A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It gives me motiviation to keep on posting! Also, thanks to Aranatta for the advice. It's much appreciated. Finally, thanks to GL for her tireless work betaing my stuff. (Trust me people, it's a tough job!)

Gaelic: Ri taobh thu / behind you

Chapter 10

"Well, it seems simple enough." Luciana said, smiling brightly at her new boss.

"Nothing to it, so long as you don't have a hard time staying awake until two AM." Ramon replied, salting a fresh batch of popcorn. "If you feel up to it, you can fly solo tomorrow night."

"Big plans?" She asked, before ducking below the counter to restock the Twizzlers.

"Marguerite's sister said she'd keep the girls, if we wanted to have a night on the town." He began wiping down the counter. "It's our anniversary."

"Congratulations!" She said warmly. "How long?"

"Eight years. I still can't believe it. Time flies." He said. "What about you? Ever been married? Any kids?"

Luciana paused, her back towards Ramon, struggling to formulate an answer.

No one had asked her these types of questions, not since she lost the baby. That wound had just begun to scab over and the question stung like someone had just emptied a salt shaker over it.

Finding her voice, she answered him shakily. "I lost a baby last year." Taking a deep breath, she added, "Never been married, though."

Ramon patted her back sympathetically. "Not to worry. You're young yet. Plenty of time for all that."

"I guess so." She nodded, still not turning to face him. "I'm going to give the ladies room a once over."

Reaching the bathroom, she pushed open the door and checked to make sure she was alone. Satisfied she had some privacy, she let out a ragged sigh that threatened to turn into a sob.

Ramon's question had hit her like a bowling ball in the chest: unexpected and extremely painful.

She placed a hand on either side of the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her twenty four year old reflection stared back at her. I look 25, she thought, but I feel like I'm one hundred and five some days.

Finding her resolve, she splashed some water on her face and proceeded to wipe down the counter and refill the paper towels. By the time she headed back into the lobby, she was feeling marginally better.

The sight that greeted her when she came out brought a genuine smile to her face.

Murphy was sitting on the concessions counter, gesticulating wildly, while Ramon and Connor looked at him with equal parts amusement and exasperation.

"What's your brother going on about?" She asked, coming to stand next to Connor and nodding at Murphy.

Connor grinned at her. "Murphy is trying to convince us…" he nodded toward Ramon.

"For about the hundredth time." Interjected Ramon, also grinning.

"That Harrison Ford's best role was Han Solo." Connor finished.

"And what do you prefer?" She asked, getting drawn into their debated against her better judgment.

"Indiana Jones, of course." He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"For fuck's sake, Connor. We all know you just like his whip." Murphy said, and he had to jump off the counter to avoid the blow his brother aimed at his head.

"I thought he was really good in Sabrina." She commented. Their howls of protest and the barrage of popcorn that pelted her, told her they didn't agree.

Backpedaling out of their reach, she held up both hands, crying out in mock terror. "Blade Runner! He was awesome in Blade Runner!"

"Nicely done." Connor said, giving her an appreciative nod. "Blade Runner will buy you a temporary reprieve."

"A reprieve from what?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

It was Ramon who answered. "From having to stay here until close. Go on home, you three. I'll close up."

"Thanks, Ramon! What time should I be here tomorrow?"

"Come in about 5. You boys make sure she gets home okay tomorrow. You know what this neighborhood is like."

Murphy gave Ramon a salute and the three of them headed out into the chilly Boston night.

---

Vic Tibolla sipped his third cup of coffee and glared around the station house. He had been in Boston less than a week and he was having no luck finding Luciana.

When I get my hands on that cheating whore, she'll wish was never born he thought, his fist clenching in frustration.

The Boston PD had been no help whatsoever. When he found the detectives who had worked her brother's case, he thought he was on the right track. They had been friendly enough to him, but they had no information on any associates of Della Rocco's that he could use.

At least they said they had no information. If there was one thing Vic knew how to do, after 10 years as a cop (not to mention 5 years of working with the mob), it was how to spot a liar. He had been lied to by some of the best, so when Detective Dollapopaskalious had told him that Della Rocco didn't have any known living associates, Vic had seen right through him.

According to the good detective, most of the guy's friends had been killed during the vigilante attacks on the Yakavetta family. All in all, the "Saints" had killed 45 members of the Yakavetta family and another 15 members of other families. Vic couldn't believe that three guys had been responsible for the largest mafia killing spree in history.

Vic let the lie stand and thanked Dolly for his help. Then he had gone straight to the captain and asked if he could use the offices for a home base for a few days while he looked for his missing fiancé. He figured if he hung around for a few days and asked enough questions, someone would slip up.

He had gotten no where. Detective Duffy had parroted everything Dolly had already told him, and the other detective that had worked the case, Greenly, had transferred to Vice after the Yakavetta trial and was now in another precinct.

Vic decided it was time to try another route.

Walking up to the pair of desks that made up Dolly and Duffy's stations, Vic said, "Well boys, it doesn't look like I'm going to find her in Boston after all. Hopefully, she'll change her mind and come back to Youngstown."

