everything in chronological order." In a typical doctor-like scrawl she'd written the dates and gruesome details of four years' worth of deaths:

23/04/01 - stabbed in liver.

25/04/01 - body dissected (my bad).

26/04/01 - hit by car.

You flipped forward to a random page.

09/06/03 - fell into river, hit head on rock.

11/06/03 - woke up in sea, drowned.

He seemed almost comically unlucky. On the last page of notes, you found a familiar 'hit by car’ dated two days ago. Monica had also noted 'stranger attempted to assist’.

"That's you, right?" Monica was reading over your shoulder. "He mentioned what you looked like. He was really touched that you tried to help." You turned away, feeling your cheeks flush.

"Don't pity me, cara," Diavolo said. He had a sad, faraway kind of smile on his face. "Plenty of people would say I'm getting exactly what I deserve. But now you understand, sì? Death stalks my every footstep. Keep away from me or it might catch up to you, too." He eased himself off the table, grabbed some fresh clothes out of a bag on the floor and limped off toward the shower room across the hall.

"You know, he was like a terrified little gattino for a while," Monica commented. "Thought everyone and everything he came across was going to hurt him. And to be fair, he'd seen more fatal injuries in a few weeks than I had in a whole career of forensic pathology. But panicking is the worst thing you can do when you're in mortal danger, no? Once we started analysing what was going on he figured out how to keep it at bay, for a few days at least. He’s come so far. But he’s right, death is never far behind him."

“Um. Are you sure you should be telling me all this?” You were worried about how open she was being with you, considering you were a complete stranger, and how completely strange this situation was.

“Honestly, it’s kind of a relief to talk to someone else about it. Four years and not a single person has figured out what's going on before now. Can you believe it?”

“I can’t believe any of this,” you replied, flipping through the notebook again. He'd suffered so much in a few short years. Despite what he'd said, you still couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

“It's bizarre, hmm?" Monica put her arm around you and rubbed your shoulder gently. “But you were smart enough to find us, and you still haven’t run away screaming despite… everything. I think you could really help us out, if you wanted to."

Diavolo wandered back in, looking a lot more human after a shower and a change of clothes. You felt a sudden twinge in your stomach as he smiled at you.

"I think so too, cara," he said. "Now that you’re here, will you assist us?"

"Of course!" You'd said it without a second thought - despite everything you’d found out today he was still incredibly, undeniably hot, after all - then reconsidered. "Assist you with what exactly?"

His eyes suddenly became colder. "Hunting down the man who did this to me."

Chapter Text

"Someone did this to you?" The way he and Monica described it, the past four years had been unimaginable torture. Whoever made the choice to put another person through that must have been an absolute monster.

"Ugh.” Diavolo folded his arms. “It's a long story."

"I've got time. I took the week off work because some guy died in my arms."

He smirked at you. "How inconsiderate of him." His gaze had you pinned down like an ant under a magnifying glass.

"D! You're trying to distract her and it's working.”  Monica prodded him in the bicep with a finger. “Tell. Her."

"Woman..." He seemed to be waiting for Monica to cut in with an explanation, but she glared at him and folded her arms too.

"I do have actual work to do, you know." She rolled her eyes and handed you a guest ID card. "Take this. There's no need to encourage those creeps on the door." She paused for a second. "Even if you feel like you don't want to come back, keep it just in case, okay? Okay. I'm off to slice up some dead people. Hopefully they all stay dead." She slapped Diavolo on the back and strolled off.

"Sit down, cara." Diavolo sat on the table and patted a spot next to him. "I don't wish to sound presumptuous, but I feel a connection with you. I respect your tenacity and I want you to know who I was. There's a lot I need to tell you. Don't interrupt me." 

You obediently perched on the table with him and laid your hand on his thigh encouragingly. You felt him tense up for a moment, then he put his own on top of it and gave you a gentle squeeze.

“I was a foolish, clumsy coward of a child… I thought I could overcome my fate, that I could ascend above my own humanity. But look at me now… I'm even worse off than before. Everything I built has been reduced to nothing. Returning to zero, he called it… I don’t think he realised how true it was. Giorno Giovanna was his name.”

“He’s the one you’re searching for?”

“I told you not to interrupt. Yes, he is the one. Before I died, the first time, I was... not a good person. I ran a criminal gang, Passione. I manipulated my men into committing heinous acts. I lied, I cheated, I killed many people and put even more through unimaginable agony. I tried to murder my own daughter, purely because she was the one thing connecting me to my past. That, I suppose, was the reason I ended up like this.”

“Wait, you have a daughter?” Really, that should've been the least shocking part of the story. You’d heard of Passione, years ago, a name spoken in hushed, fearful tones. And at the top of it all had been… Diavolo, who you’d just interrupted again.

