~*~

"Hey –" Jerry greeted, "I saw you at the funeral-"

"-but you don't know me." Billy finished for him.

"Yeah. Something like that. Don't mean to be rude or anything, but –"

"No worries. It's completely my fault I didn't drop by at any point during the past fifteen years. I'm William Mercer Darley, call me Billy. This is Murtagh, my son."

"Ah, so you're family. How are you related?"

"Evelyn was my mother – biological mother. I moved to live with my old man in Boston just before you guys came along."

"Wait, so you're our brother – how old are you?"

"Thirty one."

"Thirty-two." Murtagh coughed into his hand.

"In December." Billy scowled at his son.

"Bobby's gonna love this. He ain't the oldest one anymore." Jerry laughed. "It's nice to meet you." Thinking back, Jerry could remember Ma talking about him; saying things like 'what would Billy do…'. At the time he'd just thought it was a slip of the tongue, that she actually mean 'Bobby'. "So what do you do for a living then? – just curious…"

Jerry could tell the guy was loaded. There were five kinds of people. The poor, the ones doing okay for themselves, the ones doing really well, the rich ones and the seriously fucking rich ones. The difference between the rich and the seriously fucking rich? He'd noticed that they were both wearing good quality clothes. That was fine. The kid wore the usual teenage brands. They weren't too expensive, seeing as teenagers grew like dandelions. What tipped it off was that the really good quality clothing Billy had that cost a fortune and lasted forever while still looking brand new, was the near lack of a brand. Notice 'near' lack of a brand. It would be nearly invisible. Often the exact colour of the fabric – not to mention that the fit would be flawless. The ones that were rich but not stinking rich would more often than not flaunt it; wearing jeans with 'Versace' across the ass or the Chanel logo in their earrings. He wasn't even going to start on the Louis Vouitton bags. Guys like Billy didn't like that kind of attention.

"Uh, I do a bit of this, bit of that…what I get my hands on really." Billy said, skirting the issue. Telling your newly met brother that your occupation was listed as; 'Gang Lord' was not going to sit well with a family guy. The guy probably didn't even know he was adopted into a Mafia family.

Jerry arched a brow. Even though he didn't get a straight answer, he found that he liked the guy. He could not fault him for not bragging. "Well, let's introduce you to the others. Angel isn't here yet. He's in the marines –"

"I know. Ma used to talk about you all so much. Got a monthly update. Had to make up for not being around with a wicked phone bill." Billy chuckled.

"Really?

"Yeah."

"So how old are you Murtagh?"

"Call me Tag – and I'm sixteen."

"Cool, Jackie just turned sixteen. I think you'll get along – hey Bobby, Jack!" Jerry called for his brothers. "This is Billy and his son Tag."

"Have I seen you somewhere?" Bobby asked as he eyes Billy up and down, "You seem familiar."

"I was at the funeral –"

"Yeah I saw you there, but that's not it…" his eyes flickered to Murtagh, unable to hinder his mind to take in and appreciate the classic beauty of the boy.

Jack and Murtagh stared at each other without really saying anything, both of them stunned as they looked into a face mirroring their own.

Billy stiffened. He seriously hoped Bobby didn't recognise him from his teenage years. While he wasn't embarrassed the least, he didn't want to talk about his stint as a rock star.

"Nah, it will probably come to me." Bobby said and shook his head, "So you knew our mother then?"

Billy grinned wryly, "You could say that, she was my mom as well."
Jack would have laughed if he had seen the stunned look on his older brothers face.

"I didn't know she adopted anyone before us…"

"She didn't. She had me the old fashioned way. Morning sickness, diapers and all." He said and rubbed his neck, chuckling wealky.

"Oh…" Bobby said, looking chest fallen for a brief second. "So all the stuff in the cellar is yours?"

Billy arched a brow, "She kept it all?" when Billy had settled down in Boston, he left most of his stuff in storage, except the things most precious to him, like his guitars and most of the awards he had won. Memories from the time he was the greatest was in that cellar. All his stage costumes. He had hundreds of leather jackets. They wouldn't fit him anymore, but they would probably fit Murtagh….

"Sure looks like it." Bobby grumbled. "I hardly got a peek at it before Ma locked it and threw away the keys."

Billy snorted. "Sounds like her." he threw a glance over his shoulder as his senses tingled.

"Hands up, y'all under arrest!" someone shouted, drawing attention to themselves.

"Green! You became a fucking cop?" Billy laughed.

"Billy. Nice to see you man. Wasn't sure you'd recognise me."

"How can I forget you? We always got stuck in detention together."

Green snorted. "You had detention three times in ten years Billy."

