DISCLAIMER: See the previous chapter for details.

Authors Note: A lot of people liked the previous chapter, which made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Since I have no idea how the writers are going to treat the Tony/Ziva relationship in light of the bombing, this chapter was a little tough to write. Hope it came out sounding coherent. The profanity warning from the previous chapter still stands.

Background: Some people were surprised by Seamus' level of expertise. What he did and knew could be replicated by any street cop who knew what they were doing. During my research for this chapter I was surprised to find that there is a St. Francis church in Charlestown. Also, I know jack about Boston. I used Google Maps and some other sites. So, any mistakes I made about 'the Athens of America', I apologize for now. There is no connection between my St. Francis and the real one. If I'da known there was a real St. Francis I'da named my church something different.

Spoilers: For 'Til Death Do Us Part' obviously. This chapter picks up right at the end of the last.

"Thought I heard a rumblin', calling to my name Two hundred million guns are loaded, Satan cries, "Take Aim" Better run through the jungle Better run through the jungle Better run through the jungle, don't look back to see."- Creedence Clearwater Revival, 1970

Bunker Hill Monument Park, Charlestown, Present Day, 0940hrs.

After spending thirty minutes in the confessional, neither Seamus Dolan nor his brother, Father Padrig Dolan felt like going back to the rectory for coffee. So, they strolled down Bunker Hill St. to Concord St. and on into the park. Along the way they talked of anything other than death or murder; the prospects of the Sox under new skipper Bobby Valentine, the relative merits of Bushmills versus Jameson, Magic or Byrd? When they reached the park, they found a bench and sat. It was a really nice late spring day. The Bunker Hill Monument rose 221 feet into the blue cloudless sky. If you hiked up its 297 steps you'd get a great panoramic view of Boston. There were joggers, roller bladders, and mommies with strollers about.

Seamus leaned back and stretched his feet out in front of him crossing his ankles. He was really beat. A woman jogger, her dark hair in a ponytail wearing runner's spandex and a Celtics t-shirt came from their right. For just a split second he thought it was Ziva. She looked to be in her late thirties. When she got closer, she saw Seamus was checking her out and checked him out in turn. She gave him a grin. Dolan winked at her and she slowed some. Then she noticed Paddy and her eyes widened slightly and she sped back up. As she passed, both men's heads swiveled watching her pass. Seamus sighed.

"Sitting with you is definitely gonna cramp my style."

His brother smiled.

"Sorry about that. Do you suppose it's a sin if I admired her rear end?"

Seamus laughed.

"Nah just proves you've got a pulse."

"Do you think they'll catch you?"

Dolan sighed. His brother would just not leave this alone.

"Well, I left the weapon at the scene along with the duct tape. Walked away from the motel after dialing 911 from the room and leaving the line open. There was an Exxon station a couple of blocks north on Route 1. I took off everything I was wearing in the men's room and put it in a plastic garbage bag. Left the men's room and a couple of blocks later towards the downtown area there was one of those clothing donations bins in a parking lot. I stuck the bag in it and boogied. I like my chances."

"But if they do catch you?"

"Then I'll do my time."

"Just like that?"

"Uh-huh, just like that."

Paddy turned on the bench to face his brother.

"It doesn't bother you?"

Seamus raised an eyebrow.

"That..?"

"That you killed a man in cold blood."

"Yes, it bothers me that I killed a fellow human being. As you well know I've killed three men right here in Boston. Even though it was in cold blood, it does not bother me that I killed Frank Donovan."

Paddy opened his mouth. Seamus held up a hand to stay him.

"Let me finish. Frank Donovan bought his ticket the first time he set off a device and killed innocent people. I just happened be the one who punched it for him."

"But isn't that society's job?"

Seamus snorted.

"They were doin' a great job of it weren't they? Listen, Frank was wired in pretty good. I'm willing to bet he was working for his uncle at some point, else he wouldn't still be walking around loose like he was."