“Calmati, cara. You know you don't need to be afraid of me." The fear in your eyes must have been obvious. Despite his gentle words, you still couldn't help flinching when he placed his hand on your arm, and he sighed, pulling away, before continuing.

"Her name is Trish. She'd be about nineteen now. Giovanna and his lackeys turned against me and took it upon themselves to protect her. When we confronted each other a final time, this was the result. He took my Doppio, he took my King Crimson, he took my Passione, then even death itself was snatched from my grasp." He fell silent. It seemed like he’d reached the end of his story.

"I don't understand,” you told him. “Why? Why did you have to do any of those things? Why didn't Giovanna just kill you? And what's a King Crimson?"

He sighed again. "I can explain only one of those things. King Crimson… it was the source of my power. Those who are aware of them call them Stands. I obtained a particular item some time ago that could bestow their abilities on the chosen few. Giovanna took that, too." 

"These Stands… did he use them on you? Is that why you can't die?"

"Very incisive, cara. His Stand is the reason, yes."

He was looking straight at you, expecting you to ask more questions.

"I… I don't know what to say." This world of crime and revenge was so alien to you, and the inclusion of supernatural powers only made it more unbelievable. But you’d seen the results with your own eyes, and what possible reason could he have to lie about the causes?

"Just please, say you'll stay with me."

"It's too much to take in right now. I need time." You started to get up.

"Please, cara." He put his hand on your thigh. With a gentle squeeze you felt your better judgment start to ebb away.

"Why do you want me around?" You removed his hand and sat up straight. "Do you want me? Or am I just another pawn to you?"

"Cara, think more highly of yourself. Do you think you're the first person to see me die? I thought I was a king, but nobody mourned me. Nobody missed me. Nobody knew who I was. Giovanna took everything from me, and the world carried on like nothing happened. You bribed your way in here and tried to stop an autopsy, simply because you felt like it was the right thing to do. I want to be around people like you and Monica, good people, people who care. I've been so empty, since Doppio..." His lower lip quivered.

"Who was he? What did they do to him?"

"Doppio is… was… my consigliere, my most trusted partner… my other half. He protected me, he took care of our work while I planned from the shadows. He was snatched away from me and killed by Giovanna's men." He looked close to tears.

"I'm so sorry." It was all you could think to say.

You wrapped your arms around him and sat in silence for a while. It felt so easy to touch him, so natural, like your bodies were being drawn to each other.

He buried his face in your shoulder. “Every single moment of my life was utterly wasted, thanks to Giovanna. I did terrible, heartless things, but I can't make anything right like this. All I can do is die, over and over. Every single time hurts just as much as the first. I'm so tired. Please help me."

You knew you'd only scratched the surface of his crimes, and you knew you should have been sickened by what he'd admitted to you. But it was obvious how utterly broken he’d been by this Giovanna's cruel punishment.

"Diavolo… What will you do when you find him?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to end this."

You didn’t want to think about what that meant, not after everything he’d told you.

"I think I need some time alone."

"Don't go. Please."

"Why not?"

"I want to know about you too. I want to hear about your life, the things that matter to you. That's what friends do."

It stung you a little, somehow, to hear that word - especially after listening to him talk about his ‘other half’. Despite everything, you could feel yourself being charmed by his rich, persuasive voice. You could see how he'd managed to command an entire gang. You couldn't help feeling like you wanted to stay by his side, even if he didn’t return your feelings.

"My life is pretty boring,” you sighed. “At least, it used to be."

"Oh? What changed?" He was doing that flirty, smirky thing again. The tension between you seemed to have broken.

"Like I said before, some jackass died in my arms. I feel like he probably deserved it though."

“I think he probably did.” He sighed. "I'd like to know what it means to have a normal life. Tell me all about it."

And so he listened patiently while you told him stories from your normal, uneventful life. He didn't interrupt, not even once.

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By the time Monica came back you were chatting together like old friends.

"D! You didn’t tell her, did you?"

"I told her everything."

"And you stayed?"

"Yeah. I understand. And I want to help you."

"Damn, I thought I was fucked up. I'm happy though. Being this guy's only friend was getting exhausting."

He frowned. "Get out, woman."

"This is my office! Start paying rent if you want to order me around."

“Like hell I’d live here again.”

“He used to hang around down here most of the time, until he managed to get himself locked in a freezer overnight,” Monica explained.

"I suffocated four… no, five times, that night," he muttered.

“Oh, hey, speaking of rent, we have a ton of cash thanks to this guy.” She pulled open a refrigerator drawer to reveal stacks and stacks of neatly-piled banknotes. “So just let us know if you have any expenses.”

