Archive of Our Own

“Maria, mon amour, I’m home!” Polnareff yelled as he unlocked the door to the quaint Florentine villa, balancing with groceries.  The Speedwagon Foundation had sent them to Italy to hunt a Mafia boss. The search had gone well, and they were close.

He opened the door and slid in sideways, a bag of groceries in each arm.
 He smiled. There was one other thing he had bought today, and he couldn’t help grinning at the idea of that little black velvet box he would give her that evening. He could almost picture it, he’d take her to that little restaurant near the Duomo, and then after a little walk he’d take her to that secluded courtyard he’d found. He knew she would say yes. They were so in love, he knew. Oh how wonderful their lives would be! After the hunt was over, they could settle down, maybe have a kid or two. Then after the kids grew up they’d spend their twilight years in rocking chairs watching the sun set below the horizon.

He hummed a little tune as he made his way to the kitchen. 

“Maria Elena you’re the answer to a prayer…” He sang, expecting her to respond with the next verse.

The response never came.

He paused.

”Maria? Where are you?”

Glass shattered somewhere, and he raised his eyebrows. Did she break something? Or…?

”Maria?” He called, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He stepped into the hallway and froze.

At the end of the hall from under the door of the library, blood was seeping out, slowly running into the hall.

 Polnareff dashed down the hallway and into the library, where they conducted their research on their enemies.

The hole through her sternum spoke volumes.

Maria was on the floor, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock. Blood was pouring from her chest.

He had been here. The bastard had been here. Seconds ago, it seemed.

“NO!” Screamed Polnareff, and he fell to his knees, crawling across the floor to the limp body of Maria.
Her hair was soaked with blood, and it dribbled out of her mouth. What distressed him more was seeing the floor through her wound. And her lungs.

She was breathing, but it was shallow. She lay on the floor, whimpering in pain.

“Jean...” She said, attempting to reach out to him, but her arm only twitched. Her face was twisted in agony.

“MARIA, OH GOD, NO NO NO…” He said, taking her in his arms. She squealed weakly.
“Maria, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” he sobbed, cradling her head on his lap.

She looked up at him with shining eyes, and tears dripped slowly down her face.

“It’s not your fault beefcake…he said he needed help…I didn’t realize who it was-”

She choked on her words and began to cry as blood began to drip from her mouth. She realized now that this was the end. 

He began sobbing harder, leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead. It was getting cold. He knew going for help would be futile.

“Maria… mon cœur, mon chou, mon vie…” He murmured, caressing her face. “Je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime…”
He repeated the words over and over again into her hair. She continued to cry, holding onto Polnareff with a failing grip.

“I...love you, Jean-Pierre... More…than anything…” She croaked. That phrase, the one she always said. More than anything.

As he held her, her whimpers and cries suddenly ceased. The only sound that could be heard was the blood bubbling in her throat as she breathed her last.

“Maria…?” Polnareff whispered.

She was limp, her mouth hanging open slightly, and he watched in horror as the light faded from her eyes.

“No no no, don’t do this to me mon chou, you can’t do this…” He shook her slightly.

She didn’t respond.
“Maria please…” He begged.
He knew deep down that his efforts were futile.

She was gone.

“Oh Maria...” He murmured, caressing her pale and lifeless cheek. He began to sob, and pulled her body close to him, before leaving a gentle kiss on her cold forehead. He got up, and grabbed the phone. He dialed a number, and shakily pressed the phone to his ear.

“Speedwagon Foundation Agent hotline, who is this please?” A woman answered.

”Jean-Pierre Polnareff. I need…” He broke down.“ It’s my…my fiancée. She’s dead…”

There was silence on the phone.

”Hold on Mr. Polnareff, we are sending help to your location now. Stay on the line please.”

He nodded, and returned to Maria’s side. He sat on the floor next to her, ignoring the blood, and pulled her head into his lap. He stroked her hair.

He was still like that when the Foundation agents arrived.

”Oh no…” one of them said as two other men wheeled in a stretcher. “Oh god…”

Polnareff looked up at them, totally numb.

