Chapter Text
Despite traveling from Palermo to the monastery at the same time, Sergio and Martìn had split up, for safety. Now in the nearest small italian city Martín waited at what had always been their pick up spot.
Sergio pulled up in a car, with a woman in the passenger seat. Great.
“Sergio.”, he greeted, getting in the back seat.
“No names from now on.”, Sergio replied. “I’m the professor and this is-”
“Lisbon.”, she cut in. “Nice to meet you.”
She didn’t seem particularly thrilled.
“Palermo.”, Martìn decided. Palermo had always felt like home to him, despite everything. “So you finally got a girlfriend.”, he grinned.
The couple exchanged looks, the professor clearly stressed, Lisbon with a raised brow. Palermo swallowed a laugh as the professor struggled trying to figure out what Lisbon wanted him to say.
“Yes.”, he finally said. Apparently the right answer.
“Good for you. You two.” He grinned like he had grinned at all of Andrés relationships. “How did you meet?”
“How did you start developing the heist for the bank of spain?”, Lisboa shot back.
He saw the professor let out a silent sigh.
But if Sergio’s girlfriend wanted to play interrogation, fine, he’d play along.
“A drunken evening with Berlin.”, he answered. “It was his idea.” He expected to get an answer to his question in return, but instead she asked another question.
“Was that before or after your coup in Switzerland?”
He froze up. Sergio barely knew anything about Switzerland and there was no way in hell he had mentioned it to his girlfriend. He quickly shook off the icky feeling and turned to Sergio. “Who the fuck is this woman?”
“I was the inspectora at the robbery of the mint. I changed sides after the police fucked me over.”
Palermo let out a cold laugh. This was more than ridiculous. “Do you know...”, he asked Sergio. “...how many hours I had to listen to Andrès whine about your lectures about Tatiana and betrayal? And now see who’s got himself a traitor.”
The professor only shot Palermo a short look before turning to Lisbon. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
“I had no clue about his identity before I just saw him now. I recognized him from the mugshots on his file. Don’t you know he’s filed as Berlin’s partner? As soon as De Fonollosa was identified, everyone was convinced he was in the mint too.”
“ He is going to help you fuck all with his plan if you continue speaking about him in third person.”, Palermo snapped.
“Apologies.”, they said inunison.
“Wow, what a match.”, Palermo smiled with a grimace.
“I can already tell there is going to be arguing about my credibility, I’d rather you get that over with now, so go ahead you two.”, Lisboa said, crossing her arms.
“Why would I argue about your credibility with him ?”, Palermo asked deadpan.
Lisbon turned to look at him. “I already have more respect for you than for anyone else who has questioned my credibility so far.” It seemed to be a genuine appreciation.
“You’re welcome.”
“I hope you will get along.”, Sergio threw in. “The three of us will have to work together closely.”
“We’ll arrange.”, he said, with a nod to Lisbon. He had managed to befriend all of Andrès girlfriends and wives. Lisbon seemed like a reasonable enough woman compared to several of them. She nodded back, probably thinking something similar. The tension between them dissipated.
“What about the rest of the group?”
"You will have more than enough time to form your own opinion.", the professor just said.
As they parked in the back of the monastery and walked up to it, Palermo had the first chance to get a look at all of them. Sergio had collected a truly strange assortment of people, just like Andrès always had. Diverse people made for diverse skills.
He stuck close to Sergio, not really in the mood for a reunion moment with his former colleagues.
He had returned here once after Andés had died, to pick up some of his notes to bury himself in work. At the occasion he had told the monks to do with what had been Andrès’ part of the building as they wished, but not to touch his chapel.
They seemed to have kept to it. The hallways still hadn’t been restored, but contrary to the chapel they were spotless as always, the candles on the iron chanceliers lit.
Despite it being covered in dust and spiderwebs, entering the chapel seemed to bring Andrès back to life for a single painful moment. Sergio unveiled Andrès’ self-portrait that Palermo had covered up the last time he had been here and put it up on the easel. The group came to stand, looking at the brothers, next to each other but not reunited.
The professor shot Palermo a look. Martín looked down and swallowed the lump in his throat, glad the rest of the group was standing behind him.
“This will be our classroom.”, the professor said. “Let’s try to find some chairs. And let’s move these things out of the way.”
The thought of rearranging Andrès’ room made him feel sick, so Palermo quickly volunteered. ”The pews should still be somewhere, I’ll go.”
A few of the guys followed him.
The pews, turned work chairs, were still in the junk room they had left it in.
Palermo started freeing them from the rest of the junk and handed them out of the door of the tiny room one by one.
“So you’ve been here before?”, the guy with dark curls asked.
“I lived here.” He gave a stuck chair a sharp tug. It had to have supported something that now clattered to the floor, but Palermo decided to ignore it.
“In a church?”
“It’s a monastery. You get used to it.” He handed him the chair. The rest of them were stacked tightly and Palermo reached for the top one and pulled. “So what are your city names?”
“Denver.”, the guy answered.
“Bogota.”
Palermo turned his head to look at him judgingly for a moment. “Why Bogota?”
“So?”, he shrugged. “What did you pick?”
“Palermo.”
He gave the chair a hard tug, putting his full weight into it, but it barely moved.
“Let me.” The man’s accent was thicker than even Palermo’s own. He was a true bear of a man, barely able to squeeze in the tight space of the tiny room, and when he pulled on the chair it came free with little resistance.
He handed it to Palermo with a gentle smile.
It was strangely endearing, in the way only men who were equally big, kind and gay could be.
“And you are?”, Palermo asked.
“Helsinki.”
“You don’t sound finnish.”, he joked.
“You don’t sound italian.”, the man shot back
At that Palermo laughed.
When they sat down in the classroom, he chose the spot right behind Helsinki.