The early morning sun cast long shadows down the sidewalks of 8^th street as Fiona picked her way toward Goliath National Bank. Her mary jane pumps clicked along the cracked concrete, giving the lithe silhouettes a saucy staccato beat to jerk and jive to as the city slowly awakened around her. This was one of the rare moments that Fiona actually felt a little fond of Philly. There was something enchanting about this time of day when the sleepy streets stirred to life; as if the people were somehow more real, more honest, if only for a brief few early hours.

The air was still quiet as people slowly began flipping signs, all preparing for another of business in the revived Bella Vista. A wave of shuttering incandescence washed down the street as store lights flickered on; an orchestra of chimes bouncing down the lane as doors opened for business… some for the first time in a long time. Fiona smiled wide as she passed the new bakery just opening; the smell of freshly baked bread and warm cinnamon buns wafting out into the street. Freelance package boys weaved through the streets… some on bikes, others with heavy shoulder bags, all emblazoned with the bold logo of Goliath Parcel Service.

Hugging a little leather cache under her arm, Fiona hummed a jaunty Irish tune as she veritably skipped toward the bank… truly happy and grateful to be a part of the thing that made all this possible. The rising sun warmed her cheeks to a rosy hue and a brought a smile to her chapped lips as it glittered off the windows and roofs of the sleepy little city. She’d spent her whole life as a wanderer… roving from place to place, scraping by on what she could steal. She’d convinced herself that she preferred it that way… free and untethered. But always being a stranger… to everything and everyone you encounter… gets old. And it gets lonely. All her life, Fiona told herself that it was a worthy sacrifice, that she’d rather be lonely than tied down and bitter, numbed into nothingness by the same old tired faces and places, schedules and routines. But, as she hummed her way down the twisting streets of Philadelphia, at home in the city for the first time in… well, ever… she felt a wave of satisfaction well up from the pit of her stomach and wondered at how very wrong she’d been.  

There was something comforting about this routine; the familiarity, the congeniality. She knew people and for once, people knew her. In fact, she even found herself looking forward to deposit day. It was something she’d learned to like. And Aidan was always happy to let her do it. It was, after all, one less thing he had to do.  It was funny. She actually liked doing things for him… and in turn for Goliath at large. Which made her the perfect kind of package girl, in a sense. And that, oddly, gave her a certain kind of satisfaction, too.

There was something kind of nice about doing a good job, without any hiccups. And there was nothing, she thought, that could spoil the perfection of this pristine moment. That is until a scream of searing pain tore her attention away from the beautiful morning setting and sent her careening by the nape of her neck toward the cold brick wall of an abandoned alleyway around the corner…

Rough brick ground into the soft flesh of Fiona's cheek as strong, heavy fingers corkscrewed painfully into her dense curls. "OI! WHAT THA FO..." Fiona's cries of protest were cut short; the world behind her lids her exploding into a hot flash of light and pain as her face collided hard with the cold stone, pushed from behind. Her teeth grated against the bricks, slicing open a gash in her tender lips as the cold weight of a barrel pressed into the soft indention at the base of her skull. 

Immediately, the wheels in Fiona's head began spinning out of control as she frantically searched for a way out. The slivers of the alley visible from the corners of her eyes gave no egress. And even her slightest movement drew the gun barrel even deeper into the delicate dimple of her skull. The man behind her laughed gruffly; a husky chuckle that filled her senses with gravel, hooch, and stale cigarette smoke. "That's right, little Filly," the man spat with dark venom, "Fight me so I can break you." 

Hearing the pet name only Aidan used, Fiona froze... this was about more than the money she was carrying. This was a message. On some level, Fiona recognized a certain relief. Afterall, she was more valuable alive... she hoped. Her breath hitched softly as the full weight of the situation settled on her. "That's right," the man's vile breath enveloped her as he leaned into her dark curls, nuzzling her neck with a savoring inhale.  "When I'm done with you that filthy Mick'll never look at you the same again," he hissed, one hand sliding up her thigh beneath her skirt.

