Kiley awoke slowly, realizing that she was still sitting up, and that Connor's head still rested in her lap.  Her sleep-feeble mind tried to piece things together. The fight, the scene at the church, Connor falling asleep in her lap…It all snapped back into focus.  She decided to try and get up without waking Connor, which was a feat in itself.  He looked like a cherubic child in slumber, like the burden of birthright didn't exist in his dream world.  And he was heavy in comparison to her slight and tiny frame.  Still, she managed it with minimal repercussion, landing on both knees as she slid off the couch.  She stayed there for a moment, then crept to her feet, covering him with an afghan from the back of the couch before going toward the back bedroom.  She opened the door slowly, not expecting the scene which unfolded before her dark-accustomed eyes.  There were Ciara and Murphy, their clothes strewn all across the room.  Kiley stifled a shout of surprise as she closed the door. She hurried, speechless, down the hall.

"What is the commotion about?" Connor muttered, half-awake.

"They, um…they…um…" She pointed down the hall at the door.  Connor looked at her, mystified.  He stumbled to his feet and down the hall, opening the door.

"All ya had to say was sex. I'da gotten that." 
"She's a good Catholic!" Kiley sputtered.  "Savin' herself for the right man an' such…"

"Well, maybe she's foun' the right man," Connor replied, laughing.  Kiley's expression didn't change. "Aw, coom on, Ki.  Certainly ya didn' think yer sis was all tha' innocent now, did ya?"  He had a bemused expression.  When she said nothing, he leaned forward and kissed her.

"A'right.  Good fer her.  I 'ope there's a ring somewhere in all this.  Mam'll flip if she finds oot…"

"Then she won't find out, will she?  Coom on, Ki, better sex than another fight…" Kiley thought better of smacking him as Smecker and Il Duce entered the back door. 

"Where are yer sibs?" Papa MacManus asked, lighting a cigar and passing his lighter to Smecker.

"Still asleep," Connor murmured, cheeks reddening.

"Git them up.  We've got work ta do."  Connor nodded slightly, retreating down the hall.  He shook Murphy, trying not to wake Ciara. 

"Coom on, Murph, get up.  Da has plans.  Oh, an' don' tell Ci I was in here.  Ya sly dog!"  Murphy attempted to punch his brother's arm, but Connor left the room and closed the door.

"Ci, Ci!" Murphy whispered loudly.  "Da is here, wi' plans!"  Ciara rolled over, resisting the urge to put him in a headlock and go back to sleep.  "Ya comin', beautiful?" he asked, kissing her cheek.

"Yah, I'm comin'," she said sulkily, still naked as she got to her feet.  Murphy sat there for a moment, watching her get dressed before pulling his jeans on.  She leaned over and kissed his forehead before emerging into the living room, where she was met with accusatory stares from her sister and the reddened cheeks of Connor as he hugged her in welcome.  They knew. Well, let them.  She had every intention of one day marrying Murphy.  She had heard his whisper in her ear the night before, but didn't know how to answer to what he had said. 

"There you are," Smecker clicked his tongue like a mother hen as they seated themselves on the floor.  Ciara slipped her hand into Murphy's, listening intently as Il Duce spread a blank paper on the floor in front of them and ran his fingers through his silver-gray hair.  It was only then that Kiley, who had emerged from the kitchen, realized how old the elder MacManus had become.  He seemed pale, his forehead lined with worry and weariness.  He shoulders seemed slumped, as though the burden of time itself had alighted on his shoulders.  What the younger folk didn't know wouldn't hurt them. He was terminally ill with cancer, and in his current profession, going to the hospital was a worse idea than waiting it out.  He had grown bitter, was feeling reckless.  He wouldn't let the illness take him.  He would die fighting, or not at all.

"We 'ave cameras set up 'ere an' 'ere," he told them, scribbling a rough diagram on the paper.  "Ciara, we are puttin' ya in alone.  Kiley'll wait with us for the signal tha' ya need help.  Paul 'ere has rigged the equipment to get audio as well, so all ya need ta do is call fer help an' we'll be there.  Ya okay wi' that?"  Ciara nodded, tightening her grip on Murphy's hand as he made to protest. He refrained from starting another argument.  They were going to have to start compromising sometime. She smiled gratefully as Il Duce continued outlining the plan for them.  "Kiley an' Connor'll be waitin' 'ere, in the ventilation system ta drop in as needed."  Both of them remained silent, Kiley sidling into Connor's lap as Smecker picked up orders where Papa MacManus had left off.

