Before Immortality

Summary: We all know that the Gandor brothers, Claire and Firo knew each other from childhood. Here's their back story. But what does it mean to be a brother? Claire suspects it has something to do with pillows.

Disclaimer: No I don't own the Baccano characters, do you?

AN: All the Gandor boys go to the same school because this isn't 2010, and all the grades are in one building. And the Gandors have money, but they're a small mafia family. Their house is not so extravagant that the boys would all have their own rooms during that time period. At least, that's how it goes in this story.

And I guess it needs to be noted that I haven't read the light novels because someone has indicated that the story is inconsistent with them. My apologies, I'll try to find and read them.

Please read and review. I feel like this fandom doesn't get enough love for how much potential it has. Enjoy.

***

After years living in the Gandor household, Claire still couldn't believe that aspiring mobsters were expected to go to school. He was at least grateful that it didn't seem they were expected to graduate. Sure, Claire was a genius, but that didn't mean he enjoyed school.

Cutting classes to run something down to the docks was common enough as boys got older, but there seemed to be an unspoken rule that when a boy reached a certain age he'd drop out to start working for the family full time.

Keith Gandor, at 16, had been nudging his father (their father, the Gandor brothers were always reminding Claire) just the other night to let him drop out, and Claire suspected it wouldn't be much longer before Keith Gandor Sr. gave in.

The teachers probably appreciated that the mafia children disappeared from the attendance rolls, anyway. Teenage boys were difficult enough without knife fights in the school yard and extortion in the halls.

It was all very interesting, at least so far. Claire enjoyed watching people, and the people in this town were new and certainly different from his last home. Sure, he'd lived next door to the Gandors for a while, but his parents liked to travel and he'd hardly ever met his neighbors before. But he was glad the Gandors had brought him back here after the string of orphanages he'd gone through after his parents died.

He was fascinated by the way Mrs. Gandor would slap Berga over the head every time he started to dig into supper before grace. Claire would watch from the stairway and memorize the faces of all the "businessmen" who slipped in and out of Gandor senior's office. He studied beside a rather disagreeable boy in the back of math class just so he could see the young teacher squirm and avert his eyes nervously every time he passed Jim France, who always sat in the back row flicking his new switchblade open and closed.

Early on Claire had tried perching on the Gandor kitchen counter, swinging his legs as he watched the three brothers do their chores, the youngest, Luck, getting the brunt of the dirty work since his brothers seemed to be the only ones unfazed by Luck's smooth talk. Of course, watching chores had only worked the first few nights until Keith grabbed him by the shoulder, put a mop in Claire's hand and given him a little shove toward the dining area. ("For heavens sake, kid, sure you're new, but we ain't your maids!")

All the same, the Gandors and the people in their world were interesting to watch, and he looked forward to opportunities to look deeper into the messy business of the adult Gandors. He was rather attracted to guns and blades.

But that was irrelevant because 13-year-old Claire apparently still wasn't of that magical age at which a boy was given his freedom. Why else would Luck be shaking his shoulder and shoving a pair of shoes at him as Claire tried to pull the covers back over his head?

"Claire, you have to get up," Luck shook him again.

"Not interested," Claire replied sleepily, curling deeper into the mattress.

But suddenly someone much too tall to be Luck had him up by the back of the shirt.

"Kid, if I gotta get up, you gotta get up," Keith gave him a sleepy smile before sitting back on his bed and lacing up his boots.

Luck shrugged and set Claire's own shoes on their bed. Like most children their age, the four boys all slept in the same room with two beds. Keith had apparently not been pleased when he'd had to go back to sharing a bed because Claire moved in. (It was an injustice he hadn't suffered since Luck was big enough to upgrade from a cradle and share with Berga.) Keith was never one to be particularly mean, but as Luck had noted, the eldest could be rather grumpy.

Anyway, on with the shirt, the pants, socks, boots. He arrived at the breakfast table in time to snatch some toast before Berga got to it. Berga was chewing quietly. Keith was reading the paper, trying to look grown up, and Luck had scooted his chair next to his brother's to read a bit as well.

How on earth did the other three always manage to get their school clothes to look so tidy? It was 7 a.m. and Claire already looked like he had stepped out of an alley after a brawl. Keith claimed that it fit Claire's eccentricity.

The boys all finished up, took their plates to the sink, washed up, gave their mum a kiss, grabbed their books and took off into the cold.

These were future mobsters, hmm?

Claire should have been in the 8th grade, but because he hadn't really spent much time in school before Mr. Gandor brought him home one night, Claire was a year behind, in Luck's class.

Not that Claire minded, he suspected 9th grade was as boring as 8th grade. He stared at the clock again, glancing over at Luck who was actually taking notes. He gave Luck's desk a kick.

Luck glared over at him and rolled his eyes. The youngest Gandor had tried to explain that while Claire might not care about his own grades, Mr. Gandor and his belt cared about their grades. Mobsters were businessmen, after all, and businessmen need to be able to count green bills with efficiency.

At that moment, though, the bell rang, and Claire was saved from having to pretend to study. Gym was next, and that was one subject Claire enjoyed. Speed, strength, agility – Claire just couldn't get enough. He wanted to better, the best, at what he wasn't sure, yet, but he had a curious sort of hunger for self-improvement.

"Thank goodness," Claire sighed as he made for the door.

"You really could put in some effort," Luck laughed.

"Why bother, when my homework practically does itself," Claire grinned.

"Humph, yes, I suppose that wouldn't have anything to do with why you always get the same answers I do?" Luck said slyly, poking his foster brother in the ribs, knowing full well that Claire typically waited until the last minute and then frantically copied Luck's work.

"What ever could you mean?" Claire feigned innocence and Luck sighed putting his face in his hands in mock disgust.

They were almost to the hall when the teacher called after them, "Mr. Luck Gandor, could you stay a minute?"

Luck froze for a moment, trying to think back to what on earth kind of trouble Claire could have gotten him into now. Claire seemed mystified himself.

