A/N: This story happens after BDS and before BDSII. Almost two years after BDS has happened, essentially. One more to go. Comments and critique welcomed.
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What could happen in two years time? Most people would say nothing important. Adrienne would disagree. In two years time, she would come to realize that her actual family meant nothing to her and the family she had back in Boston had meant everything. In two years time, she would work her ass off for the company that shipped her down to New Orleans for only a month before shipping her off to London for the remainder of those two years. In two years time, she would attempt to go out on nearly thirty dates and each one would wind up a failure. Thirty dates. She could recall each and every one and remember where they had gone wrong.
Actually, none of them had technically gone wrong. They had all went smoothly and without a hitch. It was the men, though. They were not quite like them. Their manners were perfect—they usually were the epitome of perfect gentleman. It grated on her nerves. They spoke reservedly—cursing was never part of their conversations. It frustrated her. Their accents were beautiful—but it didn't quite have that same tone. It made her heart ache.
After twenty-three months and ten days, Adrienne had set foot on her home soil. Well, she'd set foot in New Orleans and immediately booked a flight to Boston. Two years of being a workaholic had racked up quite a bit sick time, as well as vacation time. Instead of going to visit her mother and father, Adrienne had gone to visit them. Not just them, though, she had gone to visit everyone. Connor, Murphy, Doc, Rocco…she'd missed them all.
The plane trip had been frustrating. It seemed like she would never reach Boston. The flight attendants were pleasant enough, though, and the other passengers were agreeable people. Even the older man she had sat beside had been quite charming. She was anxious to see everyone, though. What would have changed for them in two years time? Would everyone still be the same or would they have moved on, like she tried to? She wondered if McGinty's was still open. She wondered if the boys still lived in the same illegal housing. She wondered if Rocco was still with that crack head girlfriend of his. She wondered many things and had quite a long time to stew over them while on the plane.
As soon as it had landed and she had gotten a cab, she checked into the first motel nearest the bar, tossed her bags onto the bed, grabbed her things, and marched down to McGinty's. She didn't expect the place to be packed. It was only three in the afternoon, after all. Most of the regulars were still working, but she did expect to find Doc.
She did find Doc once she had entered the building, where he was usually stationed. Behind the bar, wiping at some glasses and wiping down the counter. As the old man looked up, a moment of confusion crossed his features before recognition registered and he smiled. "Adri!" The voice was comforting, a welcomed break from the British accents she'd dealt with for so long.
"Doc! How're you?" Walking up to the bar, the woman settled down on a barstool, smiling up at the elderly gentleman. He had always been like a grandfather to her, a grandfather that she wished she had in her life. Before he could answer her first question, she chimed in with more, anxious to see everyone and catch up. "How're the guys? Where is everyone? Place is kinda dead, even for the afternoon."
Considering it was a Friday, Adrienne expected McGinty's to be somewhat busy. People usually got off early and they went in for a few drinks early before heading home or heading out to eat. However, the bar was almost deserted. She didn't even see the girl who had replaced her when she had quit wandering around, cleaning up, a job she usually did. Looking back to Doc, she searched his eyes for an answer, realizing quickly she would not like what he was about to say.
"Ye've been g-g-go-gone for so l-l-long. Fuck! Ass!" The man took in a deep breath, trying to calm down so he would not let the fits take over. It was hard, at times, but when in the presence of ladies he always tried to be the gentleman he was. "Th-th-th-things have ch-ch-changed, Adri." Motioning for her to follow, Doc headed to a room she was quite familiar with—his make-shift storage room. Packed with junk that was useless and sentimental to the old man at the same time, he began to look around for a box.
"Doc…what's happened?" A feeling of dread had overcome Adrienne. She'd been gone too long. Something horrible had happened. She could feel it. No one was there. He had ignored her question. That was an ill omen. When the man gave out a little 'aha,' Adrienne moved over, picking up the box.
"Let's go sit." He sounded solemn, grave as he spoke. Following him once more, Adrienne settled back on a barstool, placing the box in front of Doc as he found himself a stool to sit on as well. The flaps of the box were tugged open and Doc began to rummage through it, pulling out old newspapers and shuffling them about, putting them in some sort of order. "This will explain e-e-everythin'."