Paddy looked skeptical.

"You mean the government would condone …"

Seamus smiled.

"…bombing? Listen, who better to get to do your dirty work than somebody who's already dirty? An' if he gets caught? Well, you fill in the blanks."

Paddy shook his head.

"So you think you're in the clear?"

"Too early to tell, but yeah."

"What are you going to do now?"

Seamus grinned.

"I was hoping to crash at the rectory for a couple of hours. Then go down to Dorchester there and see Sean. Tomorrow I'll go back to DC and keep my head down."

"Do you think it's wise to go see Sean?"

"Every time I've come up here, I've stopped in to see either him or his dad. I don't want to break the pattern."

Paddy blew out a breath.

"Well, Mrs. Ryan will be happy. It's only Father Harris and I. Now she'll have you to fuss over and cook a big meal for."

Seamus smiled.

"A win-win."

Blue Hill Avenue, Dorchester, 1415hrs.

Sean Flynn was working out of a bar called 'Timmy's' in one of the few Irish pockets left along Blue Hill Ave. After taking a nap in one of the spare rooms at the rectory, Seamus borrowed Mrs. Ryan's Ford Taurus and drove down to Dorchester.

When Dolan was working out of the C-11 stationhouse, Blue Hill Ave. was the Wild West. It was a little better now, but not by much. He was glad he had the .25 in his pocket. It was better than nothing. Dolan parked across the street from 'Timmy's' and after locking the car walked on over. There were a couple of guys loitering out in front. They gave him the once over as he walked across the street. One pushed off the wall and went in the bar. Seamus nodded to the other as he went by. He pushed open the door and stepped in. Seamus took a couple of steps to the side and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. There was a bar along the wall. At one end was a dart board, pool table and a juke-box that was currently spinning the Creedence Clearwater Revival cover of "Proud Mary". At the other end was a doorway to a corridor. There were booths along the walls and some tables scattered in the middle of the room. A guy was sitting on the last stool by the doorway nursing a beer. There were four or five guys sitting at the bar. Seamus walked up to talk to the bartender. The guy who'd walked in in front of him was sitting to his left. Big shoulders, rough looking hands, probably a bricklayer or carpenter. He was nursing what looked like a whiskey and soda. There was another guy sitting to his right. Twentysomething with red hair and dead looking green eyes. An empty shot glass and a half full mug of beer was in front of him. The bartender was a fat sloppy looking guy with a florid face.

"What can I get ya?"

"I'd like to talk to Sean Flynn."

The bartender looked around.

"Anybody know a Sean Flynn?"

Silence.

"Sorry mister."

The young guy to his right spoke.

"You a cop?"

"Retired."

The kid smirked.

"I thought I recognized the smell."

Seamus let that one go. He looked at the bartender again.

"Tell him Seamus Dolan would like to talk to him."

The guy at the end of the bar slid off of his stool and disappeared down the corridor. Seamus felt relieved.

Feel kinda stupid if this was the wrong bar.

The kid spoke again.

"You'd better hope he knows you Pops."

Again with the 'Pops' thing. Do I look that old?

The bartender glared at the kid. Dolan turned to the younger man.

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I'm gonna take you out back, stomp ya real good, gouge out your eyes and skull fuck ya."

Dolan shook his head.

"The cheaper the crook the gaudier the patter."

The kid looked puzzled, not sure if he'd been insulted or not.

A voice came from Seamus' left. It was the bricklayer.

"'Keep on riding me and you're going to be picking iron out of your navel'."

Without taking his eyes off the younger man Dolan spoke.

"Strong and literate. I'm impressed."

The kid was starting to get agitated.

"You fucking with me?"

The bartender scowled.

"Ryan…"

"No, he's been talking shit to me since he came in. Fuck him."