"Well, see you in gym," Claire said with a shrug before heading out.

Claire was about halfway to gym when someone took a swing at him. Easily dodging, Claire wondered what he had done to offend this particular attacker, a stocky brunet several grades his senior.

"Stop ducking and fight like a man you skinny shrimp!" the boy hollered, which was ridiculous since Claire was rather tall for his age. Even Luck wasn't short enough to really be called shrimp.

"Get 'em Ernie!" another boy off to the side cheered.

Ah, that's right, these were the two who had been bragging that they were faster than a locomotive last week at the school sports day, a series of little races to keep the boys from giving in to winter lethargy. Apparently, Claire was faster than however fast they were because he had won the race.

He ducked again and swept a leg under his attacker, knocking the boy over. The other kid came at him and he side stepped and elbowed him in the back. Ernie picked himself up off the floor and pulled out a knife. Claire's eyes shown with a smile.

Boys were circling round trying to get a good view.

Claire carefully took a step back before shifting directions and racing in to grab the wrist of the hand that clasped the knife. He twisted, and Ernie cried out cradling his arm. Claire smiled.

The redhead was ready when the second attacker ran at his back, but as he moved to turn and fight, a person snuck out from the crowd and grabbed the boy running at him.

"Well, now, Jerry, attacking a gentleman's back? Wouldn't your old man be disappointed in ya?"

Claire recognized the spiky brown hair of one of his classmates. He blinked.

"What aren't you going to say thanks?" the newcomer asked Claire, giving the boy in his grasp, Jerry, a whack over the head when he started struggling.

And then another boy was running at them. Oh, right, the goons were a trio.

"This is getting messier than I thought, eh," his rescuer laughed. "You ain't very popular, are ya? Oww, hey!"

Jerry had kicked the spiky-haired boy in the shin. His classmate yanked the assailant around and then dropped him without ceremony, as Claire shoved the newest attacker into the wall.

Another hand snaked from the crowd, finding its way to Claire's collar.

"Hey, hey, hey boys. Lay off it," Keith groaned, as he yanked Claire back.

There went Claire's fun. With Keith's presence the fight was over. He was older and he'd already made a decent name for himself as the oldest son of a fairly well respected mob family. Keith Gandor wasn't someone you messed with over a scuffle in the hall.

The crowd was already starting to disperse slowly and then quicker when a boy yelled "Teacher coming!" The attackers threw Claire a glare before darting off down the hall.

Keith dusted off one of Claire's shoulders.

"Stay out of trouble, Claire. It doesn't do anyone any good to be so showy, and you're still new around here, too."

"Hmmmm," Claire replied.

Keith sighed and shook his head. "Where's Luck?"

"The teach wanted to talk with him," Claire said, now walking alongside Keith toward gym.

"He wanted to talk to Luck? What did you two do now and how did he wind up taking the blame for it?"

Luck and Claire already had figured out that they made a pretty good team of masterminds. They snagged the occasional wallet or blade just to show they could, and they were getting rather adept at gluing a teacher's glasses to the desk or drawing something inappropriate on the blackboard behind the pull-down maps.

But Luck was normally liked by the teachers enough to talk his way out of any punishment. Claire had been miffed on many occasions that Luck had failed to talk Claire's way out of things as well. Although, when it came to a fistfight, Luck normally came out with a couple bruises whereas Claire was usually unscathed, so he supposed it evened out.

The two were getting to be decent friends after a few years sharing the same bathroom, classrooms and bed sheets.

***

The Gandor brothers had all been polite and somewhat curious when Claire first arrived, but Keith had his own friends and who knows where Berga got off, too. So the older boys had stuck Luck with the responsibility of showing the odd newcomer around.

Claire had followed him not like a lost puppy but like an excessively curious boy. At first all Claire did was watch. Luck, who was used to his older brothers doing their own thing, was rather unnerved by this stranger staring at him even when he was doing chores or reading. Luck was starting to wonder if Claire was crazy (possibly), and Claire was starting to wonder how he was going to survive this boredom.

"Let's go down to the docks," Claire declared one day, when Luck was in the middle of a particularly nice sonnet (what on earth kind of 8-year-old read poems for fun, anyway?).

Luck raised an eyebrow and then went back to reading.

But when Keith and Berga got in that Saturday afternoon, Luck and Claire were nowhere to be found. In fact, they missed dinner nearly entirely, arriving at the door sopping wet with Claire missing a shoe.

"Where on earth have you been? Heavens," Mrs. Gandor knelt in front of Luck, examining his bluish lips. "You both almost look like you drowned in the river."

It was a common enough expression, but Luck and Claire turned to each other with knowing smiles at some sort of silent joke.

Mr. Gandor promptly sat them down for a good belting, sent them to bed with no dinner and confiscated the odd Chinese-looking statue they'd come home with. Goodness knows where or how they got it.

Claire had felt horribly guilty. Luck, being the baby of the family, apparently didn't get punished very often. And Claire could tell that he was trying not to cry as they tucked in for bed that night. Claire slipped out to the window, watching the rain. He could see his new "parents" head out for the night, Mrs. Gandor scantily glad and in dangerously high pumps.

"Why does you mom dress like that?" Claire asked to the lump in their bed. Berga and Keith were still downstairs avoiding the scolded children.

"Dress like wha?" Luck said with a yawn, swinging his feet out of bed and gingerly sitting his sore bottom on the bench under the window. (AN: Their father just belted them oh people with dirty minds. They're 8 and 9 in this section, for goodness sake.)

"Like a whore."

Claire suddenly found his head hitting the floor with Luck kneeling on his stomach.

"Mom isn't a whore. You take that back! She's a singer and that's just how singers dress. They have to be pretty for the show and stuff. You take it back!"

The redhead was impressed. So this was Luck furious. That's when Claire decided that Luck was interesting enough to be his friend.

