Chapter Text
-Mista! Shoot! SHOOT!
Bucciarati shouted as the surprisingly fast and flexible enemy was prancing between the gang members.
-That's one quick bastard!
Mista shot, but the enemy pulled a gun out of a skillfully hidden hip holster -and it seemed that he had those all around his waist- and shot down all of Mista's bullets. Not even the Sex Pistols handled it, and losing control, went back.
-Damn, is THAT his stand ability?
Abbacchio grunted. The enemy's stand showed up, looking like a white cloud with floating green eyes. Sex Pistols and Gold Experience hurried after it, but missed every hit they tried to land on it. The cloud soaked in, and then ricocheted the Pistols at Gold Experience, putting a bullet in Giorno's leg, before launching right at him and passing clean through him, evaporating right after. Giorno was knocked down from his feet, and Gold Experience vanished.
-Giorno!
Bucciarati called out.
-It didn't do anything!
Giorno looked confused, but nobody had time to pay attention to it, since the Stand User was running away from them, but now every attack it reflected was aimed at Giorno, and Giorno... Wasn't using Gold Experience to stop it? He seemed to just take the bullets. Bucciarati noticed that Giorno wasn't catching up, but he was so close to reaching the enemy that he didn't turn back. But he missed. He lost sight of the Stand User for a mere second, but when he tried to search for him, he could neither see or hear the enemy.
-FUCKING BASTARD!- Bucciarati shouted and turned around, angrily staring at the heavily breathing from all the running gang members. -Where... Is Giorno?
He asked, rising an eyebrow. Everyone exchanged glances, and Narancia summoned Aerosmith. He watched the monitor, increasing it's sensitivity to maximum for a couple of seconds before a concerned countenance took over his face.
-Bucciarati... He's way back. And something is very wrong with his breathing.
He said, looking at the others with worried gaze. Bucciarati growled to himself something and passed the turtle that was carrying the key Trish was inside of to Abbacchio.
-I'm going to get him. Fugo, I want you to take Narancia and Mista and plan how to catch this guy. Abbacchio, the turtle is on your responsibility for now, and send Moody Blues to figure out the enemy's location.
He said and hurried to the direction they came from. Why did Giorno stay behind? Did he encounter another enemy? Did he have a technique to chase down this guy that involved him staying behind? Was he injured? But then he would just use Gold Experience to fix his injuries, right? Maybe he was taking his time healing?
Soon enough Bucciarati could see Giorno's blond hair, standing out in the dark.
-Giorno! What are you doing here, dammit!- As Bucciarati came closer, he realized that something was wrong. Giorno was sitting on his knees, hugging his torso, bent in half. If only there was a good source of light to see what was wrong...-Giorno, what is it?
Bucciarati was now right in front of Giorno, so he crouched down, relying on an almost broken street light nearby to give him an answer. He noticed that most of Giorno's clothes got darker, and that his breathing was labored. Bucciarati had a guess of what happened, but it didn't exactly make sense in his mind.
-Hey, can you hear me? Gior...
Bucciarati stopped as he touched Giorno's shoulders. His sleeves were wet, exactly at the points where they got dark. Warm, wet and dark. Blood. A lot of it. That made sense, Giorno soaked many bullets in battle, but the blood was still spreading... His wounds were open.
-Giorno, you are bleeding! Why don't you fix it?!
Bucciarati gripped Giorno's shoulders, which were also covered in wounds, and heard him let out a painful sob. Giorno lifted his shaking head and looked into the ex-capo's eyes.
-I can't... Summon Gold Experience.... It's not here.... My Stand... My Stand is... Gone...
He whispered, sobbing between the words and gripping his teeth. For the first time, Bucciarati had seen the charismatic and strong teen so vulnerable and helpless. Even when Giorno lost both his hands in fight against Notorious B.I.G., he wasn't afraid, since he knew what he was doing- he had one of his brooches turn into a new limb for him, and after that he fixed everything. Now something happened that made his Stand disappear- and he didn't have any ace up his sleeve. That wouldn't be that bad, only if he didn't look like Fugo's jacket at the moment.