Dolly stood, and held out a hand. "We'll keep our ears open. If anything turns up, we'll give you a call."

Vic shook his hand then Duffy's. "Thanks. I'd really appreciate it." Looking down at the ground, he added, "I love that woman."

"She'll turn up, you mark my words." Duffy said, but his voice didn't match his words.

Vic headed for the station door, smiling to himself. He hadn't missed the relieved glance the two detectives had exchanged when he said he was leaving. They definitely knew something about Luciana that they weren't telling him.

It was time for a new plan.

---

Luciana's first day alone at the theatre was going well. Ramon had stayed with her until the seven o'clock show was started, then she had shooed him off to his anniversary dinner. He had worried about leaving her, but she assured him that she would be fine and even if she weren't Murphy and Connor were coming in for the midnight show.

She started the projector for the ten o'clock movie with no problem, then returned to the concession stand to clean up and prepare for the midnight movie.

Ramon didn't expect she'd have too much of a crowd since he was playing a double feature: The Three Stooges Disorder in the Court and Jerk of All Trades.

The request had come from a group of retired transit workers who came every other month for a flick. There were only about eight of them who came regularly. Ramon figured she might have ten more people at most.

The theatre was an old style movie house, with a stage in front of the screen and high ceilings decorated with ornate trim. The paint was peeling and the red carpet was shabby and stained but there was still a hint of the grandeur the place must have held in the forties when it was new.

Ramon had closed the outer ticket booth years ago; now tickets were purchased right at the concession stand along with the traditional movie staples of candy, popcorn and sodas.

By the time Murphy arrived sans Connor, she was feeling ridiculously please with herself. She'd had no problems with the ten o'clock group, other than a minor incident involving a spilled diet coke, and she was enjoying herself.

"Welcome to the Paradise!" She said, in her best flight attendant voice. "How may I help you this evening?"

"Well, aren't ye the fuckin' professional?" He grinned at her, dropping five dollars on the counter. "I'd like one ticket for the stooges and a coke."

"Just one ticket?" She inquired, grabbing a large cup off the stack and setting it under the fountain. "Where's Connor?"

She turned back, handing him the full coke and laughing when he pulled a flask out of his pocket and poured a liberal amount of an unknown amber liquid into it..

"Slainte." He said, raising his glass and taking a long drink. "He's doing some last minute research for our trip. He should be along later."

"Ah yes, your mysterious trip." She leaned her elbows on the counter and put her chin in her hands. "You ready to tell me where your going yet?"

"That's a Negative, Ghost Rider." He said, dropping his accent as he was wont to do when quoting movies. "The pattern is full."

"You are a dork."

"What's a dork gotta do to get some free popcorn?" He said, a boyish smile splitting his face.

"Well, you could check the men's room for me." She batted her eyelashes at him for effect. "Make sure there are paper towels."

"You drive a hard bargain. I'm going to need something in return.."

"And what might that be?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

"Extra butter."

"Done." She held out her hand and they shook on it.

----

Luciana hummed to herself as she cleaned up the popcorn machine. There was an hour left of the midnight movie and she was right on schedule. If everything went according to plan she'd be ready to leave twenty minutes after the movie ended.

Thank God she thought Because I'm exhausted. She wasn't used to being up until the wee hours of the morning.

She jumped as she heard the outer door clang shut. Figuring it was Connor, she turned preparing to lecture him on being late. Instead, she saw three men enter the lobby. As they walked towards the counter, she felt a pang of unease.

The men were young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Their clothes, a combination of dirty jeans and flannels, were unkempt, as if getting dressed had been an afterthought.

The center man with the shaved head walked ahead of the other men; clearly this was the ringleader. His two companions were glancing around suspiciously, eyes wide. One of them had a scar that ran along the length of his face and the other had a suspect bulge in his pocket. All three of the men had a hollow, pinched look that was accentuated by the dark circles under their eyes. The looked like trouble.

Junkies, she realized, swallowing hard. She recognized the symptoms from her years of working the graveyard shift at the diner. Just the way these guys were carrying themselves screamed "I need a fix".

"Can I help you?" She called, unsure what else to do. As the one in the middle came forward, she noticed that his hand was shaking slightly as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Where's the manager?" The skinhead asked her, his eyes darting around the lobby.

"I guess that would be me, tonight." She said.

His gaunt face suddenly shifted, a malicious smile curving on his lips.

Then he moved.

Before she had a chance to react or even call out, he had slid over the counter.

There was a knife in his right hand and his left was on the back of her neck, pushing her face into the glass top of the concession counter. Scarface had moved to stand with his back to the outer doors, while the third man pulled a rough looking pistol from his pocket, staying in the middle of the lobby.

She wanted to scream but the knife, pressing against the soft flesh of her throat, told her that might not be such a smart idea. Adrenaline flooded her veins and she struggled to keep from shaking.

As she struggled to remain outwardly calm, the man spoke.

"If you scream, you die. Now, open the fucking register." There was an eager tone to his voice, and she moved to obey.