"Murphy, we need you to be stationed outside the room.  I borrowed keys to the apartment next door by pulling FBI rank on the landlord. You'll be watching from monitors there.  If things get a little crazy, you will be able to come in through the door and back up Kiley and Connor.  Your dad and I will be waiting outside with the car to get away if necessary.  We'll all be on wireless radio.  Keep in mind that Murphy will be the only one with the ability to clearly see what's going on inside the room."  Everyone nodded silently. Connor seemed to be considering the diagram very carefully.  He and Kiley both appeared to be assessing the situation.  Murphy met his brother's eyes for a moment, trying to remember what it was like when they had been the ones doing all the planning.  When they had staked out sites alone and done all the work.  He wondered if they had made the right decision, including the women.  After all, they had performed under stress.  What was to keep them from being hurt in the process, or to keep them from freezing up in the heat of the moment?  A bit of envy at the loss of closeness between Murphy and his brother bit him like an irritating insect.  He wondered how Connor was feeling.

Connor was attempting to keep himself from bursting out with the downfalls of his father's plan.  He loved and trusted his father above all else, but he had a nervous feeling that spread uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.  He watched Kiley and Ciara disappear to dress Ciara for the mission, making no move at all from where he sat.  Murphy seemed in a foul sort of mood.  Connor realized that they hadn't had any time alone together since the women had arrived.  Life was changing at a pace which was making the world spin.  A few days ago he had seen only the two of them, sleeping side-by-side, showering together, suffering everything that came with their lifestyle together.  And while their lives seemed more complete with the women there, he realized that his brother still meant a lot to him.  "Murph?" he said tentatively.  But he knew just by looking into his brother's eyes that Murphy knew what he was thinking.

"We'll discuss it with the girls later.  Ya know they'll understan'," he said quietly.  Pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, he popped two in his mouth and lit them both, passing one to Connor.  They smoked in relative silence, feeling for just a fleeting moment a shadow of the closeness that came with sharing the womb.  Connor smirked slightly, cuffing his brother on the shoulder.

"Will ya listen ta us, thinkin' like a couple o' old men who've lost somethin'.  We've gained so much. I just…can't give up the bond with ya."

"And ya shouldn' have ta."  Both put out their cigarettes in unison, hunched over their knees, and smoothed their hair at the same time. 

Kiley and Ciara emerged then, laughing in strained tones.  Connor could see Kiley's nervousness in her step, how she wrung her hands with worry.  He knew she was more frightened than she let on.  Ciara, however, put on a facade of overwhelming calm.  It seemed as though she had come to terms with herself.  "What do ya 'ave?" Murphy asked her worriedly.  Ciara took off her jacket.  There was a shoulder holster, double-packed.  Four guns in all.  Down on her right ankle, she had strapped a smaller gun just above her boot, and on the left side, she had a knife for hand to hand combat.  She showed him the inside of her P-coat, which had three inner pockets filled with extra ammunition. 

"I'll be fine."  She pulled the coat back on.  No one said a word as they all sat, lost in private thought. Papa MacManus strolled in from the kitchen with two huge, black duffel bags.  He unzipped them, laying them in front of the brothers. 

"Ladies first," Connor said with a feigned smile, gesturing to Kiley.  She inched forward, rooting through the bags.  She pulled out the largest gun she could find, shaking her head and laughing.  She finally settled on two handguns, a throwing knife, and stuffed extra bullets inside her coat as her sister had done. Connor and Murphy took slightly larger weapons, and Connor's signature length of rope was slung across his shoulders. 

"Are we ready?" Il Duce asked.  At silence from his younger counterparts, he glanced around the room. 

"I will drop Ciara off at the apartment building.  The rest of you will follow in another car.  We'll take position in turns.  Kiley and Connor, you'll be first.  You'll go in around the back and into the air ducts through the grating at the end of the hall.  Murphy, you'll go in shortly after, up the back fire escape so no one sees you going ion.  We want Ciara to look like she is alone." 