“I lost her.”

They stood, unsure of what to do. Polnareff sighed, and hung up the phone, tossing it to the floor. An agent approached Maria’s body, but Polnareff glared at him.

“Don’t fucking touch her. Not yet…” He snarled. He stood up, cradling her limp body in his arms. He looked at her, admiring her beauty for the last time, before placing her on the stretcher. He pressed one last kiss to her lips, then turned away, seething with anger.

“I swear, Maria. I’m going to find the man who did this, and I am going to slaughter him.”
———————————————-
FLORENCE, 2003
 “These are the coordinates right?” Guido Mista said, gesturing to the tracking device in his hand.
 Giorno Giovanna, the 18 year old Don, nodded.
 “Yeah, this is where Polnareff said the stand’s energy was coming from.” He said.
 “That old villa? Jeez, that thing must be ancient!” Mista said, stepping through the tall grass.
 Their search for a stand user led them to an old, dilapidated villa just outside of Florence. The boarded windows and shattered roof tiles sullied what was once a very cozy estate.
Both of them continued their trek to the door, the grass licking at their fingertips like spiky tongues.
 They continued up what remained of a cobbled walkway to the front door.
Giorno reached out, and took hold of the heavy iron knob.

It was rusted closed.

 “Cazzo.” He groaned. “Damn thing is rusted shut.”
Both of them were startled by a voice inside. At least, it sounded like a voice. Both of them froze for a moment, but heard nothing.
 “Must’ve been the wind.” Mista quipped. “Anyway, here I’ll get the door.”
Pulling his revolver off his belt, the little stands within it cheered and squealed.
 “All right Sex Pistols, can you guys get that door open?” He asked.
“YES MISTA!” They all cried in unison, followed by a cry from Number 5 as Number 3 slapped him in the back of the head.
“Number 3, not cool dude!” Mista said. Number 5 started to tear up.
He flipped the cylinder back into the gun, and aimed it at the door.
“Don’t shoot yourself!” Giorno said with a laugh.
 “Let me take a line from the late Leone Abbacchio. Shut up, Giorno.” He said, and pulled the trigger.

 The door flew open before the bullet hit it, and it lodged itself in the wooden floor. The little orange bullet men floated back, and hovered around Mista chattering excitedly.
 “What the fuck? Golden Experience!” Giorno called, bringing forth his robot-like stand.
  “Let’s keep quiet, there’s something really weird going on here.” He said. Mista nodded, and both of them entered the house.
  Scouring each room, they found nothing but dusty furniture, books, and an old TV that looked like it might have been from the early 90s. Every room was empty, silent, and covered in dust.
  Finally, they found themselves standing in front of a heavy, dark door.
 “One last room.” Mista said, drawing his gun once more.
  Before they could reach the handle, the door creaked open, startling them both. They found themselves clutching at each other, scared out of their wits. When they realized what they were doing, both of them separated and brushed themselves off.
  “That was…” Mista said, trailing off.
  “Gay. That was really gay.” Giorno said.
The sunlight shined in through the busted large window, illuminating a collection of soggy books, grand shelves, and a rotting desk. The room had obviously weathered more than the rest of the house from the window letting in the elements.
  “What is that?” Giorno said, pointing to a dark stain on the floor. Mista strode over and crouched down, running his fingers over it.
  “Blood. It’s really old. Several years, at least.” He said.
  “Well, there’s no stand user, no animals, nothing.” Giorno said. “I guess whoever was here was a looter with a stand. They definitely aren’t here now. I guess we should head back and tell Polnareff.”
  “You left the turtle at the hotel, right?” Mista asked. Giorno nodded.
  “Yeah, he’s probably somewhere under the bed. He likes the dark.”
  They jumped again when one of the bookshelves creaked, and the shelf supporting a stack of books broke, and sent the whole mess tumbling to the floor.
  “No stand user, but a ghost maybe?” Mista said.
“No way, Mista. Ghosts aren’t real.”
“What about Polnareff?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about him for a second.” Giorno said.
  One of the books was suddenly sent skidding across the floor by an unseen force.
  “AHH!” Mista cried, leaping onto the desk in the center of the room. Golden Experience took on a battle stance.
  “Who’s there? Show yourself!” Giorno shouted.
A soft light shone from the door they had entered through. A redheaded woman stood before them, dressed like an old school Goth. She was muscular, tall, and pale. Her dark makeup made her eyes stand out, and her black-painted lips were slightly parted to reveal two pearly front teeth.
Seeing them, she recoiled.
  “Who are you?! Alice In Chains, Snuff the Rooster!” She shouted.
Nothing happened.
  “Shit…” She said.
  “I gotta say that’s one of the hottest ghosts I’ve ever seen!” Mista chattered. Giorno rolled his eyes.
The woman gave them a true death glare. It was then that both Mista and Giorno saw the hole.
It was large, and jagged. As if someone had punched through her.
They’d seen it before. Abbacchio, Bruno and Polnareff had borne the same wound.
The mark of King Crimson.
  “The boss killed you.” Giorno said, coming slowly closer to the woman. “That’s your blood on the floor, isn’t it?”
The woman sighed, resting a fist on the doorframe.
“Yeah. If only I knew his name….speaking of names, my name is Maria. Maria Elena.”
“Were you a stand user? Also, your name is familiar. Weren’t you some kind of opera singer?” Mista asked. She nodded.
“Yep. Stand user, singer, and Speedwagon Foundation agent. Along with…” She stopped speaking.
  “If it helps, the guy who killed you was named Diavolo.” Mista said. She smiled peacefully.
  “Finally, I know the fucker’s name. After all this goddamn time…” She sighed.
  “The question is, why did Polnareff’s tracker pick up stand energy here?” Mista said.