Something about his touch spurred Fiona to action. Thrashing and screaming, she planted her feet against the bricks and pushed back hard. For a brief, slow-motion moment it was enough to throw the brute off balance. Time seemed to stretch and fold over on itself like warm taffy as she hung there for what seemed like an eternity, suspended just between freedom and tragedy as her weight snagged and teetered at the tipping point. Suddenly, as if some cosmic rubber band had been stretched and released, the world around her flashed by at warp speed. Thick, heavy arms snapped around her, the world rushing passed as she slammed back into the cold brick. Her head ricocheted off the building, the world blossoming into a brilliant swirl of technicolor agony as her body went limp. The corners of her vision blurred as tunnels of grey closed in around her. With a soft whimper, Fi's head lolled to one side, eliciting a sinister chuckle from her captor. Through the darkening haze, his wretched grin danced before her crossing eyes. And she just barely saw him raise his arm before a final sickening 'thwack' brought the darkness fully to bear as the world faded from view...

Wet. Cold and wet. These were the first sensations that filtered into Fiona's pained consciousness. The ground beneath her was cold and bare. And as her eye fluttered open, the world around her was dark as pitch. A sudden wave of panic washed over her, positive that she'd been taken somewhere underground. Bolting upright, she screamed in agony as a white-hot pain tore through her abdomen sending her reeling backward. Laying back against the cold stone ground, Fiona blinked up as the ceiling swam amove her, pinpricks of light exploding into view. She thought for sure she would pass out again. But as her vision cleared, a light breeze tickled the hem of her dress, drawing her focus back to a slowly settling reality. She wasn't seeing stars because of her pain. She was seeing stars. 

With a pained groan, she rolled her head to either side, recognizing the same small alleyway from earlier. It was late now, and dark; the city illuminated against a curtain of black. The chilly night air had settled heavily over, causing her raw, broken skin to sting. Her lips were chapped, and tasted of blood; her left eye nearly swollen shut. Her head was pounding, and the ache in her abdomen hadn't subsided. Bracing for the screaming pain, Fiona forced herself to roll onto her side before trying to sit up again. 

Cool wind stirred her skirt again, touching her in places that made her stomach lurch and spasm. Rocking onto her knees, Fiona wretched and wailed, vomiting violently. Her body felt like hot sandpaper, inside and out. Everything ached. There was blood smeared across the front of her dress. But in the darkness, she couldn't tell from where. Her clothes reeked of piss. Her hosiery was torn, her blouse missing buttons, and at least one very important article was - conspicuously - missing entirely. 

Another wave of disgusted nausea crashed over her, and Fiona sobbed through the convulsions that rocked her body. Gathering herself together through sniveling tears, Fiona stood shakily steadying herself against the nearby dumpster and took stock of her situation. The money, surprisingly, was scattered around the alley. It fluttered lightly on the midnight breeze, floated in the wretched alley puddles, and clung to her damp flesh in several places. A shuttering breath escaped her as she hobbled toward the dimly lit end of the alley, gathering up what cash she could along the way. 

The idea of going home churned her stomach. But what else was there to do? Going to the hospital would solve nothing. There would only be a battery of tests, judging eyes, and no real answers... like always. No one stood up for women in this thing. No one except for family. And the family was ALL that was on her mind as she forced her way back down the street through stinging tears and searing pain. She was targeted on purpose... as part of Goliath. Aidan would have to know. He'd been the real target. And whatever these people were planning, whatever bone they had to pick, needed to be squashed post haste. 

Pushing the shame and pain out of her mind, Fiona forced herself to focus on the business side of things. It was all that drove her onward, knowing what she'd have to face once she made it back to GCB...

The lights were on at Goliath Championship Boxing, but no movement could be seen inside. As Fiona pushed her way through the door on the corner of South and 8th, the door chime echoed into haunting emptiness. A kind of stillness that reverberated into Fiona's very core as she realized... no one was waiting for her. No one was here to find her. She was alone. Again. 

