A/N: Thank you to IrishSaints and wolfchick11 for reviewing and to you for reading! Enjoy this next bit. More to come soon!

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Chapter 5: Pieces of the Puzzle

The silence in the car was comfortable, a great contrast to the busy Boston streets outside. Apparently unbeknownst to Lourdes, Connor had been inconspicuously observing her through the corners of his eyes – her every movement, every action, every inch – ever since they had left Smecker's office and the Boston Police Station. Connor admitted it to himself: he was curious about her; not only about her job, the case that she had been sent to investigate, and the predicament (or danger) that she was currently in, but her own personal life as well. How did a young woman such as she grow up to climb the ranks so quickly to become head of an international investigation? Smecker was most likely twice her age, and even he had to work for years, gaining much experience within the FBI, in order to land important cases such as these. And now, to make matters even more complicated, she was in the middle – a target – of what was most likely a Unionist hit.

All in all, Connor was intrigued.

If the Saint thought that his observations were completely unnoticed, he was mistaken. Lourdes could feel his burning eyes on her, even when she was turned away. To her surprise, she didn't find herself uncomfortable when, truthfully, she unconsciously stole glances at the handsome Irishman from time to time.

"So," Connor piped up lightly with a smirk, thinking it wouldn't do any harm to start some small talk. He never knew – it might be a preface to a highly interesting conversation. As far as he was concerned, this was only an act – and playing a role that would make her talk would be conducive to gaining more information. "How long have ye been an agent for?" He twisted his head to face her momentarily before his eyes flickered back towards the congested road.

The innocent question seemed to have disrupted Lourdes' reverie. She blinked a few times, as if registering the question in her mind, before turning her head towards Connor and replying, "Seven years this May."

"That long?" Her answer clearly surprised the Saint, his eyes widening. "Yer awfully young to have been doing our job for seven years!" Connor commented sincerely, raising his eyebrows. "I, myself, have only been doing it for three in July, and I'm probably older than ye are." It was then that he cleared his throat. "I mean, I know 'tis impolite to ask a woman her age, so I don't think I'm going to go there and stick to my hypothesis of your being younger than I am." He paused, and then quickly corrected himself, "Much younger."

Lourdes actually smiled at this, appreciating his effort to break the ice between them. "I'm twenty-seven and not ashamed to admit it." Connor gave her a lopsided smirk at this confident answer. "And as for the job, I grew up around it." She replied abstractly, obviously not willing to describe any further specific details. Connor decided not to press the subject. As an afterthought, she added sarcastically, "And yeah, you do look pretty old. I'm sure you and my grandfather would make excellent mates."

Connor outwardly chuckled, giving his head a shake. "I guess being older than ye by two years warrants for ye to call me old." As she gave him a smirk, Connor suddenly grew serious, as he found himself being steered away by 'small talk' from his true purpose. Clearing his throat, he began in a stiff tone, "Agent Villamor, if we're going to make any headway on this case, ye have to tell me everything that ye saw that night, any details that ye may remember. If this drive-by shooting of yer agents is somehow connected to the IRA case, then we may as well kill two birds with one stone. I know it sounds wrong to say, but maybe this shooting will give us the lead we need in order to find out who was behind those IRA attacks."

"I understand what you're saying." Lourdes eyed Connor momentarily, lips pursed seriously into a straight line. "Those were my thoughts exactly. I just hope that my agent recovers quickly so that he can participate in the apprehension of those bastards."

Smirking, Connor responded sincerely, "Aye, I'll pray that he does."

As they pulled up beside the sidewalk in front of the hospital, Connor declared, "I'll wait out here until yer finished visiting yer mate. I'll keep a lookout for ye."

With a smile and nod of gratitude, Lourdes exited the car and made her way inside the hospital.

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"So I'm guessing you are both in on what Connor is up to at the moment?" Smecker turned his head in order to face Murphy and Il Duce, who were sitting quietly at their kitchen table, as he languidly paced back and forth in front of them, hands clasped behind his back.

"Well, he's gonna try to get info from the girl." Murphy piped up, giving him a shrug as he looked at his father. "He didn't tell me anythin' else before he told me to fuck off from the station."

"It's more than that now." Smecker gave out an expressive sigh, taking the empty seat in between the MacManus father and son and crossing his legs in the process. "We're in a whole new predicament now." Briefly pausing as he garnered the attention of both men, he proclaimed, "Connor MacManus is now apparently part of the FBI."