The woman’s eyes widened.

“Polnareff…?” She asked, and rushed towards Mista with terrifying speed, grabbing him. “Jean-Pierre? How do you fucking know him!?”
Mista recoiled in shock, but nodded.
  “Yeah, he’s the Don’s advisor.” He said, pointing back at Giorno. Maria looked at them both in shock.
  “You guys are Mafiosos? Man, you two are so young.” She said. She shook her head, and they saw tears fill her eyes.
  “Where is he? I can’t feel his life energy anymore…” she said. “It felt like it was cut off, about two years ago.”
  Mista and Giorno looked at each other.
“Well, he’s still around, but he’s not…” Mista said.
  “Alive.” Giorno finished. “His ghost lives in a turtle.”
Maria looked confused.
  “A turtle?” She asked. “He’s possessing a turtle?”
“Yeah, the turtle has a stand. He can manipulate it a bit now. The turtle has a key with a red dome on its back. It’s got a room inside it.” Mista said, but Giorno kicked him in the back of the heel.
“You can’t tell people this stuff, Mista! She could be an enemy!”
“If I were your enemy, you’d be dead. Ghost or not.” She said and suddenly turned away. A tear was rolling down her cheek.
  “I can’t believe he’s dead…” She said, stifling a sob.
“His spirit is still there.” Mista said.
  “Well, I guess there’s nothing here. Sorry for disturbing you.” Giorno said, nodding to Maria.
  “Wait!”
Maria left the room, then looked back and waved for them to follow.
  They followed her upstairs to a bedroom, to where a jewelry box sat on the dresser. She struggled for a moment to get a grip on the knob, but she pulled out a little drawer and rummaged through it.
Finally, she drew out a silver skull with red eyes, hung on a silver chain. The mouth was articulated, and the jaw bobbed open and shut with a soft clack.
  “Please, give this to Polnareff.” She said, pressing the necklace into Giorno’s hand. Her touch was so cold, and the skull felt like ice.
“Yeah, okay.” Giorno said. He turned to look at Mista, and when he looked back, the woman was gone.
  “Well, I guess we better head back to the hotel.” Mista said, and the two of them descended the stairs.
  They looked back at the decrepit villa as they left.
“They must have known each other before Polnareff lost his legs.” Mista said. Giorno shrugged.

