Disclaimer: Please see Chapter 1.

A/N: This has been a long time coming, I've been having computer issue after computer issue, and this particular chapter file became all kinds of corrupted, including the back-up ones. I recovered what I could and filled in the rest from memory. I'm not entirely happy with how it turned out, but it is what it is.
All things considering, I'm just glad I was able to post what I could.

As always, reviews are love, and please forgive any grammatical mistakes. I tend to miss a lot when I self edit.

Review Thanks & Love:

FF[dot]net - Beccatdemon13, jbpiggy, only slightly sinister

Mr. Hedlund - Ava J, ejanea, Mookie, Diva, WiggaW, 429Boss

And LibbyLoo, I have NOT forgotten about you. Going through some changes right now, but would still love to work on a story with you If you're still game.

Chapter 3

Lady watched the back of Billy's head with narrowed eyes as he messed with the radio before finally settling on a hip-hop station. She was running her fingers through TG's too long hair, which seemed to be the only thing that kept him from groaning and flinching in pain every time the van hit a bump or took a corner too fast. Every attempt to get him to wake up was useless and she was really starting to worry. His head had taken one hell of a pounding. There was barely anything recognizable of the face of a kid that was only a few months older then her.

"Christ!"

Startled at first, she arched a brow at Billy's sudden outburst when he started vigorously rolling down the window before tossing out his third cigarette since they left his apartment.

"He fucking stinks. The pussy piss himself?"

She shrugged and looked down at the figure laying supine between her crossed legs, trying hard to ignore Billy's general lack of empathy. But she had noticed the ammonia like smell that clung to TG when she first crawled into the back and had been fighting very hard to suppress gagging the whole time they'd been moving. Billy's erratic driving wasn't helping her stomach much, either.

"Actually, I think someone pissed on him," she replied.

"Sucks for him," he muttered as the van slowed before coming to a complete stop. He turned to look back at them, eyes lingering longer then usual on her face before frowning. "Stay here 'till I come get you."

"You know, asking generally gets people to do things you want them to a lot easier then demanding," she said as he turned off the engine.

"Ladybug," he huffed, turning around again, "Asking has gotten me shit in life. Now stay in the god damn van 'til I get you or I'll take you over my knee and do what your mom should have done years ago."

"Guete ou![1]"

The Haitian curse slipped off her tongue before she even thought about who she was yelling at. He chuckled dryly before giving her an appraising look that made her feel like he was taking inventory. Her face heated up when he lingered on her chest and licked his bottom lip, causing it to glisten in the early morning light.

"You're sick," she ground out while crossing her arms so that the too big sleeves of his jacket covered her up, her stomach giving a funny little twist.

She was used to him teasing when he was drunk. Or high. Or on the rare occasions when he would drop his guard enough to act less like the hard-ass gang leader he was and more like a man his age: a twenty-something with the potty humor of a ten year old. But there was something about the way he was looking at her now that made her feel as if this time it was more then just ribbing. His gaze was a little too licentious. A little too raw.

She shivered slightly and knew it wasn't from the chill air. Not willing to think on what it all might mean, she was glad when he shifted to open his door.

"Need to watch what comes out your mouth. Some people might take you seriously," he said and gave her one more pointed look, brows furrowed down in consideration. "When do you turn eighteen again?"

She risked uncrossing one arm to flip him the bird and he rewarded her with a rare, shameless smile before getting out the van and slamming the door behind him.

The sound of his footsteps as he walked started to fade and she shifted into a crouch and started to clear the mess behind her away from the back doors. Except for the stuffy noise he made every time he inhaled through what was obviously a broken nose, TG had gone quiet again. She glanced at him periodically, a concerned frown on her lips as she moved bottles out of the way. It didn't sit well with her that they weren't in an ER waiting room while TG got the professional help that he needed from a qualified doctor.

She'd heard The Butcher's named tossed around in conversations before, but who he was never came up. It was just one of many things that would be flippantly brought up before someone realized she was in the room and had working ears. It had always been like that. To everyone else in Southie, from Roxbury to Mattapan, she was a RB girl. To the actual gang she was just Bodie's kid sister. It had enough pull to keep her protected, but they all made a point to only include her in their affairs when there was no other choice.

Though, for the life of her, she couldn't figure why Billy would decide to take her along on this run. And she could honestly say she didn't want to be there. Her wrist was still smarting fiercely and the scrape on her cheek was starting to dry out, leaving half of her face feeling tight and awkward. Though the sheets had obviously not been washed in awhile and the mattress was too soft for her comfort, she'd been sleeping damn good before Bodie came bursting in the room to unceremoniously wake her by pulling all the covers off.

