Author's Note: Thanks EVERYONE for the reviews! I would love to do some personal shout-outs but I'll save those for the upcoming chapters. I've also enabled Private Messaging on fanfiction so if you guys would like to message me – please feel free to do so!
I realize now that since we're in the BS II: All Saints Day timeline things will feel a bit squeezed. Since the sequel practically goes over maybe four or five days – I am trying to find a way to get enough STORY in it. Will Murphy and Connor be popping up soon? We'll see, haha. I have a few ideas of what to do – and I'm thinking of continuing to write this fanfic as if there were a third film to the BS movies… so your guess is as good as mine as to where the story is going haha.
Enjoy!... sorry for the delay! You'd think with it being the holidays I would be updating every day…but then again, it is the holidays…
Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! (Hope to update before then)
X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.
Chapter Twelve: Long Lost Conversation
Her throat felt dry as Amy watched Doc walk across the bar floor in a hurried motion. The cane in his hand didn't seem to help and Doc struggled to not only get to Amy but to embrace her as well.
Amy approached Doc in the same quick fashion and gently grabbed his arm. She helped the old man sit down on a table nearby. His lips were trembling – Amy waited for the usual "FUCK! ASS!" to escape his mouth. But Doc sat down at the closest chair in silence.
"Am-Am-Amy…" Doc muttered again. His eyes were wide and wet through his glasses. As Amy sat in a chair opposite Doc, his hands reached across the table to hold hers.
She wanted to recoil but Amy was saddened by how fragile he appeared.
He narrowed his eyes at her and asked, "H-How did ya get in?"
She raised one shoulder and grinned; Amy bit her lower lip and explained, "I came in through bathroom window. Upstairs."
A small chuckle heaved out of Doc as he tried to control his stuttering. He placed the back of his old hand to his mouth for a moment. Soon his hand was back into Amy's light grasp.
Eight years… Amy thought as she stared at her uncle. "You're looking well."
Doc laughed and squeezed Amy's hands. "And you are j-j-j-ju-ju-ju-just a vision…" The old man pulled one of Amy's hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. When he looked back up Doc stared at Amy questionably. He squinted at her face and Doc asked, "Your eyes? Brown – are they?"
"Contacts," Amy said.
"Your hair…"
"It's lighter."
"Aye…"
The two sat in silence for a moment. Amy slowly took her own hands back and placed them into her lap.
Doc continued to smile at his niece. "H-H-How 'bout a drink?"
Amy nodded slowly. "A beer sounds good."
She didn't offer to get the drinks herself; Amy watched as the bar's owner rose from his chair and walked toward the counter. He stepped behind the counter and Amy took a new seat on a stool. She began to remove her coat and Amy placed it on the stool beside her. Rolling up the sleeves of her white blouse, Amy rested her hands on the counter. She traced the familiar indentures into the wooden counter and looked up.
His eyes were staring intently at her. Doc appeared to be embarrassed when he realized Amy had noticed.
A Guinness was set before her and Amy watched as Doc pouted himself a small glass of brandy.
"Welcome back," Doc said as he raised his glass in the air. Amy tipped her drink to him and drank in unison with Doc.
When another moment of silence had taken place, Doc rested his hands on the bar counter and asked, "What brings you here?"
Amy placed her glass back on the counter. "Business." She folded her hands in front of her. "Some art business."
Doc nodded in mock understanding. "What is it that you do now?"
"I'm an art administrator," she explained. Amy took a large sip from her beer. "Boring, mostly."
"But you're doing well?" Doc asked interested.
"Very," Amy admitted.
"How long will you be in town?"
Amy shrugged. "Depending on how well I do…maybe a week? Sometimes these things last a bit longer. A month at the most."
Doc: "Where you stayin' at?"
Amy: "Palmetto."
Doc: "Nice p-p-place."
Amy: "It is."
Oh dear god… Amy thought. She wanted to stay but at the same time Amy had the urge to just get up and leave…
Doc asked, "T-T-Tell me how school went."
Oh you'd like to know how college went. Let's see… undergraduate or graduate? There's a lot to cover…"
Amy: "I have a master's in business and a bachelor's degree in art studies."
Doc seemed to struggle with what to ask next. He asked seriously, "Have you talked to your da?"
Amy: "He calls every week. Like clockwork. We don't talk about much. Business, mostly."
Doc: "Every week? Oh. Seems like he's doing a better job at keeping in touch…n-n-now that…"
Amy: "Now that Mom's gone."
Doc: "Aye." He rubbed his hands nervously together. "You didn't come to the service."