Claire was particularly picky about friends. Actually, Luck was probably his first friend if he was honest with himself.

He'd already pondered being Luck's friend during their adventures earlier in the day (when he discovered that Luck was both a genius at cheating at cards and at smooth talking adults into letting them have a taste of whiskey, thank goodness Mrs. Gandor didn't smell their breath!).

But seeing Luck this passionately protective about his cabaret-singer mother, well, that was the sort of friend Claire needed. Past parents and guardians had been a disappointment in that respect. The Gandors seemed to care about each other, and the concept of familial love was growing on Claire. As much as Keith gave them a hard time and as short-tempered as Mr. Gandor got when he came home with a spattering of blood on his suit, the Gandors were a close-knit bunch.

***

And apparently Claire had gotten adopted into this network at some point. Claire enjoyed it, although he wished Keith would be a little less protective and let him finish his fights.

They'd gone there separate ways as Claire neared gym, still not sure what the teacher had wanted with Luck.

"It's nothing bad," a voice popped up behind Claire, who turned to find the spiky-haired kid again.

"Your twin I mean," the boy continued, seeing Claire's confusion. "The teach didn't want him for anything bad. I heard as I was leaving class. Your brother asked wa's wrong, and the teach said it was nothing to worry 'bout."

"He's not my twin."

"Oh, then did you fail or is he ahead a grade? He seems like a smart fellow, I guess."

"We're not related."

The teacher's whistle cut off any further conversation.

Claire's concern had apparently been visible, but then the youngest Gandor showed up a few minutes later throwing a wave and a smile at Claire.

They were on different teams for scrimmaging, so they caught up after class.

"Firo said you got in a fight," Luck came up alongside Claire.

"Who's Firo?"

"The kid with the brown hair that sticks up all over the place. Apparently, he saved you from Ernie, Jerry and Mitch. You really should pay more attention. He seems like an okay guy, Firo, I mean."

Claire decided to ignore the part about getting saved, assuming Luck was trying to get a rise out of him.

"So what did Mr. Dobbs want?" Claire changed the subject.

"Huh? Oh nothing. He just wanted to talk about… my homework assignment," Luck said, and Claire eyed him.

"So, Firo said you told him we're not brothers?" Luck continued, looking a little hurt.

"That's not what I told him. Besides, it's clearly embarrassing to admit to being the brother of such a nerd," Claire teased, dodging a swat from Luck. "And what homework was Mr. Dobbs talking about?"

"Oh, uh, extra homework."

"Extra homework? I suppose that's your idea of fun?"

"Oh shut up," Luck said, successfully smacking Claire this time.

The rest of the day went by, and Claire and Luck found Berga waiting in front of the school.

"Where's Keith?" Claire asked looking around.

"Girlfriend," said Berga, always a man of few words. Claire had to give it to guy. He did big and stoic, quiet well.

But, anyway, a girlfriend would be excellent fodder for teasing their big brother.

Keith arrived soon enough and the Gandors started walking home.

"So, this girlfriend, what's she called," Luck asked.

Keith snorted, "Like I'd tell you."

"Hmm, is she chesty?" Claire asked.

"Oh, probably average," Luck replied.

"A unibrow, you think?"

"Oh yes, and big coke-bottle glasses, do you suppose? And.."

Luck and Claire dashed ahead as Keith took off after them and grabbed them both in a headlock.

"I'm still not telling you," Keith said, releasing them. "So, what did your teacher want?"

"I heard about the fight, too," Berga said with a smile.

"No, I mean Luck," Keith clarified.

Luck stiffened.

"Uhh, extra homework."

"That doesn't sound like you," Keith said.

"Yeah, well, it's nothing," Luck mumbled, speeding up his pace.

By the time the boys got home, the mysterious homework was forgotten, but the issue resurfaced when Luck went missing after dinner.

The three other boys were playing cards on Keith and Berga's bed.

"So, what's up with Luck?" Keith asked, as he anteed up with another penny.

Claire found it odd to be asked this. The older boys didn't normally talk about personal stuff with him. Maybe he really was getting to be part of the family.

"I don't know. It doesn't seem like he was in trouble. He seemed kind of happy afterwards and a classmate said he overheard the teacher saying Luck wasn't in trouble," Claire replied, furrowing his brow.

"But extra homework? For Luck, of all people? His grades are fine," Keith looked at his cards in disgust and folded. Berga grunted in agreement.

"Yeah, I don't…"

They all paused, hearing noises from down the hall. Yelling? Yes, their father was clearly yelling about something. And then there was silence, and then calmer muted voices.

The door squeaked open a few minutes later, and Luck slipped in.

They were expecting him to be upset, but instead Luck almost seemed…bouncy. Luck Gandor could be happy, cheerful, excited, but bouncy? Keith was gruff, Berga was solid and silent, Claire was eccentric, and Luck was smooth, dignified and clever, at least for a 12-year-old. Bouncy was just odd coming from him.

"Luck?" Claire asked, always the first to rush in.

"Umm, yeah, ooh, Berga, I'd fold bro," Luck said with a smile, as Claire cried in indignation and tried to hide his cards against his chest.

Keith cut Claire off with a look.

"So, were you talking to Dad about something?" Keith asked.

"Oh, yeah, nothing."

The others stared at Luck.

"Okay, okay. We were talking about school and the extra homework. I just wanted to make sure he was okay with it because it means less time to run errands for the business."

"Yuck. Can't you talk your way out of the homework?" Claire said with a grimace.

"Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal," Luck waved away Claire's reaction.

But the other three boys all were itching to point out that it clearly was a big deal and Luck, all cheerful, was taking this completely the wrong way.

***

While Luck was working on extra homework and they were playing currier for the mob, Keith and Claire spent the next week plotting ways to get Luck out of his new workload.

Contrary to his prior attitude, Luck did not appear to be enjoying his homework.

Claire had taken a peek, and it looked impossible. Even Keith said he didn't remember learning any of that. Of course, public school teachers in these parts would pretty well pass a boy so long as he was still breathing.

