so, uh. way back when, when i had my big csi:ny 'verse, i, uh, made up the five families of new york. and there is a slight possibility i am reusing my mafia characters. (actually, the abruzzis are new, the patrisos are not.) although! i promise not to use val constantine.


"peter did WHAT?" susan exclaims, and though she doesn't remember doing it, she's knocked over her coffee, and it's spilling across the table and onto her lap.

edmund immediately goes for the napkins, and together they manage to get her mostly dry. "maybe you want to change?" edmund offers, and susan grits her teeth and says, "you are going to buy me more coffee, and then you are going to tell me what else you know."

"there isn't actually anything else," edmund says, but he gets her a new raspberry frappucchino anyway.

"why?" susan asks. "why would he do that? i know peter gets into fights, but he wouldn't -- he'd never --"

"apparently he would," edmund says. "i don't know, su. rusty didn't say."

only that's a lie. susan can read it on her brother's face.

"what did he do to peter," she says. it's not a question.

edmund says again, "i don't know, su."

and then someone pulls up a third chair to their table. "you must be edmund and susan," marco abruzzi says. "i've heard so much about you."

"what do you want?" susan demands as edmund makes a sharp move towards nothing in particular.

"not from peter, of course," marco continues as if she hasn't spoken. "dino falcone."

for a moment the name means nothing, and then she remembers. "you have got to be fucking kidding me," edmund says, getting it at the same time she does. "that was fifteen years ago!"

"we don't forget," abruzzi says, and then he goes very still.

there's a closed switchblade in peter's hand pressed against the back of abruzzi's neck. "get the hell away from my family," he says.