-It will be fine, Giorno. Stay calm.
Bucciarati was murmuring, as he used Sticky Fingers to create zippers on Giorno's body to close the wounds, hoping to at least ease the bleeding. But from all those shots, at least a few eternal organs were damaged badly, and he had already lost a lot of blood.
-That'll be it for now.
-Bruno... I don't want to die...
Giorno whispered, folded in half with his head down. Bucciarati grasped him and picked him up. He didn't expect Giorno to call him by his first name, but his last name was probably too energy consuming to pronounce.
-You're not going to die.
Bucciarati wasn't sure if he believed his own words, but Giorno looked like he needed this reassurance more than anything right now. He still had a big dream to fulfill, and dying with something still undone, a goal not yet reached, is a horrible feeling.
The way back took much longer, since Bruno was already on his last legs and with Giorno in his arms, which turned into a challenge of carrying him without hurting him too much. When they reached the destination, Fugo, Narancia and Mista were in the middle of a heated argument, and Abbacchio was sitting on the ground, waiting for anything to happen.
-You missed Narancia and Fugo trying to murder each other again.
He said like nothing was wrong.
-I'd appreciate some assistance.
Bruno grunted in response. Abbacchio looked up and his eyes turned round like coins upon seeing Giorno. Narancia almost began to cry, while Fugo and Mista had to pick up their jaws.
-Mista, can you use the pistols to pull out the bullets?
Bucciaratti kept his cool, and his piercing glare forced the others to put on a calm mask.
-Y-yeah...
Mista mumbled. Bruno knelt down, laying Giorno down on the grass. The area around them was deserted for radius big enough for nobody to pass by and interrupt. Bucciarati began undoing the zippers on Giorno's body. The pistols dived into Giorno's wounds, and he arched his back as they began pulling out the bullets. With every bullet, more blood leaked out of his wounds, and he coughed up more and more of it.
-Let's hope no bullet hit the liver.
Bucciaratti's thoughts were cut by Giorno's loud yelp as a bullet left his side.
-No, the liver seems intact.
Number 7 reported.
After the pistols were done, Bucciarati left Giorno's jacket unzipped so he could take as deep breathes as possible, and zipped his wounds once again.
-We must take this Stand user alive. We need him to give Gold Experience back.
He said.
-Killing this guy is going to be one hell of a challenge, how do you want us to CATCH him and force him to do something?!
Narancia asked.
-Lure him in. In any way. Those wounds can't be fixed so easily. Abbacchio, did you have any progress on finding him?
Bucciarati asked, frowning. In response, Abbacchio revealed a bit of his shoulder, which was covered in blood. It appeared like a bullet wounded him without touching any bones or doing any critical damage, only blood loss. Oddly skilled shooter.
-I guess Moody Blues caught up with the guy, and he sent a warning shot. Eventually he ended up out of range.
He replied, and Bucciarati could hear hints of guilt in his voice.
-We split up. Fugo, Mista and Narancia, you go after the Stand user. Abbacchio and Trish join me. We must take Giorno to a hospital.
Thankfully they managed to find a car soon enough, and Abbacchio took the wheel after the wound on his arm was tended to. Bucciarati, Trish and Giorno were inside the turtle's key on the passenger seat.
Bucciarati and Trish unzipped Giorno's wounds, washed them and applied sanitized bandages. Fortunately they always carried some medical supplies around. Throughout the entire procedure, Bucciarati stayed cool like a cucumber, and Trish was successfully trying to do the same. Giorno, the moment he felt in the safe environment of the room, seemed to calm down a little. He would flinch with every wound touching the bandage, and then relax again. The only tensity was created by his quick, cropped breathing, that resembled gasping.
-That's it, everything is closed. They will tend to the inner damage in the hospital.
Bucciarati muttered, now concerned only about Giorno's breathing. Sometimes Giorno turned his head to a side and coughed up a bit blood, but it was definitely better than before.
-Bruno... We can't... Can't go there...
Giorno gasped.