Settling back on her rear she looked over TG again, rubbing at her stomach as it started to rumble. The last thing she had eaten was a cold hot dog with too much sauerkraut while on break during her shift at the movie theater. Which seemed like a lifetime ago considering all that had happened when, in truth, only a few hours had gone by she and Precious had been high off weed and the open promises that only the weekend could bring two teenaged girls that lived in the hood. That had all changed in the millisecond it took to pull a trigger. Now she was ankle deep in RB bullshit and, judging from the way her morning was heading so far, she was only going to sink deeper.

She heard the mechanical whine of an electric door being opened, followed by the sound of swivel wheels on cement. She pushed herself up to her knees to peer out the dirt-caked window of the double back door to see an unfamiliar man pushing a gurney that had seen better days. Billy was trailing a few steps behind, another damn cigarette hanging between his lips. She hated the things. But, knowing his lifestyle, she figured he wouldn't live long enough to have to worry about the repercussions of smoking.

"Open the door, Ladybug," Billy said, his words a little mumbled.

She reached for the handle, fighting with the rusted hinge as she muttered under her breath. "I swear, the word 'please' is like kryptonite to you."

The door finally opened with a loud protest and she stared, shocked once she got a good look at the stranger with Billy.

"This is the Butcher?"

The man frowned at her before looking back at Billy. "I wish you'd cut it out with that name."

"This is Ladybug. Bodie's sister," Billy motioned, ignoring his request, "She wants to be a doctor or some shit when she's all grown up."

"Hey," she lifted up her chin in greeting while opening the other door, "Nice to finally put a name to the face."

It was a nice face, too. Younger then she imagined, with dark eyes behind wire frames. Judging by the slightly broad nose and epicanthic fold of his eyelids, she figured he was of Asian decent.

"It's Charles, actually," he greeted while abandoning the gurney to help her out of the van. "Charles Nguyen."

She took his outstretched hand and hopped down to the ground. "Thanks. Nguyen, that's Vietnamese, right?"

"Yeah." He smiled, revealing even, white teeth and a dimple in his left check. Even in the limited light she could see how attractive he was.

She shifted her feet, looking down at her wrinkled work pants and Joe's sweatshirt that had 'Give Thugs A Hug' screen-printed across peeking through Billy's to big jacket, and realized how much of a mess she must appear. Feeling embarrassed, she reached up to make sure her hair, which had become kinky and unruly from the shower earlier, was still stuffed under the skull cap she'd found in the van.

"Are you alright?"

"Huh?" She frowned, looking back up at him.

"Your wrist." He pointed at her bandaged hand that was still messing around with the cap. She jerked her arm down.

"That? Yeah, it's-"

"She's fine," Billy cut in, tossing his cigarette to the ground while giving Charles a pointed stare. "But TG's not. So why don't we get him inside and fixed up so you can go back to flirting with my friend's kid sister."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," she exclaimed, turning to point a finger at him. "You're such an insufferable bastard. Just because you're only nice when you want to get some ass you don't have to pay for doesn't mean everyone else follows your lead!"

"Shut up and hold the gurney, Lady. Butch, get his shoulders. I'll get his feet."

She rolled her eyes as Billy shouldered past them, bumping unnecessarily into Charles as he climbed into the back of the van, causing the older man to stumble back a little. She turned to apologize but he just shook his head.

"It's alright. He's just being himself," he said

"Yeah, that's the problem. He's a dick."

They shared a look before breaking out into chuckles.

"I can hear you fuckers, you know," Billy growled out from the darkness of the van. It only caused them to laugh harder.

"Alright, boss." Charles cleared his throat as he grabbed a bag off the gurney and climbed in after him, a smile still lingering on is face. "Let me get a look at what's going on then we can move him inside."

She stepped back and watched him as he checked TG's pulse, his eyes fixed on the silver watch on his left wrist before he pulled a stethoscope out of his bag. After a few minutes of moving the chestpiece around and listening to his breathing, Charles finally nodded to himself and stepped out of the van.

"His pulse is good," he said as his placed the stethoscope around his neck. "Breathing's a little rough. He might have some trauma to the lungs. Lets get him inside now so I can see things better."

She steadied the gurney as they hauled him out, Billy's head barely missing the van's door frame as he passed through with TG's ankles held tightly in his hands. Once he was in place Charles started for the door, Billy trailing behind him. She hesitated, closing the van doors with a little difficulty before jogging to catch up with them. Billy stopped at the threshold of the building, waiting for her to enter before pushing the button to have the doors close behind them. They fell into step with each other as they followed Charles across a medium sized garage into a short hallway. She looked around apprehensively, not really knowing what to expect but hoping not to see anymore bodies tonight. She had enough of the dead to last her for awhile.