Amy: "I saw her before she died. I made my peace with it." She faced the disappointed look on her uncle. "She was cremated, uncle. If there had been a funeral I would have been there…"
Doc nodded. "She was your mother-"
"And I was a lot closer to Rocco than my own mother – yet I wasn't allowed to come back and make my peace with his death?" Amy suddenly blurted out.
The old man behind the counter slammed his hands on the counter. "Fuck Amy, I didn't want to fight-"
She laughed mockingly. Amy held her arms out and demanded, "What did you expect? Nice cheery reunion? I haven't seen you since I left for school. You refused to let me come here – ergo, me being a bitter bitch, I didn't want you visiting me either. Eight years, uncle, eight years… a lot's happened since then."
"I know how much fuckin' time has passed," Doc argued. "I-I-I was trying to pr-pr-pro-prot – oh fuck – I was trying to keep you safe."
Amy shook her head. "Good job with that…" She looked up bitterly and retaliated: "Did you know I had a car accident a few years ago?"
He remained still. Doc shook his head sadly.
"And because of it…" Amy yelled, "I can't have children."
His mouth opened in surprise but Doc said nothing. For the first time since their reunion, Doc had stopped trembling.
Amy shook her head angrily and stood up. She grabbed her coat and began to put it on.
Doc begged, "Oh please. Amy. Do-Do-Don't leave."
He walked quickly around the bar. When he reached Amy Doc placed his hands on her arms.
"I know there's a lot of shit here between us," Doc whimpered. "I just… I just want us to talk and catch up. No mo' fightin'…"
Amy pressed her lips together. She shook her head and said, "I feel like if I keep talking to you…" She moved away to escape Doc's touch. "I'm just going to tell you all the terrible things I've wanted to tell you for so long." She shook her head. Amy regretted informing Doc of the car accident and its permanent effect on her.
Doc nodded in agreement. "I can't take back what I did or what I said…" he shook his head sadly, "I see how grown-up ya are…and it breaks my heart to see that I wasn't there for ya…when you n-n-n-needed me da most."
She tried to walk away but Doc asked, "Dinner tomorrow night?"
Her feet paused in its place but Amy didn't turn around.
"Come by da bar tomorrow around seven? I'll make dinner – right here – and we can catch up."
Amy turned around slowly with a face that looked unsure.
Doc took a few closer steps toward Amy. "Please, Amy? You came here tonight because you missed your home… well love, home has missed you. Please. Tomorrow. Here. At seven?"
All the bitterness Amy had kept hidden for so long was dying to get out. Amy didn't mind just letting all of her angry emotions out…
She continued to stare at Doc blankly. Amy finally said: "Make it eight." She turned her heels quickly and Amy walked out of McGinty's doors.
X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.
Lydia nervously tapped her fingers against the beige countertop of the table. The hotel's dining hall was practically empty – the hostess waited by the entrance, bored, and Lydia appeared to be the only customer.
It's Thursday... just a day before meeting with BU… we have so much work to do… Lydia looked at her watch impatiently. Her eyes glanced over the organizer on the table. She then turned her attention to the cell phone resting beside Lydia's glass of water.
The young woman looked up in relief when Lydia spotted Amy walking toward her.
She rose from her chair and Lydia asked, "Sorry boss, I assumed we were meeting early."
Lydia was surprised suddenly. Amy was not dressed in her normal business attire – instead she wore jeans, sneakers, and a white baseball shirt with gray sleeves.
Amy motioned for Lydia to sit down. The tired twenty-five-year-old sat in her seat and leaned back lazily.
"My apologies; I woke up late," Amy admitted. She rubbed her face and used her fingers to comb through her hair.
Her head tilted at Amy as if Lydia had never seen her before. Amy noticed the confused look and asked, "What is it?"
"You're so…" Lydia began slowly and soon grinned. "So. Casual."
Amy looked down at herself. She looked at her baseball-T and half-smiled. "Yeah… I figured if we were just preparing for stuff – might as well be casual." She looked at Lydia. "And you have full permission to dress however you like."
Lydia cocked her head in interest.
Amy: "What?"
Lydia: "Permission to speak freely?"
Amy smirked then nodded.
"You're normally so… organized. Not that you aren't now – you tend to be right on the ball with stuff – it's just… you seem like you got other stuff on your mind?" Lydia asked.
She raised her shoulders in confusion. Amy bit her lower lip and admitted, "Yes, there are a few other things on my plate at that moment… but trust me: I'm on top of things. We have this whole day to discuss my meeting with Boston U tomorrow and we'll use the weekend to prep for T&F." Amy gave her secretary a reassuring look. "We'll get things done."
