******AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, Ladies and Gents, here is my next BDS installment. This story takes me right to about the middle of the first movie. Honestly it's a little too touchy feely for me, but my OFC was screaming for it to get written. There is slight smut towards the end, which I hope will make the rest of the fic readable. All that said, it's the honest build-up of relationships from strictly sex to something more, and I needed to write it. If anyone is interested I know where I want to go with this. I see about three more fics before I finish my whole saga, which I will gladly post if anyone is still reading. So all of that out of the way, everyone go on and read and enjoy! ******

I was still at work the morning after St. Patrick's when one of my coworkers mentioned in passing that two guys had been found dead in an alley down the street from that Irish pub I hung out in, and my blood ran cold. I shot into the breakroom and joined the crowd gathered around the TV hoping and dreading that they would let us catch a glimpse of the bodies. I knew every inch of the boys, just give me a glimmer, a hand hanging out from under a sheet. Something. Anything.

Warmth flooded back into me when a thin well-dressed official looking guy flashed on the screen explaining that the victims were connected to the Russian mob.

I sighed deeply, and sank into the closest chair, my head in my hands, on the verge of tears. Slowly everyone drifted away from the set and back to work. Feeling returned to my legs and I made my way to a phone. I called the boy's hijacked cordless and a strange voice answered. I hung up immediately.

Next I tried Rocco, but got no answer. No surprise. Poppa Joe didn't sleep which meant the same for his employees, Rocco was probably out running around.

I got an answer at McGinty's, but it was the lunchtime guy and he was useless. He didn't know if the boys had even been there the night before, so he didn't know when they left or if they left alone. All he knew was that the place was a mess when he got in this morning. Blood and glass everywhere and it smelled like there had been a fire. I smirked to myself. Yeah the boys had been there, I was sure of it.

"What about Doc?" I asked "Is he around? I could talk to him?"

"No," he replied, "Took off this morning. Came by, dropped off a bag, took off again."

I thanked him anyway, it wasn't his fault he was useless.

I looked up as the clock, three more hours until I got off. I'd never make it that long not knowing whether or not they were involved, were they ok, or God forbid lying dead in a different alley that didn't get any press coverage. The thought clenched my stomach into knots so I pushed it away. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to think rationally. My supervisor walked in just then, "Shouldn't you be wor- hey are you okay?" he asked. "You look a little pale, do you need to sit down?"

Perfect opportunity, I thought to myself, nearly smiling, "No," I replied, my voice thick, "I think I'm gonna…Oh hell," I said covering my mouth and darting for the bathroom off the breakroom kicking the door closed behind me. I proceeded to make the most horrid retching sounds I could muster, followed by the splash of sink water into the toilet. I stood quietly for a second, mumbling 'Oh God,' in a sad pathetic voice. I walked over to the wall soap dispenser dribbling a little onto one finger and rubbing it in my eye, stinging, bringing tears. I pinched my cheeks until they colored, and I practiced my sick face in the mirror as he pounded on the door behind me.

I flushed nothing down the toilet, shuffled to the door and opened it, looking as horrible as I could. A little too effective, I think, he stumbled back from me as I shuffled forward. "Oh, God," he said, trying to casually cover his mouth and nose with his hand.

"I don't feel so hot, Keith," I moaned. "I think I might…"

"Go home," he cut me off, abruptly, then recovered his supervisory cool. "Um, I mean, you look like you might be coming down with something. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off."

"Are you sure?" I asked stepping closer to him, now just enjoying his anxiety. "I mean, I don't want to leave you short-handed," I said, advancing on him, backing him into a corner.

"No, no," he insisted, almost climbing up on the counter to keep me from closing the distance. "No, really, you should take off. We'll be fine."

"Well, if you're sure," I said, my voice resigned.

"Absolutely," he said warding me off like I was the walking dead. "Just go."

"Ok, then," I sighed, shuffling my way to my locker and to the time clock and out the door. Free to find out what the hell was going on.