No One Can Know || Victor Zsasz

forty three

Novella wanted nothing more than to go back and talk to Jerome Valeska. It wasn't that she wanted to see him exactly, but she wanted the information he had. She'd already pestered Barbara a few more times over the phone but to no avail. She would ask Jim again, but the first time hadn't gone wonderfully. It had actually involved Jim tensing up so much that Novella was close to calling the Paramedics to take care of him. She didn't want to chance him actually needing a doctor.

Unfortunately, she could not see Valeska for at least another day or two. With Falcone's death, Victor was in an odd mood - not exactly mourning but not exactly himself - and the underground was in a tizzy. She'd had multiple calls from Caspian, each one more frantic than the next. Apparently, people thought that if Falcone could be hit then anyone could be next. Novella had to resist the urge to tell Caspian to grab those bastards by their suspenders and tell them that if they were gonna be hit it didn't have a damn to do with the Don's death. She was proud that she'd only said to use force if necessary, but otherwise to use words.

She pulled herself out of her self-satisfaction to finish getting ready. The funeral for Falcone was supposed to start in an hour, but Victor wanted to make sure he was there in time to survey everything. She'd had to start getting ready three hours in advance because of how bad Victor hogged the bathroom when he wanted to look his best.

"Vic, are you ready to go?" Novella called from the front door where she was putting in one of her diamond studs.

She didn't receive a verbal answer but was met with a blank-faced Victor coming around the bend of their hallway. His neutral expression was soon replaced with a small smile when he saw her.

"You look good." He went over to her and pulled her hand into his and rubbed a finger along the ring she'd stolen from him a couple years ago. Apparently, they were both remembering that night because they shared a knowing look with each other before Victor became serious again. "Thank you for coming with me."

"Hey," she looked at him and pulled him into a hug, "we're a team, you and me. What kind of a teammate would I be if I let you do this alone?"

Victor nodded at her words and kissed her forehead. It was one of the rare occasions when she didn't have a streak of lilac falling over her face and he liked it. He could see her whole face without having to move her hair. It wasn't that he didn't love her hair, because he did, he just loved seeing her face too, and the thick braid she'd pulled her hair back into allowed him to see it.

"I know you have trouble with emotions and all, but I think you loved him in your own way." She pulled away from him slightly to grab a set of their car keys. "It's okay to mourn him and its okay if you do that by avenging him. Whatever you decide, I'll be right beside you to tell you when you've gone too far."

Novella grabbed his hand and pulled him to the elevator and then out of the lobby. The ride to the church was spent in silence; Novella knew that Victor didn't want to talk and that was okay. He worked through things in silence and then acted. This process of his didn't scare Novella, what unnerved her though was the fact that she didn't know what consequences would come of it.

•*•*•*•

The wooden seat that Novella sat on was extremely uncomfortable, even with the small bit of padding that they called a cushion. The tulle skirt she had on, that extended to just below her knee, was providing some extra comfort, but that was negated by the itchy feeling that ran down every cell the fabric touched.

She tried to look attentive when people came up to talk to her and whenever Oswald would ask her a question over Victor, but she just couldn't. It was impossible for her to be entirely present with all the death surrounding her. Funerals had never been her thing, not that they really were anybody's thing, but she assumed she disliked them more than most.