"Five minutes," their father growled.  He stalked out of the room.  Everyone was too nervous to notice his intensity.  Connor swept Kiley into his embrace as she threw herself at him, kissing her.  Murphy and Ciara watched for a moment before pulling together in their own moment. He whispered in her ear, and the tips of her ears reddened slightly.

            When they pulled apart, Ciara was crying.  Murphy kissed her.  "I'll be fine," she assured him.  Something made her not want to let go of him as Smecker came in for her.  He waited patiently for her by the front door as she hugged Murphy one last time, then led her off.  Connor's heart went out to his brother for a moment.  Connor knew if it was Kiley in that position, he'd have fought the plan tooth and nail.  But Murphy and Ciara were risk-takers and doers.  And he was a thinker. Sighing, he waited his cue, hand-in-hand with Kiley.

            Ciara jumped out of the car, trying her best not to look over her shoulder.  Smecker drove away, and she was alone.  Not totally, she reminded herself. Everyone would be there to back her up.  And this was her fault.  Sighing, she imagined herself back in the schoolyard in Ireland.  She was sneaking off the grounds for the first time to meet up with Murphy.  If she had been caught, she'd have been in deep trouble.  Her mother would tan her hide, and the schoolmistress would keep an even closer eye on her.  She swallowed, doubting for a moment her ability to get off unnoticed.  Finally, she had taken the plunge, delighted to find Murphy waiting for her around the corner with their usual sandwich to share.  She had been a risk-taker from that day on.  Now isn't the time to reminisce, she scolded herself as she made her way up the stairs.  She would be okay. 

            Seating herself on Murphy's dingy mattress, she stared around the room intently.  This place wasn't exactly prime real-estate.  The boys wouldn't be able to settle down, she supposed, until God took them from their calling.  If she wanted to be with Murphy, she was going to have to face reality on all it's levels.  The double-headed shower dripped annoyingly on the cream-colored tile, which was still blood-stained from their last encounter.  The table was still over-turned, and cigarette butts trailed across the floor where an ash tray had overturned.  Ciara busied herself picking up a little, righting the table and tucking the simple blankets back around the beds. "All in position," Smecker's voice whispered in her earpiece. So, Kiley and Connor were overhead.  She listened more carefully, and could hear the slight pressure on the duct-work as the two shifted overhead.  She refrained from looking up.  She walked over to the wall which stood between her and Murphy, touching the cross she had scrawled there with pencil.  She leaned against the wall for a moment, reveling in it's sturdy construction for a moment before seating herself back on the bed.  She busied herself locating the cameras, then when she grew bored, lay down and pretended to sleep. 

            "They're comin' round the corner," Il Duce announced, a note of urgency to his tone.  "They're well-armed.  Ciara, be careful." She stayed completely still, hearing the lift doors bang open and voices down the hall.  They were speaking in Italian, which she knew well.  They were talking about cleaning  up the scene, and their plans for a hunt for the man who had killed Algo Cassini.  She was mentioned several times.  Apparently the new Don wanted her alive to talk to her.  A small reassurance.  She bit her lip until it bled, hearing the door open on it's creaky hinges. 

            "Shh, quiet!" the tallest of the ten said, pointing to her.  She was watching them from beneath hooded lids.  She allowed him to get within arm's reach and sprang into action.  She smashed a balled fist into the offending arm, flipping to her feet on one smooth motion.  Before she had time to think, two guns had appeared in her hands.  It was as though she were not in control of her body.  She shot efficiently, killing the man closest to herself and working her way out.  She missed a few times, shooting blind as she ducked behind the bed frame to avoid the shots flying at her.  She felt the guns knocked from her hands, felt the men bearing down on her.  She fought to free her arms and get to her knife, kicking and biting indiscriminately.  She could hear Connor and Kiley hit the floor, could see her sister taking down men by shooting them in the knees.  Connor was finishing them off. 
            "They've brought backup!" Smecker shouted.  Ciara could hear shouting in the hall, Murphy's voice among the cries.  He was shooting in the hallway.  She broke free long enough to get hold of her knife and began stabbing.  She could hear her sister's scream, Connor calling out to her.  They had been separated in the fray.  Ciara crawled across the floor, stabbing one man in the foot and getting hold of the small gun at her ankle. She shot at the empty doorway, screaming her sister's name tearfully.  When she had emptied the clip, she saw Murphy rolling on the hallway floor, grappling with another man.  It seemed he had the upper hand, until he got knocked over the back of the head by the butt of another gun.  He was out cold.  She could hear Connor's outraged challenge as Murphy was borne away by the enemy.  She managed to find her feet again, and recovered long enough to realize she had two more guns in her shoulder holster.  She cocked them, firing with deadly accuracy until Connor met her in the middle, and they had one man between them.  Ciara put her gun to his head, meeting his frightened eyes as her voice rang out her family's prayer.