Adrienne watched him in silence, waiting until he held them out, and then she took them. The first newspaper page was dated just two months after she had left two years ago. "Connor and Murphy," she whispered, reading over the headline and article quickly. As each newspaper was put down, the gravity of the situation settled in. The following articles detailed what happened in only a span of a few days—murder in multiples. All scum of the city, dead, at the hand of men who were not known.
An agent was brought in with the first dealings with the Twins—Paul Smecker. He was working the other case, promising they would capture the men and bring the vigilantes to justice. The man was working hard, along with three of Boston's finest detectives. One crime scene, cold. Another, useless evidence. Another crime scene and more dead bodies.
Finally, it all stopped for three months. No more murders, nothing. However, Papa Joe was going to court for the death of the men. He'd had a hand in it all, the papers said. The next article she looked at floored her. There, on the front page, was a drawing depiction of three men—two who were very familiar. "Oh God," she whispered, feeling her world come crumbling down. "They didn't…they couldn't…it's not like them." She was grasping at strings, not wanting to believe what she had read was true.
"They did."
"Rocco?"
"Dead." Doc pulled out another piece of newspaper from the box and pushed it over towards Adrienne. As her fingers brushed against the obituary clipping, she finally felt her emotions take over once more. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill. The moment she looked at Rocco's picture—which looked suspiciously like a mugshot—the tears began to fall freely.
"Connor? Murphy? Are they…are they in jail?" She could not think of them as dead. The Twins could not die. They just couldn't! The gentle hand of Doc settled atop hers and she finally looked up at him, trying to hold the raging emotions at bay. It was hard to do at times, and her body shook with the effort she was exerting to keep from breaking down into a sobbing mess.
"They just di-di-di-di-, oh fuck they left. Fuck! Ass!" Doc seemed frustrated at his lack of control but then remembered something and dug one last thing out of the box. The white business card was slid over to Adrienne and he tapped it gently. "Read the b-b-b-back."
Flipping the card over on top of the bar, Adrienne saw, written in slightly sloppy scrawl, was the moniker 'Il Duce' and simple directions: When you call, mention him. Who was Il Duce? What did that mean? Flipping the card back over, Adrienne read the name on it and then it hit her—Paul Smecker, the agent who had been working their case. Why would she call this man, though? Was he not the enemy? Looking back at Doc, she seemed confused. "I don't get it, Doc."
"N-n-neither do I. Just do what it says, Adri." The man stood and moved behind the bar, pulling out his phone and handing it over to the young woman. "Ye look even more b-b-beautiful, by the way." This caused the woman to smile only momentarily before she wiped at the tears staining her cheeks and welling up in her eyes. Picking up the phone and dialing the number, Adrienne leaned into the bar, Doc having wandered off to go do something, which meant he was giving her some privacy.
After the fifth ring, the phone was picked up and answered. "Hello. Smecker speaking." It was him. The man she was supposed to call. Feeling her hands shake, Adrienne swallowed hard and flipped the card over once more to run by the name again.
"Hello officer. Oh, uh, I meant Agent Smecker. Hello, Agent Smecker. My name is Adrienne. I'm calling…well, this sounds crazy. Hell, it is crazy, but I guess I'm calling to mention one person to you—does Il Duce ring any bells?" She held her breath then, wondering if the man would laugh at her and hang up or if he would become enraged and slam the phone down, threatening to ruin her life. Instead, she was met with silence and then a slow exhale of air on the other end.
"You came back. Good. We need to meet for coffee, catch up on old times, I've missed you terribly." Smecker was putting on airs. Why? Who knew if they were still watching him closely or not. "Meet me for a little bite to eat at the Lakeview Restaurant in an hour. Look pretty. You know I like it when you look pretty." Before Adrienne could get a word in edgewise, the line went dead and she looked thoroughly confused. Sliding off of the stool, Adrienne placed everything but the card back into the box and walked back to the storage room, putting it back where Doc had taken it from. She found him in there as well, looking paler than normal and his shoulders were shaking, nearly heaving because he was sobbing.
Arms wrapping around his shoulders in a tender hug, she held the man, humming to him a lullaby she remembered hearing a mother hum to her child one day in public. After what seemed like an eternity had passed, Adrienne released him and kissed the top of his head affectionately. "I'm going to meet with the FBI Agent, Doc. I'll be back later tonight." She hoped she would be, at least. Hugging him goodbye once more, she headed out of the bar and right back to the motel, knowing she would be pressed for time.