Charles stopped in front a padlocked door and unclipped a set of keys from his slacks.

"I've reorganized since the last time you were here," he said as he fished through keys and found the one he was looking for. "Business has been good lately. Seems like demand has gone up the past few weeks.

Billy shrugged as the lock was undone and Charles opened the door enough to turn on the lights. "The demand's always been there. Just put word out like I promised I would."

Lady tried to peer over their shoulders to get a better look, but both men were taller and the gurney was in the way. Regardless, the room didn't look that big from what she could see. Large enough to hold an office desk and two uncomfortable looking waiting chairs. She frowned, more certain then ever that this whole setup was a bad idea.

"Billy," she said as Charles pushed the door open all the way, "Maybe we sh-"

"Just have a seat, Ladybug," he cut her off. "I'll be back in a sec."

She scowled and followed them into the tiny room, surprised to see another doorway that she hadn't been able to see from the hallway. Charles pushed TG past the desk into the dark room on the other side, Billy close behind him. She stood looking as the lights came on and revealing a neat, clinical room that reminded her a little of the doctor's office she interned at every Wednesday afternoon for her work study.

Less worried and more curious now she started to follow after them, but Billy looked back as if he read her mind and tilted his head in the direction of the chairs. His silent instructions were easy to read.

She crossed her arms. "Really? You drag me out of bed all the way here just to sit in this closet?"

"Yup."

And with that he closed the door on her.

Kicking the wood desk in a fit of immature frustration, she started to pace the small room several times before plopping down in a chair. Shrugging off Billy's jacket and pulling the cap off her head, she sighed in annoyance and ran her good fingers through her unkempt hair, trying to work out the knots. She didn't know how, but he had a way of getting under her skin that even her brother couldn't. Maybe it was the way he'd treat her like an equal one minute then start bossing her around the next like she was one of the boys. Or worse, Joe. She was tired of the confusing signals. The more the years went by the more she seemed to be immersed in the gang's life like osmosis. And the more Billy couldn't seem to make up his mind whether he wanted what little help she could give or whether he wanted her to remain as removed from the lifestyle as possible.

Just like how he shut her down quick when questioned about what was going on while at his apartment, even though she'd been a hair's breath away from a bullet-sent-message for him. Now here she was sitting in The Butcher's 'waiting room,' listening to their hushed conversation and shuffling feet on the other side of the wall, wondering why the hell she was even there.

Getting more pissed off by the second, she shoved the skullcap back onto her head with more force then was necessary and stood up, intending to go in there and find out what was what. She had barely taken two steps before the door opened again and Billy stood there with a questioning look.

"Where ya going?"

"Bathroom," she lied quickly, not even bothering to hide to anger on her face. He leaned against the doorframe and seem to look through her for a moment, the normal wrinkle formed between his brows deeper then usual. After a few seconds he exhaled heavily through his nose and stepped out the way.

"Come on and watch. Maybe you can learn some shit they aren't teaching you at school." He tilted his head with a slightly amused look. "Or do you need to piss that bad?"

Ignoring his call of her bluff, she brushed past him into the room, heading straight for the table where Charles was suturing up the cuts on TG's face with controlled precision. In the few minutes she'd been waiting in the other room they'd gotten TG stripped down to his boxers. She looked him over with a wince, seeing how bad the bruising to his chest and sides were already. He was going to hurt when he woke up. If he ever woke up.

Moving closer, she stood where she could see but not block Charles' light as she watched his glove covered hands. His movements were effortless and she thought what a waste it was that he was no longer a surgeon. Judging from the slightly longing look on his downcast face it was obvious that he'd loved what he once did. Sewing eyelids and jaws shut so they didn't fly open during funeral proceedings and plastering on makeup could not compare to having ones hands on or inside a breathing being. His life had once been saving other peoples' lives. And now he was stuck dressing the dead while occasionally playing doctor with a bunch of hoodlums.

He tied off the last stitch on TG's bottom lip before dropping the forceps onto a nearby tray and cutting of the remaining suture thread. Looking up with a sigh, he blinked, a little surprised.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin. "Didn't notice you were there."

She shrugged. "Billy said I should come in."

He stared at her with the same faraway look Billy had moments before and she was starting to wonder what the hell was going on. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if they were both high when he seemed to come back to earth and cleared his throat.

"So, you're working to go to medical school?"