Pushing through another wave of overwhelming nausea, Fiona stumbled her way into Aidan's open office. That much was, at least, unusual and welcoming in a way. And as she settled into a chair near his desk, she noticed it was uncharacteristically clear of paperwork and clutter. The only thing, front and center, was a singular note in Aidan_Oconnor 's  handwriting: 

Filly, 

If you get this, stay the fuck here. I'll be back. You were gone too long. I went looking. Stay here. Stay safe. 

A.R.C. 

With a wretching chuckle, Fiona crumpled into the chair, staring across the office at the door to her flat. She wanted nothing more than to shower... to wash away the stench of this revolting experience. But there was no way she'd make it up the stairs alone in her current state. Breathing heavily, she slumped back, peeling the stinking fabric of her skirt away from her aching flesh. The half-dried blood made a sickening squelch as it peeled away from her torn and oozing skin. The pain made Fiona spasm and wretch, but she choked down the bile that rose in her throat; lifting her skirt just enough to reveal the letters N-I-N-A carved jaggedly into her abdomen. 

"No Irish Need Apply,"  Fiona's twisted, empty chuckle echoed hollowly through the deserted office. "Sick fockin' FREAK!" Fiona screeched, the force of it causing her stomach to spasm in pain as she turned and vomited into the trashcan by the door, splashing Aidan's shoes just as he rushed through the door...

"She took it and ran, Aidan! Why wouldn't she? It's what her kind do..."

"I have to agree, boss. I mean, she got in good with ya, then took your money. That's the only explanation."

"I don't know guys, maybe there's somethin' we're missin', ya know? I think Fiona's kinda great..."

Aidan sat at his desk, rubbing his temples as three of his personal men talked about what they thought was going on. There had been no word from the bank about a deposit, and they normally called just to verify it had made it. Fiona hadn't returned, and that certainly wasn't normal either. Especially considering that she lived above the shop. The three continued to bicker and talk badly, except for Timothy... He apparently crushed on Fiona a little bit, and certainly trusted her, but would never make any advances. He respected Aidan and feared for his life otherwise.

Having had enough of their back and forth accusations, Aidan slammed his hands down on the desk between all of them and stood. All three men jumped and backed up a bit, turning to face their boss... Silence filled the room now, aside from Aidan's sigh and a low, gravely voice that growled out under his breath.

"I swear ta fockin' God if yeh t'ree don'ae shut teh fock up an' quit blamin' me Filly fer wha's goin' on... I'll fockin' kill yeh wit' me own 'ands. Jack, go teh fock upstairs... I promise yeh Fi's shite is still t'ere. She ain' left us... Why would she? She knows t'ere be weeks we take more... She'd wait fer one a t'ose deposits. She's fockin' smart. Why take teh smallest deposit ta date?"

He turned and looked at Butch afterward. "An' you! Yer nae even fockin' allowed ta open yer mout', less yeh remember I caught yeh stealin' an' t'at's why yeh work fer me now? Workin' off wha' yeh took!" His eyes bore through the scrappy looking man who seemed to shrink away.

"An' YOU!" He turned to Timothy with a glare on his face. Timothy took a small step back, but Aidan's glare faded and he nodded to Timothy. "T'anks fer 'avin' Fiona's back... She'd appreciate it... An' I do too."

Aidan stepped out from behind the desk and moved around it, resting his butt on the desktop as he leaned back slightly. He tugged his smokes and his zippo out of his pocket and handed a cigarette to each man around him before taking one himself. He lit his first, then passed the zippo around. After a long drag, and slow exhale, he began talking...

"So 'eres wha' we're gonna do, lads. We're all gonna go an' find Filly. An' we're gonna bring 'er back 'ere an' figure out wha' teh fock happened. So, yeh t'ree go an' start lookin'. If I find out yeh didn', yer gonna meet me in teh ring, hi?" He eyed them all before they nodded in understanding.

"Good, now crack on!" The three men turned and headed out of the gym quickly, ready to search for Fiona and bring her back safely... Aidan, however, turned back to his desk and pinned a note really quick...

After he pinned the note, he left it in the middle of the desk for her. With on last puff on his cigarette, he snubbed it out in the ashtray nearby and grabbed his jacket to head out on the town and find his missing love. He shut the office door and debated on killing the lights at the front door. He opted to leave them on and simply lock the gym up; Fiona had a key if she got back so she could still get in. And if all else failed? He would simply go straight upstairs and check there when he returned.