Luck had been irritable and frustrated, staying up by lamplight staring at these books.

It wasn't until nine days later that the other Gandor boys figured out what the youngest had been keeping from them.

Moretti was sloshed Friday night. He had clearly had one too many, or maybe five too many, when he came to the door to accept the message from Mr. Gandor (something about Moretti needing to rough up a fellow late on a loan for 10 large).

"Whicha yous is the smarty one?" Moretti slurred.

Claire looked to Owen, one of the brothers' cousins. The two of them had been sent together, young enough that their parents preferred not to send them out to the South Side alone.

"What do you mean, Sir?" Claire asked.

"Whicha yous is Gandor's prissy little golden boy that he won't shut up about this week? The one 'e named in honor o' the sacred art o' gambling?"

"Luck?" Owen spoke up.

"Yeah, tha's the boy. The one 'e's sending to that fancy smancy private school. Whicha yous issit?" Moretti tipped a little in the doorway.

Claire froze. What was this man talking about?

"He's neither of us, Mr. Moretti. Luck is my…brother," Claire said.

"Oooo, so issit true?" Moretti asked.

"I don't know, Sir. I think you're drunk."

"Yeah, yeah, of course I'm drunk. But you tell your dad congratulations, I suppose. It's weird though, mind ya. Sending a mob boy off to some preppy school. Ain't right, that," Moretti laughed. "Well, goodnight, then lads."

Claire almost stuck his foot in the door, but Owen yanked on his sleeve.

They hardly talked on the way back other than a few awkward words exchanged about whether either of them had heard anything about this private school business.

Claire went up to his room and skipped dinner, stewing over this new information.

Moretti was very possibly saying nonsense, but it made some sense with the new homework. But Luck at a preppy boys school? Their Luck?

Granted the boy read Shakespeare and Poe and all sorts of bizarre things a teenage boy should steer clear of. Everyone had always known Luck was destined to be a mob diplomat, not a hit man, but he was still a sturdy guy in a fight who stood by his boys and knew how to work the streets.

Claire was in the middle of trying to picture Luck in a tweed jacket and loafers, when the subject of his imagination walked into the room and plopped down on the bench by the window with a stack of books in his arms. He was, thankfully, not in any tweed.

"Miserable stuff," Luck groaned, nodding at the books.

Claire couldn't stop himself. He was Claire, after all.

"Bet it's harder at private school," Claire said, attempting nonchalance.

Luck nearly dropped the books.

"What?" he whispered, staring at Claire wide-eyed. Not that it was unusual for Claire to somehow know things he shouldn't.

"I said, those country club blokes probably are much farther ahead in their books than us stupid cugine," Claire said triumphantly.

"Who told you…well, it's not a done deal," Luck said, still surprised.

"I thought everyone knew," Claire said, watching Luck. "Hasn't your dad been out bragging about it?"

Claire was furious. Not only had his friend hidden something, but he might be leaving, too. Didn't rich boys go to boarding schools? Claire wasn't sure when he'd started caring enough for it to matter, but this was betrayal. He was being abandoned, again.

Luck looked mortified.

"I was just, I, well, Mr. Dobbs said he thought I could get in on scholarship," Luck started.

"Oh, so you're going to take charity so you can rise up out of your tragic life of crime, is that it?" Claire yelled.

Okay, so Luck hadn't wanted to say anything until he got an acceptance letter (how embarrassing would it have been to fail?), but Claire's reaction was totally uncalled for. Luck was expecting congratulations from his best friend, not this. This was shit.

"What the hell, Claire? It's for the family. If I go to a real school then maybe I could get a law degree or study business, a real degree, not the fake ones Uncle Jimmy frames for his office."

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say.

"What, college, college? Seriously? Bull shit, it's not for family. It's for you and your stupid ego. So you're just going to leave the rest of us to go…" Claire realized he had no idea what one really did at college, " …to go do some stupid high and mighty stuff because what the rest of our family does isn't good enough for you?"

Man, they were both screaming now.

"Screw you Claire!" Luck yelled back. "Like you weren't planning on leaving anyway. Like I can't see you're getting restless and bored with all of us. And I'm not insulting the family, I'm just saying there's nothing wrong with doing better. It isn't even your family."

"Well, you're right because I would never be brothers with such an ass, anyway."

The door boomed open, revealing their father followed by their brothers, attracted by the yelling.

Luck didn't care. He lunged at Claire, which was stupid because Claire was a million times better at fighting.

Luck was suddenly upside down and then he was rolling, and he lashed out to give Claire what would become an impressive black eye. Claire had him by the arm, twisting it in ways arms shouldn't go. They rolled over again, slamming onto the floor.

After what must have been only seconds since the fight began, Claire was pulled off Luck. The youngest Gandor held his breath as his arm was jerked by the movement.

Claire was hauled off to Mr. Gandor's office, and Luck was shoved back onto the bench by the window.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Keith asked, genuinely shocked.

Luck got miffed with Claire sometimes – after all, Claire could be pretty annoying – but this was ridiculous. Luck was trying to struggle out of his grip.

"Geeze, that screaming could have been heard from Chinatown. Whatever stupid thing Claire did, it's not worth this, okay?" Keith tried again.

"Sorry," Luck said, visibly deflating a little.

"Now, what's up," Keith asked sitting on the bed facing him as Berga quietly took a seat next to Luck. More shouting could be heard from their father's study.

"I just, he was being stupid about something I haven't even figured out yet," Luck sighed.

"What's that?" Keith asked. "You guys aren't fighting over a girl or something are you?"

Luck gave his brother a look. Was that all high school boys thought about?

"Claire is mad," Luck took a breath, "because I didn't tell you guys that the extra homework was so I could apply to go to St. Aquinas Academy."

There was a pause.

"The snooty school uptown?" Keith finally said.