This was more money than you’d seen in one place in your entire life - hell, it might have been more money than you’d earned in your entire life.

Diavolo noticed the look of amazement on your face. “I raided one of Passione’s stashes before Giovanna could find it.”

Well that explained why he was so well dressed, despite all the bleeding and drowning and so on. You probably should’ve asked them to reimburse your 100-euro ‘ID cards’, but you weren’t exactly excited about carrying stolen mafia money around. If things got really tight maybe you’d think about it. It was odd that nobody had noticed this much money going missing, though.

"Diavolo,” you began.

"Hmm?"

"What happened to Passione? There isn’t a lot of gang-related crime in the news lately."

"Always asking the right questions. You'd make a good detective, cara. Giovanna's gone underground. He was just an idealistic child when he took over - maybe the reality of our life was too much for him, or maybe he's gone even deeper. There's no way for us to know what he's planning from outside. Besides, he was Napoletano, and I'm stuck in Roma. If he's gone back home he's out of my reach for now."

"You're stuck here?"

"No matter where I die, in the end I’m always drawn back here. And it’s not like I can drive or get on a train. What if people get hurt because of my death?"

"You said you killed people before."

He looked hurt. "Cara… It's easy to order someone else's death from behind a screen. I see now how fragile human life is, how painful it is to know you're on the brink of death. I refuse to be responsible for someone else's suffering because of Giovanna's curse."

“That’s pretty damn noble of you, D.” Monica rubbed his back. “We’ll make a productive member of society outta you yet.”

Chapter Text

You burst into Monica’s office. "Has he come back yet?"

She looked as dishevelled as you felt after your eager sprint across town. You were pretty sure she slept down here most of the time.

"Not yet. It's only been two days. He's usually able to stretch it to at least four now that he's gotten the hang of it. Those traffic accidents with you were a real anomaly… you must have been pretty distracting.” She smirked at you.

Just two days since the last time you saw him and you could feel yourself becoming frantic with worry. But for what? Diavolo literally could not die. Still, you were desperate to see him again. You still couldn't help wondering what he was doing. Was he with a woman? A man? Someone who reminded him of his precious Doppio? You took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. It was none of your business what he did, really. The two of you had barely known each other a few days, despite telling each other practically your whole life stories. You hoped Monica hadn’t caught on to your hopeless crush.

"Speak of the devil, cara, and he shall appear." You turned to find a pale, bloodstained and dishevelled Diavolo.

"Madre di dio! What happened to you?" Monica darted to her desk and grabbed the notebook.

"Got mugged. Kitchen knife, stomach. Bled out for a few hours. Took my cigarettes and a few euros."

"I see. How long ago?" She was already scribbling.

"Yesterday. Slept it off in an alley."

"You're so rock and roll." She finished writing with a dramatic flourish.

"Grazie, Moni. You say the sweetest things."

"So. Can I see it?" She didn't wait for a reply, lifting his torn t-shirt to reveal a jagged scar across his abs. "Diagnosis: nasty. See how it curves up like that? Probably pulled some intestines out too, didn't it. It's ok, you don't have to be coy in front of the lady." He grimaced and nodded.

"Are you… okay?" You felt a little nauseous.

"Of course, cara. It's good to see you again. You really brighten the place up." His gentle smile made your chest tighten. He seemed more light-hearted than the last time you'd seen him… maybe he had been with someone before his latest demise. You wondered what it would feel like, to be held down by his strong arms while he-

"Don't fuss over him, you'll just inflate his ego." Monica's voice broke your train of thought. "And D, if you find my office so depressing then vaffanculo, cretino." He rolled his eyes at her.

"So. What happens now?" This was the first time you'd all been together since you agreed to help them, and you were excited to start tracking down Giovanna.

"Hmm. I'd say getting him cleaned up is our first priority. I'm sure he'd love it if you helped scrub him down, cara-"

"Woman!" He grabbed her in a gentle headlock and clamped his hand over her mouth. "Stop talking. Now."

Monica squealed and tried to wriggle away. "Augh, you're still covered in blood! Get off me! This is my favourite lab coat!"

"Pff. Got you to shut up, didn’t it." He let her go and straightened up. "I haven't eaten since my stomach got sliced open. What do you have?"

"You still have to eat?" That was probably a stupid question, but you still weren't quite sure how it worked.

"Of course I do. I eat, I sleep, just like a normal human." He looked annoyed and corrected himself. "I am a normal human."

"D, if even a tenth of what you’ve told me about your life is true then you were never a normal human. Have this for now." Monica tossed him a candy bar from her pocket. You tried your best to not to stare at the way his tongue caressed the bar before he took a bite.