  “Hey guys! Look!” A voice piped from under the bed. The French accent now had the hints of Italian, and the man in a tank top, eyepatch and silver hair brushed straight up from his head popped out of the top of the turtle’s dome like a soldier peeking out of a tank.
  “The turtle has a bathroom! I guess I manipulated it using ‘spirit energy’ or whatever!” He shouted happily.
  Mista got down on his hands and knees, and pulled the turtle out from under the bed. He touched the dome, and so did Giorno.
  The room had a different air now that Polnareff was there. There was a TV, a computer, a pullout couch, and now, where there was once a closet, there was a neat bathroom with a modest toilet and sink. It wasn’t fancy, but it was very clean.
  “I don’t have to use it, being a ghost, but look at it! It’s so...perfect!” He cried, from his spot on the couch. He didn’t move around much. His legs were made of metal, and were prosthetic as a result of his battle with Diavolo before meeting Giorno. When he was bored and not advising Giorno or filing information, he’d play a game on the PlayStation 2 hooked up to the boxy TV, or play a game on the computer.
  “Woah, that’s pretty cool!” Mista said. Giorno nodded, and looked at Polnareff.
  “Hey, so we met someone today. She said she knew you.” He said, coming closer to him.
“Really? Who?”
Giorno shrugged. “Apparently she died working with you? We found a ghost at the coordinates you gave us.”
If a ghost could become more pale, Polnareff had achieved it.
“She wanted us to give you this.” Giorno said, pulling the skull necklace out of his pocket and extending it to Polnareff.
He reached out, and took it with a shaky hand. He stared at it blankly.
Then, he gently pressed his lips to it.
“Mon chou...” he murmured. “This was her favorite necklace…”
“You guys were in love! That’s so cute!” Mista said gleefully. Giorno shushed him. Polnareff sighed, and a tear rolled down his face.
  “I miss her every minute of every day. She was my everything. This choker I wear? It belonged to her, she never wore it because it was too big. I wear it always, to remember her by.”
  “How did you know her?” Giorno asked. He sighed.
  “We met during a dark time in our lives. I had just returned from Egypt for the first time, and after seeing three of my friends die there I was miserable. I spent all my time drinking at a bar near my apartment in Paris. Then one day, I was at the bar and this punk-looking woman came onstage. She had a stand, I could see it behind her. Later that night on my way home, I saw her attempting to jump off a bridge. I stopped her. Her life seemed to have hit an end. She had no money, no family who wanted her, and no talent agents who would take her. So I offered her a place to sleep at my penthouse. Honestly, I was planning to return home and use Silver Chariot’s sword to stab myself through the heart. Luckily, I met her.” He said. His eyes were shining, and he sighed happily, remembering the times they had together.
  “We dragged each other out of our respective depressions. I was happy. I was in love with her, and she loved me too. Her career as a singer became very successful, and she even performed opera here in Italy a few times. Sadly, in 1997 we were called to Italy by the Speedwagon foundation to hunt a Mafia boss. As you could probably see, he found us first. She…” He wiped away a tear. “She died in my arms. I swore I would have my revenge on Diavolo. Obviously that didn’t go as planned.” He gestured to his legs.
He rubbed his thumb over the ruby eyes of the skull. 
“She wore this necklace all the time. It was her trademark. She was wearing when she died…how did I forget it? Maybe it fell off when I put her on the stretcher…”
  Giorno sighed.
  “I’m really sorry Polnareff, that...that’s rough. Unfortunately, I think we’re all tired and wiped out. We have to check out of the hotel early tomorrow to go home.” He said, pointing up toward the dome. In reality, the whole conversation just made him uncomfortable.

