Chapter 50: Signed and Sealed in Blood, I Would Die for You

(Dropkick Murphys)

"Dia logh dom. (God forgive me.)" She whispered. And she saw the old man's eyes widen in surprise, while her finger twitched on the trigger.

"Ye're Irish, lass?" he asked in the thicker Irish brogue she'd heard in a long time.

She wavered for a second, but then tightened her grip on the Glock. It didn't matter where the killer was from, did it? "So?"

"Lower yer gun, lass; I don't kill women. Especially not one from home."

"I don't fucking care." She wanted to shoot. She needed to. She knew he was there for her boys and she couldn't let that man live. However, her finger still wouldn't bulge. There was something about him, something…familiar. She figured it was only his accent, though that something prompted her to take a risk and wait. She wouldn't let him out of her sight, though her ears were listening intently to any noise in the now silent house.

"I won't hurt ye if ye just walk away, lassie."

"Where are they? I swear to God, if ye've hurt them…"

"I haven't killed yer friends, lass. But I will. No matter what ye try and do to stop me."

She straightened up, with her gun still aimed right at his heart. He was casually aiming back at her too, unable to lower his gun as long as she held up hers.

"Then, ye're going to have to kill me first, lad, because there's no way I'm letting ye do that."

He peered into her eyes. He was gauging her sincerity and assessing the length to which she'd be willing to go. She seemed determined. He had always been able to call someone's bluff when they'd say they would die for someone else. It was never true. Although, this time, he wasn't so sure. She was staring right back at him; her hand wasn't wavering. Her finger kept flexing above the trigger, yet she still couldn't bring herself to pull it. He wondered what was keeping her from doing it; she was definitely not afraid, and in front of the house, the day before, she hadn't hesitated a second before trying to shoot.

"Why would ye want to kill them, anyway?" she asked. "Ye just murdered one of Yakavetta's men. That makes ye on the same side."

"I'll never be on the side of the wicked," he told her, already knowing she wasn't a bad person herself.

"Connor and Murphy aren't wicked."

He froze. This coincidence was too much. He hadn't heard those names together in so long, he almost believed he had dreamed them.

"Connor and Murphy?" His voice had involuntarily softened.

"They will rid the world of evil men. It's their destiny and I won't let ye get in their way."

The old man had to lower his gun slowly. There was so much unshackled emotion in his voice when he quietly asked:

"And ye would die for them?"

"Gladly." She answered in an unequivocal tone. He let a faint smile play on his lips.

"Then I think we might indeed be on the same side…" His heart was suddenly aching with a sensation he hadn't felt in more than two decades. Suddenly, he felt happy. Whoever his sons had turned out to be, they were loved.

Her, on the other hand, looked utterly confused. She kept her aim, though part of her seemed to already guess what this all meant.

"Who are ye?" she asked.

"I am many things, but above all else I'm the father of twins who bear those names."

"Are ye telling me ye're Noah MacManus?" Somehow, she already knew he was. It was all over his features and in his eyes. As much as Murphy looked like his ma, Connor evidently looked like his father.

"Ye know me then."

She shuddered. This was massive. Although she had to make sure. She couldn't risk the boys' lives because she'd had a moment of weakness.

"Tell me: what's their mother's name?"

"My beautiful wife is named Annabelle MacManus, though I haven't seen her in more than twenty-five years."

Finally, she had to lower her weapon. With her mouth agape, she tried to realise what this truly meant. The father they had waited and hoped all their lives to meet was the man who had tried to kill them yesterday. The man that had injured them and knocked her out. She was awestruck. And pissed.

He holstered his gun and took a step toward her. Though she took a step back. With gritted teeth and her chin up like a proud brat, she wouldn't let herself be swayed by the emotion of finally meeting him.

"Ye abandoned them. And ye almost killed them."

"I don't have to explain myself to ye, child. Know, however, that I never meant to hurt them. And I'll do everything I can to never let that happen again."

"And what about Rocco?"

"If they vouch for him, I'll spare him too. Now let's try and find them, lass. God knows if they're alright."

She nodded. They'd wasted enough time. Though, when he walked past her to search the house, she followed him in a kind of daze. She couldn't believe that was really him. All the times they'd talked about this man when they were young were in hushed voices, as if he'd been a ghost. Still that was how he felt now. A scary, impressive and elusive ghost.

She wondered how the twins would react to him. She doubted they would run into his arms; even at ten years old, they would have been wary to do that. But now? Would they still be happy? Or resentful? She didn't have the slightest idea. But, as she gazed at his back, the way he moved through the empty rooms, his ease and confidence, his stature, a smile slowly crept on her lips. She couldn't wait to see their faces when they'd find out who he was.

The only place they hadn't searched was the basement. Which was not a good sign. When Noah opened the door and started carefully down the stairs, her throat constricted with dread of what they would find. Although she wouldn't believe anything bad had truly happened to them; I mean, now that their father was here, they'd have to be okay, wouldn't they? She drew her own gun and realised her hand was shaking.

Then, she heard two voices: "…for Thee my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command-"

The voices stopped the second Noah came into the room. She heard the sound of two guns' hammer being cocked in tandem. "Wait!" she shouted, but their father knew what to do:

"So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be." He walked assuredly toward them, with empty hands raised. So that they both lowered their gun, transfixed. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."

He tenderly grabbed their chins in his gloved hands, and they let him. Aideen came in behind him to see them kneeled, their faces smeared with blood, their eyes filled with tears. She wanted to laugh at the sheer emotion of this incredible reunion. Then, she stepped to the side and discovered with horror who was sitting in the chair, head fallen backwards, with pennies on his eyes.