My Guy!!!! @penn4mythoughts .. True inspiration and friend.. More Fire Bro.. You holdin out.. I know you!!! #face #bossface #youungg #bk #coldestwinter https://www.instagram.com/p/BsO4GB1n8BC/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1gb6psvgrfk1h
When Anthony opens his eyes for the first time after the explosion, he doesn’t expect warm wood paneling above his head or smell the scent of baking biscotti in the air.
NOTE: I seriously need scarlias fix-its. (or more scarlias in general tbh)
On AO3.
When Anthony opens his eyes for the first time after the explosion, he doesn’t expect warm wood paneling above his head or the scent of baking biscotti in the air.
He takes a moment to categorize his physical state: he’s a little stiff, a little sore, but his face doesn’t sting, and he can’t feel any of the injuries he remembers from Dominic’s men- the skin on his face is unscabbed, free of the sticky tang of blood. He tries to move his hand.
It takes a bit, but soon he’s sitting up, blinking at the soft sunlight that’s illuminating the room he’s in- it’s nice, warmly furnished, with cream walls and clean windows overlooking a lake and a grassy hill and a plush red armchair in the corner.
An armchair with someone seated in it.
“Er.” Anthony says, blinking at the man- he’s tall and pale, with dark hair and a beaky nose, peering down at the newspaper perched in his lap, and it suddenly occurs to Anthony who the guy is. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The man looks up, and his face is weathered and thin, though the large, dark eyes set in his sockets hint at incomprehensible knowledge.
“Mister Marconi.” Death- and Anthony is fairly sure he is Death- murmurs. “Good to see you among the- well, not the living, but the conscious.”
“Where am I?” The man in the bed asks, even though he has a fair guess at where he is: if the man is Death, then this is Hell, and someone will be along to deliver him to his punishment.
Death smiles. It’s small and light and secretive, and Anthony gets the feeling that the Grim Reaper is a guy similar to his boss- never showing his entire hand, never shaken by any turn of events.
It must come with experience, he thinks.
“Why, Mister Marconi.” Death says. “You’re in Heaven.”
Well, that’s a surprise. “Heaven?” He questions, taken aback. “I thought for sure I’d be going to Hell.”
~~~~~~
Everything takes a while to sink in.
Apparently the biscotti is a welcome thing: something about good memories (and he has to smile at that, because he’s instantly reminded of a young Carl Elias frowning at him, asking, “You’re Italian and you can’t make biscotti? Come on.” They had stolen flour and sugar from the kitchens and staked out Mister Johnson’s chicken coop, coming away laughing, eggs cradled in their hands, and saved milk and the rare pecan from their meagre lunches.)
“Every house in Heaven is equipped with a television.” Death points out, leading Anthony through the house. “You can watch the mortal world from there.”
Scarface smirks. “So the term ‘watching over you’ is literal after all.” He murmurs, making a note to himself to check up on Elias.
“Hey,” he says, and he’s feeling inquisitive- the threats that become commonplace when one works personal protection for a mob boss have been lifted, and he hasn’t felt this free in months- “what’s it like, being Death?”
Death chuckles softly. “Well,” he explains, “I’m not technically Death- he’s higher up- but I am a Grim Reaper. And it’s interesting, at least.”
He shrugs.
Anthony doesn’t respond. (He’s always been a man of few words.)
Outside the windows, birds chirp cheerfully.
It’s calm.
~~~~~~
The first thing Anthony does after the Reaper leaves is turn on the television.
It must run on some kind of telepathic mumbo-jumbo, he thinks, because it jumps immediately to a live feed of Elias’s office- his boss is at the desk, head bent over a notebook, scribbling frantically.
The… celestial camera, he’ll call it, zooms in onto the papers.
‘Dominic.’ It’s titled, and Anthony smiles- of course he’s planning. Carl always has a plan.
(He’s flooded by fond memories again- something about this place must be conductive to revisiting one’s past. Him and Elias planning their heists in the boy’s home, sneaking out on a regular basis and chasing fireflies through a dark field, or casually stealing candy and trinkets from shops and supermarkets on one of their assigned days out- Anthony had always been light-fingered.)
On the screen, Elias scrawls the word ‘Anthony’ on one of the branches of his idea web- he’s concocting a plot, it seems, to achieve revenge for Anthony’s death by coercing Dominic to kill his right hand man.
It’s a clever plan.
Anthony wants to light that notebook on fire.
~~~~~~
He runs into Officer Carter on his fifth day.
The house that’s been allocated to him is an average size- two bedroom, two bathroom, a beautiful kitchen, a sitting room with a set of soft leather couches and an ornately carved wooden table set in the center, a chess board sat on top. He explores thoroughly- Anthony vaguely remembers a few things, articles of furniture or shades of paint that he’d liked whenever Elias had decided to refurbish an area of their base or an office like Bruce’s- and on the third day he decides to venture out the door.
The air is breezy and warm, that of summer transitioning into autumn. Elias would have enjoyed it, Anthony thinks.