"I'm not concerned that we won't," Lydia laughed. She rested her chin on her propped-up arm. "There's just this immediate change in you. I've gotten to know you pretty well – your habits, routines, techniques, I think I know your personality really well… and here I have this Amy Jensen that's not staying up until three in the morning anxiously preparing for work but venturing out in South Boston." The young woman laughed again and shook her head. "I just wasn't expecting this change."
A small smile crept across Amy's face. She leaned back into her chair and accepted the cup of coffee delivered by the waiter. After taking a small sip from the white cup, Amy grinned devilishly and said: "Let's get back to work."
X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.
Despite the tiring prep-work done with Lydia for eight hours, Amy stood outside of McGinty's at exactly seven o'clock.
The air was getting colder and Amy tugged at the gray scarf wrapped around her neck. She found her reflection in a window of the building next door. Amy checked her clothing – maroon sweater, jeans, and black heels – and, after finding herself decent, found the courage to step through the bar's door.
Amy entered the empty bar. The lights were on but no one was around. She looked around in confusion until Amy realized Doc was probably upstairs cooking on the old stove.
Upon her realization Amy could hear music coming from above.
X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.
Amy entered the old apartment and immediately found Doc playing around in the kitchen. The old man hadn't noticed her and continued with his work cooking grilled cheese sandwiches.
The music came from an old record player sitting on a bench nearby. Jazz filled the room…
"Amy!" Doc called happily.
Amy smiled softly as she placed her black purse on a nearby chair. She began to remove her scarf but Doc came toward her and offered to hang it on a hook in the wall.
He was dressed in Sunday's best: black slacks, white dress shirt, and a red sweater vest (the one Amy had given to Doc as a Christmas present one year).
Doc was able to approach Amy without his cane. He took Amy's hands into his and leaned forward to kiss Amy on the cheek.
The contact was awkward. Yet Amy was happy for it. When Doc pulled back he grinned and said, "I'm makin' grilled cheeses."
"Smells good," Amy informed her uncle. "Anything I can do?"
Doc nodded happily. "If you could, run downstairs and get some glasses and wine. We'll eat. Then we can talk."
X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.
"Dad was in town for business last year and visited me. It was nice. We talked business, mostly, I think he picks that particular topic because he understands it so well," Amy said as she finished her glass of wine. Doc filled the glass up and waited patiently for Amy to continue. Two empty plates rested on the pool table. Sitting in stools close to each other, Doc and Amy had gone back and forth with different stories. "I accepted Dad's help to get my master's degree. He really liked that. He's married. You know? To the mistress he had while he was with mom – while I was a kid." The subject of the mistress wasn't difficult for Amy – she didn't even speak of the woman with distaste. "You know his wife had two kids from a previous marriage? And I thought the guy never liked kids."
Doc seemed surprise by Amy's way of presenting the information – she didn't seem bitter about the situation nor was there a sign of disgust in the topic.
Amy had forgiven her father… in a way… and Doc was glad for it.
"Aye, I heard he got married. To her…" Doc shook his head. "I di-di-didn't go to da fuckin' wedding. No way I could. But you understand."
"I do."
Doc nodded slowly. He looked up at Amy and asked sadly, "There wasn't much pain for her in the end? Right? My poor Samantha…"
Amy leaned in close and said gently, "She was fine, uncle. She had prepared herself. And I think she went peacefully. I saw her just weeks before she died. She told me…" Amy took another sip of her wine. "She told me it would all be okay. And somehow… I believed her."
"Your mother loved you, lass," Doc whispered sadly. "She loved you."
Amy's head bobbed slowly. It wasn't necessarily a nod of agreement.
"What about you?" Amy asked. "Why a nursing home?"
"It's not a fuckin' nursin' home," Doc laughed. "It's just an apartment complex filled with old fucks like me. It wasn't good for an old man like me to be livin' above a bar. But Christ's sake – I hate some of those old bags. Talking about nothing and all their aches and pains. Fuck 'em."
Amy raised her glass. "I'll drink to that."
Doc laughed as he took a sip of his own glass. He shakily set the glass down on the green felt of the pool table.
"May I ask something personal?" Doc asked after a few seconds of silence had passed. Amy nodded. "That ring on your finger…" Amy stared down at her hand. "Quite beautiful. Very elegant." He smiled slowly. "Did a man give you that?"
Amy held her hand out for Doc to examine the ring more clearly.
"His name is Simon," Amy explained plainly. "He's the son of the man I work for."
"Good man, is he?" Doc asked.
"Yes," Amy thought aloud. "He's… he's like me."
"Good," Doc grinned. "So he's brilliant and beautiful and wonderful."
"All of the above, plus more," Amy joked. She placed her right hand into her left and stared at the ring again. She looked up at Doc nervously. "He's asked me to marry him." Doc suddenly froze. Amy held her hand to him again and said, "It's an engagement ring. It's not on the left hand because I haven't given him an answer yet. I'm supposed to use this business trip to decide."
