Chapter Text
The first thing Melone remembered after waking up in the hospital was the pain and how hard it was to breathe. His tongue was swollen to twice its normal size. Not enough to make him suffocate, but enough to make breathing in and out a conscious effort when he slept. He always did breathe through his mouth at night.
A doctor had told him about what happened, but Melone already knew. He was on the phone with Ghiaccio when a snake came and bit him, nearly killing him. He knew he’d actually be six feet under if he wasn’t on a busy train station when it happened. A bystander woman called 9-1-1 for him and he was rushed to the nearest hospital; some half decent asylum. Even if it was awkward right now, Melone was glad to be alive.
Though, being stuck in a hospital bed for a week wasn’t very fun or enjoyable. He had nothing to do but take his medicine, listen to his MP3 player, and wait till he could see his family again. That’s what La Squadra Di Esecuzione was to him. A family. An estranged, chaotic, and sometimes unpleasant one, but a family nonetheless. He pained at the memory that he was one of the only ones left alive.
When his tongue’s swelling had gone down enough for him to form coherent sentences, Melone took the first opportunity to phone Risotto and Ghiaccio. It was just common sense. He’d borrowed- or rather stole , a nurse's cellular device and kept it hidden until nighttime. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel giddy and excited to hear Risotto’s voice again. It had been almost a week, and he knew the news that he was alive would brighten up everyone’s day. One less member of their family gone
But Risotto never picked up. Discouraged, he had tried to phone Ghiaccio too, but he didn’t answer either. It was unsettling, but Melone pushed his anxieties to the side. They were definitely just busy every time he phoned… very busy.
It was today that Melone was allowed to be discharged from the hospital and return home. Really, he was supposed to stay another day, but he’d begged and pleaded enough to be let out early. The doctors were already tired of him, so it didn’t take much. He was a chatterbox when he was bored and didn’t have Ghiaccio around to annoy.
Melone kept the cell phone he snagged and hid it where he always did; the band of his “one size too small so my thighs get accentuated” briefs. The name was coined by himself, but nobody ever seemed to appreciate his utter genius. He smiled at the fond memory and checked out of the hospital, using Squadra’s collective black card to pay for everything. Everyone had one, and they were all linked to the same bank account. Risotto’s bank account. Melone snickered.
The warm evenings sunlight felt heavenly on his skin. Though he wasn’t wearing his usual assassin outfit- that had been thrown out by “accident” by the staff, he was wearing shorts and a tank top. Summer got hot in Italy, and he always liked an excuse to show off his bodily assets to the public and potential clients.
Melone pulled the phone out of his pocket when he turned the corner and dialed Risotto’s personal number for what seemed to be the hundredth time. It rang four times as it usually did and then went to the default voicemail. Goddamnit, Melone cursed, stuffing the piece of crap phone back into his waistband. Why the hell aren’t they picking up? Too busy grieving over the team? Fucks sake…
“Mi scusi signora, but do you know where the nearest convenience is? I’m new to this part of Italy,” Melone asked to a pretty stranger.
“Oh! If you follow that road then make a left at the second stop sign, there should be one at the end of the street.”
“Thank you,” Melone said back. She wouldn’t be a good pair for Babyface, now would she?
Melone waved his hand thankfully at her before leaving. He could get a snack, a cold pop, and a few surprise bags of chips for Risotto and Ghiaccio on his way home. That wouldn’t hurt at all. Well, it would hurt Risotto’s bank account again, but that wasn’t even Melone’s fault. He didn’t bring his wallet on mission, and he couldn’t go home before now, so Risotto’s account was the only option yet again. I’ll pay him back soon.
He smiled and hurried his way to the convenience store, spending a record two minutes there before leaving. In and out mission for food. After eating only hospital food for two weeks, he was glad to have something that didn’t taste bland and flat. Three bags of chips, five packets up gummies, a box of popcorn, three Pepsi’s, and a chocolate bar for Ghiaccio sat in the plastic bag that swung in Melone’s hand. Enough for all three of us… all nine of us actually… Damnit Melone! You can’t be sad and bummed when you see Ris and Ghia! Get it together you whore.
Fuck. Melone cursed himself out and half walked, half jogged, to a place he knew. Yeah, he knew that one specific lamppost with the same lost cat poster on it for months. The cat wasn’t even lost! Formaggio took it in without realizing it already had a home and kept it anyways. He named it Jonathan, or maybe it was Thon athan. That was the kind of dumb name-pun Formaggio would come up with.
Melone started at the door. It was so familiar. So much more welcoming than the door to his childhood home. He swallowed and walked to the end of the alleyway and reached under the third garbage bin for the keys.
Luckily, they were still there, but it didn’t make sense. They swapped the keys position every week, but it was still in the same spot. That’s not right… well, it’s probably a low priority now with all the Bruno stuff going on… Is that still going on?
Melone ignored his rising suspicions and cautiously unlocked the door. It creaked as it usually did and led to the dark, slightly dusty entrance. One look around and Melone knew something was wrong. His fingers played with the straps of his tank top anxiously. Yes, something was definitely wrong.