-To the hospital?
-Yes, Passione will... Will strike us... They'll hurt civilians...
-We can't know what will happen to you if we don't take you to be properly tended to. Don't resist.
In response, Giorno resisted even more and tried to lift himself up using his right arm, which hadn't been injured, to prove Bucciarati that he could pull through without hospitalization, but a moment later he fell back, all of his muscles contracting from the horrendous pain in his entire body.
-Don't be a moron and stop moving! Do you want to die?!
Bucciarati snapped at him. Giorno opened his mouth to reply, but what came out was painful gasping and bloody coughing. Bucciarati thought shortly and began unzipping Giorno's chest horizontally.
-What are you doing, Bucciarati? Don't try to fix his organs without equipment!
Trish warned him.
-I'm not trying to do that, I have to check something.
Bucciarati replied, studying Giorno.
-His right lung is punctured. I think I can create a zipper on it to close the wound before it fills with blood any more.
He said and used Sticky Fingers to close the wound cautiously, before closing off the zippers he created on Giorno's chest. Giorno took a deep inhale, and his breathing was no longer taking this much struggle.
-Thank you.
He whispered, closing his eyes, which were losing their focus.
-Giorno! Don't you dare fall asleep! Listen to me! It's merely fifteen minutes until we reach the hospital, stay awake!
Bucciarati snapped. He actually didn't know how long the drive would take, neither did he know how badly Giorno's organs were damaged, but he couldn't risk it, and thus tried to convince him to grip on his consciousness. Giorno obeyed, despite it getting harder as the adrenaline wore down.
The moment he was delivered to the hospital, it seemed that something had exhausted him totally, and he was just staring blankly ahead of himself with glassy eyes, and in this condition he was rushed to an emergency operation. Bucciarati and Trish were waiting outside the operational room, while Abbacchio stayed to patrol outside of the hospital to make sure that no Stand User would come to attack them.
The operation lasted a few good hours, during which Trish fell asleep in the waiting room, using Bucciarati's shoulder as a pillow. Bucciarati, on the other hand, couldn't close his eyes even. He could feel his pulse in his temples and his heart beating abnormally fast, although he made sure not to let his worry show on his face. Neither Trish nor Abbacchio had to know what was going on on their leader's mind. He had to keep it cool for them.
One of the doctors came out of the operational room, Bucciarati yanked his head at him. He was familiar with this doctor, a while ago Bucciarati brought Narancia to the hospital with sore eye, and the said doc was considered an acquaintance.
-Mister Bucciarati? Long time no see.
The doctor said, cracking a smile.
-Definitely.
-So is this blonde kid under your wing?
-Yes, precisely, Giorno is one of my men. What is his condition?
-Well, I won't ask how did he get into such a situation, but uh... You took good care of his wounds on the way here, we managed to prevent any fatal outcome. But even if everything goes smoothly, it will take its toll on him, but it won't be vital. He doesn't smoke or have any other addiction, does he?
-He doesn't. No one in the team, in fact.
-That's good, in his current condition it would mess with his circulation system to no good. Anyways, it's not fatal, he is badly anemic, though, and mentally shaken. He is still affected by the anesthesia and may not seem completely sober. But you can visit him now.
Bucciarati thanked the doctor sincerely, shook Trish awake to get her off him and entered Giorno's room.
Giorno was pale like a death cap, breathing deeply and sweating. His face was hidden behind a breathing mask, and his body was covered with bandages and operational stitches. Bucciarati swallowed nervously at the view and slowly moved towards him. Giorno opened his glassy eyes at the sound of Bucciarati's steps, and a small tear rolled down his still face.
Giorno never cried. When he felt vulnerable or desperate, when everything seemed hopeless, he would shake. He knew crying was no use, but his body still had a reaction to fear and despair, so he was shaking. Emotions never lead to him crying, so how much pain had struck him to cause it?
-Giorno...
Bucciarati sat down beside him. It was so familiar... Sitting near someone close to him on a hospital bed, watching him suffering from bullets holing his body, and feeling the fear that somebody is going to burst through the wall or the window to kill him, and along with that, being the only one able to protect him.