"Hoping to," she said. "Though I don't know if I'll have to money for it. Might just go into nursing instead. BU has a pretty decent program for it, and the instate tuition shouldn't be too bad if I keep a job on the side."

He nodded. "Billy says you're interning at Mulligan Clinic right now. Know enough to help me out here? I could use another hand."

"Uh… yeah," she stammered, taken back because she'd always figured Billy didn't care about what she did at school at all. But not only did he know what she was doing, but the name of the place she was working at. She glanced back at the doorway where he was seemingly ignoring the pair of them, his attention focused on the cell phone in his hand.

"Wash up in the sink over there and put on some gloves," Charles said. "There's antiseptic and gauze in the cabinet over the autoclave. You can start cleaning some of these scrapes and cuts while I finish up his face."

She nodded, still watching Billy as he walked out into the waiting room, talking to whoever he'd dialed on the phone in a low voice. With a sigh she did as she was asked, pushing thoughts of him out of her mind as she went to work tending to TG.

They worked in almost silence, Charles giving her short instructions, pointing out the worst of the damage and even letting her help with a few stitches on his cheek. They weren't as neat as his own but Charles simply gave her a reassuring smile, telling her it wasn't too bad for a first timer. Almost half an hour later he pulled off his latex gloves with a snap and rubbed at his eyes under the frames of his glasses.

"We've done all we can at the moment." He looked down at TG with a frown, "Without an MRI… hell, even an X-Ray, we'll just have to wait until he wakes up."

She pulled her own gloves off and tossed them into a nearby trashcan. "Once he's up and about he can go over to Mulligan's. Monday is walk-in day. It's free, so they don't ask many questions. And as long a the person isn't shot they tend leave the cops out of it."

Charles nodded before finally looking up at her. "I'm going to head upstairs and make some coffee. You look like you need a cup as much as I do."

"Thanks," she said with a weak smile, watching as he left the room and disappeared into the hallway. Giving TG one last once-over, she headed out after Charles, finding Billy sitting in the attached room. He looked up at her when she walked in, eyes bloodshot and looking like all kinds of hell. His cell was laying on the empty chair and she handed it to him as she sat down.

"Bad call?"

He shrugged, stuffing the phone in his front pocket before propping his elbows on his knees.

"Bones."

It was all he needed to say. While she could agree that Billy deserved to get shit on occasion, no one deserved to get the kind of shit that Bones Darley could dish out. Especially his own sons.

Swallowing hard she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. "Charles says TG might be alright if he wakes up. Said we should keep an eye on him for the next few days."

"Fuck that," Billy sniffed. "I'm not watching him and you sure as hell can't play nurse to him the whole time. Charles can keep him here. That's what I pay the man to do."

She sat up, angry at how unconcerned he sounded and finally reaching the point where she was ready to say something about it. But she finally got a look at him, a real good look and the words died in her throat.

He looked tired. There was no doubt about that and she'd seen him wearing that exhaustion for far longer then she was comfortable with. It was something she'd gotten used to over the years, that weariness that somehow seemed to harden him even more.

No, it wasn't that. It was the way he sat there with his shoulders hunched and taut, his head hanging down staring at the tiled floor beneath his boots as if they held all the answers to his problems. It was the pose of a man on the edge that was contemplating how much of a fuck he gave to not just throw himself over and save whatever was pushing him the trouble.

She reached over, brushing her knuckles over the back of his neck lightly. He tensed up even more but she didn't stop, just flattened her palm over the tattooed skin and pressed her fingers into the dimples on the back of his recently shaved head. It was something she'd done to Bodie so often when he was stressed that she didn't even think about who exactly it was she was touching until it was already happening. Some instinct in her recognized the posture that she'd seen so many times on the people in her life. Living the way they did wasn't easy. Sometimes all it took was a gentle touch to make it just a little better.

Her mother always warned her about being too concerned and how there were certain people that just couldn't accept small comforts. Billy had always fit that to a tee, blowing her off whenever she tried to show she cared about him and the gang in any way that weren't a hot meal or a couch to crash on. She was waiting for him to shrug her off and to give her some smart ass comment that left her feeling foolish and put her in place just like any other time she'd tried to ease his burdens a little. So it was surprising when he leaned into her ministrations, slowly relaxing as her hand moved from his neck to his shoulders.

This was something new. Something completely unexpected and she didn't know how to deal. Because his guard was down in more ways then one and, as she dug her thumb into the muscles at the bass of his neck, she could swear he emitted a low moan of satisfaction. It sent a tiny volt of awareness down her spine that had her sitting up a little straighter in the plastic chair and clenching her thighs tightly together.