"Yeah, and you got me into all of them." Billy said with a scowl.

"Don't be so sore about it." Green joked back. "You might have been a geek and looked like a girl but you sure kicked ass on the ice."

"You play hockey?" Bobby asked, his interest suddenly peaked.

"If he plays?" Green snorted, "He's like the blond version of you."

"Shut up man. I was like fucking bambi on ice. It was nothing but pure luck those big fuckers didn't mow me down like bulldozers." Billy muttered, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt.

"And he's shy about it as well." Green shook his head in disbelief. Billy had been okay at hockey when he was a kid. He was Detroit born and raised after all. He hadn't gotten really good until he met Nick. The older man had made him want to be good at it to impress him. Nick was a player back then. "He used to play One - o' - one with Nick Hume after school." Green added with a punch to Billy's shoulder.

"No fucking way!" Bobby exclaimed, "The guy is a legend. He's like…the best player the league had in thirty years!"

Billy clenched his teeth, his reaction invisible to anyone but his son. His and Nick's son. Despite the fact that Billy knew that Murtagh knew Nick was his father, the teen had respected his wish not to talk about it –for now.

"Wonder what's he up to now a days."

"He's the Senior VP of Star Fish Capital." Billy said calmly.

"You keep in touch?"

"Not really, no. Can't seem to stop bumping into each other though," not that they had met a single time, living in the same city for god knew how many years before the fuck ups with Brendan and Joey.

"So where are you guys staying?" Jack asked.

"We got a hotel in town…" Murtagh started.

"Why don't you come for dinner tomorrow? It's thanksgiving, right?" Bobby offered. "Jackie's a decent cook when he tries."

"Unlike you. You burn water for fucks sake." Jack grumbled.

"Awww, don't be like that Cracker Jack." Bobby said and bumped shoulders.

"Why don't you stop teasing Jackie boy. What have you been up to lately Darley?" Green asked.

"Oh, y'know, a bit of this, bit of that." Billy replied and shrugged.

Green nodded in amusement, "I'm sure you got your hands full. Boston is thriving, New York as well, I heard."

"Yeah, doing pretty good." Billy wanted to smack himself. Of course Green, a fucking cop, would know he was a Gang Lord.

"Yeah, I heard you were busy as a bee, your Ma would have been surprised you made it back for her funeral." He said, keeping the tone casual. Jerry, Jack Murtagh and Bobby were watching the two men, wondering what had changed the mood.

The soft expression slid off Billy's face like it had never been there, and was replaced by a stony mask that Murtagh recognised as, not anger, as most would presume, but simply seriousness.

Murtagh hadn't quite gotten used to the public Billy - cold body language, hot head, and hotter temper. He had never been at the focusing point of it, for which he was glad, but he had yet learned to distinguish the different stony expressions from another and generally read his father.

"I didn't come back for no funeral." Billy said, his voice deepening to a dangerous rasp.

Bobby looked around them, and saw that the single spoken sentence had silenced the entire garden, people pretending not to listen. Green's face had adopted a serious expression as well.

"Come on Darley, we got these…these punks." Green fumble d for words, "A kid from down the street, out playing basket ball said he saw someone shooting up the liquor store"

"The liquor store was shot up at eleven – the court light shuts at ten." Billy chuckled darkly, "Glad to see so many changes." his voice laced with sarcasm, "I can see Detroit's fines cleaned it up." Billy shook his head and sighed. "C'mon Green. I used to make a good living around here, 'cause cops like you can't find tits in a strip joint." Well, it was true. He'd been playing in clubs since he was thirteen, and not been caught even once, not even when the age limit was 21- and he had been small as a child.

Jack, Bobby and Murtagh all bit their lips to keep from bursting out laughing.

"Why don't you and your –" Billy looked at Fowler with distaste, sniffing, as if some bad scent got caught in his nose, "- partner, come inside, have some coffee, some doughnuts and get the fuck out of here."

Green was about to reply, but was cut short by a happy squealing female voice.

"William! Is that you?" Maureen greeted with a huge smile. "Last time I saw you, you were seventeen, with your hair dyed black and running for your life." She laughed and hugged him. The stony expression vanished from Billy's face and was replaced by a smile.

Green looked at him in amazement. He was good. Real good. No wonder no one could get him on jack-all. He'd forgotten that Billy was used to people watching him and analysing his every move, smile and word. He was a performer, and he was sure Billy didn't realise it, but he had never left the stage, it had just changed its appearance.

A/N that's 2000 words for you. sorry for the wait by the way. wont happen again...i hope. did you like it? I finally entered the brothers!!!!