Best Laid Plans

1939: Rain or Shine

For once, the weather matches the mood, Dio thought. The rain was a steady drizzle, casting the world in a gloomy grey light. The clouds blocked the spring sun and Dio could have walked outside without the protection of the large black umbrella he carried.

Next to him, Elizabeth, Speedwagon, and Smokey huddled under their own umbrellas. Not a word was spoken as they stood, staring at the cenotaph in front of them.

Joseph Joestar

Born 1920

Dead 1939

Dio bowed his head, ignoring the tears he could feel building. He had failed. He had let Joseph get involved in a fight that Lizabeth had given everything to keep him out of and now—now he would never hear another stupid pun as the boy ran into the kitchen for tea. He'd never watch the boy outgrow his childish mannerisms and become a man. Like his father and grandfather before him, he had had his life cut short by a power far beyond their ability to combat. But, Joseph's sacrifice had not been in vain. Dio wasn't sure how, but whatever that foolish boy had done had put an end to Kars and his delusions of power. He was still fuzzy on the details—neither Smokey, Speedwagon, nor Elizabeth had been in the best position at the time to see and Dio was still human enough to understand how fear and adrenaline affected memories.

Another person I failed.

Dio looked over at Smokey. The boy was barely holding back tears, his hand clenched so tightly around the handle of his umbrella that Dio was afraid it would break. Ever since he had returned from Switzerland, the boy had been subdued. He continued his studies under Dio, but his previous love of learning had been buried under the immense sadness he now felt. Dio had done his best to offer the boy some comfort—but it had never been his strength. Those first few nights after Smokey had returned to New York with Speedwagon and Elizabeth were difficult. Dio's sharp hearing could easily pick out when Smokey woke during the night, screams dying in his throat as nightmares tormented him. The bags under the boy's eyes didn't escape the notice of any of the adults in the house and Dio was sure that their concerned looks also didn't escape Smokey's notice. He was sure that the cups of tea, gently placed on Smokey's bedside table while the boy pretended that he was still sleeping, didn't escape Smokey's notice, even if they were never acknowledged except for empty tea cups by the kitchen sink and—once—a small, whispered: "thank you".

Another name on the list.

Speedwagon and Lizabeth stood side-by-side, crowded under Speedwagon's umbrella. Speedwagon's hand rested on Lizabeth's shoulder as she faced the cenotaph, eyes shrouded by a black veil. No mother should have to bury her child. Elizabeth had cut herself from Joseph's life, had done her very best to prevent this from happening, and he had failed to keep his promise to protect Joseph from this life.

Another promise broken.

Speedwagon had been the one to tell him the news. Lizabeth had been distraught, even days after the event, and Smokey...Smokey was worse. All of them had experienced this kind of extreme loss before, but Smokey...he was never meant to be exposed to this world of Hamon and vampires and Stone Masks. They had sat in the lounge room, tea cups in hand, two old friends watching the afternoon shadows move across the room. Dio had known already that he would never see his nephew again but he'd needed to hear it. Speedwagon told him the story as he knew it—Joseph and Caesar's time on Air Supplena, their race against time to Switzerland, the duels against Wammu, and Kars ascension to godhood. Dio had listened silently, teacup gripped as tightly as he dared without shattering the china with his inhuman strength. They remained in silence even after Speedwagon had finished—mourning the loss of one they both considered a son.

I'm sorry, Joseph...

Dio's vision went dark, eyes covered with hands from behind. He straightened, nails lengthening into talons to slash at his attacker when a familiar voice rang in his ear.

"Guess who~?"

It...it can't be...! As one the group gasped and turned to face the newcomer.

"Hey, everybody!" Joseph called out happily. "I finally got to New York and nobody was there to meet me! So, I heard you all were at a funeral. I looked everywhere for you all!"

He turned, greeting Lizabeth.

"Yo, Master Lisa-Lisa! Are you all healed up?" He didn't even wait for her to reply before launching onto the next thought that came into his head. "I wanted to ask Stronheim to fix my hand up with some gadgets, but it looks like this war with the Germans—Woah, Gramps, what's with that murderous glare? Wait! Is that my name on that gravestone?!?"

"I am going to murder you," Dio growled.

Joseph chuckled nervously, hands raised in the air.

"Wait, what, why? Didn't you get my telegram? Suzie, Suzie, tell him you sent the telegram!"

A pretty blonde girl that Dio hadn't noticed in his shock and rage tilted her head to the side.

"Telegram?"

"Suzie!"

Before the boy could berate his companion though, Dio pulled him into a tight hug.

"Ack, Gramps, let go!"

"No. I shan't."

"Welcome home, my boy."