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a-queen-and-her-throne · 1 year ago

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I swear my heart finds a way to clench harder with every chapter- it’s ridiculous how good this is and how stressed I genuinely am omg

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 6

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary: The Feds search Melissa's restaurant and question her. Meanwhile, you consider your options...

WC: 4k

When the girls are waking you a few hours later for breakfast; you're not much better. The extra hours of sleep have made you not a zombie but you can feel that your tank is near empty- that one more thing might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. You only hope it isn’t something the girls do that makes you boil over. It takes almost everything you have to get them fed, dressed, and actually to school. What keeps you going is the thought of your wife with agents tearing apart her beloved business and the tiny little hugs your twins give you when you say goodbye that are as tight as their little arms can make.

A few minutes drive takes you from the school to your wife’s restaurant. You still see Agent Shaw’s car in the parking lot as you pull in next to Sammy’s.

You see Melissa sat on the curb outside the entrance with a cigarette held between her forefingers as her elbow props on her knee. You should feel surprise. She stopped smoking when you started trying to get pregnant, both in solidarity with you and in an effort to improve her health for the kids you were hoping for. Now though, after the last few days, you're not surprised in the slightest. A stress cigarette has always been her one vice.

You exit the car, walking to the curb and sitting next to your wife. Wordlessly, she offers you the cigarette. You take it, taking a drag yourself before handing it back as you exhale the smoke.

“It's a goddamn mess,” Melissa finally says. “And they're still lookin’. For what, I don't know.”

You lean into your wife’s side, an arm wrapping around her shoulders and your hand gently shifting through the red locks you can reach. “We’ll fix it,” You murmur. You hope you’re telling her the truth.

Melissa hums around the next drag from the cigarette. You will. She knows you both will set it right when they finally decide they're done. It doesn't make it better though. This shouldn't even be happening, but it is.

You kiss her temple, inhaling the familiar scent of your wife’s perfume mixed with the cigarette smoke. It reminds you of when you first met. She had met you in a dark alley, and the first thing that you noticed about her was her striking green eyes- ones that knew exactly what they wanted. The second thing you noticed was the near intoxicating scent that you’ve only fallen further in love with as the years have gone by.

“I love you,” You whisper. You hate it, but it's the most you can offer her right now- the one thing you have that is unwavering and unchanging.

“Ti amo, mi amore,” Melissa whispers back as she takes another drag of the cigarette.

Her eyes flit up to yours, searching for any sort of comfort you can provide. Then they gaze over at the restaurant. She can see that everything is out of order. The chairs are strewn about at random, the booths have been moved and the agents have ripped up the painted walls in their haste to try to find something- anything. The front desk is a mess, menus everywhere and not in the designated holder. Decorations have been ripped off the wall and thrown carelessly, some ruined. And that’s only what she can see. Your wife doesn’t even want to know what they’ve done to the back- her beloved kitchen where everything has its right place.

“My god,” Melissa puts her head in her hands, and you have to quickly remove the still burning cigarette from her clutch to prevent her from catching herself on fire. “My restaurant...” and then she’s mumbling expletives in Italian. When she’s run out of curse words to be said in Italian, she switches to Irish. Then she switches to English.

“My love,” you sigh as you pull her impossibly closer- she’s nearly on your lap. “They aren’t going to find anything, because there is nothing to find.”

“I don’t even care about that,” Melissa whines into her hands. When she lifts her head, you see the tears in her eyes. “They trashed my restaurant, they’re going to take half of my shit, it’s not going to look the same, and I’m losing at least half a day’s worth of customers because of this! And then when people realize that we had to close for lunch because we were being searched, we’re only going to lose more business! I- I don’t even know what to do right now, Y/N.”

“We’ll put it all back together,” you promise her. “I’ll make some calls and have the family come down to help us put it back together, and we’ll get good business. We’ll make it all work, mo ghrá. I promise you, it will all be alright.”

“I just can’t believe this,” the redhead wipes at her tears harshly. She stuffs her hand into her jacket pocket, only to pull out another cigarette. She lights it and inhales deeply.

You pluck it from her hands. “Mel, smoking is not the solution right now. We can’t have you getting addicted again.”

“This is the one thing I can do,” your wife takes it back from you and takes another drag. “If you’re worried about the girls finding out, I’ll make sure I shower before I see them next.”

“What does that mean, love?”

“It means,” Melissa groans as she gestures in the general direction of where Danik and Shaw are now emerging from. “That if the way they’re walking over here is any indication, I’m about to be taken down to the station for a shit ton of questioning, and you’re going to be on mam duty today. Who knows what time I’ll be home.”

“They have no reason to take you in for questioning,” you try to tell her. “They found nothing.”

