Thanks to runeaglerun, Pikesmith, and Kerkerian-Horizon for reviewing!

Now, Ryan's meeting with Finn Rourke. Let's see what'll happen, shall we?

Ryan opened the door of the bar and entered into the gloom. The air was full of the smell of smoke, liquor, and the sound of Irish rock. He made his way over to the bar, and motioned to the bartender. The man clearly recognized him, because he gave him a suspicious once over before gesturing towards the back of the bar.

"Rourke's been waiting for ye," he said. "He's at the table towards the back."

Ryan nodded his thanks, and walked toward the far corner of the bar. Sure enough, there sat Finn Rourke in all his glory, drinking from a tall glass and talking quietly with some of the Westies' muscle. When the two beefy men saw the detective approach, they stood and moved a few table's over to give them some privacy, but close enough to defend the boss should Ryan try anything funny.

"Well, look who decided to show his face again after all these years," Rourke chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Lit'le Kevin Ryan."

Ryan smirked at him, also leaning back and folding his hands over his torso. "Well, you didn't give me much choice."

Rourke just laughed again and motioned with his hand; a second later, the bar tender appeared with a glass of the good stuff for Ryan as well. He set it down and was already gone when Ryan started to protest. "That's real nice of you, Finn, but I shouldn't—"

"Oh, come on, drink it." Finn replied, waving at him with one hand. "It's on the house."

Sighing, Ryan gave in and took a sip. The cool liquid slid down his throat easily, and it reminded him of home, of his father. "So what's goin' on, Finn? 'Cause I don't think you asked me here just so you could buy me a beer. What'd'ya want?"

Rourke took a sip of his own beer before answering. "Ye close that case over Jacky Coonan?"

"Yessir," Ryan nodded. He probably shouldn't have been discussing the details of a murder investigation with a known mobster, but seeing as it was closed, he didn't see the harm. "It was his brother. You remember Dick Coonan?"

"Dicky?" Rourke frowned, as though he didn't believe it. "That fussy lit'le prick? What'd he kill his own brother for?"

"You were right about the drugs," Ryan said. "Only when Jack found out the runner was his little brother he didn't have the heart to kill him. He went to the feds instead and when Dick found out he killed him."

Rourke took a long swig from his glass and sighed. "What's happening to this world, that has brother turning against brother? Speaking of which…"

Ryan tensed, for he knew what was coming. He also knew that this was the real reason Rourke had wanted to meet with him.

"Ye seen yer uncle lately?"

"Who, Jimmy?" Ryan all but spat the name, and it still left a foul taste in his mouth. "That traitorous bastard. If I'd run into him, he'd be dead already. Why'd'ya ask?"

"'Cause that was his trade, smuggling cocaine into my territory. And I've still got a price on his head. He killed yer father, laddie."

Ryan frowned and gritted his teeth. "No, your men killed my father."

"Yeah, well, it was yer uncle that set him up, ye and I both know that," Rourke reasoned, putting up his hands to calm the young detective down. "Yer father was a good man, Ryan. I'm just trying to do him a favor and keep an eye on ye."

"Yeah, well, do me a favor and don't," Ryan snorted, swirling the beer in his glass.

Rourke fixed him with a look. "What, ye suddenly too good for the help of Uncle Finn?"

"Look," Ryan backpedaled, hoping to regain control of the situation, and quickly. As friendly as he had been so far, Rourke was known to have quite the temper, and he still had his muscle standing by. "I'm greatful for all you've done for me, Finn, I really am. You gave me a job, watched out for my family when I couldn't. But it's different now. I've grown up. I'm a NYPD detective, for god's sake!"

"All I'm saying is that I don't need you to watch out for me anymore. I definitely owe you one, but I'm not one of your men anymore, Finn."

Rourke nodded, looking down at the table. "Alright, I see how it is. Ye want to prove yerself, fine. But don't think that just because ye don't want it means that the help isn't there. I know for a fact that yer mother likes her monthly checks."

Ryan looked up at the older man, and blinked a few times. "You're sending my mother money?"

"Aye," Finn affirmed. "$300 a month. Consider it yer father's pension."

"No," Ryan said, running a hand down his face. "No. I don't want you talking to my mother. You have guys watching her place?"