"Yeah, I thought it might be good for the family, make some connections, learn some things I can't learn here, you know," Luck held his breath hopefully.

"You want to go to some school for nancys? What the hell? Do you know what my friends would say to me?" Keith looked at his brother like he'd lost it.

"What do you need to learn at a place like that?" Berga asked.

"Claire is already way ahead of you when it comes to knives, and I doubt those fellows know anything about how to hold a gun. How will you learn at a place like that?"

"Fuck you," Luck said, extremely out of character. He stood up, sunk into bed and threw the blankets over himself.

Keith yanked the blankets off.

"Don't you talk to me like that! What? Am I dirt just because I don't read sonnets and crap?" Keith said his voice rising.

"Leave me alone," Luck muttered darkly.

"Fine!" Keith dumped the blankets back on him.

***

When Claire returned to the room he grabbed a blanket and walked over to the bench, but Berga scooched over in an attempt to make room on the other bed.

Luck slept alone and cold, short a blanket and the usual extra body heat. This was supposed to be great. Sure, he'd been nervous his brothers would tease him endlessly about being a square, but they were supposed to be secretly proud of him. This was for the family, wasn't it? Maybe mobsters really just weren't supposed to aspire to degrees. But didn't the big families at least hire out for folks? Didn't you need that to be big time, big business? Wouldn't Keith need that to negotiate turf with the heavy hitters? Wouldn't Berga need somebody to defend him if the police ever caught up to him? Wouldn't Claire…well, wouldn't Claire support him whatever he did? Apparently not.

***

Saturday and Sunday were tense. Keith, Berga and Claire stayed out of the house most of the day. They didn't want to be anywhere near that soft good-goody. Gandors stuck together, that's what made a Family work. Didn't Luck know that? Did he really think so little of them just because they weren't scholars of classical literature or algebra, whatever that was?

On Monday they walked to school without a word said, Luck hanging to the back, trying to plot a way to get back into their good graces.

Claire arrived in class, desperately looking for somewhere he could sit away from Luck. Spiky-haired kid, bingo.

"Morning, Firo."

"Oh, hey, Claire," Firo looked to the back of the classroom and then back at Claire.

"Aren't you going to sit next to your brother who is not your brother but apparently is your brother?" Firo asked with a grin.

"No, the bastard's not my brother."

Firo frowned. Ooookay. This was new. The hyper, rather violent kid had gone moody. Marvelous.

"Yeah, so, you do the homework?" Firo tried again.

"No, you?"

"No, me neither," Firo laughed, scratching the back of his head.

Claire smiled a little, "My kind of man."

Firo was determined to figure out what was going on. Sure, he's been trying to make friends with Luck because he seemed to be the more approachable of the two and his Family had been nudging Firo to get to know the Gandors better for business purposes. But, hey, Firo was a nice guy, right? He wasn't just in it for the money. Maybe mostly for the money, but Luck had seemed alright. And Claire was odd, but interesting. He'd help them out. Besides, grumpy Gandors wouldn't be giving up any interesting Gandor Family secrets.

***

Luck was ticked off. Mr. Dobbs had the nerve to tell him he was doing brilliantly and was sure to get accepted.

In response, Luck had asked if St. Aquinas was just a bunch of worthless brownnosers.

Mr. Dobbs had been surprised by the question, but he slowly pried the problem out of Luck. (Of course, Luck kept referring to family, associates and the business, but Mr. Dobbs thought he had a good idea what was going on).

Being a realist, Mr. Dobbs explained that while there was nothing wrong with being a bit straight-laced, there would be plenty sons of corrupt senators and morally bankrupt Wall Street tycoons at the school.

He cringed a little by how excited Luck seemed by this prospect, but Dobbs figured it was better than letting the kid waste his mind and winding up a hired gun like so many of his past students. Heck, Dobbs had spent plenty of time down by the docks himself, not that he'd ever tell Luck that.

Luck left the room feeling much happier. Senator's eh? Easier access to grease some wheels never hurt.

Luck composed himself ready to win his brothers back.

"Hey, Claire," Luck called out down the hall.

"What's that Firo, do you hear something?" Claire asked.

Seriously, Luck thought. Real mature. Oh, well, Luck had to admit he always was the classy one, and the corner of his mouth quirked up at the thought of it.

"Yeah, I think that would be Luck who may or may not or may or may not be your brother," Firo sighed.

"Claire, let's talk, come on, we'll skip the next lesson," Luck said pulling out a pack of cigarettes he'd pinched off someone a while ago and waving it temptingly.

"Leave him be Luck," Keith appeared behind Luck, grabbing the smokes.

Berga saw the three from down the hall and started making his way over.

"Gandor," another voice called.

The boys looked over to a tall, over-muscled teenager with black hair. Another boy, his brother, was storming past his bulkier sibling toward the Gandors.

"You." he said, pointing his finger into Keiths stomach.

"For the last time Mike, Dianora called it off with you," Keith sighed. "I'm sorry."

Keith's girl was named Dianora? Claire and Luck both snorted and smiled at each other for a second before Claire remembered he was mad at Luck.

"A bella like that shouldn't be spending time with some small fry like a Gandor," Mike said.

"Her dad wouldn't be too happy either," his brother Sal added.

"Then maybe you should talk to her dad about it or maybe you should go whining to tell your dad that you can't keep a girl," Keith fired back, already in a particularly bad mood.

Sensing that this was going nowhere pretty and knowing that Mike and Sal Conti came from a pretty good Family, Luck decided it was time for him to step in.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but my brother can be a bit stubborn," Luck began. "I know reasonable men like yourselves realize that there are plenty of girls out there who'd love to have you. Why don't you just let it go that one of them was foolish enough to go after my brother? It might be the only shot he ever gets, after all."

Mike seemed to calm down. Massage the ego, that's all it takes.

"Heh, he's got a point there Mike," Sal chuckled.

Normally, Keith would have caught on and let Luck work his magic. But, normally, Keith wasn't grumpy and tired from staying up all night trying to figure out what to do about his little brother.