"Feeling left out? Good job Auntie Monica buys in bulk." She pulled out another one and handed it to you.

She patted down her pockets. "Cazzo, that was the last one. The vending machines are all above ground… guess the dead don't appreciate good snacks. Back in a few." She trotted off to the elevator.

She'd left the notebook out, and you spent a few minutes reading through it while you ate. It was hard to get a feel for it written out like this, but it did seem like the dates were more spaced out as time went on. You hoped Monica would show you her spreadsheet soon. As well as Monica’s scrawl, some of the entries were written in neat, elegant cursive. You wondered if that was Diavolo’s handwriting, or if someone else had been working with them before. 

"Hey, Diavolo…" You trailed off as you saw him. He was slumped over on the floor, completely still. You ran to his side but it was too late. He was gone again.

"What the hell?" Monica dropped her armful of candy and rushed over.

"I don't know what happened! I was reading, and then I looked over and he was just…"

"Hmm. No external trauma." She snapped on a glove and fished around in his mouth, dislodging a chunk of chocolate from his throat. You felt like you shouldn’t be watching while she manhandled his body. "What did I tell you? Too distracting. I believe that’s the first food-based asphyxiation since 2003."

"Maybe I should go." You'd only met a few days ago and already you'd caused three deaths. He'd gone so fast, while you were right there. Even if they did want you around, you were clearly not helping.

"No, don't be ridiculous,” she said, scrawling in the notebook again. “D needs all the friends he can get right now. He doesn't have a lot of patience with people, y'know. Don't freak out just because you’ve seen him die a few times. Hell, I literally killed him and now we’re best buds."

You couldn't help laughing. Her bedside manner wasn't the worst, once you got used to it.

"Okay, let me show you how it works.” She dragged him onto the table with surprising ease. “His brain shut down because it couldn't get enough oxygen. In a few hours the damage will fix itself and it'll fire up again. He always snaps right back, even if I'm not around to patch him up. Look at this scar on his neck." She brushed his hair away to reveal a deep cut. It looked as if something sharp had somehow forced its way out from inside of him.

"He got this the day before his showdown with Giovanna. It always looks like that, no matter what. But check this out."

She pulled up his shirt again. The scar on his stomach had already faded, looking like nothing more than a nasty scratch.

"See? Barely anything. He's perfectly heathy, more or less, once he recovers. If you sit and watch it looks like it's rewinding in slow motion..." She gazed dreamily at the injury.

"Anyway!” She clapped her hands. “He'll take a while to come back round and he's gonna be hungry when he does. There's a nice little trattoria a few minutes away. Come for a drink with me and we'll get something to bring back for him."

You didn't feel especially hungry after what you'd just witnessed, but you didn't want to hang around with Diavolo’s body either. Monica scribbled 'gone drinking' on a post-it and slapped the paper on his forehead as you left.

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The trattoria was indeed nice. It was packed out, but Monica seemed to recognise the bartender. She went up to the bar and whispered something in her ear. The bartender frowned, but eventually magicked up a couple of seats for the two of you.

"She looked mad. What did you say to her?"

"Nothing much, she's too busy to argue. Me and Cassie go way back. It’s a long story."

It was comforting to know she had some kind of life outside of the morgue. She seemed like a good person, even if she did get a bit carried away with the medical stuff.

"So… been a weird week, huh?" She sat back and fiddled with a napkin.

"Yeah, that’s one way to describe it."

“I must say you’re taking it pretty well.”

“Guess I didn’t stop to think about it too much,” you mused.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to have you here. Just don’t get too caught up in it, okay?” She glanced over at the bar. “Don’t let him keep you away from something more important.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied. It seemed like there was something she wasn’t telling you. “Shall we get some drinks?”

"Drinks! Decisamente. Hey, Cassie!" The bartender came over. "My friend here's been having a hell of a week. What do you recommend?"

She looked at you suspiciously. "Friend, huh? Good to meet you. I'm Cassata." She turned back to Monica. "We've got a ton of arancini, and chef just threw a whole swordfish on the grill. Cut you off a chunk?"

"Sounds good, and we'll get some arancini to go too. And wine! Lots of wine."

"Sure thing, Monica."

You made small talk while you waited to be served, and not too long later a pink-haired boy came out with a pile of dishes.

"Here's two swordfish steaks, some nice salad, compliments of the house, a jug of red, and a negroni for Monica. That’s compliments of the house as well, Cassie said she remembered how much you like them. Oh, and a box of arancini to go." He awkwardly piled everything onto the table. "If you need anything else, Cassie asked me to remind you that you still have her phone number." You looked over to the bar to see her glaring at you.

"Please enjoy your food!" He smiled sweetly and wandered off.