Shouldn’t Risotto or Ghiaccio come running to him in joy? Or at least come to see who was entering their headquarters…? Melone bit his lip and took off his shoes sitting down, breathing in the musky air he was oh so used too. At least Ghiaccio’s shoes were where they were supposed to be. That calmed him a little, emphasis on little. They both couldn’t have…
Melone stood up slowly and looked around for any sign of life. He’d take anything right now, even that stupid cat or Pesci’s snail. He said he was going to take care of it after he found Pesci and Proscuitto’s bodies on the train tracks. Damn. He shuddered at the memory of finding them broken and bloodied there; dead for too long. Melone raised his hand to his mouth as he felt the urge to vomit.
“Guys?” he tentatively called out, half expecting an answer. “I’m home…! You probably thought I was dead, didn’t you?”
No answer. Nothing at all. Melone snuck his way around the small apartment, now knowing why he didn’t want to make noise. It was a gut feeling, like it would be wrong to disturb the dead air that held so many memories.
The single door in the flat that didn’t squeak was the one that led to his, Ghiaccio, and Formaggio’s room. Ghiaccio would rage if it was too loud, so he always made sure to oil up its hinges. Just another quirk of his.
Melone smiled softly and peeked inside, seeing the two beds and sparse furniture. Him and the other two would swap who sleeps alone each night, but Melone always secretly liked sleeping with someone else. It was comforting to have another one's body heat next to yours to lull you to sleep. Be it Formaggio’s light snoring, or Ghiaccio’s blanket hogging, Melone didn’t mind.
“Ghiaccio? Are you sleeping in, lazy ass? Wake up, I’m home!”
“... Ghiaccio? Risotto?”
“Hey! Where are you guys?! Answer me!”
Melone slammed the door in a rage and sprinted to the living room. Where the fuck is everyone?! he thought. Ghiaccio… Risotto… Pesci, Prosciutto. Formaggio, Illuso… Sorbet and Gelato. They can’t all be gone, can they? Can they?!
“Dammit guys, this isn't funny! Come out already!” he shouted. “Guys! Risotto! Where the hell are you?”
Relax, Melone. Maybe they’re just on a different mission! Right… But he knew that wasn’t true. If someone went on a mission they wrote it on the cardboard next to the door and then scratched it off when they came home. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, but Melone looked at the board anyways. And there it was. Ghiaccio and Risotto’s names, written and still legible.
He felt his heart sink.
“Ghiaccio…” he stuttered upon seeing his name not crossed out. “Risotto too…? That’s-That’s impossible, isn’t it?”
“You’re not dead. You can’t be dead! Risotto’s never been beaten before! He should at least be here with me… Risotto… Don’t fucking leave me all alone!”
Fuck! Why is this happening?! Melone cursed himself and dug his fingernails into his arms until they drew droplets of blood. He stared at red liquid and watched it drip down his arms and to his elbow. It was entrancing, and a welcome distraction from his oncoming anguish. But seeing them drip onto the floor, he came back to reality. Jesus. How hard was he squeezing?
Melone went to the kitchenette to grab an old tea towel to put over his fresh wound. Even this place seemed abandoned. Like it’d been empty for weeks. Melone tried not to think about how much time might have passed since his surviving family's deaths. Days? A week? What if they died right after he got in the hospital and they were rotting in some ditch with no one to care for them? Melone felt his throat tighten.
With the tea towel over his cuts, he reluctantly made his way to Prosciutto and Risotto’s room, not liking what he knew he would find. He pushed the door open slowly and slipped inside, taking in the familiar scenery. He used to sleep in here before Sorbet and Gelato died, back when there’d been two more people and the same number of beds. Even when they left Earth, Melone volunteered to share beds, not wanting to sleep alone for a while. He kept that habit too, growing dependent on someone to be near him.
He sighed and wiped his eyes. The bed was made as it usually was, and the room was as clean as it could possibly be, save for the light layer of dirt starting to coat everything. Melone reminded himself to dust the whole place tomorrow.
Walking towards the closet, he saw that it was already opened. Weird… Pros is a neatfreak so he woulda closed it before he left with Pesci.
Melone creeped forwards and peeked in, just a little bit. He would deny it later, but seeing what he saw in there then, he nearly wept for joy.
“Thonathan!” he cried out. “Come here, kittsy-cat!”
Melone fell to his knees and grabbed the grey kitty, hugging it close to his chest. It’s little paws bat against his arm and it meowed pathetically. Melone kept hugging it and even kissed its little kitty forehead more than once. Thonathan seemed to love this and he rubbed his soft grey head against Melone’s chin.
“You must be starving! Oh Jesus, when was the last time you’ve been fed? I’ll give you all the wet cat food we have, alright? Just give me a moment, Tonny-baby.”
Melone let the cat go and scratched its fuzzy ears.he was never particularly a cat person, but just having another living thing he knew with him was calming. I’ll have to check on Pesci’s snail too… What was its name? Knowing Pesc, it’s probably something cute. Melone swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up.