A voice in her head was telling her she should stop. Because this was Billy and whatever little attraction for him she'd buried way deep down was rearing it's ugly head. And his compliance was not helping in any way. His skin was too warm under her fingers and she was getting hits of aftershave, cigarette smoke and that unique smell that was just him, and it was doing strange things to her stomach.

But there was power here that she never knew she had control of. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. There were so many ways that he would remind her that she was just a kid, practically a nobody to him on a daily basis. Yet here she was making him damn near purr like a kitten as he leaned in a little closer, causing her chest to be flush with his back and suddenly she wanted that teasing look he'd given her earlier in the van to be the real thing.

Shit.

She pulled back abruptly, hand plopping down to her lap as she came back to the real world. He was Billy. Gang leader. Killer. Her brother's best friend. If that wasn't enough to bring her back down to reality, then the fact that TG was practically comatose in the other room was.

Suddenly she understood why so many women fawned over him, embarrassing themselves in ways that made her disgusted and pity them at the same time. He had a way of drawing people in, even with his attitude that screamed 'stay the fuck back.'

Billy Darley was dangerous. In more ways then one. And she had to keep reminding herself of that fact. She wouldn't get stuck in whatever spell he weaved, whether it was unconscious on his part or not.

Though that internal conclusion didn't help at all when he stretched, causing the shirt he was wearing to tighten around his shoulders and biceps before he muttered an almost inaudible, "Thanks, Jeanne."

And there went that tightening in her stomach again as she watched him stand and walk into the room where TG lay, leaving her alone with an accelerated pulse and the sudden realization that she may be developing a crush on him.

The fact that she was considering that the most disturbing thing to happen to her in the past 24 hours worried her even more.

Sinking down in her chair she took a deep breath and let it out slowly just as Charles returned, carrying three steaming Styrofoam cups in his hands. He walked towards her, frowning at whatever expression was playing on her face.

"Sorry, I'm out of creamer," he said as he offered her a cup.

She took it with a shrug. "'s okay."

She could feel him studying her as she blew on the hot liquid a moment before taking a cautionary sip. Raising her eyes, she gave him a pointed look that clearly told him to back off.

Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the hint. "Where'd Billy go."

She pointed to the other room in instead of speaking and he left without a backwards glance. She stayed just the way she was, sipping her coffee and listening to another hushed conversation in the other room. Billy's voice was more recognizable, deeper and whiskey worn compared to Charles, who had no trace of that nasally New England accent. She couldn't make out what they were speaking about and didn't much care. All she wanted was food and sleep, with the hope that it would clear her head some and help her get over whatever messed up things she shouldn't be feeling.

When Billy finally stepped out of the room she had only half a cup of coffee left.

"Let's go, Lady," he announced, "And don't forget my leather."

She tossed the cup and grabbed his jacket before following him back to the van, stealing glances at him to see whatever vulnerability he'd shown in the waiting room was long gone. He was all clenched jaw and furrowed brow again, and it helped ground her even more to the here and now.

As they waited for the garage door to open she took the time to slip into his jacket, chilled already and cursing her Caribbean blood. Not for the first time, she wondered why her mother decided to move to Boston of all places. It wasn't even officially fall yet and she was already shivering.

Sliding her hands in the jacket sleeves, she felt her stomach rumble. "I'm hungry."

"So?" He stepped under the still raising door into the crisp, early morning sunlight.

"So?" she huffed, half jogging to keep up with him, "I've been shot at, tackled and deprived of sleep. I watched a man die and might be the cause of another persons death all because you didn't want to take him to a hospital."

"It's there a point here, Lady?"

She nodded, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. "Yeah. The least you can do is buy a girl breakfast."

His eyes narrowed as he stopped and looked down at her. After a moment he continued on to the van, fishing the keys out of his jean pocket.

"Billy-".

"Get your ass in the van Ladybug, or I'm leaving you here with the Chink and the corpses."

"He's not Chinese you racist prick!"

Her protest fell on deaf ears and she took another deep breath before heading to the passenger door. Maybe it was lack of sleep on both their parts back in there, because there was no way she could have even entertained the thought about crushing on a guy like him. This was the Billy she knew. Whatever she saw and felt in that waiting room was best forgotten because there was little doubt she'd ever see that other Billy again.

"No weakness," she muttered as she pulled open the van door and climbed in. He gave her a glare before turning over the engine. She rolled her eyes and made a point to look out the window, trying her best to ignore him as they pulled away.

Footnotes:

[1] Guete ou: KreyÚl (Haitian creole) for "fuck you.