You took a few delicate bites of fish, a little worried that Cassie had spit in it, or worse. It was so delicious that you decided you didn’t care. Monica was tucking in heartily, too.

“Been a while since I had real food,” she said through forkfuls of salad. “Used to come here all the time when I was off shift. That's how Cassie and I got together. Ended badly though, you could probably tell.”

“That's a shame," you said thoughtfully, sipping your wine. "At least you're still talking.”

“Yeah, she tolerates me as long as I’m a paying customer. Maybe the freebies mean she’s finally gonna forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” The place had been clearing out for a while, and Cassie must have overheard you talking from the bar. “We were together three months, then you stood me up one night and stopped answering my calls.”

“I was busy with work.”

“You cut up dead people for a living. I'm sure they would've been happy to wait while you sent a text.” She came over and sat down between the two of you, arms folded.

“It was… complicated. I discovered something. Something big.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve made great strides in the field of weighing livers.”

“The liver is a fascinating organ, Cassata.” She took an angry swig from her wine glass.

“Don’t Cassata me. And don’t give me the liver talk again. I really liked you. It hurt when you ditched me, okay? I was so happy to see you around again, even if I am still mad at you, but now you’re suddenly having dinner with your new friend like you have all the time in the world to look pretty and sip your negroni.”

“Oh, Cassie, no. Okay, first of all, you sent me that negroni. And this-” she gestured at you. “This is not… that. We work together, that's all. That work thing, it was taking up all of my time. It was just me, and the thing, and I felt like I was going crazy, and then I looked at my phone and you'd been leaving me messages for like a month. But I have a team now. We might be getting close to a breakthrough. Cass, I liked you too. I liked what we had, and I'm so sorry I ruined it. Please let me try again."

"Ugh. You can try. You're not gonna tell me what this thing is, are you."

"Sorry, bella. I'm still not sure how to explain it, even if I was allowed."

"And there's nothing going on between you?" She stared at you like she was trying to read your soul.

"I respect Monica as a scientist and a leader," you said, trying your hardest to sound like the kind of person who conducted important liver-related research. "Right now I'm a hundred percent focused on our work."

“Focused on our work, sure.” Monica rolled her eyes.

"Oh?" Cassie's eyes lit up. "Is there someone she's interested in? Someone at the hospital?" Shit. She was a bartender, of course she had a nose for gossip.

"Oh, I, um…" You guzzled down some more wine, hoping the conversation would move on.

"Dio mio, just admit you have a crush on him! What is wrong with the two of you?" Monica threw up her hands.

"Ah, he likes her too!" Cassie leaned in. "Are they too stubborn to admit it? Is workplace romance forbidden at the hospital? Is he already married? "

You were cracking under twice the usual pressure.

“Just tell us." Monica rested her chin on her hands. "Is D the kind of guy you like?"

"I, uh…" He was attractive, of course, and charming with it, definitely your type. But on the other hand, he was functionally immortal and traumatised by four years of unimaginable agony, as well as being a former mob boss. What kind of relationship could you have with someone like that?

"I'm only asking," Monica said, coyly curling a strand of hair around her finger, "because as his doctor I've happened to see him naked once or twice… and let's just say that if he was your type you would not be disappointed." She winked at you.

"Wait, he's a patient?" Cassie's eyes were wide. "Or is he a research subject? Oh my god, is the big discovery his-"

"Monica, he's not your type?" You blurted out the first thing to pop into your head, desperately trying to redirect the conversation away from Diavolo's… big discovery.

She let out an uproarious cackle and gulped down the rest of her glass. "No, cara, I'm just letting you know, as a completely impartial source. Men are not my type, no matter how, eh... juicy the sausage."

You and Cassie burst out laughing. Just as you'd regained your composure the pink-haired waiter came past with a tray of salsicce and the three of you collapsed into giggles.

Eventually you were able to speak again. "Are you seriously trying to set us up, though? Don't you think we have more important things to deal with?"

"Hey, you can make time to relax. Can't forget that, right?" She and Cassie exchanged a smile.

"Speaking of work, I spy some thirsty customers." There were indeed a few people milling around the bar. "Monica, you do still have my number, right?"

"Remember it by heart, bella."

Cassie kissed her on the cheek and went back behind the bar.

You sighed. "I just don't know. Being with him now would be too complicated, right?"

"It doesn't have to be. He likes you, I know it."

"Then he can tell me himself. Besides, he still seemed pretty hung up on his consigliere. Doppio, wasn't it?”

The waiter, now sausageless, hurried over to you. “Sorry, did you call me?”

“What? No. We were having a conversation.” You were a little embarrassed to have someone interrupt your gossip, but if he had heard what you were talking about he didn't let on.