The kid started to get off his stool. It was the backless kind with a black round cushion that rotated. The four chrome legs were connected by rungs. Seamus hooked the bottom one with his foot and gave it a hard heave. The stool and the kid went over backwards. Seamus was on him in an eyeblink, knee on the kid's chest and the .25 up under his chin. The .25 wasn't much, but at this distance it didn't have to be. Seamus' eyes bored into the kid's.

"I've had a very rough couple of days, so I'm a little testy. I'm trying to conduct adult business. So why don't you just stay quiet. You might learn something."

Dolan then heard Flynn's voice.

"Let the boy up Seamus."

Dolan looked down at the kid.

"I'm gonna look up now. If you even so much as twitch, I'm gonna take off the back of your skull."

Seamus looked up. Sean Flynn was standing with the guy from the end of the bar. Sean gestured.

"Let him up."

Dolan got up, keeping the .25 in his hand. Ryan got up glaring at him, his breath coming in quick gasps.

"You're a dead fucking man."

Seamus shook his head.

"You haven't got the horses sonny."

The kid's hand started for his hip.

Flynn's voice came out quietly, but with steel behind it.

"Ryan c'mere."

The kid hesitated.

"Ryan. Come. Here."

Reluctantly the kid backed away and walked over to Flynn. Seamus put the .25 back in his pocket. Flynn gestured towards Dolan.

"This guy is a good friend of mine. A very good friend. Get me?"

Ryan nodded looking at the floor.

"Yes Mr. Flynn."

"Good. Now, remember that thing we talked about this morning? Go do it now."

The kid looked up smiling, nodded and left the bar sending a glare at Seamus. Flynn gestured to Seamus and he moved down the bar. They walked down the hallway to Sean's office. In the office there were two guys. One was half reclining on a couch that was along one wall. He was lanky, looked to be about 6' 2", had long blond hair and eyes the color of gunsmoke. He was wearing a grey summer weight suit with a white shirt, no tie. The other guy was standing next to Flynn's desk. He was the size of Gorilla Monsoon and wearing a red track suit with the Team USA logo. Other than Flynn he was the only person Seamus recognized.

"Hello Rollie."

Roland O'Connor smiled.

"Hiya Dolan."

Sean Flynn walked around his desk and sat down. He did not introduce the blond. Seamus sat in the chair in front of the desk.

"Why are you here Dolan?"

"Come to see my oldest and dearest friend of course, just like I do every time I come up here."

Flynn looked puzzled. Sure Seamus did always stop in when he was in Boston. But why was he in Boston now. Dolan gestured towards the outside.

"What say I buy you lunch?"

Sean now really looked confused.

"Okaay."

They left the office and the bar with Rollie and the blond drifting along behind. Seamus was heading for a Vietnamese place he spotted on the way in. Sean looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"What was all that jazz in my office about?"

"When was the last time you had it swept?"

"My guy was in yesterday morning."

"Is it the Feebs in the OP across the street on the third floor?"

"Yeah, it is. You're pretty good."

Seamus shrugged.

"Nah, there was a stray flash off the lens of whatever camera they're using when we walked out of the bar."

They reached the restaurant and Seamus pulled open the door and gestured Sean inside. They entered and Flynn sat at a table while Seamus went to the counter. Rollie and the blond strolled past and took up a position leaning on a parked car. The counterman looked at Dolan.

"What can I get you?"

He could have been anywhere between forty and eighty. But judging by the crows feet around his eyes, Dolan figured he was about his age or a couple years older. He switched to Vietnamese.

"Two orders of Cha gio and two grilled pork Banh mi."

The man looked surprised.

"Your Vietnamese is very good. How did you learn?"

Dolan switched back to English.

"During the past unpleasantness, I spent two years in your country. I had a friend who taught me."

"You Army?"

"God no. Navy. Dong Tam."

"You one of the mau xanh la cay khuon mat (green faces)?"

"A SEAL? Nah, gunner on a patrol boat."
"I was VC."

"Not gonna piss on my food are ya?"