"What? You're going to listen to that runt?" Keith grumbled.

"Now, now, don't get testy," Mike smirked. "Perhaps we've seen the light. Perhaps the problem is smaller (and here he made a rude gesture) than I foresaw."

Sal guffawed along with Mike, who was laughing at his own terrible pun.

"He's just trying to sooth your wounded pride you baboons," Claire said without restraint.

Mike and Sal sobered.

"Okay, guys, now is not the time," Luck turned to his brothers.

"Are you making fun of us?" Sal asked.

"No, no, what we have here is a misunderstanding," Luck tried to salvage things.

"Yeah, the misunderstanding is how Dianora ever wound up with this guy in the first place," Keith grinned.

Luck wanted to bang his head on the wall, but that would have been undignified.

Luckily, just as Sal went to pull a knife, a particularly imposing teacher walked by and gave them all a hardy glare until they walked their separate ways, Claire dragging Firo along ahead of Luck.

Things didn't improve much over the next two days. Berga had softened a little, after all, Luck seemed repentant. But Keith still was convinced this was an insult, and Claire was positive he was about to be abandoned. Firo was getting a headache.

***

"So, anyway, Lou took out Scrappy over on 17th last night."

"Oh? He's building up quite the rep."

"But the man could be more discrete."

"Yes, I suppose."

Great, another walk to school and Luck's brothers again were speaking in loud deliberate voices ignoring him.

"Come on guys, I really didn't think it would be this big a deal. It's not like I'm leaving the family. It's like the time Cousin Rudy joined that fishing company so that we could get in on the shipping business. I'm just trying to make the business smarter, to expand the family," Luck sighed.

Honestly, Claire and Keith were running out of excuses. Keith just wasn't used to being mad at his baby brother, and Claire was so flighty he never could hang onto a mood for very long.

Berga gave Luck an encouraging smile. Just a little more and Luck will have them back, he thought.

They kept walking in silence, but the heat of the tension was slowly dissipating.

School was quiet, other than Mike throwing his usual threats at Keith. Claire was quite disgruntled when Firo brought up that the whole Dianora business would have been settled by now if they had just let Luck be. Although, some well-planned spying by Firo and Claire had unveiled that Dianora was indeed quite the beauty. It wouldn't be easy to talk Mike into giving up on a girl like that. Seriously, what on earth did she see in Keith?

***

Soon enough the day was done and the brothers were meeting by the front of the school.

Luck was a few minutes late, odd for him, but apparently he'd had to throw something or another away.

"Late, hmm, how out of character" Claire prodded half-heartedly. Berga and Firo cheered on the sidelines. That almost sounded like brotherly teasing!

Luck didn't respond.

"I said you're late," Claire said, now a bit harsher, upset that Luck hadn't latched onto the olive branch he had extended. Okay, so it wasn't exactly an olive branch but he was trying. Claire didn't do drama well. This needed to be done with. He was getting bored with it. His workout and knife practice had been rather blah lately, and that was a sure sign that Claire was not enjoying life.

"Yeah, I guess," Luck said, looking back into the school.

"What the heck? First you want to talk to us and now you don't!" Keith shouted.

Luck, blinked, realizing he'd made some sort of mistake while distracted.

Just as Luck had composed his thoughts, Keith trudged off, "Oh, forget it."

Claire stood there a second, then wrapped his arm around Berga and followed.

Firo sighed, and flashed Luck a grin.

"Hang in there, Luck. I'll give them a talking to and by the time you get home we'll have it all fixed. We'll have them wearing St. Aquinas' colors before the day is through. What are your new school colors by the way? Old man Maiza is going through this weird knitting faze. Bet he'll make you a scarf, but don't you dare tell another sole about this whole knitting thing," Firo tipped his hat to Luck.

"Not going anyway," Luck sighed. "I know they'll get over it. Don't worry about it."

"That's the spirit," Firo said. "But what do you mean you're not going? Not going home? I'm sure your brothers will cool off."

"No the stupid preppy school. They're right, it's embarrassing. I think I'd scare away all the tea-sipping, tennis-playing ninnys, anyway. I just threw away the acceptance papers."

"Wait, you what? Where?"

"Eh, calm down Firo, you're a little jumpy for a Family man," Luck laughed. "Even if you are only, what, 13?"

"Woah, wait, Luck, it's kind of obvious you wanted to go to that school. I mean I'm not the smartest guy around, but if I could get into that kinda place I'd go. So we're all a little jealous, and we'll miss you, but I thought you had thick enough skin to hang in there until your boys realized a brother is still a brother," Firo reasoned.

"That's actually quite poetic, Firo," Luck replied with a laugh.

"Seriously, Luck, where did you put it?"

"In the trash in the hall."

"Okay, I'll be right back," and Firo sprinted off back into the building.

"Heh, Firo, I don't need it…" Luck trailed off shaking his head. Yeah, everything was going to be okay. What a bunch of embarrassing drama. He'll have to get better at smoothing this sort of thing over.

Luck folds his arms and leans against the low brick wall around the schoolyard to wait for Firo to return. He'd been wondering if the kid was just using them to get close to their Family, and that's probably what he was supposed to be doing, but Firo just wasn't that kind of mobster.

Luck pulled out a cigarette, noticing a shadow below him, and then a sudden blow to his back.

He fell to his knees scrambling along the wall to get up.

"Well, Gandor, you don't fall as easily as I thought you would," Sal Conti spoke up from behind him. Mike was just around the corner resting his elbows on the short wall. A cluster of three men in their late twenties were standing beside him.

"You Gandors sure stay in packs, but it looks like we finally found one of you on your own," Mike crowed with glee. "And what luck Luck, it's the baby, could our lives be any easier?"

"Haven't got the guts to hit a man from the front Conti?" Luck grunted rubbing his shoulder.