“They have every reason to take me in for questioning when we’re married,” she sighs as she stands.

“Melissa Schemmenti, we need you to come down to the station to help clear up a few things we found in your restaurant,” Danik states.

“Youse didn’t find nothin’,” Sammy rolls his eyes. “There is no need to question this poor, innocent family any further!”

Your wife sighs though as she stands from her place on the curb. “If youse want to interrogate me over nothin’, be my guest.”

“Honey,” you breathe out as you stand as well.

“Just get my restaurant back together before we have to open up for dinner, and please... tell the girls I’m sorry I couldn’t come pick them up today and that I love them,” Melissa tells you as she walks off with the officers.

You watch Mel slip into the back of the car. You don’t move as you watch the car pull off down the street once it turns out of the parking lot. You come back to yourself as Sammy’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“They got nothin’, kid.” He says, for what feels like the thousandth time.

You shake his hand from your shoulder, shooting him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be in your fancy ass car speeding to the station to protect my wife’s legal rights?” You say through your teeth, stepping past Sammy.

You don’t bother looking to see that he does get in his car and leave. You know he will. If not he’ll be having to answer to a lot worse than just you and your anger.

You step into the restaurant, sighing as you glance around. Melissa’s dream, torn to pieces without hesitation. Your hands curl into fists. You force them to uncurl and recurl, taking deep breaths in attempts to soothe yourself. You aren’t sure that it works- the only thing that would soothe you is if your wife was by your side and here to tell you that it’s all going to be okay despite her not knowing if that sentiment is true. This is what you didn’t want- Melissa and the things she loves upheaved, the things she dreamed and worked hard for. Sure, the salon and the front made it possible, but the success? That’s real. Melissa worked her ass off for this restaurant because she loved it and had a passion for it all. Now what was there to show for it? The place looked like it had been robbed blind and flipped.

You fish your phone from your pocket, dialing a number before placing it to your ear. You wish Mickey was out. You’d rather have called him. Instead, you’re cringing just a little when Mel’s cousin Vinny answers his phone. “Hey, you busy?” You ask instead of answering his question of how you’re doing.

You nod, silently willing him to hurry along as he chats around the simple yes or no question. “Can you grab Rocco and some of the other guys, bring ‘em down to Mel’s restaurant?”

This makes Vinny’s chatty nature stop suddenly. “Why? What’s goin’ on, Y/N?”

You sigh. Apparently news hadn’t reached this end of the family yet. The last thing you wanted to do was spread it further, make even more people jumpy over all this. You don’t have much choice though. “The Feds did a search warrant on the restaurant today. Mel’s at the station right now… I need some help putting it back together. They really did a number on it.”

You check your watch as Vinny agrees to gather who he can and be down as soon as possible to help. You still have a couple hours before the girls are out of school. Hopefully you can get things put together by then. You don’t want to have to ask your mother-in-law to pick them up again Though you know she’d hardly say no. Still, you’d like to minimize just how much she knows things are turning wrong if possible.

It breaks your heart more with each piece of the restaurant you pick up. Another little bit of your wife’s effort and care torn apart by the search. Still, you pick your way through what you can. By the time Vinny and some of the other men arrive you’re grateful there’s extra hands. It’s too much on your own, especially paired with your emotions. You’re half a second away from breaking something worse with the frustration you have building.

You help Vinny and the others until you have to pick up the girls. On the drive to the school, you make up your mind. You take them to your own mother’s house, the both of them excited to see their Nan. They don’t see your side quite as often as Melissa’s, with them living on the edge of the city. Still, today, the extra drive is worth it. It helps that you get to see your own mother too, reveling in her warm hug and kiss that’s planted to your own cheek as you drop the girls with her. You promise you’ll be back to pick them up by seven before you kiss each pair of chubby cheeks and hug them tight before you set back on the road again.

You briefly stop back at the restaurant. Your worry is a slight assuaged when you return to find Valentina helping direct putting things back together. It looks like they should be finished in time to open back up for dinner. You thank her yourself and make a mental note to tell Melissa she doesn’t pay her enough.

When you’re back in the car once more, you dial Sammy. Repeatedly. You know he’s still in the interrogation room with Mel. You dial until he finally calls you back before you can call him again. By then, you’re almost to the station yourself.

“Christ, Y/N, what is it? I’m tryna help your wife here and you’re blowin’ up my phone so much she’s lookin’ at me like she’s gonna kill me herself, nevermind the damn Feds.”

“I’m pulling into the station now, I need you to meet me outside.” You say and hang up before Sammy can say anything else.

In a matter of moments, he’s stepping out of the door and throwing his hands up at you in exasperation. “What the hell is goin’ on, huh?” He spits as you step to meet him on the sidewalk.