Rourke shrugged. "I visit her personally once a month with a check. Why?"

Why? Because Ryan didn't like the thought of his mother entertaining one of the most dangerous criminals in the city, that's why. He stood to leave. "Look, just don't, okay? You ever need a favor, anything I can help with, you call it in, but you leave my mother out of this!"

Evidently, he said something wrong, because Rourke waved a hand and instantly his two bodyguards appeared on either side of Ryan. One of them forced him back down onto the chair, and the other gripped the back of his head and smashed it into the table in front of him. Ryan gasped in pain, spots of light dancing across his vision. He was vaguely aware of Rourke standing and leaning down over the table to get in his face.

"Ye listen closely, ye ungrateful little punk," Finn hissed, spit flying from his mouth. "After all I done for ye, ye off and become a pig! Ye don't want my help, then fine, don't come around here again. But what happens between me and yer mother isn't any of yer business, it's mine. If you'll stay out of my business, I'll stay out of yers. Ye got that?"

Ryan nodded, wincing when the movement sent pain lancing through his skull. Rourke snorted at him and reached for his drink. "Escort him outside."

That, of course, meant that the two meatheads carried him out the backdoor, and dumped him unceremoniously at the side of his car. Ryan lay there for a minute, fighting the pain, and waiting for the blur at the edge of his vision to disappear.

Esposito glanced at his watch for the millionth time that night. Castle had taken Beckett home, the Captain had gone to meet with the Chief, and Lanie was down in the morgue with Dick Coonan's body. Which left only Esposito, sitting at his desk with his sixth cup of coffee, waiting impatiently for his partner to get back.

And he only had one minute left. Esposito's hands lingered over his car keys, eyes on the second hand as it ticked around the face of his watch. Time up. Esposito stood, reaching for his jacket, when he heard a familiar voice coming from the hallway.

"Ma, listen to me. Has Finn Rourke been comin' over to the house?"

Esposito heaved a huge sigh of relief as Kevin Ryan ambled into the bullpen, only looking slightly worse for wear. He had a gash over one eyebrow that was bleeding freely, but his attention was focused almost entirely on the conversation he was having.

" Okay, well, stop inviting him in," Ryan said, collapsing into his desk chair. "Yes, I'm serious. Come on, Ma, I don't care how long you've known him, I don't care what he's done for me, he's dangerous!"

He rolled his eyes at Esposito, who snorted in response. "Yeah, I saw him a few days ago, and I just got back from meeting with him tonight. Yes, Ma, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine. But it would make me feel better if you stopped having him over. Thank you. Yeah, I love you, too."

Ryan hung up the phone, and let out a loud breath, before turning to Esposito. "Hey. You know, that probably won't stop her at all. She's probably baking cookies for the guy."

"Hey, yourself," Esposito frowned at him. "Bro, I was just getting ready to come after you."

Ryan laughed, but it came out sounding forced. "Why? I told you nothing would happen."

"Sure," Esposito returned, scooting closer to him to get a better look at the cut on his forehead. "This most definitely not nothing. You should get that checked out."

"Nah, I think I'm good."

Esposito fixed him with a look that was deadly serious. "Honestly, bro. You should at least get Lanie to check that out."

Ryan scrunched up his face and sighed. "Alright, fine. You're right. It is hurting like a son of a—"

"Ryan."

The Irishman stopped talking, and turned to look his partner in the eye. Esposito was really worried about him. He'd been acting weird since the case started, and if there was anything he could do to help, he wanted to do it. "Look, bro, you know I'd do anything I could to help you, right?"

"Yeah," Ryan smiled sadly.

"So let me in man," Esposito said, spreading his arms open wide. "Tell me what's goin' on."

Ryan looked down, and shook his head. "It's not worth it, bro."

"It's not worth what?"

"Your life. It's not worth risking your life for some stupid mistakes I made when I was a teenager." Ryan stood. "Look, it's getting late and I'm really tired. I'm gonna get Lanie to look at this, and then head out."

By the time Esposito responded, Ryan was already out the door. Watching his partner's retreating back, he felt his stomach clench uneasily. "Sure, bro."

I'm working on the next couple of chapters now, so they should be up shortly! All reviews are appreciated :)