Noticing his office door open as he walked up to the gym, he quickly unlocked the doors and rushed in, weaving through the punching bags and boxing gear, and practically slid into the office.

"FIO...na...Oh t'at's gross... Fi-" He looked up at her finally and his voice caught in his throat. She looked terrible, black and blue, bloody, and she smelled pretty rough too. Or maybe that was the fresh vomit in his trash can, on his shoes, and on his carpet.

"Holy... Wha' teh fock? Fi... Are yeh... I'll fockin'... Wha' in teh... FOCK! Wha' happened?" He knelt by her and, refraining from touching her because he didn't want to scare her or hurt her, he tried to comfort her...

"Are yeh? Is there anything I can do fer yeh? I'm... I'm sorry! Wha' teh fock happened?" It seemed like all he could do was repeat himself and hover over her, his hands out like they were trying to protect her from even the light hitting her... But he still wouldn't touch her. He almost looked like he could cry, but if Fiona knew him well enough it was simply him trying to control himself from blowing the fuck up... The emotions had to come out somehow, but something told him she couldn't take him throwing fists and inanimate objects around at this exact moment. So no, instead, he teared up a little bit and forced himself to swallow the anger and rage that boiled inside. That would be saved for whoever had done this to his best friend, and the love of his life.

Scanning over her, he noticed she clutched on to the money bag still, bills sticking out of it. It obviously wasn't money the attacker was after. Continuing to scan, he noticed the N.I.N.A. carved into her stomach. He bit his lip, his nostrils flaring as he scooted closer. His breathing was heavy, but still he refused to snap. It wouldn't help right now... Not at all.

Slowly, carefully, he reached his hand out and placed it on Fiona's hand, her knuckles white from clenching the money bag. He hoped she wouldn't jerk away, but he was nearly certain this was a direct attack on either himself, or the Goliath family. One way or another, someone was trying to move in... They would pay dearly. Ten fold, easily. Aidan would make sure of it.

Uncharacteristically, Fiona flinched away as he screamed the curse. She had no answers for him yet. Was she ok? No. Of course not. Was there anything to be done? No. Not really. She was stuck in a literal hell, and there was nothing he could do to pull her out. Which was, in turn, his own kind of Hell... and exactly what "they" (whoever they were) wanted. "

I'm sorry."  It seemed like all she could say for an eternity, "I'm sorry. Aidan, I'm sorry."  At first, she shied away from his touch, her shoulders crumpling in on herself as she relinquished her white-knuckle grip on the money. Aidan laid what was left of the soaked and bloodied money next to the chair... away from the trashcan... and tenderly wrapped his arms around her suddenly fragile frame. White hot shame stung and burned her cheeks as she sobbed; his chest shaking even more than hers as she continued to weep. She didn't even know what she was apologizing for. 

"I fought..." she assured him in through a wracking sob, her voice lilting up like a child needing their parent to know they'd done good. Her breaths came in short hiccups, "An' I bro...ought... b...back all th... all tha  m... money I could." 

Sliding away from him, she frantically straightened the front of her dress, hiding her marred body away from his gaze as a strangled, dry laugh choked itself sardonically from her throat, "On tha brigh' side... yeh did say yeh wanted... to see my... girly biiiits." the last few words squealed out as she devolved into another wailing fit of sniveling and dry heaving; clutching her torn abdomen as fresh blood slowly soaked her lap. 

Tenderly, Aidan pulled her arms away from her body, taking careful and modest stock of her injuries. Aside from the gashes that now spanned the width of her hips, her wrists were bruised. Her eye swollen and brow busted. Her lips were split in long horizontal gashes. Beneath her matted hair, he could see her scalp was bleeding in several places. One pupil was dilated far wider than the other... she probably had a concussion. And a serious one at that. The wheels in Aidan's head were visibly turning behind his tear-and-rage filled eyes as he examined her. Her knees were deeply scraped, and her thighs conspicuously bruised. Her clothes reeked, at least what was left of them. Her hose were torn and her..........