Walking to the back of the closet, and reached around the dresser and pushed on the wall. He smiled softly. The secret door was right where he remembered it was. He crawled into the back room and closed the door behind him, not wanting Thonathan to follow him into such a dingy place. Shallowly breathing in, Melone adjusted his eyes to the darkness and looked for the long wooden shelf.
When he found it, he almost reluctantly got closer to see what was on it better. His breath hitched almost instantly.
On the shelf were framed photos of all of La Squadra. Risotto had built the shelf himself as a memoir for Sorbet and Gelato, and then added Formaggio’s photo when he died too. A photo, a flower, and an item they loved in life. That’s all they could have to remember their fallen family members, and upon seeing his own photo put up, Melone started crying.
He reached up on his tip toes and looked at the picture of himself. It was one of him on the beach; enjoying the sun with the ocean and seagulls behind him. Melone smiled through a sob as he remembered that day. Ghiaccio had nearly frozen half the pier by accident, and Pesci was still learning how to swim with Prosciutto's help. Melone held his hand to his mouth and breathed ragged, tear filled breaths.
Quickly, almost as if he couldn’t bear to think his family thought he had died, Melone snatched the flower and lip balm from in front of the photo. The flower was dead and flaking, a faded brown and purple colour that crumbled in his hands. He’d almost forgotten how long he’d been in the hospital, sitting comfortably unaware of the fate of Ghiaccio and Risotto.
It wasn’t fair.
Looking around, Melone saw that Risotto had put up a photo of himself at the very end of the shelf. Did he really think he was going to die…? Who the hell was he even fighting? Melone thought. He swallowed and gently placed his shriveled flower in front of Risotto’s picture. I’ll get you a better one soon, I promise. One for all of you.
Melone reached into his shorts and pulled out his stolen phone. He didn’t have an object for Risotto, so this would have to do. Typing in the name of the song and hitting play, Melone rested the phone down on the shelf and sat on the ground as the soft tune of Nothing Else Matters by Metallica started playing.
Risotto loved this band so much, Melone mused. Even named his little healsies after it… He wiped his tears and tried to force himself to stop crying. Shedding tears wouldn’t do him any good now, would it? But he couldn’t help it. No matter what he did he couldn’t seem to make the tears stop.
They fell down his face in uneven puddles and mixed with his saliva and hands. Melone dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and fell on his back, a pathetic display of weakness. What would La Squadra do if they saw him now? Scold him for being too vulnerable, or comfort him and ask what was wrong? It all depended on if they were alone or with other members of Passione.
Melone managed to calm himself down by the time the song was nearing its end and shakily stood up. He left the phone where it was and took one last glance at the room before closing the secret door behind himself.
As he expected, Thonathan was waiting for him impatiently. Immediately he was getting underfoot and tripping him up, hopefully not really meaning too. Melone hushed the kitty and picked it up, holding it like he did sometimes with Babyface when it was in its infant stage. Like a baby, for an easier picture. He kissed Thonathan’s forehead and left Risotto’s room with a heavy heart.
Thonathan mewled and Melone brought him to the kitchen for his first meal in what could be days or weeks. He set the whining creature down on the counter and dusted off a section of it with his tank top. Luckily for him and Thonathan, there was still a stock pile of wet and dry kitty food in the cupboards. They could barely afford a nice Thanksgiving meal yet Formaggio still bought the premium shit for the cat. Melone never understood it.
He shook his head and pulled the tab to open the wet cat food. Thonathan shoved his face in the can before it was even open and started wolfing down its contents. Melone had to push his head away to get him to slow down, lest he puke all over the counter and floor. The last thing he wanted to do while grieving was clean up Formaggio’s cat’s vomit.
Melone let out a breath and opened a second can for Thonathan before leaving the cat to its own devices. He searched the fridge for any unexpired vegetables- eventually finding some lettuce leaves, and left for the third bedroom. Pesci and Illuso slept there. He pushed the rusted door open and walked over to the bedside table where Pesci's snail cage was.
“You alive and well in there, little guy?” he asked jokingly, setting the lettuce inside the tupperware.
Melone moved around the rocks and decorations, even dug up some of the dirt in an attempt to find it. Eventually though, he found its shell and gently placed it on the leaf, hoping it would eat. He grinned ear to ear and perked up when he saw two little eye stalks poke out of the brown shell.
“So you are alive! God, first the cat and now you. You can’t die on me yet, alright?”
Melone laughed to himself and looked at the name tag on the front of the cage. It was written on scotch tape in fading blue sharpie, but he could still make out the words. Cargo. Yes, that’s right. The snail's name was Cargo. There was a reason for that, right? I swear I remember Ghia being pissed when Pesci announced its name.
He disregarded it and brought the snail and it’s home to the living room with him. Thonathan was just finishing up his second can of food and jumped off the counter to greet him. Melone gently patted him with his foot and placed Cargo down on the table. He ran his finger over its small shell one time before going to lay on the couch.
Thonathan jumped on of his belly and curled up on top of him, immediately starting to purr. Melone scritched it’s ears and cheek while he drifted off to sleep. A nap was what he needed to fully process what was happening. Maybe when he woke up he could face the facts better.
He gave Thonathan one last pat and closed his tired eyes.