Dis: I don't own BDS

Note: The song version I was thinking of in the last chapter was the one done by Celtic Woman.

Hopefully, we'll have some drama and loving in this chappie!

Chapter 7: Red, Red Tide

Looking up from her book, Aiden sighed in almost annoyance. On the counter sat Amelie's keys, which she'd need to get into the apartment after Aiden went to bed. There was no debating over whether or not to take them. Aiden just grabbed a jacket, snatched the keys, and headed out the door. The sun left purple and deep red streaks across the sky as it set, the taller buildings around the city creating deep, far-reaching shadows. There were several on Aiden's path to the bar.

She had nearly made it when an arm reached around her neck, choking off the scream she had just gotten ready to unleash upon the air. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, pushing her heart rate through the roof. The arm around her neck made oxygen hard to take in, and the bulging muscle spoke of hours lifting weights. "Or killing people through strangulation" her mind supplied roughly. This was why she should have been more careful…more observant. As her thoughts fired off in split-second patterns, the shadow to her right stepped into the waning light of the evening, and Aiden forgot how to breathe as terror began to writhe in her gut.

"Well, well…Looks like one of the dogs wandered away from its cage in search of better bones." The dark-haired man snapped his fingers, and Aiden dropped to her knees as her throat was released. Cool, meaty fingers raised her chin, and her green eyes stared into the chilling, black gaze of one of the few men Aiden was terrified by. "Tell me A stóirín, did you think ye could escape? Ye know I couldn't let ye do that, now could I?" The man tilted his head, studying her blank face. Inside, she was rallying against the fear that threatened to consume her, but Aiden was good at masking her emotions. "You will come with us, back to Ireland, and you will be punished for your straying."

"No…" The word was shaky, but it echoed in the small alley. The man turned back around from where he had been pacing and gripped Aiden by the hair.

"No? What do you mean 'no'?!" The rage in the man's voice was a quiet, deadly fury. She only knew he was angry by the fire burning behind his eyes. If she didn't get free…she would be dead.

"I quit. I'm tired of all the violence. I never wanted to be part of your sick group!" She bit off the rest of her response as a huge hand sent her head sideways. It was like being sucker-punched with a dinner plate.

"You don't quit the IRA…You either die, or grow to be useless. The former can easily be arranged." The twisted grin that spread across the man's face made the fear in Aiden's chest rise up in a wave. "However, I'd rather you beg before you die." A shooting pain welled up from her shoulder, and upon looking down, Aiden noticed the other brute of a man had buried a knife hilt deep into the flesh. The ruddy-haired man ripped it free, tearing muscle, skin, and vessels in a swift jerk. Blood splattered the pavement, and yet, Aiden was used to the pain. In the back of her mind, she thought that it was sad to be so used to it that she hardly noticed the wound gushing blood. As the brute went to raise his Colt pistol to her temple, the other man halted him with a raised arm. "No…I'd hate to ruin such a pretty face." With that, the torture began.

When the men were done beating her senseless, Aiden lay in a bloodied heap on the asphalt. Knife wounds bled profusely across her torso, legs, and arms. A bullet hole oozed steadily from her hip, where it had lodged. She held her hand to it, putting as much pressure on it as she could manage with a nearly dislocated arm. Every bone ached. Every cut burned. The grit of the alleyway ground into her cheek, but all of these were minor irritations. She had long suffered wounds like this, and on numerous occasions had brushed death's sweet hand, only to be pulled back from the brink. The two men left her there, knowing there was no one around to save her this time. She was of no use to them if she wouldn't work, so they dumped her like yesterday's garbage. As Aiden began to fade into unconsciousness, her mind's walls fell away, and she cried.

All the lives lost, all the lives claimed. Her hands were bloodied beyond recognition. She couldn't hate her father. He had thought he fought a noble cause. And it would have been if it weren't for the unsavory methods they used. The fear, the death, the chaos—Aiden was sick of it all. At last, it seemed she was receiving her just desserts. The morbid, solemn thought was overshadowed by a nicer one.