Suddenly it all seemed to click into place. And as the flash of enraged realization flashed across Aidan's face, Fiona shrank even further into her seat, turning her face away from him as a hyperventilating and strangled moan eeked out.  "Please... Don't look at me like that," she whispered softly refusing to look at him even as he tenderly took her scraped and bruised hand, "He said you'd never look at me the same again. So, please... just... just don't look at me." 

Fiona sniffled, forcing herself slowly up from the chair with a pained moan, "I'll... figure out how to get upstairs for the night. I... I need a shower. I need a shower..." she repeated the words desperately, "And I'll go to the doctor tomorrow if the bleeding doesn't stop. I just... I need a shower."  Tears threatened to overflow again as she struggled along the wall of the office toward the door. 

None of this was a good idea. Whoever did this must have been shadowing her for weeks now. They'd surely know where she lives. She needed protection. There was no way she'd make it upstairs alone. And she needed a doctor now. But more than anything, she needed help. She needed someone to be an anchor in the midst of the turmoil threatening to shatter her fragile new life. 

Aidan's face quickly relaxed from the anger that had spread across it... She couldn't handle that right now, he didn't need to be that for her. No, what Fiona needed was for him to take care of her, help her; to give her direction to save her from her own, lost, self.

"No..." Not nae, but no... It wasn't often that Aidan forced his tongue to be more formal.

"I don'ae care about teh money. I care about you... Yeh won't go upstairs, Fi. Yer gonna go straight ta tha hospit'l. I'll take yeh meself." He stood and moved to the door that would lead up to her place. "I don' want yeh alone. An' I caertainly don' want yeh goin' upstairs befer me lads clear it out." Aidan looked at her, and if she looked back she would see only worry and sorrow in his eyes.

"C'mon lass... Le's go. Me car is in teh garage." He held his arms out and approached her. "I'll carry yeh if yeh want." His lips curled into a smile, trying to help her see that he didn't look at her any differently. In truth, he didn't, but he knew his facial features would make her believe he did. He wasn't angry at her, he was angry at the situation, himself, all the other variables. He should have never had her delivering the money alone. Even if it wasn't about the money, that's where they caught her and hurt his Filly.

She slunk away from him, the tears that welled in her eyes began their decent down her cheeks; a trickling stream at first, transforming into a cascading waterfall as she wailed. Aidan rushed to her side and scooped her up, she fought his touch but he held her tight in a cradling hug.

"Fiona... Me Filly... It's gonna be okay. Whoe'er did t'is ta yeh, t'ey will pay... I swar it on me own life. I'll find t'em... An' I'll make t'em beg fer deat' before I feed t'em ta tha wolves... An' if t'ey live through t'at, I'll bury t'em alive." Tears actually began to fill in his eyes. The anger and rage had to manifest itself somehow, and unrelenting sorrow was how his body chose that release. With a heavy sniffle, he lifted Fiona from her seat and carried her out of the office and to his car. She could hit him, scratch him, yell at him, and scream, but she was going to the hospital now... Even if it nearly killed him to get her there.

Fiona didn't fight, or scream. She was too tired, too weak, and in too much pain for any of that. Leaning into the hollow of his chest she simply surrendered and melted into his arms like dead weight. Closing her eyes she breathed softly into the crushing numbing wave that loomed over her. She was silent as he slipped her into the car. Removing his jacket, he pressed it - as carefully as he could - against her bleeding stomach, positioning her indifferent arms in a feeble attempt to coax her into applying pressure. Sliding onto long bench seat, Aidan tucked her gently to his side, wrapping his strong arms around her to help staunch the bleeding. As the car bumped and jostled along at breakneck speed, Fiona was silent. Even as they passed the alleyway, barely a shuttering sigh passed her lips. But it was enough to make Aidan tense and pull her closer... pressing his chin against the top of her head. 