"Oh Amy…" Doc said while taking a deep breath. "That's… that's incredible." He looked at the emotionless face of his niece. "Do you love this man?"
She turned her gaze away from the ring and to the pool table. Amy pressed her lips together as she thought of what to say. She turned to Doc and said, "I've lost every man I have ever loved. I still feel like I can't get them back." She twisted the ring around her finger. "And I know that if I say yes… I'll never lose him. But unfortunately… I have this dark feeling that… I won't really care if I do lose him."
Doc shook his head sadly. "You can't let what happen with your dad get in the way of it. I thought things were good-"
"Uncle it's not like that," Amy released a quiet laugh. "I did lose my father. I lost him when I was ten. And because of him I lost my mother at the same time." She stared at Doc sadly. "I lost Mom way before she died, Doc." Amy inhaled and exhaled slowly. "My parents gave me up to focus on each other. As a kid… I was given to you." Amy smiled sadly. "And at eighteen I lost you too. And you're not the only one I lost at that time…"
The old man beside her looked confused.
Amy took another sip of the wine. She wiped her lips with her wrist and Amy stared at her uncle sadly.
"Have…" she began slowly, "have you heard… from them…"
Doc sat still for a moment. He began to move uncomfortably in his stool. "I'm sorry love. I haven't. Not since the day I went to them at the hospital. It was just a day after you last saw them…"
Amy nodded quietly.
"But," Doc said excitedly, "I do know they're okay."
She looked up. Amy, with a terrified look on her face, asked, "How?"
"God told me," Doc explained. "He told me, he did, 'the boys are okay, Doc, they're okay'…"
Amy nodded again. "God… told you?"
"Aye," Doc said, "he comes to me sometimes – in dreams – and t-t-tells me that they're okay. Just to reassure me. Good man, God is."
"I'm sure," Amy scoffed. "So you talk to God a lot?"
"I said only sometimes," Doc snapped. "No need to get rude. I know how you feel about da Lord."
"Yes," Amy grinned. She stared at her empty glass of wine. "I think it's time I go."
"Already?" Doc asked.
Amy rose from her stool and went to the wall where her scarf hung.
Doc stood up slowly and walked toward Amy. She turned around after wrapping the scarf around her neck and smiled. The old man handed the young woman her purse and grinned. "When will I see you next?"
"Umm," Amy thought aloud, "it may be awhile. This weekend will be very busy for me. In fact the busy weekend starts tomorrow. Sometime after Monday." She reached her hand out for Doc to shake it. The old man took the impersonal gesture with a soft smile. "I'll call you," Amy finished. Before she made her way down the stairs, Amy turned back to Doc and said, "Thank you for the meal."
Doc watched as his niece disappeared down the stairs. He placed a hand over his chest and prayed aloud, "Be with her, oh Lord."
X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.
Account,
It's safe to say the weekend was hell for me. I met with Boston University and did my best to assimilate the business with Aurora-Ansell. Arts for All was perfect with Boston U. They loved the idea, they loved Ansell's company, and they loved me too. But the challenge was still there, businessly-speaking.
Then came the day for me to meet with Thompson & Falcon. The Bastards. They didn't like that I came from a nice, big city and that I appeared too "businessy" for them. At the time of meeting with them, I could tell they hated me from first glance.
The hell-week of work ended that Monday evening.
But that night, at the Palmetto Hotel, I had been walking with Lydia through the lobby when I overheard the news on the big screen…
"Holy shit," Lydia said surprised.
Amy turned her attention to the TV. Some of the hotel's guests and its employers surrounding the large plasma screen.
"What's happened?" Amy asked a bellhop standing beside her.
The young man bit his lip. "I think the Saints are back in town."
Amy froze. Her heart seemed to stop beating and her eyelids wouldn't blink…
"What?" Lydia asked.
The bellhop explained, "A priest got shot – Saints style – at some big Catholic church. They're not sure it's them – but it looks like the deal."
Amy's eyes were frozen on the screen. The reporter from Channel 29 News explained that the Saints – the ones responsible for the Yakavetta courtroom shooting – were the best suspects.
Lydia had asked Amy who the Saints were, but when she received no reply, took the explanation from the bellhop.
As the hotel's guests and staff murmured and whispered about the priest's murder, Amy found herself getting lightheaded. She tried to reach for Lydia's arm but grabbed nothing but air.
Her knees hit the floor hard and Amy's vision blurred as she collapsed on the hotel floor.
X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.
Author's Note: sorry for the delay in the updating! But at least I got it to this point! Reviews much appreciated. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!