In utter disbelief, Murphy gave his father, who remained emotionless and quiet, a bewildered glance. Eyes darting back to Smecker, he retorted with a scoff, "Ye've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me, Smecker! How the hell did he manage that?"

"Easier than you may think. He said so in front of Agent Villamor while she was meeting with me, and I confirmed it."

Murphy's face filled with distaste. "Well, fuck me."

"If you'd like." Smecker rejoined sarcastically whilst rolling his eyes. Turning his attention to the older MacManus, he said, "Il Duce, you wanted information, and this is Connor's way of doing it. He's basically playing undercover agent with an agent. I don't know if he's ever done this before, but I advise all of you to take caution. Just pray that he doesn't take it too far and cause more trouble than there already is."

Breaking his stoic silence, Da affirmed, "Connor will be able to handle himself." With a conceding nod from Murphy, he proceeded, "But my sons are not the only ones doing research on our end. I've found out quite a lot during the past week, information that I think ye'll be interested in." When Da saw that he had gained Smecker's undivided attention, he continued, "Now, I am one hundred percent sure that the Unionists were responsible for the IRA attacks and for the attempted murder of the Irish agents. The leader of these extreme Unionists is named Keiran O'Sullivan. Even those that belong to the Unionists see him as the leader of an Irish Mafia within their group. Ye see, as usual, everything comes down to money." Briefly pausing, he eyed his son, then Smecker, alternately. "O'Sullivan earns his living by owning stocks and businesses all over the United Kingdom, most of which are, of course, illegal. He knows that if the Republic is united with the UK once more, he'll have more investments and will gain a huge profit from the exchange rate, as the pound will then again be used in the Republic."

"So why target international members of the IRA?" questioned Smecker as he processed this new information, visibly confused.

"The members that were attacked and killed here in Boston were, once, honest stock holders and businessmen." Da explained, "There was a leak, probably a mole, in O'Sullivan's camp, and word spread to the top IRA man here in Boston of what was really going on. When they found out how O'Sullivan really does business – which is murder each stock holder and gain access to their bank accounts – they began to spread the word within the organization. O'Sullivan found out, and by killing each of 'em, he silenced 'em." Folding his hands in front of him, Da finished, "I've tried to locate where O'Sullivan is, but the bastard covers his tracks very well. But I do know that he's here in Boston."

"And how did you find out this information?" Smecker inquired as he tried to comprehend the utter size and weight of this growing case. "I've never heard of the name, nor any dealings such as this, before."

"A survivor." Da replied simply with a shrug of his shoulder. "Like I said, O'Sullivan knows how to run his businesses and to cover his tracks. We're probably three of the few people here in Boston that knows who he is and what he does."

"Da, how can ye be sure this source of yers is telling the truth?" questioned Murphy, doubt clearly written on his expression. "They could easily be lying to ye, ye know."

"He had no reason to lie. He has more to gain than to lose if we apprehend O'Sullivan." With an actual smirk appearing on the side of his lips, Il Duce remarked effortlessly, "And if he did, he knows that I would track him down and personally blow his brains out."

Smecker tilted his head in complete acquiesce. "Touché."

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Lourdes slowly entered Sean's hospital room, hearing naught but he sound of the heart monitor and the soft flapping of the ceiling fan. With a cursory glance around the stark, pearl-white room, Lourdes made her way to Sean's bedside, finding the agent sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic motion. His condition had greatly improved since the last time she had seen him: simultaneously bloodied and pale, his vital signs waning. She had been scared to death then, even showing much emotion in front of her agents, going against her own protocol of remaining calm and collected with every situation, no matter what it was. Though, this situation merited a special award. These people not only knew who they were and what they were doing, but also where they were – all classified information – and it had only been a couple of weeks.

"Is this heaven? Because I think I see an angel."

Sean's strained, raspy voice suddenly sounded, almost startling Lourdes. She shook her head. Even in his condition, the scoundrel still managed to be….well, himself. With a wide smile that reached her eyes, she carefully embraced her comrade, making sure she evaded his stitched and bandaged abdomen. Barely having the strength to lift his arm, Sean grunted as he sluggishly tried to sit up.