-Can you hear me?-Bucciarati shifted aside, and Giorno's eyes followed his movement. A few more tears left his eyes. -I'm sorry I didn't act quicker. We all... I... Got so spoiled by your ability to patch our injuries, that we forgot how to protect each other.
It appeared that the more Bucciarati talked, the more tears flowed from Giorno's eyes, while they remained blank. Bucciarati sighed in despair and put his hand on Giorno's shoulder, where he saw no injuries, to offer any kind of comfort.
The touch of his warm hand made Giorno flinch, and all the emotions that were hidden behind the glassy expression mixed on his pained face, almost like until now he didn't realize that he had to react, and not only listen. He wiped away the tears with the healthy hand before speaking up:
-Bruno... I'm sorry, for breaking down... He whispered. Bucciarati lifted both eyebrows in misunderstanding and Giorno continued: -I knew that you were... Lying when you said that... Everything will be alright. I knew that my wounds may end up fatal... I knew that I couldn't do anything about it... So... I was panicking. I'm sorry about it.- His voice was worn out and weak, and his bleak eyes were slowly closing.
-Everybody has their breaking point. It's normal to experience it in a situation as such. But now, saying that it will get better won't be a lie. The doctor said that the medical crew prevented any fatal outcome.-
-Then... Why are you... Shaking? Your lips are bleeding... You were biting them...
It didn't take much detective skill to spot Bucciarati's worry. He hurried to wipe away the blood from his lips, leaving red stains on his white sleeve. Not that it mattered, his entire suit was covered in Giorno's blood.
-It's still a complicated situation.
A short silence followed, during which Bucciarati was sure that Giorno will fall asleep, but Giorno stubbornly fought his exhaustion.
-Bruno, do you think that... It's possible to turn this guy's power back? Maybe knocking him out... Or killing him... Will bring Gold Experience back?
He asked. Bucciarati furrowed his eyebrows, tapping on his lips, which slightly burned from the bites.
-It may, but I'm afraid of the possibility that it will disappear into oblivion together with his soul if we kill him, and if we knock him out, his Stand will just disappear until he summons it again. We won't be able to do anything with it. I think we have to tear his stand open.- He paused as a question formed in his mind. -Giorno, I deeply apologize for the question, but how does it feel?
He asked. Giorno looked straight ahead again, his eyes slowly becoming glassy, and Bucciarati clicked fingers in front of Giorno's eyes to bring him back to reality.
-It feels... Empty... Depressingly empty... Like it's sucking the energy out of me.
He closed his eyes and took a long, shaky inhale.
-Maybe you're tired from the blood loss.
-I can... tell them apart... it hurts...- Giorno turned his head to a side, his eyes staying barely slit open. Before falling asleep, he managed to whisper shakily: -I'm afraid to die, Bruno...
The last sentence made Bucciarati's heart skip a beat, and right after Giorno's eyes shut, he put two fingers on his neck to check the pulse. His heart was beating regularly, and Bucciarati sat still like that for a few straight minutes. His heartbeat was monitored, but Bucciarati preferred to feel the warmth of Giorno's body together with the pulse. He couldn't know if losing his Stand would put him in danger aside from the wounds, and he preferred to not take any risks.
Getting up heavily, Bucciarati left the room. Trish was waiting outside the room, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
-So?
She asked shortly.
-Giorno is stable, but without his Stand he seems to be getting weaker. But maybe it's just temporary tiredness from the anemia.
Bucciarati answered, sitting down on a chair and lowering his head into his hands.
-But he will be alright, won't he?
Trish asked, concerned.
-I hope. He suffered serious injuries, after all. But the doctor doesn't foresee a lethal outcome, and Giorno is very strong.
Bucciarati had to swallow a lump
in his throat as he remembered Giorno's words. He wouldn't let it happen. Whatever depended on him, he couldn't let Giorno or his other teammates come in touch with death again.
Maybe it was a delusional goal in their situation.