"No, no. I love Americans and America now. Great country."

"Good to know. Don't suppose ya got any Ba Me Ba back there do ya?"

The man shrugged.

"I am not licensed to sell liquor."

"Not asking for you to sell it. You could give it to an old war buddy who would then leave a generous tip."

The Viet contemplated for a few seconds and then turned to a refrigerator against the wall. He brought out two brown long necked bottles with a white label. There was a red oval in the middle with the number "33" on it. He handed the bottles to Seamus.

"Eleven fifty for the food. The boy will bring it when it's ready."

Dolan paid him and brought the beer to the table. Sean looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I forgot you speak Gook. What's this?"

"Beer."

Flynn took a sip. He made a face.

"Jeez, it tastes like horse piss."

"You get used to it. Hell, at least its cold. Hadda drink it warm over there."

"Christ."

After about fifteen minutes a kid about fourteen brought them their food. Seamus handed him a ten.

"Here ya go lad."

Flynn eyed the two plates with skepticism. Seamus laughed.

"That one is fried pork spring rolls. The other is Banh mi; it's like a sandwich with grilled pork, cucumber slices, cilantro, pickled carrots and shredded diakon."

Sean took a small bite of the sandwich.

"Not bad. Okay, so why are we here?"

"Well, I figured because of our shared heritage this place probably wouldn't be bugged, your office might be. You say it was just swept yesterday. That's cool. You get lunch outta the deal and we still get to talk."
Flynn took another bite.

"About?"

"I dumped Frank."

Sean almost spit out his food.

"Jesus Christ. Didn't I tell ya he was connected?"

"Well, now he's unconnected."

Seamus then proceeded to lay out the whole thing for Flynn, including Ziva. Sean looked mildly amused and pissed at the same time.

"She must be something. So you put your life and mine on the line for her basically."

"Pretty much. Sorry."

Flynn waved a hand.

"I owed ya. So what do ya need?"

"An alibi for the last forty eight hours."

Sean leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. It rang a couple of times.

"Hello Carole. Yes its Sean…I know, it's been too long…Yes, we should get together…All right, tomorrow at two…Looking forward to it…Right, bye."

Seamus raised an eyebrow. Flynn grinned.

"That was my 'entertainment coordinator', Carole Allen. She'll be at my office at one o'clock."

"'Entertainment coordinator?"

"Yeah. See we've got a place down there in DC where our local congress critters can go, relax, have a few drinks…"

"Screw." Dolan said.

"Yeah, that too. Carole was down checking on things a couple of days ago."

Dolan nodded.

"So we ran into one another, found out we had mutual friends and she offered me a ride up."

Sean smiled.

"You're pretty smart for a cop."

"I have my moments. And it's retired cop."

"Once a flatfoot always a flatfoot."

"Flynn, shut up and eat your lunch."

They were back in Flynn's office before one. Exactly at one o'clock the door to the office opened and Carole Allen walked in. Sleeveless black dress that ended just above the knees, about 5'6", shoulder length blonde hair, warm brown eyes and an easy smile. It was just Flynn and Seamus in the office.

"Hello Sean. Who's your friend?"

She had a husky contralto. Seamus liked it.

"This is my very good friend Seamus Dolan."

Dolan, who'd stood when Carole entered the room, moved forward, hand extended.

"Nice to meet you Carole."

She gave him a firm handshake that lingered perhaps a beat too long.

"Likewise."

They sat and Flynn explained the situation to Carole.

"So you need an alibi. What for exactly?"

Sean gestured.

"Need to know. You don't. What do ya say?"

"Sure, I'd love to help out. Where did we meet?"

After some discussion between Seamus and Carole about places in DC they both might know, they settled on a bar in Georgetown they were both familiar with. Carole smiled.

"Then what?"

"Well, I noticed your Boston accent and lo and behold, we have friends in common."

Carole nodded.