"Hey, none of that! That's an order!" berated Lourdes, gently pushing down on his shoulder so that he would lie down once more. "The doctors said that you'll be here for at least two or three more weeks. You were injured quite severely, Flannagan, in critical condition. I don't know if you know that."

"Oh, I don't only know it, I feel it." Sean winced as he tried to find a comfortable position to lie on. For every inch that he moved, no matter which part of his body, relentless pain coursed through him, causing him to breathe out and grit his teeth. Entirely disregarding this, he proclaimed proudly. "But they don't call us the fightin' Irish for nothin'. It'll take more than a bullet or two to get rid o' me."

"Ye know, Flannagan, 'tis yer bloody pride that'll get ye killed someday!"

The two twisted their heads to the sound of Isolde's semi-mirthful, semi-scolding voice towards the doorway, where she and the other two members of their team, Agent Craig Malley and Agent Braden Falkland, stood side by side. With a cordial smile, Lourdes welcomed her entire team, finally together at last. Frankly, she was relieved to see them all safe and alive. Lourdes knew the protocol that they all had to follow about privacy and public emotion, so without really knowing what was personally going on with her agents, she just prayed that they were not dealing with trauma.

"So…what are we gonna do about our hitmen?" Breaking the comfortable silence between the five, Braden placed his hands in his trouser pockets. Walking towards the middle of the room, he remarked, "I never thought that I'd be a target. It's makin' me kinda paranoid now."

"Tell me about it," Craig agreed with a scoff, face scrunching with distaste. "I've looked over me shoulder so many times that ye'd think I had an invisible plug stuck up me arse."

"I'm sorry to tell ye this, Malley," Sean began in utter seriousness, pressing his lips into a thin line, "but ye do have an invisible plug stuck up yer arse. Ye just can't see it, because, well, it's invisible."

"Shut the fuck up, Flannagan!"

"Alright, that's enough, ye two!" chastised Isolde as though she were breaking off the banter between two little boys. Through Sean's booming laughter, she proclaimed, "We've done enough shittin' around today. Smecker just called me about our new hotel. We should ahead back and start investigatin' on who these bastards are." In both amusement and relief, she disheveled Sean's hair before turning her attention to Lourdes. "Boss, you comin' with us?"

"I will catch up with you all in a bit." Giving the three a salutary wave as they left the room, Lourdes turned her attention back to Sean. Without a word, her face suddenly grew serious as the complete silence in the room returned.

"I know that look." Sean commented with ease, raising an eyebrow. "What've ye got on yer mind, leannán?"

"I just feel out of sorts, is all." Lourdes answered truthfully, always finding herself able to confide in the fiery Irishman. Having worked with Sean for almost three years, much longer than any of the other agents on the team, they had not only built a strong, professional relationship, but had become very close friends as well. Through all the trials and tribulations that Lourdes had undergone, brought about by a difficult job, she could always trust Sean with confidence, knowing that if she needed someone to turn to, that he would be there in the blink of an eye. He had especially helped her recover from the loss of Colin.

Colin McDougall, Lourdes' most recent boyfriend, had been shot and killed in action just a few months prior to their landing in Boston. He had been a fellow agent, tracking down murder suspects hiding out in Northern Ireland. In a stake gone wrong, his cover had been blown, and the killers opened fire, killing him instantly. Lourdes had not witnessed his fall, though heard the shots being fired, for she was in a vehicle only a few meters away. This was the reason why she was so unnerved by everything that had happened to Sean. She did not want to repeat the emotional suffering she had gone through not so long ago, and most of all, she did not want to lose someone else that she cared about.

"My instincts are going haywire, Sean, and I can't put my finger on why. I just feel like danger's so close by, but I just can't see it yet."

"I know what ye mean." He replied succinctly with the tilt of his head. Squinting his eyes, he shook his head slowly. "Somethin' 'bout that hit just didn't seem…right."

After a brief, thoughtful silence, Lourdes declared in a lighter tone, "Let me worry about the cases for now," she managed a slight smile, taking into consideration what Sean had said. "You concentrate on recovering, alright?"

Though before she could turn and leave, Sean grasped her arm, pulling her closer towards him. With a curious look from Lourdes, he said in a cryptic manner, his expression cold,

"Don't trust anyone."

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Translation:

leannán: sweetheart

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A/N: What'd you guys think? Keep the reviews coming, I'm loving them! xx