It did not take her long to change into something nicer looking than the sweats she had been wearing. It also did not take her long to hail a cab to take her to the Lakeview Restaurant. The first job she had in Boston and the first place the Twins had come upon her and decided to pursue a friendship with her. Paying the driver and exiting the car, she quickly moved inside, looking around only briefly. Towards the back, a man was standing near the counter, dressed in a suit and looking weary. When he saw Adrienne, he waved her forward and moved for the booth in the back, settling down in it with ease. She wondered why he did not choose the last booth but then noticed it was occupied.
Sliding into the opposite side, Adrienne came face to face with Smecker, who looked like he needed a good night's sleep. Or like he had had too much to drink. "Agent Smecker?"
"Adrienne. You're prettier than they said you were," he commented, a smile bare creasing the corners of his lips. As the waitress approached, Smecker ordered two glasses of water and two slices of whatever pie they had, then waited for the woman to leave before looking back to the redhead before him. "I suppose you have questions?"
"You're fucking right I have questions!"
Smecker motioned for Adrienne to keep her tone down and smiled kindly as the waitress brought back their order, placing the pie in front of each of them along with their water. Motioning her off, promising her they were not in need of any whipped cream or ice cream, he took a bite and then looked back up at Adrienne, who seemed shaken. Leaning in, to hint to the young woman that she should do the same, he spoke in a low voice. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions first?"
"Not at all."
"Good. Where the hell have you been?"
"London, with my job."
"Why didn't you tell them?"
"It was a spur of the moment thing. One day I was in Louisiana, the next I was making sure everything in my apartment was taken care of and being flown out to London to work."
"How long have you been there?"
"Almost two years. We finished with everything over there and I was transferred back to Louisiana."
"Why are you here now?"
"Sick leave and vacation time had to be used. A month's worth. So I came home."
The girl was nearly in tears, and Smecker noticed this. He reached out to touch her hand, gently patting it as it rested atop the table. He was not cruel or heartless, not by a long shot, but he knew those were the questions that had been burning in their minds for quite some time. She had just disappeared, after all, so they had been notably worried about her well being. With all of his bases covered, he relinquished his questioning rights and let Adrienne have hers.
"What the fuck happened here two years ago?"
"The Saints decided that that which is evil must be destroyed. So they did as God told them and destroyed it."
"What happened to Roc?"
"Joe killed him."
"They killed him? In public?"
"Yes."
"Who the hell is Il Duce?"
"He was sent in to kill Rocco. I don't think I'm at liberty to explain everything else about him to you though."
"Where are they now?"
"I can't tell you."
"Please."
Smecker had not really looked up during the conversation until that point. He'd been quite happy to eat on the pie he had in front of him while she questioned him. When she said please, though, it was her tone that made him look up. That pleading, heart-broken tone that some women tried to use to manipulate but never truly felt. She felt it, though, deep down. Smecker saw it in her eyes. The tears were freely rolling down her cheeks once more and she looked at him pleadingly.
"Please, Agent Smecker. Paul. I need to know. I need to see them." She met his gaze then, feeling desperate enough to beg on her knees at that point. "I love them," she finally whispered in her last plea for him to help her see them. It felt as if a knife were stabbing her in the heart, repeatedly. The pain was almost unbearable.
Smecker felt all of his willpower crumble at that exact moment. She was not lying—he could tell she was not lying. Rubbing at his forehead, he finally exhaled and looked around, then leaned in close to her. "All right. You'll have to talk to him first, though." Smecker motioned to the booth behind them and Adrienne turned, coming face-to-face with a priest who was now looking back at the two.
"I think we can help ye," Father Sibeal MacManus said, smiling at the red-cheeked, red-eyed woman. Rising and moving to stand in front of the booth Adrienne and Smecker occupied, the Father pulled out a pamphlet from his pocket and placed it down in front of the young woman. "Éire go Brách," he murmured with a smile before exiting the shop.
Smecker bid her farewell moments after, tossing down a twenty for the food and a tip and exiting the shop without another word spoken between them. Adrienne opened up the pamphlet and pulled out the note inside of it. "Docks at 9:30 PM, sharp. Bring everything. Ireland awaits."
***
Within the hills of Ireland, two young men, settled atop horses, watched as a young boy ran up to them, waving a letter around frantically. The boy said it was a message from "Roc" and the fairer of the two took it, tossing the lad a piece of candy he was about to eat before opening it and leaning over to the darker man, both reading over the short, precise contents. "Soon." A smile broke out over both bearded features.