His hand tightened painfully on her neck. "Slowly."

"Hurry the fuck up, Jay." The guy with the gun hissed. "There's a room full of people watching a fucking movie on the other side of the door."

Still holding her down, the ringleader called to Scarface. "Go see what you can find in the office."

The man walked around the counter and opened the black windowless door that led to Ramon's office.

Responding to the increased pressure on her neck, Luciana righted herself and moved towards the register, her entire being focused on the tip of the blade that was now digging into her back.

Just as they reached the register, she heard the theatre door swing open. She looked up to see Murphy, an empty popcorn tub in his hand.

Her eyes met his and she saw a flicker of panic in them after his hand reached into his coat then fell back to his side, empty.

The two men recovered from the surprise of being interrupted and the barrel of the gun came to rest, pointing at Murphy.

"Don't fucking move." The thug at her back said to Murphy. "If you move, we'll kill the bitch."

---

When Muphy had opened the door to the lobby, it had only taken him a split second to grasp the situation. He saw the gun swivel towards him and the knife digging in to Luciana's neck.

She was looking at him, her eyes wide with fear. His hand went for his gun automatically, only to come away empty. His gun was at home, shoved in the black duffle bag that had been thrown carelessly under the bed.

Fuck, Fuck, FUCK! He always carried his gun. Always.

When Da first left, he and Connor had been vigilant, never leaving the house unarmed. But as the days passed, they had grown complacent. After a week of no one shooting at them, they had started carrying the guns at night and eventually forgetting them altogether. It had been too easy to slip back into their pre-Saint lives.

Now, I'm going to fucking reap it.

The guy with the knife at Luciana's back spoke.

"Don't fucking move. If you move, we'll kill the bitch."

The muscles in Murphy's jaw clenched as he looked for a way out of the situation. If he moved for the gun, Luciana was as good as dead, but if he went for the skinhead, he'd probably get them both shot.

Where in the fuck is Connor when I need him? Murphy thought, desperation fueling his anger. He and Connor were a team, had always been a team. Murphy couldn't recall the last time he had faced danger without his brother's familiar presence on his left side. Now, here he was, alone, unarmed and out of ideas.

Just as he was gearing himself up to do something drastic, he looked up and saw his twin through the outer doors. As Connor's eyes met his, Murphy felt a wave of relief sweep over him. He forced his muscles to relax and he readied himself to move the instant the thugs attention shifted to Connor.

Right on cue, his twin burst through the doors, and reached the guy with the gun before the man had a chance to whirl around and face him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Connor's elbow connect with the man's temple, but he didn't pause to see the results.

Murphy was already in motion, vaulting the counter before Luciana's captor realized he was coming. Releasing Luciana, who scrambled as far away as she could, the man lunged at Murphy with the knife.

Murphy ducked under the blade and drove his shoulder into the man's ribcage. The force of his blow knocked the man off balance and as he stumbled backward the knife grazed the side of Murphy's face.

Feeling the blood begin to trickle down his cheek, Murphy took a step forward and his fist met the man's nose, which seemed to crumble. The man dropped like a stone, blood pouring from his shattered nose, and Murphy turned to see how Connor was faring when Luciana screamed.

"Ri taobh thu!" He heard Connor call, and he dropped to one knee, trusting his brother unconditionally as always. As he ducked, he brought is fist up hard, catching a third man in the stomach. The man paused and, before Murphy could press the advantage, Connor was there. His brother hit the man once, then again before the man wavered and fell, unconscious before he hit the floor.

---

Luciana watched Murphy, hoping against hope, that he would be able to magic them out of this situation. The look on his face wasn't giving her much hope.

Then, suddenly, something was different.

His shoulders dropped and he unclenched his fists. While his body appeared to be relaxing, his face was doing something else entirely. His eyes had hardened and there was no evidence of the MacManus she knew anymore. She was looking at a dangerous man.

Before she had a chance to process what she was seeing, the outer door burst open and a blur that appeared to be Connor was upon the man with the gun in seconds.

Abruptly, the pressure was off of her neck and she pushed herself into the corner. She raised her eyes in time to see the knife carve the skin of Murphy's cheek and then the skinhead was on the floor in front of her, blood from his nose pooling around his face.

She tore her eyes away from the man's body and saw the third man burst out of Ramon's office. She screamed and heard Connor shout something and Murphy dropped to the floor, his fist landing squarely in the man's abdomen.

Another blur of movement brought Connor behind the counter and she didn't, couldn't look away as he beat the man into unconsciousness.

Then, as quickly as it had started, the violence ended. Connor pulled Murphy roughly to his feet and held his brother's face in his hands, inspecting the cut that was still dripping blood.

After a moment, Murphy pushed Connor off and tilted his head in her direction.

Two sets of familiar blue eyes were now pointing in her direction. She could see the concern in their faces but as Connor started towards her, she flinched, trying to push herself farther into the corner.

In the back of her mind, she recognized the hurt that flashed across both of their faces, but the images of fists and blood were still dancing in front of her eyes.