“You’re the lawyer, I need legal advice.” You say with a shrug.

“Now? Right now? When I’m tryna help your wife get home tonight, huh?” Sammy crosses his arms firmly across his chest.

“I’m tryna speed that process up myself, Sammy.” You retort. “What are the chances they keep Mel outta this? From here on, her and the restaurant?”

Sammy looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Basically nothin’, Y/N. They might not have found shit but they’re convinced, and they’re gunning. She’s as tied in as you are. You know that, though. So what’s the real question?”

“How long would I get if I copped to the money launderin’?” you ask seriously.

“What?” Sammy’s arms fall slack to his sides. Now, he looks at you like you’re absolutely insane. Maybe you are.

“I don’t got time for the ‘what are ya crazy, why would ya wanna do that’ talk, Sammy,” you roll your eyes. “Turn on the lawyer's brain, yeah? How long would I be lookin’ at?”

“The least you’d be looking at is ten years. The most…’round twenty. Plus whatever they wanted to fine for it…could be as much as doublin’ what they can prove you laundered. With you comin’ forward, we could probably get a plea, bring it down, but not by much.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “If I did, though, it’d be over wouldn’t it? They’d be off everybody’s backs?”

“They’d still be lookin’ for who killed Bobby…but things- they’d be mostly back to normal. Mostly. You know your girl in there would tear me to shreds if I even considered lettin’ you do this, yeah?”

“They tore her restaurant apart, Sammy. They’re tearin’ our whole damn life apart, ‘cause of me,” you sigh.

“It ain’t just because of you,” he tells you. “Sure, you took the business from Bobby, but you an’ I both know you would never kill him. You’d never order a hit; you don’t got it in you. Hell, you couldn’t hurt a fly- I’ve seen the way you rescue those damned stink bugs when they get into your house.”

“I took the business from Bobby. I get why they think I had something to do with it and are confused with how the business is doin’ so well,” you sigh as you scratch the back of your head. “But I- At the end of the day, this falls back on me, and Melissa shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“Yeah, so your big brained solution is to lock yourself up, huh? Away from ya wife, ya kids. You really think that’s gonna make her feel better? That she ain’t gonna pay for it if you’re put away for years.”

“I think she’d understand…eventually,” you shrug.

Sammy laughs, outright. “You sure you’re the one married to Melissa Schemmenti? ‘Cause the whole damn neighborhood knows what you just said ain’t true. You’d be sooner lookin’ at your own divorce papers.”

You shrug. “At least they’d be left alone.”

“You’re really willin’ to throw yourself into prison for all this? Think about everything you’re gonna be missin’ if you go to prison. Melissa will divorce you, you’ll miss your girls growing up- miss milestones that you won’t be able to get back.”

Your eyes go hazy for a few seconds as you see your life flash before your eyes- past, present, and future. You see your girls celebrating birthdays by themselves, or at the prison to visit you. You see them potentially graduating high school and Melissa potentially sending them off to college on her own if you get locked up for long enough. You see the way that the girls change once your presence is no longer there. You see things you don’t want to happen. You see them throwing their lives down the drain because you aren’t there to show them the love that they crave and need. They end up in the same shoes you’re in now. And you- you hesitate in your decision to throw yourself under the bus enough that you really are unsure of what is the right thing to do in this impossible scenario.

“I don’t know what else to do, Sammy,” you whisper, and you hate the way your voice cracks and your eyes well with tears. You hate that all of this is wearing you down to the point that you don’t see a way out and you’re about ready to break. You hate that you can’t run in there and cling to your wife like your life depends on it, the way you want to. You hate every single thing about this situation.

“The only thing that you can and should do right now is let me go in there and do my thing for Mel, because they really don’t have shit on her this time,” Sammy tells you sternly. “Go home, spend time with your girls, and I’ll handle everything with Melissa.”

“You fuckin’ better,” you warn. “My wife has nothing to do with this side of the business, and I ain’t lettin’ no one take away her dream. She’s worked too damn hard for this. And when you have her side of all of this squared away, you better get your ass ready to sue the fuckers for all of the damage they caused at the restaurant- place is fuckin’ torn to hell.”

You turn back to your car, climb in, and speed off. Sammy shakes his head- he hopes you don’t go over him and get yourself into more trouble before he walks back into the precinct to finish off this interrogation that Melissa is dealing with.

“My restaurant is not a front!” Melissa shouts for the seventh time. “I mean, really! There are so many other places that don’t bring in half of what I do, a quarter even! If Twelve Tables really was a front, do you think I would’ve put my whole fuckin’ life into it?!”