“I'm so sorry. My name is Doppio. I, um, thought I heard you say it.” He nervously pushed an unruly lock of hair behind his ear. It popped straight out again.

“Oh, sorry!” His apologies were rubbing off on you. “We were talking about someone else. Well, probably. You don’t know anyone named Diavolo, right?”

A thoughtful expression passed over his freckled face. “Sorry, I don't think I do."

Of course he didn’t. That Doppio was dead, anyway. And besides, there was no way someone this adorable could ever have been a gangster.

Chapter Text

"Ciao, cara. Forgive me if I don't shake your hand." Diavolo's right arm was conspicuously bandaged, and you thought you saw a flash of duct tape around his elbow underneath.

Monica spun around in her swivel chair. "D, was that a joke? Did you seriously just make a joke?"

"Maybe?"

His lopsided smile was making you feel all sorts of things. This was the most cheerful you'd ever seen Diavolo - maybe he really was seeing someone between deaths. A pang of envy hit you in the chest.

"So what happened to your arm?” You dumped your bag on the floor and took a seat.

“Oh, it came off. At least it was still there when I woke up this time.”

"Um." You weren't sure if you really wanted to raise the question. "What would happen if you couldn't find it?"

"The first time he woke up without it, he came to, started screaming, then passed right out again," Monica said. "Luckily I was only keeping it safe in the freezer. The crazy thing was, when I opened the door again, it was right there on the other side… You know, like it was trying to get back to him."

“How would- why would you keep it in the freezer?” You decided you didn't really want to know how his limbs moved around on their own.

"Well, we tried experimenting for a while, and-"

Diavolo was fidgeting awkwardly, making a little grumbling noise.

"D? Do you not want me to talk about it?"

"Mm. No. It's okay. I'll go… do something." He skittered out of the room.

"Anyway, where was I... So after he woke up here the first time, I had to spend a couple of months calming him down, convincing him he was gonna be okay. Like I said before, a little gattino, jumping at every little sound, wouldn't even let me touch him. It was just me and this guy that won't stop dying, all day every day, and then I realise, his body is healing itself. I didn't know about the Stand, or whatever it's called, or at least I didn't understand when he tried to explain it because he was barely making any sense back then, and I figured if we could work out what was happening to him we could help other people to heal like that, too. Once he was in his right mind again he agreed it was worth experimenting a bit. So yeah, we tried a few things, just to see how it worked. How much he could take, how long it took him to recover, what was going on inside-”

“Inside?” You felt sick. “You cut him up again?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s kind of what I do. I was convinced I could unlock the secret, but he'd been pretty traumatised already so he started freaking out again, and I was out of my depth, and-"

She was still talking as you left the room. You didn't want to hear any more - no more of her excuses, no more about what he'd let her do to him. Even if they were close now you couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting him - of him wanting to be hurt.

-----⟲-----⟲-----⟲-----⟲-----

You found Diavolo in the bathroom, breathing slowly and poking his cheek absentmindedly while he stared into the mirror. Under the harsh light you could see a faded bruise there. You came up behind and wrapped your arms around him.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," you whispered.

"Cara, it was a long time ago.” His fingers brushed against your hand. “You mustn't feel like she did something wrong. She's my friend, our friend. I agreed to it too. If I hadn't been too weak to continue, we might have... I thought I could make amends for what I’ve done, but it wasn’t that simple. I’m okay. It's just painful for me to think about."

“Not just that. All of it. I can’t stand the thought of you hurting so much.” You buried your face in his long hair, close to tears.

"Calmati, cara, calmati. I can take a little pain. I deserve to be punished. But I gave up endangering myself a long time ago. I want to live. I’m here for you now, always. You were ready to start investigating, no? Let’s go back. I found some information that might be useful to us."

Monica was scribbling absentmindedly on a notepad when you got back to the office. When she saw you she rushed up and pulled the two of you into a hug.

"Forgive me, bella! I'm so sorry I upset you. I'm sorry about everything. I'm not a bad person, I promise. I hope we can still get along."

"She's fine, woman," Diavolo said, twisting free of her. "We're going to do some work. What did you do with my laptop?"

"Oh, it's in the fridge with the money."

"What? Woman, you know it destroys the hard drive. Don’t do that.”

"Shut up, nerd." She unlocked the drawer and pulled out a chilly computer.

"Cara, would you?" Diavolo gestured at his bandaged (and most likely duct-taped) arm. You set it up on the table, Diavolo leaning over your shoulder, and tried to concentrate on the rows of neatly-grouped folders that appeared instead of how warm his body was against yours.