"Well, really it's not my gripe anymore. These are some of the Gallos, as in Dianora Gallo. And they're not too pleased that some upstart from a wannabe mob family has been playing around with their sister's virtue," Mike smirked. "I think I'll just watch."

The bastards, they actually had gone to Dianora's dad, and it seemed like they'd exaggerated. As if the fumbling Keith had even made it past first base.

"So, Mr. Genius, has you buddy Shakespeare got any good last words for you?" Mike asked.

"Cowards die many times before their deaths, Julius Caesar," Luck spat.

"Huh, that's kind of impressive," Sal laughed. "He's got you pegged bro."

"Oh, shut up," Mike spat.

"Both of you shut up, we're here to teach the kid's brother a lesson, not listen to you idiots," said one of the men, walking over to Luck with a pipe in hand.

Firo, with a slightly soiled letter in hand, strut his way out of the school with glee. And then he saw the crowd of men kicking something on the ground, something blond that had dropped its school books. Oh, where was a teacher when you needed one?

***

Claire stomped his way upstairs and threw himself into his bed. Dang it, stupid Luck. Claire was getting agitated and Claire did not do agitated well. Should he practice his knife work or go on some errands to blow off steam? He buried his face in his pillow. Wait, his pillow was still over on Keith and Berga's bed, this was Luck's pillow…

***

Claire stood in the doorway looking at two tidily made beds.

"Come on, Claire," Mr. Gandor gave the little boy a push from behind. Claire resisted the urge to shoot the impatient man a glare. This man seemed different. This family didn't seem to understand that you were supposed to be brutal and heartless to survive lives of crime. Mr. Gandor was a mobster, but a good person, an interesting person.

Three boys followed them into the bedroom, Claire supposed it was only natural that mobsters had children or else you'd run out of mobsters. Curious, Claire found it difficult to imagine the transition from child to mob boss.

"Okay boys, look after him," Mr. Gandor said as he shut the door.

The eldest one, Keith introduced himself and his two brothers, Berga (who was already bigger than Keith) and Luck (who was either the runt or several years younger). Keith explained that Claire would share beds with Luck, and Claire nodded in response.

He sat on the edge of a bed swinging his feet as the other boys changed, washed up and said their prayers.

Berga silently lent Claire an extra tooth brush, and Keith took one look at Claire's hole-ridden socks before grabbing a pair out of his own drawer and tossing them over to the young redhead.

Mrs. Gandor came in and gave all the boys kisses, although Keith complained that he was much too old for kisses. She gave Claire a gentle smile and asked if he wanted a kiss. He just looked at her, so she planted one on his cheek before turning out the lights and closing the door.

He felt a weight rise off the bed, heard some footsteps and shuffling and then the weight sunk back onto the mattress.

"Are you asleep?" the form next to him asked.

"No."

"Oh, good. Are you okay?

"Yes."

"Oh, I'd think it was strange suddenly having a new family."

"Yes, you're Luck right?"

"Yeah."

"Why is your name Luck?"

"Probably because my dad is a mobster and runs some gambling joints," Luck paused. "They told you your new family was mobsters, right?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, okay, good."

"Was there something you wanted?"

"Oh, yeah, I was going to ask if you wanted my pillow," Luck offered pushing something fluffy over to Claire. "We haven't had a chance to get a fourth one for you."

"But what about you?" Claire asked.

"It's okay. I just stole Keith's pillow, so I'll use that," Luck said, patting the cushion under his own head.

"You know, Luck, I can hear you from here," a voice that must have been Keith carried from the other side of the room.

"Is that Keith?"

"Yup," Luck replied. "Keith is the eldest, he'll be the mob boss someday when grandpa gets really old. Berga is the muscle and I'm the smart one," Luck said with what Claire imagined to be an evil smirk in the dark.

"But you're only 8."

"I know, it's sad, but Keith and Berga set the standard pretty low for mental capability," Luck whispered.

Something soft flew into the side of Claire's head.

"Thanks, Berga, I'm sure Claire will appreciate the second pillow," Luck chirped.

"That was thrown in anger, you toss it back right now," Keith replied.

"Dang it, Keith, I was using that pillow," Berga groaned with a yawn.

"You'd deny your new brother pillows on his first night here?" Luck asked.

"He'd better be one grateful little brother in the morning," Keith grumbled, cushioning his head with his arms.

"See they're not bad for brothers," Luck gave Claire a conspiratorial whisper.

Yes, this was a strange mob family indeed.

***

Claire sighed and sat up. Okay, so Luck was a great foster brother. And yes, Claire actually was getting restless and had been thinking about running off to join the circus for a change of scenery. But even if he ran off, he still expected Luck to be where he could find him. Claire was the flighty one, not Luck.

Drat, Luck was totally cut out to be a lawyer or an accountant or a doctor or something useful, and he would always come back to the family. It was just who Luck was. It was a weird path, but then the Gandors were never normal to begin with.

Claire had freaked out over nothing, not that that was anything new.

Keith and Berga walked in and peered out the window.

"Where is he?" Keith sighed.

"I'm sure Firo is talking to him," Berga suggested.

***

Firo was running so fast he felt like he was going to trip over himself.

He arrived at the huddle of men and slammed into the first guy he came to. The guy stumbled onto his behind in surprise.

Oh, God, it really was Luck on the ground now that Firo had a better view.

Firo grabbed the two-by-four from the startled man's hands and whacked his neighbor with it.

"What the heck, where did this kid come from?"

The third man raised the metal pipe over his head and there was no way Firo could stop it, already struggling with one of the other Gallo brothers. Firo winced but instead of an impact he heard the pipe clatter. The man was holding his leg where Luck, bloody mess that he was, had kicked it.

"Firo?" Luck asked blearily.

"Uh, Luck, can you please explain?"

"Oh, yeah…owww." Luck said as we was picked up by the man whose leg he had kicked.

"You brat."