Angels fly thee to thy rest

As we mundane complete our quest

Sending the wicked and filled with hate

To the judgment of Heaven's gate

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti

The resolve in her voice and hearing the prayer were enough to keep Connor away.  He hadn't been aware that the O'Fallon family had such a prayer.  He watched with grim satisfaction as the last man collapsed, transfixed by the bullet.  Ciara was covered in blood and gore from stabbing out with her knife.  She feel to her knees, throwing her head back as if to challenge the heavens.  Connor wondered what she was thinking at that moment as she screamed, an incredibly high, spirit-shattering scream.  He had always had his differences with her because of her attitude.  Pity won him over in the moment, and he walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.  She spun around, wild-eyed, and threw herself into his waiting arms.  She was shaking and weeping.  "We'll get them back, Ci, I swear it ta ya.  They'll pay in blood." An angry sneer crossed his features, and he set his jaw before looking down at her. 

"We've got a lead," Smecker's voice said urgently.  "Your father caught one of them.  He knows Ciara.  Get her out here."

"Ya okay to walk?" Connor asked.  Ciara was still trembling uncontrollably.  She nodded, finding her feet and trying not to look down as she made her way to the door.  They had done decent damage.  Over thirty men lay dead.  The rest had escaped with their lives, and those of Kiley and Murphy. 

"This is my fault," she stammered, leaning against the wall of the lift.  She was only realizing how much damage the fight had done to them both.  Connor had a head wound, and a bullet lodged in his shoulder.  He was covered in various other bumps and bruises.  A long slash ran along the inside of his left leg.  She could see it through the shreds of his jeans.  "Yer not goin' anywhere 'til I check ya out." He looked at her, covered in enemy blood to her elbows, blackened eye, shot in the hip…she was gritting her teeth to walk.

"Since when did ya become a doctor?"

"Since I went ta medical school," she replied smartly.  Connor hadn't bothered to ask what the girls did for a living.  He was impressed.  The lift opened, and he helped her walk out of the building and into the waiting car.  She sat next to him, digging through her coat for the medical kit she always had handy.  Shining a flashlight into his eyes, she was relieved to find he didn't have a concussion.  She cleaned and wrapped the wound in the work of a moment, then set about checking his arm and shoulder.  He would have a hard time lifting anything heavier than a gun, but would be fine.  By dumb luck or God's will, the shooter had missed all major arteries in the arm, and the collarbone had stopped the shoulder shot before it did any real damage.  He was lucky.  She wrapped them with a tight bandage to staunch the flow of blood. The bullets would have to wait until she got to her bag back at the house for the proper tools.  She dressed his leg wound, then looked at herself.  She burst into hysterical laughter.  He wondered if he had lost her for a moment.  She suddenly returned to her usual self.  The bullet had barely grazed her hip, but a chip of bone stuck out at an odd angle.  She yanked it free, then stuffed a wad of gauze in the open wound.  She had no ice to see to her eye, so the usual brilliance of her left eye was obscured by purple flesh.  Connor probed it delicately.  "I'll be fine," she said irritably. 

"Yer tough, Ci.  I admire that," he said quietly. "Let's try to put our differences aside and work together on this.  I'm sorry."

"Together it is.  If we're gonna be family one day, we 'ave to like one another."

"Oh?" Connor asked, eyebrows raised.

Ciara smiled.  "He dinna tell ya then.  The last thing he whispered in me ear before I left was a marriage proposal."