"The one you want is SPW-050623." As you opened the first document in the folder the logo of a familiar philanthropic organisation appeared.

"The Speedwagon Foundation?” You’d heard the name before, but it seemed like an unlikely place to start looking for answers. “Aren't they a conservation charity?"

"Si, cara, that's them. They also conduct clandestine research into Stands and their users, as well as other supernatural phenomena. Signore Speedwagon seems to have had a connection to a prominent family of Stand users."

"Huh. How did you find out about them?"

"Just a little minor hacking. They have hundreds of operatives around the world, with vastly differing levels of training. Their systems are pathetically simple, but their file organisation is utterly hopeless. It takes an age to find anything useful, assuming they bother uploading it to a server at all. At one point the only thing in their classified partition was a thesis about starfish. Actually fairly interesting–"

"Nerd," Monica said under her breath.

"I heard that, woman. Comunque… cara, it's time for you to do some research. This is just a dump of their latest uploads. I need you to go through it and flag up anything useful to us."

“Okay, but stop reading over my shoulder. It’s very distracting.”

“Si, signorina,” he chuckled. “I shall concentrate on reattaching my arm." He slumped into a chair and closed his eyes, cradling his bandaged limb.

The first document bearing the SPW logo was just that, a proof copy of a logo which had been in use for at least a decade now. There were various expense reports and insignificant memos, which you diligently skimmed and shifted to a separate folder, and then you came across an email sent to their head office bearing the subject line 'Re: Re: Giovanna'. It was sent around three years ago but had only just been archived, apparently.

"Diavolo. I've found something."

"Mm. Read it to me." He shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep his arm supported.

The sender's name was Dr Jotaro Kujo. He got straight to the point without so much as a ‘Hi’:

>Giorno refuses to relinquish the final arrow or discuss Polnareff and the previous Don's disappearances with me.

“That’s me,” said Diavolo, a little too proudly.

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it,” Monica retorted.

“Just nice to know somebody noticed I was gone.”

“So this Polnareff,” you butted in, trying to keep the conversation on track. “Do you know who he is?”

“Ugh,” he muttered under his breath. “We can discuss him another time. What else does it say?”

You carried on reading.

>Whereabouts unknown, calls to his number no longer connect. Additionally, Passione continues to operate in Southern Italy, particularly around Naples. Shows no sign of expanding, however they still continue to carry out highly illegal acts under Giovanna’s instruction. Recommend the Foundation sever all ties immediately.

"Mm, fascinating. He is in Napoli, or at least he was three years ago. Without the Foundation's assistance Giovanna has limited resources, in terms of information on Stands at least. My own research never fell into his hands. And Passione… There's no way such a small territory could support all my- all his men. You've done well, cara. Any more?"

"If there was a reply it wasn't archived here. I'll finish the rest of the folder." You stretched your arms in the air, earning an envious glance from Diavolo, and prepared to get stuck in again.

You scrolled through the contents of the folder for a while, finding some information on the Foundation's research that might be helpful. Monica was busy with her own work and Diavolo seemed to have dozed off, so you kept the documents aside for later.

Just as you finished categorising the last few files Diavolo woke up, yawning. He gave his arm an experimental wiggle and removed the bandages and tape, revealing a deep scar.

"Hmm." Thankfully the arm stayed attached as he stretched. "All done?"

"Yep." You shut down the laptop and closed the lid. "Do you want me to go?"

"Of course not, cara. Stay as long as you like."

You pulled up a chair next to him.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” you said. “Why was the Speedwagon Foundation supporting a criminal like Giovanna in the first place?”

“Now that,” he sighed, “is the question. They seem to have started assisting him as soon as he took over, almost as if they already knew who he was. There were dozens of Stand users in Passione, though. I don’t know why it was him they took a particular interest in.” He looked thoughtful. “There was something uncanny about that child.”

“You keep calling him a child… How old was he?”

“He was almost sixteen when he did this to me… So about twenty now.”

“So young…” You thought back to when you were that age. You could barely drag yourself out of bed before lunchtime… Joining a criminal gang, let alone taking one over, would have been unimaginable.

“Ah, that’s nothing. You should see their reports on the baby Stand users. But anyway, let’s talk about something else.” You definitely would have preferred to find out how the hell a baby Stand worked, but you decided not to push it. Maybe all this Stand talk was making Diavolo miss his King Crimson.

“Uh, sure. So... What have you been up to lately?" You tried to sound as casual as possible, but you really were curious if there was someone else he was spending time with.

"I take walks, look around. It's summer, there's plenty to do. I didn't spend a lot of time outside, before. Doppio would take me from hotel room to hotel room…” He looked wistful. “Anyway. You should come out with me sometime. Have you ever been to Ostia Antica?"

