A few minutes later four police officers in uniforms milled into the room. Murtagh noted how their eyes refused to meet his father and that when he greeted them with a steely look; they only mumbled a quiet "Mr. Darley."

Billy nodded as they stood before him, nervously shuffling from foot to foot. "Well get to it. I don't have all day! – and take your shoes off!" the officers all quickly toed their shoes off and left them by the door. Billy turned to Detective Walsh, "Sorry about the mess, I haven't had time to unpack."

"And what is that that you, the great Gang Lord of the East, have to do that you can't have someone do for you?"

Murtaghs jaw dropped.

"Well, we have to go shopping, for one, I have to sign Tag into school –" Murtagh made an unhappy noise, hearing the word 'school' through the fog of his shocked mind, but Billy ignored him, "I have to call my mother –"

His old man was a Gang Lord. Murtagh struggled to wrap his mind around the information he had just received. His father didn't seem to notice, as he didn't take his eyes off of the detective. He could not blame him. Murtagh would not take his eyes off of a cop in his home either.

"I get the point. Now, I want to see this place."

"Can I come along?" Murtagh asked. "I finished my breakfast," he added.

"Sure," Billy said, "put some shoes on. It's not cleaned up yet." Murtagh stepped into his shoes – worn Doc Martins – and slipped his hand into his fathers. Billy startled slightly, but squeezed his son's hand reassuringly. He had been talking with Martha on the phone before Murtagh got up that morning, and he knew the gist of what his boy had gone through.

He had no intention of being the 'buddy' dad, the super-nice dad or anything of the like no matter how much the boy had suffered in the past. He was not a nice guy. He was a Mercer and a Darley and he was proud of it. He was going to make Murtagh proud of it as well.

Bones had never been the ideal father for Billy – nor Joey for that matter - but he had stepped up to the plate when Billy needed him the most, he always did. Billy intended to do the same. He realised that his boy was starved for affection and needed a father more than anything. He set rules, made frames, and created a safe environment for him. He wanted to be the one he would go to when he had fucked up, the one he went to when he needed help with his homework. Billy had missed sixteen years of his baby's life, and it was sixteen years too many. He had carried his boy inside him for eight months and thirteen days. He'd felt it the first time they moved, the first time they kicked, the first time they got the hiccups – Billy snorted – his tummy had jumped! Well, technically he was his mum, but it wasn't like their dad - Nick – was around, was it?

"What?" Murtagh asked, curious of what had brought such amusement to his father.

"Just remembered the first time you got the hiccups." Billy said and stroked his thumb on the soft palm of Tag's hand affectionately.

"Oh," Tag ducked his head to hide his blush, "did I cry a lot?"

Billy shrugged, "Don't know – you weren't born yet,"

"I had the hiccups before I was born?"

"Yup."

"This is all very touching boys, but I'm on a schedule…"

"Right…this is the sixth floor –"

"I know that!"

"Shut up and let me finish!" Billy snapped, "You got the east wing – my apartment – then you got the office," he opened a door to reveal a big room with dark furniture, bookshelves that reached the very high roof, though, they were mostly filled with CD's and records. There were a few books as well, but most of the papery stuff were scattered around the room, waiting to be filed into the computer system.

"Oh look at this, evidence." Walsh said with an ironic glee.

"All of that stuff is building contracts and stuff like that…you wont find fuck all here." Billy said and walked into the front of the building. He pushed open the door and walked in, Tag still holding onto his hand. "This is the library."

Walsh's jaw dropped as she walked into the massive room.

"There you got fiction," Billy pointed to the left side, "Biology, physics, geography, math, and so on…got books on everything."

"Goddammit Darley! How can you afford this?" Walsh asked.

"I just can." He said and walked back out. "The third, fourth and fifth floor are dorms."

The officers up in Billy's apartment were busy as bees as they milled around the spacious flat.

"Y'know, I honestly didn't think there would be anything like this in Stokley Hall." Kasey said out loud.

"I think that goes for all of us…" Gordon grumbled back. "If a small time criminal can I live like this, I think we're in the wrong line of work." He said and set down a heavy box on the kitchen counter and started flipping through the folders.

"He's hardly a small time criminal. He's a Mercer. Y'know, like the Michigan Mauler – think they're related?"

"Don't think so. He's a New York Mercer – old Irish Mafia."

"You really did your homework didn't you?"

"Of course. He's the boss' no. 1. priority. Gotta know why don't I?"

"True, so how'd he end up in Boston?"

"The boss daughter hooked up with Bones Darley at Woodstock."

"Bones Darley was a hippe?" Kasey barked, "I'll believe it when I see it. Make love, not war. I'll believe that when I see Billy Darley and Nick Hume doing the dirty!"

He didn't receive an answer, so he turned around to face his colleague, "You find something?"

Gonrdon nodded, "You could say that," he said and flipped over a page, "At least now we know why he didn't ghost Hume for that fuck up with his baby brother."

"Why?"

Gordon waved him over, "Look at this…" he murmured and flipped over a few pages, "Hume used to play pro hockey back in the eighties and early nineties, but he retired – you know the rest. Look at the date of these"

Kasey jumped over a few boxes and came to stand beside his colleague, "Holy shit…it that?"

"Yeah,"

"Fucking hell!"