"Flynn."

Seamus smiled.

"Exactly."

"So…"

"So I've got some time off 'cause of the bombing. I feel like visiting the home folks. You kindly offer me a ride."

Carole's eyes sparkled.

"Do I have an ulterior motive?"

Dolan grinned crookedly.

"I suppose that would be up to you."

Carole looked him up and down.

"Well, I wouldn't throw you out of bed…unless there was more room on the floor."

Flynn let out a short guffaw. There was more conversation and it was decided that Seamus would spend the night at Carole's place and she would drive him to South Station to catch a train back to DC in the morning. Carole looked at Seamus.

"So where are you staying now?"

"St. Francis Rectory in Charlestown."

"What?"

"My brother's a priest. I borrowed the housekeeper's car to come here. I've got to take it back. Plus she's makin' dinner for me. So I guess you should come by and pick me up around seven or so."
Carole shook her head.

"Unbelievable."

Seamus grinned.

"Ain't it though."

Seamus drove back to Charlestown and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in Mrs. Ryan's kitchen sipping Jameson and watching her make supper. A roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes and green beans. Promptly at seven, Carole rolled up in front of the rectory in a powder blue Mustang convertible. She was wearing a Boston Red Sox t-shirt that looked to be a size small, a pair of Levis that might have been spray painted on and Puma running shoes. Mrs. Ryan was scandalized. Paddy was just grinning. After saying his goodbyes, as Seamus walked towards the car he thought he heard Mrs. Ryan mutter 'Hussy', but he couldn't be sure. He tossed his AWOL bag into the backseat. Carole, who'd been leaning on the passenger door, gave him a peek on the cheek.

"I don't think she approves of me."

Seamus grinned.

"Mrs. Ryan? I'm sure she doesn't. I'm also sure my brother is going to get an earful after we're gone."

"Poor guy."

"Ah, he'll bear up. Let's go."

Turns out Carole's 'place' was a townhouse on Beacon Hill near Embankment Rd. When they pulled up and got out Seamus whistled.

"The 'entertainment coordinator' gig must pay pretty well."

Carole grinned.

"I do okay."

Once they were inside Carole gave him the nickel tour. The ground floor consisted of a dining room, gourmet kitchen, half bath, study, and a family room with a small wet bar. There were French doors in the family room that led to a small garden. Upstairs there were several bedrooms and a master bedroom. After showing Seamus which spare bedroom was his they returned to the family room. Carole went to the wet bar and held up a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label.

"Drink?"

Dolan nodded.

"Absolutely. Two fingers and a couple of ice cubes."

"Coming right up."

Carole brought the drinks and they sat on the couch.

"Sean told me you guys grew up together."

"Uh huh. Played ball, the usual."

"But you became a cop and he became a crook."
Dolan smiled.

"Yeah, but he never held it against me."

"I don't suppose you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Nope."

"Okay. I don't suppose you'd care to go upstairs and ravish me would you?"

"Ah, no. Much as I'd like to, I'm sorta with somebody back in DC."

"Sort of with."

"Yah."

"Well, if it's 'sort of with', do you think she'd mind?"

Seamus thought a minute.

"Probably not. But I would."

Carole sighed.

"Story of my life. All the good ones are taken."

Dolan shrugged.

"How about Sean?"

"That's business. He's a great guy and all, but he's married. I don't do married."

Seamus grinned.

"We're not so different after all."

Carole grinned also.

"Sucks for me though don't it?"

The next morning Carole drove Seamus to South Station and he caught the early morning Acela back to Washington.

A/N: This chapter had so many moving parts that it looks like I'm going to have to do one more to get Ziva and the rest of the gang into it (you're disappointed about that I'm sure). That bit of dialog with Seamus and the bricklayer was not mine alas. The lines were written by Dashiell Hammett, who pretty much invented the 'hard boiled' detective style. How 'bout a review to let me know how I'm doing so far?