She could still see his easy smile and hear the lilt to his voice. It could soothe anyone into a calm, relaxed energy. His blue eyes seemed like ice when he was angry, but when he looked at her, she felt like they were piercing through her. If any man could draw her attention, it would be him. His shirts never fully hid his muscled, broad chest and shoulders, and she had caught herself imagining what was under those dark clothes on more than one occasion. It seemed sadly ironic to finally let down her walls she built for so long just as she was dying, but Aiden said to herself: "why shouldn't I have at least some good thoughts before God finally takes me?" Before she could black out, Aiden thought she heard Murphy's voice. "How silly…Why would Murphy be here?" Above her, she could see Death's angel finally come for her. Reaching up a bloody hand, Aiden smiled sadly and touched the warm cheek. As blackness took over, the hand fell away, leaving a bloody handprint.

"Christ! Connor! Help me?!"

They had been walking back from the strip club, having cleaned house of all the scumbags and wannabe gangsters, when the familiar tang of blood had brought the twins running. The odor had saturated the air, leaving a metallic taste on their tongues. Murphy made it to the alley first, sliding in the small puddle of blood. As he skidded to a stop, Connor came up behind him, cursing.

"Jaysus! What the hell happened?" In slowly donning horror, Murphy bent down and studied the familiar face. "It's Aiden!" The panic in his voice was not missed by Connor.

"Hello angel…" The soft lilt and sweet nickname would have Murphy's heart pounding if it weren't already terrified into tachycardia. Her blood was still warm as she pressed her hand to his cheek. It coated her arms and legs to the point of almost seeming fake. "No one should have that much blood in them." As Aiden went limp in his arms, Murphy turned to his brother, eyes full of fear.

"Christ! Connor, help me!?" The two hefted the woman off the ground and began racing for their apartment, knowing that the hospital would ask too many questions.

As soon as they got in the door, Connor cleared the table in the middle of the room as Murphy laid Aiden's limp body down. The smaller wounds cleaned up quickly, but as soon as Connor began stitching the gash in Aiden's upper arm, the woman arched her back in a scream of pain, coming fully conscious in one of the worst parts. Murphy leaned over her, pushing her shoulders down to hold her still.

"Relax, Aiden. It's us! We're trying to help you, but you need to hold still." The green glare he got in return nearly made him sag with relief. At least she was ok enough to be mad.

"I fuckin' know what I need ta do, Murphy McManus! Gimme a damn knife! I'll kill that fucker!"

"Whoa there…Ye aren't going anywhere!" Connor pressed around the bullet hole in Aiden's hip, earning a hiss from the woman. "The bullet's still inside. I'll need to get it out." Aiden nodded, gritting her teeth. "Murph…get the iron ready." Sending one last look to the woman bleeding on the table, Murphy nodded and headed off to go do as he was told. As soon as it was heated up, Connor pulled the bullet from the gaping hole and pressed a clean rag over it to slow the blood down and clean the wound enough to prevent infection. With that done, Murphy quickly pressed the iron's tip to the hole, cauterizing it. The half-scream, half-moan of pain that Aiden released nearly broke his heart. The smell of burning flesh made him nearly gag, knowing it was hers.

"All done…Any other injuries we don't know about?" Aiden shook her head, lying limply on the table.

"Can one of ye carry me to the tub?" Sharing a look with Connor, Murphy shrugged.

"Only if yer sure yer ok ta move…" Half-heartedly, Aiden slid onto her elbows to glare at him.

"Take me to the fuckin' bath Murphy or I swear I'll choke ye with my shoelaces!" At this point, he smiled, more grateful Aiden was ok enough to argue with him than he'd ever thought he could be.

Steamy bath scene next time, yes? No? Vote!

REVIEWS ARE MUCH LOVED!

Translations:

A stóirín—Irish for my little treasure/darling.