"Are you asking her out?" Monica hadn’t been working as hard as you thought.

"What? I just think it’s an interesting place, everyone should go there at least once. I'd ask you if I thought you cared about anything but death and pussy."

"Oh my god, D, you really are a nerd. And shut up, I have plenty of hobbies."

“History is fascinating. We must all learn from the mistakes of the past, no? And I’m not the one tracking my death stats on a spreadsheet. Nerd.”

"Hey, where do you normally sleep when you’re out?" You abruptly changed the subject. If he really was spending the night with someone you didn't know how you'd feel, but you couldn't help picking at that scab.

"Cheap hotels, abandoned buildings… I try not to stay in one place for too long. It's surprising how many places you can sleep. Sometimes the night ends in a stabbing, but I suppose that's how being punished works. Better me than someone who won't recover." 

"Sounds rough. Isn't there someone you can stay with?" You were just willing him to admit it, now.

"Who the hell would I stay with? You and Moni are the only people I'm close to, and she lives with three other doctors. I already feel like enough of a specimen."

"You could stay with me sometime, if you like," you blurted out. Monica turned around again, gasping softly. She stared at you, eyes wide, as you waited for Diavolo's response.

"Sure, cara. I'd love to see where you live."

Monica made a silent victory gesture behind his back.

"But what if a fire breaks out? The building collapses? Armed intruders... Stray bullets... If I die first who will protect you? The longer we stay together the more your safety is at risk. If I lost you..." He slumped to the floor against the fridges, breathing heavily, his newly-attached arm sticking out at an unnatural angle.

"Oh, D, no." Monica rushed over and started stroking his hair. "You're just getting paranoid. Nobody else has died because of you."

"That we know of," he mumbled.

"Calmati, idiota!" She whacked him gently on the head with the death notebook. "Four years. Not a single person. Go have your little sleepover. You deserve at least one night where you're not risking death. And I'm not just saying that because I have a date tonight."

"Okay." He breathed in and out slowly. "Forgive me, cara. That was embarrassing."

"It's fine, I'm just worried about you." And whether or not you're sleeping with somebody, you didn't add. Ugh. He needed your support and all you could think about was your stupid crush. "I won't let anything hurt us, I promise. Come over tonight?"

He smiled another one of those disarming smiles. "Si, cara. I'd like that."

Chapter Text

"Giorno."

Silence.

"Giorno."

"I heard you." He sighed. "What do you want?"

"The accountants are back. Will you see them?"

"Just tell me. I don't want to talk to them."

"Okay.” Mista took a deep breath. “We don't have enough territory to support our men. We're losing money every single day. They recovered the last of Diavolo's stashes to keep us afloat, but-”

"I told you. Don't say his name."

"Yeah, sorry. So, they pulled out everything they could. Except…”

“What.”

There were three bank vaults in Roma. One of them was empty."

"And?"

"There should’ve been about ten million in there."

"What, lira?"

"Dollars. American."

Giorno bit his knuckle hard enough to draw blood.

"Roma, you said."

"Yep. Not too far from where he-"

"Whatever you're thinking, it’s not possible. He is gone. I made it so he never existed."

"I know. But…"

"Don't say it. It's not happening. It's not!" He slammed his hand down on the desk.

"Hush, amore mio, hush." Mista kissed his hair gently. "I'll find Polnareff, okay? He'll know what to do."

"No! He's still loyal to Kujo, I know it. We can't trust him."

"Then what?"

"Trish."

"What about her?"

"Find her."

"She said she didn't want anything to do with this."

"Convince her. We're criminals, Mista. Do whatever you have to."

"Why?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"GioGio…"

"She knew he was still alive, back then. Maybe she can find him."

"So, find her, have her use her Standy sense, and then track him down?"

"Yeah."

"And we don't tell Polnarreff?"

"No. Don't tell him anything. In fact, find the turtle and keep it locked up somewhere. He can’t be allowed to leave."

Mista sighed.

“You know, maybe someone just... came across the money and took it. Just a coincidence.”

“He was too paranoid. Nobody could’ve ‘just come across it’ without his notes.”

"Yeah. Guess not." He scratched his chin.

"Why are you still here?"

"You want me to get her now? You seem pretty stressed out. Sure you don’t need me around?"

"Just go."

"Perdonami, bello. I'm going, then." He planted a gentle kiss on Giorno’s forehead. “You should fix up that finger before you bleed everywhere."

"No! No. The pain helps me focus."

"If you say so. Huh, that weird smell is back. Kinda like… wet dirt? Is it coming from the garden?”

“I don’t care what it is or where it's coming from. Go.”

“Suit yourself then, amore.” He sighed again and left.