He found himself in the hotel room once more, and so did Mista.
  Polnareff put the necklace around his neck, and managed to fight off tears of sorrow until the boys were out of the turtle.
Once they were out of earshot of the turtle, Mista sighed.
  “Giorno… we should stay another day.”
  Giorno looked at him.
  “Why?”
  “If Polnareff can live in the turtle, maybe then she could-”
  “So could she… That is probably the smartest thing I’ve heard you say in a long time Mista.” He said, and for a moment Mista looked pissed at being interrupted. 
  “We should surprise him! It’s obvious that the two of them were so deeply in love, it’s like they were bound by fate!”
  Giorno smiled a little.
  “I can’t argue with that. The way his face looked when he talked about her… he looked so different. He was almost happy, like actually happy remembering her. You know what, let’s do it. She’s probably lonely as hell in that old house.” Giorno said.
  Mista yawned.
“All right, I’m going to take a shower and head to bed. Good night, Giorno.”
  “Good night, Mista”
As they drifted off to sleep, they heard a soft, sweet voice from the turtle singing.

“Maria Elena, you're the answer to a prayer
Maria Elena, can't you see how much I care?
To me your voice is like the echo of a sigh
And when you're near my heart can't speak above a sigh.”

Polnareff’s song had a happy tune, but his voice sounded so sad. They were mildly uncomfortable, as they could hear him crying through it. Eventually they just ignored it, when Polnareff eventually turned off the lights in the turtle’s room.

“Yeah, it would be wrong to keep them separated.” Giorno whispered.

The next morning, Giorno and Mista put the turtle in a camera bag, and got into the car.
“Are we on our way home?” Polnareff asked. He sounded as if he hadn’t slept.

“Y-yeah.” Giorno said. “We just have something we need to do first.”

A little while later, the car pulled into the driveway of the old house, and the boys got out.

“Come on!” Mista said, running through the grass.
Giorno followed close behind, holding the bag containing the turtle close so it wouldn’t get hurt.
“Slow down! I don’t want to hurt the turtle!” Giorno yelled.
  “Maria! We have something for you!” Mista shouted as they burst through the door. There was no answer.
  They went into the library where they had seen her before. To their surprise, she was perched on the desk with a copy of Little Women in her hand.
  “What are you two doing here? Are you coming back to loot the place?” She asked.   “Just don’t take my book.”
  “No, we brought you something.” Mista said, out of breath. Giorno took the turtle out of the bag, and placed it beside her on the desk. She looked over, and the book fell from her hands.
  “Is that…”
  “Yeah. Just touch the dome.” Giorno said.
  She reached out tentatively, then looked back at Giorno and Mista.
  “Don’t worry, we won’t interrupt.” Mista said.
She nodded, and vanished.

The air stood still.

  Maria looked around the turtle, her eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. She turned around, and saw the man in the wheelchair looking at the floor. He looked sad and forlorn, as if he were contemplating suicide. Of course, if he weren’t already dead.

Her heart broke to see what had become of the man she loved. Those once magnificent muscles had atrophied, and there were only stumps where both his legs were, caged by metal replacements. Her lip quivered at the sight of the eyepatch over his one eye.

He looked up and stared wide-eyed, his mouth falling open.
It couldn’t be, could it?

“Maria…?” He asked, his eyes brimming with tears of disbelief.

“Jean…!” Maria said, as her eyes began to well up too.
  She lunged at him, practically jumping into his lap and hugged him tightly.
He smiled, and wiped away one of the tears on her face.
  “Mon cœur, how I’ve missed you…I thought I would never see you again…!” He said, brushing his hand along her cheek. “Look at you, as beautiful as ever.” He breathed, his sapphire blue eyes now overflowing with tears.

“If Diavolo wasn’t already burning in hell I would fucking VAPORIZE him for what he did to you...even as a ghost…Oh my fucking god...” She sobbed, and threw her arms around his neck.
  His arms embraced her, and though they had changed, the warmth of his arms were familiar and loving.
  For several minutes they stayed locked together, desperately clinging to what they had lost.
Polnareff tipped her face up to his, before he kissed her passionately, the two of them holding onto each other as if they were glued together.
  Suddenly two shimmering lights appeared. It looked like a tiny golden gladiator, and a tiny silver knight. As they collided, something changed about the way he held her.
She looked up at him, and he looked just as shocked. He had changed. Entirely.
And so had she.
  The arms that embraced her were the ones she remembered. Rippling muscles held her close to thick pectorals covered by a black shirt with a single strap. His grey jeans rustled against the wheelchair as he shifted his legs.
His real legs.
Her face had become young once more, the stress lines on her forehead erased themselves, and the hole through her midsection disappeared. She was wearing a black leather jacket, platform boots, ripped black jeans, and her red hair was streaked with black like it had been in the late 80s.