Grim lines of fear and concern etched deeply into his face as glanced down into her emptying eyes. She was so cold, but trying to rub or warm her would only cause more pain... and possibly do more damage. As she stared out the window, it was as if the very essence of her personality had been poured out... like all her fire had been doused from the inside. She was empty and vacant... which is probably exactly what she NEEDED to be right now. 

As they rounded the corner of the block, she glanced back down the street, and the faintest blink of realization flickered weakly behind her eyes. "Please don' leave me. Okay? ... when we get t'ere. Don' let teh doctor's make you leave me." Her voice was hollow, but it echoed with a ring of cavernous fear. All her tears were used up... for the time. All her emotion deadened and stifled by blood loss and shock. But something still slithered like ice and frost at the edges of her words, empty though they may be on the surface. 

Aidan blinked down at her, pulling her closer as much as he could without hurting her. His lips parted, unspoken emotions choking off his reply as he struggled for words to comfort her. She simply shook her head. He didn't need to say anything... but he needed to know. That same emptiness rang in her voice as she whispered,  "He knew Aidan...He knows." Setting her jaw, she turned her face away from him coldly. "Figh' me. He told me..." she swallowed hard with an audible gulp before forcing herself to continue, quoting the man's words, "Figh' me, lit'le Filly. Figh' me so I can break yeh. An' tha' filthy Mick'll never look atcha tha same again."

Still staring vacantly out the window, Fiona gave a few minutes for the weight of it to settle in. The man had used Aidan's pet name. He'd made it personal... beyond personal. Leaning a clammy cheek over onto his shoulder, she glanced up at him with a tinge of worry as they screeched to a halt beneath the emergency room awning, "He knew." 

Aidan's jaw set with a quivering frigidity that told her it was everything he could do not to rage at everyone and everything. As nurses rushed out to meet them, Aidan's hand locked like a vice around Fiona's bruised wrist... lingering like a shadow by her side throughout the night. Even when the doctors wheeled her in for surgery, Aidan was there, hulking and imposing, standing guard just outside the door. When the nurses so tenderly administered "the exam", Aidan was there, just on the other side of the gossamer privacy curtain. And when they pushed morphine into her IV to finally bring on the fog of dreamless sleep, Aidan was there, his wide frame crammed into a tiny waiting room chair next to the bed... one hand in hers, the other lovingly caressing her battered, tear stained cheeks and brushing the matted hair from her face. 

They'd go home soon... and have a world of hurt and bitter work to sort through. But for tonight, she rested soundly as the wheels spun silently behind his watchful eyes. Was this for him, or Goliath, or both? What more was to come? How could he keep her safe and still do his job? Where would she stay? They weren't exactly the "home-together" kind of couple. In fact, she'd insisted on NOT living together, even though they'd been more or less together for months now. She NEEDED her independence. As much as she needed food and water and shelter... as much as she needed AIR. Freedom was in her blood. It was part of her. And he knew without that she would wither like a flower in winter. But after tonight... after this... could he really justify her staying in her flat? What risk would that pose to her? To the family? To their business? Long into the night Aidan fumed and plotted and mused. Until the first rays of glimmering morning light filtered through the hospital windows. 

The rooms around them stirred to life, patients waking and people changing shifts. A nurse came by with coffee and a tray for breakfast. The scent of fresh, warm cinnamon buns filling the room, tickling Fiona's consciousness like a long forgotten dream. The misty morning light bathed her cheeks with a familiar warmth... memories of her morning stroll almost bringing a smile to the corners of her lips until the world came crashing down around her as her eyes fluttered open. Stark, dingy ceiling tiles and incandescent lights replaced visions of the city's glimmering skyline; a dull, aching throb reminding her that "no Irish need apply" in this NEW  Philadelphia. At first, she flailed, a hard hand squeezing down around her tender wrist. For a brief moment, she panicked, wild-eyed and bucking like an unbroken steed... nostrils flared and mane tossing against the strain of control... Until her eyes came to rest on Aidan's stern, worried face. And everything else melted into oblivion. 

He'd stayed. That's what she fixated on. Everything else could wait until they got home. Reality could take its sweet time setting in. Just for the moment, that's what mattered most. What she MADE matter most, as she hugged him close. He stayed.