He ventures further every day, strolling through the grassy fields and sitting at the lakeside, strings up birdfeeders on the occasional tree, sometimes brings a sandwich to eat outdoors, and it’s nice, peaceful, but he begins to feel stifled. Heaven is enjoyable, but Anthony’s always enjoyed the spices of life.
“Scarface?”
He turns around.
“That’s not actually my name.”
Carter looks at him for another moment, eyebrow raised, hand on a hip, then looks down and chuckles.
“Wouldn’t have pinned you for a Heaven-type guy.” She says, and he remembers why he and the boss had liked her- she’s direct, to the point, equal parts sardonic and caring. “Thought you’d be more inclined towards the fire and brimstone, no offense.”
He lets his lip curl upwards. “So had I, Detective.” Anthony responds, and even though she was technically an officer when she passed, he will never see her as anything but the determined detective that she is, seeking truth and justice above all else.
If the entirety of law enforcement were made of people like Detective Carter, he thinks, he and Elias would be out of a job.
“Biscotti?” Anthony offers, tipping the container he’s brought on today’s walk towards his new companion. “Fresh.”
Carter looks at him disbelievingly.
“You bake?”
He hums in assertion, biting down on another cookie. She huffs, a smile still quirking her lips, and takes one of the proffered treats.
“You’re weird, Scarface.”
~~~~~~
John Reese was never Anthony’s favorite person- it probably had something to do with jealousy, because Elias has an irritating soft spot for the man, but even without that, Reese was too good. Anthony had grown up in an environment where it was every man for himself, and if you didn’t have the mind for strategy, you hoped you could provide dumb muscle for the ones who did: the idea that a group of people would devote their lives, not to profit or to gain but to magnanimously doing good, saving people?
Harold Finch and John Reese are strange men, he thinks.
He does begrudgingly respect him, however, and he can’t help but feel grateful that Reese is the one Elias is stuck with when he’s captured by Dominic- if he had to choose someone to take care of his boss while he was out, John would be one of his top choices.
~~~~~~
With a little digging and Carter’s help, Anthony finds his way to the subway station- he was surprised too, but apparently there are entire cities filled with souls who prefer a busier life.
He spends a day out, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket (and his entire wardrobe had been conveniently copied into the one in the house), taking in the sights of New Metro. It’s nice: reminds him a bit of New York, except there are no people staffing the shops- everything appears to be automated- and the crush of people is less busy, more laid-back.
Elias would like it, he thinks. All the charm of New York City, none of the rude mafiosos.
~~~~~~
Anthony is watching when Elias dies.
He sees the man his boss has chosen to- not replace him, but perform his duties- and frowns. The guy is similar to Anthony in many ways- dark, slicked back hair, tan skin, black shirt and jeans and a strong jawline. Anthony frowns, lips pinched, when he calls Elias “boss.”
He doesn’t do his job sufficiently.
Elias gets shot through the temple by Samaritan’s assassin.
At least, he thinks, he got to see Dominic get killed first.
Anthony stands up, looking around for the cell phone that had been issued to him by his Reaper. It’s on the kitchen counter.
He punches in the emergency call number.
The speaker clicks, dials for a moment, and there’s a burst of static as it’s picked up, presumably by a Reaper receptionist on the other end.
“Hello,” she says professionally, “this is the Reaper’s Association, how can I help you?”
Anthony purses his lips. “A friend of mine just died,” he says, voice gravelly, “and I was wondering if I could have him transferred to my house.”
The lady on the other end types something, the tapping of the keys faint through the phone, and speaks again.
“Of course, are they to be living with you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then,” She concludes, “All I’ll need is a name and approximate last known location.”
Anthony nearly smiles. “Carl Elias.” He says, glancing at the frozen television screen. “Looks like somewhere in Queens, New York.”
“Just a moment, sir…”
There’s more clacking- presumably her finding Elias in whatever system the Reapers use (and, Anthony wonders, what do they use? Probably a computer database registry, he thinks.)
She pauses, then speaks again. “Alright, sir, everything’s been accounted for- Mister Elias should arrive at your place of residence in twenty to thirty minutes.” There’s a burst of static. “Your house might change a little in appearance to compensate for the personality of your friend, but it should remain fundamentally the same.”
“Thank you.” Anthony says, and hangs up.
~~~~~~
The sky is dark, air cool and brisk and the bed is king-sized when Anthony goes back upstairs: Elias is on the left side, sleeping peacefully, glasses folded neatly on the second nightstand that hadn’t been there the day before.
Anthony walks over silently and gently takes his boss’s pulse- steady, but he had known that already, seeing as this is Heaven.
He smirks fondly and shrugs off his jacket, changing into sweatpants and a tshirt, and slides into the other side of the blankets, lying on his side, back to Elias. The other man’s quiet breathing leaves a small imprint on the air in the room, and Anthony falls asleep with a smile on his face.
NOTE: So I might keep this as a one-shot or expand, I don’t know. (plus scarface can cook he’s Italian it’s practically a rule.) (and I need happy Anthony ok)