The agents just look at each other. They’ve found what really gets your wife to tick. Insult her restaurant, and she gets feisty. “That’s what you want us to think, isn’t it?”

“You just tore apart my wife’s salon, our home, searched our cars, and practically destroyed my God damned restaurant! You didn’t find fucking shit! Get off of our fuckin’ backs!” Melissa slams her fist- the one that still has bandages on it from the knife incident- on the table. It’s a decision that she immediately regrets as her hand starts to throb.

“If you don’t have any evidence on my client,” Sammy says quietly. “I think it’s time we head out. There’s nothing you have to legally hold her here.”

“Damn right,” Melissa huffs as she stands and straightens her shirt out. “Don’t fucking come back to my restaurant.” She grabs her purse and storms out of the station. The lawyer is hot on her heels.

“Melissa,” he shouts as he tries to catch up with her.

“What?! I need to get back to my wife and kids!” She dares him to stop her.

“I’m just trying to tell you that I’ll drive you home,” Sammy rolls his eyes as he falls into step with her. That gets a bit of your wife’s fire to die down, and she allows him to lead her to the shiny Mercedes in the parking lot

You call your mother, asking if she minds keeping the twins for the night. Of course, she doesn’t. It really is impossible to say no to those tiny faces. Especially if they’re clinging to her and singing a made up song about staying at Nan’s when she asks if they want to have a sleepover.

You miss them. Despite seeing them every day, it’s been awhile since you got quality time with your little family. Even before all this mess started, you were working extra and lucky if you got to read the twins a bedtime story or even just say goodnight. More often than not, you would have to settle for kissing their sleeping heads and whispering how you loved them, hoping their subconsciouses at least picked it up.

Your wife, you’ve seen a bit more of. Usually, she’s awake when you do get home. She isn’t able to sleep well when you’re not. Not with the life you’re both in. You might be on the safer side of it but it doesn’t mean danger isn’t always around the corner. All it takes is one mistake and you could be targeted how Bobby was. You both know that.

Even so, you still haven’t spent much time together. It all boiled down to recapping your days while both fighting sleep. If that. Maybe a night just the two of you is what you need in the midst of all this.

It won’t go away, you know that, but maybe a night with your wife will make it feel more like it’s possible to get through it all. Like fighting is worth it. As you walk back into your home; you don’t quite feel like it is. Not with the amount of pressure it’s putting on Melissa. You’ve seen it grow with each day, just as you’ve felt it grow on you. Except, the pressure you feel on you isn’t what bothers you. You’d gladly put up with it if it meant your wife and the rest of your family felt nothing at all.

You mindlessly set about making dinner. It isn’t often you can convince your wife to let you make it instead of her. At best, you usually can convince her to let you help. You hope they won’t keep her at the station, going around in circles, for much longer. You hope it will be warm when she gets home and does not need to be reheated. The less for your wife to worry about, the better.

You’re just finishing cooking when the front door slams. If it were a normal day, you’d be concerned about who is coming in and slamming the door. Except it hasn’t been a normal day for a few days. You know it’s your wife- the knowledge confirmed by the Italian you can hear muttered as she pulls her shoes off at the door.

By the time Melissa makes it to the kitchen doorway, you meet her there with a glass of wine held out in offering. She softens when she sees you and the wine. She takes the glass from you with a quiet thank you. The rest of what anger your wife is holding out dissipates as she realizes you made dinner when you set her plate in front of her just as she all but falls into a chair at the table.

“Where are the girls?” Melissa asks you softly as she takes a bite of the Irish dish you made tonight.

“With my mom,” you tell her quietly. “I figured the two of us could use the night, just me and you, and then tomorrow is a full day dedicated to them.”

“I can manage that,” your wife tells you with a soft smile- really the first smile you’ve seen out of her all day. “I have to stop by the restaurant to make sure that everything is in order for the Saturday rushes, but-”

“Everything should be in order,” you promise her. “I had Vin and some of the guys come down and help me put Twelve Tables back together as much as we could. Val was instructing them... we really don’t pay her enough.”

“I know,” the redhead sighs out. “But with the financial trouble we’re potentially in, I don’t have the room to give her a raise right now.”

“When we’re out of this mess then,” you tell her as you set a hand over her own, your thumb brushing across her knuckles.

The two of you spend Friday night cleaning the house over glasses of wine, content to put everything from the past couple days out of your head even if just for a few hours. It’s warm, it’s soft... it’s the easy domestic life that you wish the two of you had all the time.

#it’s low key not funny #i’m not crying you’re crying #the way they fight for eachother #but also the way she’s really about to give herself up #omfg #i swear to fuck #if she turns herself in I will shit #I will loose my shit #and omfffff #it’s just so emotional #abbott elementary fanfiction

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