"Our apologies Mr. Gallo, we don't want any ill will with your family but it appears the Contis are trying to stir something up. You see, your lovely sister was going out with Mike Conti and now he's jealous that our ever-so-shy and reserved brother is courting your dear and ever-so-pure sister," Luck coughed out.

The eldest Gallo sighed, "Yeah, you already said that before, kid, and it doesn't match what we'd heard."

***

Claire was getting frustrated. Still no Luck.

Suddenly there was a tapping on the window. Someone was throwing pebbles?

Keith was to the window first, opening it and staring down.

"What do you want Mike? Don't you have a life anymore?" he asked.

"Shove it, Gandor. Sal and I just wanted to give you the courtesy of letting you know that you probably ought to go collect your brother from school."

"What are you talking about?" Berga said pushing his way to see out the window too.

"Oh, we just happened to see the Gallo brothers around that way talking about how they were going to knock some sense into the first Gandor who crossed their path to teach Keith a lesson for chasing a girl out of his league," and with that Mike and Sal ran off.

There was a second of silence in the bedroom, and then the three boys were racing for the door.

By the time they got to the school it was quiet.

"Luck?" Claire called out.

"Shush, the Gallos still could be around," Keith pointed out.

"No they headed out a bit ago," a voice rasped from the right.

There, leaning against the school wall, was Firo with one eye nearly swollen shut and a bruise across the left side of his jaw. That was what was visible, anyway. And across his lap was a very disheveled Luck Gandor.

"Luck!"

Berga and Keith knelt down by their brother, trying to wake him. Claire remained standing scanning the school grounds.

"Where are they? I'll kill them!" Claire bit out, and he meant it.

"Not their fault," Firo coughed out. "We'll give the Contis a beating, that's for sure, but Luck eventually managed to talk some sense into the Gallos. They apparently even decided they liked our guts."

Firo's laugh turned into a cough and then a yawn.

"Stop moving, Firo, it hurts. You're making a horrid pillow," Luck breathed out.

Now Claire was kneeling down too, trying to get a good look at Luck.

"Heh, fine, being a nice pillow is the least I can do after you saved my butt twice from those goons. Three times, if you count talking them out of it. I did not know poetry was so *cough* versatile. I swear the fat one was tearing up," Firo tried to hold still.

"Hmm, talking makes the Firo-pillow move too much. And you're the one who saved me. Thanks," Luck softly replied.

"Come on guys, we got to get you out of here before you go completely delusional. Luck, thank goodness you're so skinny," Keith said as he hauled his brother up in his arms.

Claire and Berga quickly gave Firo a hand.

"Hey, Luck, it there any good Shakespeare on pillows?" Firo asked.

"Probably, but my head hurts."

"Understandable," Keith muttered.

Claire had a sneaking suspicion that Keith wasn't going to be letting Luck out of his sight for a long time.

"Oh, I have your letter!" Firo suddenly exclaimed fishing in his pockets, and passing it to Claire.

"Our sincere congratulations to Mr. Luck Gandor…" Claire read. "Oh, you got into the school."

"Yeah, but I'm not going."

"What do you mean you're not going? It would be a waste of genius. And Mr. Dobbs tells me that there are all sorts of wonderful chances to rub elbows with folks we'll need to know in the future. And who am I going to get legal advice from otherwise? You expect me to trust Uncle Jimmy?" Claire rambled.

"Wait, when did you talk to Mr. Dobbs?" Luck asked at the same time Firo added, "And I had to dig through the trash, the trash! You have to go!" and Keith added "You can't not go now!"

"I talked to him right after lunch," Claire said abashed. "He pointed out I was being an idiot, but err I wasn't very good at admitting it to you..."

"Oh, well, thanks guys," Luck said drowsily. "And Firo?"

"Hmm, Luck?"

"That's just a congratulations letter. I didn't technically need it to get in."

"You tell me this now!?!"

"I tried to mention it before…"

"Okay, there's got to be poetry for what a bunch of fools we all are," Claire laughed.

"Hmm, take your pick," Luck said, beginning to nod off, thoroughly bruised and tired.

"I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it."

--Edgar Allan Poe

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

--Shakespeare's Macbeth

***

--One year later at the train station--

"And don't forget the briefcase, I packed you extra socks," Keith said, pushing the bag into Claire's hands.

"I'm sure they have spare socks at the circus Keith," Berga rolled his eyes.

"Where's Luck at?" Claire asked bouncing on the balls of his feet and glancing around the crowd.

"He'll be here, he'll be here," Firo laughed, giving Claire a pat on the back. "Just look after yourself, will you?"

"Sure, sure…Ah! There he is! Luck, over here!" Claire shouted, waiving dramatically.

Luck came running down the platform, navy jacket tucked over a vest and khakis.

"Dear God, what have they done to you," Firo smiled.

"At least there's no tweed after all," Claire thought aloud.

"Oh shove it the lot of you. You'll never believe the stories I've got. Rich boys are worse than a speakeasy on New Year's Eve. Corrupt madmen, the lot of them. You'll love them. And remind me that we need to work out arrangements to get liquor into that place. We'd make a killing," Luck smiled giving his brothers each a hug. "Sorry, I'm late Claire. Glad I made it before your train."

"Me too, Luck, me too," Claire cheered wrapping the youngest Gandor in a bear hug.

"I can't believe you're really going off to the circus," Luck shook his head.

"Oh, we'll see how long it lasts, and then it's on to the next thing," Claire winked.

The train whistle blew, and the boys turned to the train.

"Well, off with you then," Keith said.

Claire started up the steps, but Luck's whistle made him turn back just in time to get hit in the head by a flying travel pillow.

"With the pillows again?" Firo chuckled.

"I think you have a fetish little brother," Keith teased.

Luck ignored them, "Figured you could use it. It'll be a long ride."

"I think I'm going to like trains," Claire said with an eerie smile before swinging through the doorway.

END

AN: OK, it's not quite where I'd like it, so I might revise it. Let me know what you think!