Their souls had reverted.

They looked how they had on the night they got together, that night on the balcony at their Paris apartment. Polnareff suddenly stood, pulling her up with him.

“I CAN WALK!” He shouted, spinning Maria around gleefully. “YOU’VE CURED ME!”
“What the fuck was that? Some true love’s kiss bullshit?!” She exclaimed. He jumped up and down excitedly, then threw Maria over his shoulder and ran two laps around the room.
   “I FEEL SO FREE!” He shouted.
  “BE CAREFUL DUMBASS!” Maria shouted, laughing.
  Finally he put her down, both of them breathing hard and giggling.
  His arms encircled her waist, and he pulled her tightly against him, laying his head on her shoulder.
“I’ve wanted to sing this again for so long. I haven’t had anyone to sing it to.” He said softly.
Like she had done so many times to him, he began to sing softly to her. This time his voice was happy, warm, and filled with the sweetest emotion.

“Maria Elena, say that we will never part
Maria Elena, take me to your heart
A love like mine is great enough for two
To share this love is really all I ask of you…”

  “Just as romantic as always.” Maria said, throwing her arms around his neck. “I missed your voice.”
  “I still have a video on my laptop of you singing.” He said. “I never deleted it, and I’ve listened to it every day. Just to hear your voice.”
“No way!” Maria said, and Polnareff grinned at the brazen bravado that had enchanted him all those years ago.
  He grabbed the laptop off the table and started it up.

”Remember for your birthday I got you a video camera?” 

She grinned.

”Fuck, that must have been a huge pain to get on a laptop. That thing used tapes!” 

“Well I managed. And I never got rid of it. I have all the videos from it, the rest are still on tapes. 
  He clicked on the file and a grainy video popped up. 
Maria was dressed in her usual Goth attire, and the camera was sitting on the coffee table of their Paris apartment. She held her guitar in her hand, and began strumming.

“Des yeux qui font baisser les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
Voilà le portrait sans retouches
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens…”

Polnareff smiled, as Maria’s eyes lit up. She remembered this.

The video ended and he smiled, and set the laptop down on the end table.
  The two of them looked at each other, their eyes meeting.
  “I can’t believe I finally get to say this again.” Maria said, reaching out and taking Polnareff’s hand. “I love you.”
  Without warning, Polnareff lunged at her, tackling her back onto the sofa and wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug, practically on top of her.
  “I LOVE YOU TOO!” He shouted. He followed this by planting a rather sloppy wet kiss on Maria’s cheek.
  “You kiss like a grandma.” She said. He rolled his eyes.
  “I don’t think a grandma should ever kiss you like this.” He said. He gently leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, giving her a sweet and tender, and certainly romantic kiss. He even slipped in a little tongue, which made her giggle.
He pulled back, and Maria stared up at him, her face red and her eyes sparkling.
  “Please do that again.” She said, laughing.
“Oh we will have plenty of time for that mon chou.”
He stood up smiling, and reached up to his left ear, removing one of the earrings he wore. He gently removed the stud in Maria’s ear, and hooked the jagged broken heart through it. He let the stud fall to the floor.
  “I want you to stay with me, mon chou. I think if I give you something of mine, that can bind us together. We can stay here forever. At least, until the turtle dies. That probably won’t be for many, many years.”
  She smiled, gently feeling the red metal jewelry now dangling from her ear.
“But why the earring? Why not a shoelace or a button or something? You love these earrings, they’re your trademark!
  “Because, mon amour, you are the other half of my heart. I love you more than anything.”

She smiled and hugged him close.

”I love you too Jean. More than anything.”