Chapter 11

A Chapter by Minyonka

Standard disclaimer applies

The next week passed without incident, for which Marco was thankful. Angelo's actions hadn't changed and he hadn't done anything to make Marco believe he was after Crista. All was peaceful on Lacrime, as it always was. For the whole week, Marco was uneasy. He felt like this was the calm before the storm.

"Marco?" Crista said, pulling him from his thoughts as he sat on the back steps of Carmella's restaurant. He was on break.

"Hmmm?"

"Is something wrong? You've been very quiet lately."

"Just thinking."

"About your life before coming here?" That stopped Marco for a moment. He hadn't given much thought to the people he'd dreamt of of had seen in his half-memories. His mind was focused on Crista's attack. However, he knew she didn't like him thinking about it.

"Somewhat," he lied.

"What are the people you remember like?" she asked earnestly. It was the first time since Marco told her he remembered that she'd asked about them.

"It's still pretty hazy, but the people I remember were kind-hearted. There was one little girl--she called me Nii-chan when she younger-- and she must have been ten years old when she met me. She wasn't afraid of anything and she liked to play rough."

"It sounds like you really loved her."

Marco nodded. "I can't remember her name, but I call her Imouto. I remember there was one time when she'd gotten sick, but we were on a ship. She'd never gotten seasick, so we knew something was wrong when she was curled up on-deck, looking as green as a frog."

"We?"

"The other men. My brothers, I think." Crista nodded.

"So, the little girl was sick. What did you do?" she asked. Marco chuckled and thought back to the dream he'd had of this event with a wistful smile on his lips.

"I stayed by her side all day while she threw up over the side of the ship. She didn't cry once. She just sucked it up and waited it out. I was proud of her, for being as strong as she was, but I told her it was okay to cry sometimes. You know waht she told me?"

"What?"

"She said, 'This isn't anything to cry over, Nii-chan. I feel like crap, but none of my nakama is hurt.' Can you believe it? She was only a kid, but she was already so grown up," Marco answred and Crista smiled. She could see how proud he was of his adoptive sister and wondered if Angelo felt like that about her.

"How was she th elast time you saw her?" she asked and Marco's smile fell. Crista immediately wished she hadn't said anything, but was curious to know, if he'd tell her.

"She was in bad shape. I'm not sure how, but she was covered in burns. I remember being furious at the b*****d who'd hurt her. She was crying that day, but I don't think it was for herself." Marco thought of Pops and Freckles dying in his nightmares, then of Imouto's burns. "I doubt she made it."

He could feel a lump forming in his throat and he gave a little cough to clear it. This was ridiculous of him, really. Getting emotional over a ssiter that only existed in his dreams? What kind of grown man did that? And yet, he could never shake the feelings he got whenever she showed up in his dreams as that tough little girl.

They were both drawn from the silence at the sound of someone pounding on the front door. It was Luca and he was out of breath. He spoke before Marco or Crista had a chance to ask what was going on.

"Pirates have landed on the island. I don't know how they got here, but Angelo went to fight them off!" he exclaimed.

"Dio mio," Crista breathed and ran out the door, not even bothering with her shoes.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to stop him!"

Marco scowled but followed after her towards the beach. He'd be damned if he let Crista be hurt by anyone again. When he got to the beach, he saw Angelo fall onto his back and Crista about to run towards him. Marco grabbed her arms to hold her still and glanced around at the few pirates who had landed on the beach. He could see their ship farther out in the ocean.

"Crista, get back!" Angelo ordered as he stood again and one of the pirates cracked his knuckles. He was wearing a black top-hat, carried a sword and had a long, thin moustache. He looked incredibly familiar to Marco and he nearly lost his hold on Crista as she struggled.

"Don't you touch him, figlio della-"

"Crista," Marco hissed, "calm down. And Angelo, don't be stupid. Don't attack them."

"Holy s**t!" one of the pirates exclaimed as they all looked at Marco.

In the group, he could see the hugely muscular man he'd dreamt of arm-wrestling with. Marco's jaw dropped and his grip on Crsita's arms slackened. She pulled free and ran to Angelo, checking him for wounds. Marco barely noticed as he watched the large man step forward. Sitting on his shoulder was a young woman with black hair short enough to belong to a man. Her upper body was covered in bandages, but she wore a black tank top over them.

"Marco?" she whispered, as though she didn't believe her own eyes.

She slid off the big guys shoulder and the one with the weird moustache moved to help her walk. It was obvious he was concerned for her physical health, but she just urged him off of her. Not was word was spoken and Marco doubted anyone dared to breathe as this woman limped across teh sand, heading straight towards him. Watching her struggle, Marco was forced to think of the muscles that went into walking, and how painful it must have been for her. As the woman neared, he could see the tears in her eyes and, once she was close enough, she threw herself at him, grabbing the open edges of his shirt. Marco was shocked, but put his arms around her as if it was the most natural reaction to her crying on his chest.

"I-Imouto?" he asked and the woman gave him a watery laugh.

"You haven't called me that since I was a kid."

Marco realized at that moment that he hadn't simply dreamed of this young woman; she was real. They all were. He wrapped his arms around her even tighter and just held her as she cried, a few tears falling from his own eyes. It was all real. They all existed and they loved him. They had been looking for him. His family had returned to him.

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