See Part One For Disclaimers

The phones rang shrilly throughout the hall. Just walking past the conference room, Nick called out, "I'll get it!"

"Luna Foundation, Nick Boyle speakin'."

"We got 'im."

The SEAL immediately grew serious, a deadly calm stealing over him as his hand unconsciously tightened on the receiver. It was time. "Where?"

"The old warehouse. From last year."

Nick remembered the place. It had been around the time Phillip had brought home a teenage runaway named Jade who had turned out to be much more than anyone had guessed. Darrell and his gang had been a surprise to Nick too, both in the way they treated the young priest, almost like family, and in the fact that Phillip had known them at all.

"I'll be there."

Hanging up the receiver, Nick grabbed his jacket, passing Rose as he headed out.

"Nick? What's going on?"

"It's nuthin'. Just going out for a while." He gave her a reassuring smile, not wanting anymore on her shoulders. "I'll be back soon."

"Nick?" Turning, the SEAL realized he hadn't fooled her a bit.

"Take care."

 

The warehouse sat promptly on one of the worst sections of the docks, it's boards long since ceasing to keep out the chill, damp air of the San Fransisco Bay. Dark and forboding, it was the perfect place for Darrell and his boys to hole up when times got tough or they needed a place to hide out from the local cops intent on harassing them.

Tonight their hideout was being used for an entirely different purpose.

Tonight there would be a Reckoning.

"You little punks! Untie me!"

The old building echoed with the sound of flesh striking flesh as Izzy, Darrell's second, backhanded the thug snarling at him. "Shut up!"

The gang leader came up, inspecting the man and his bindings thuroughly. Hanging from wrists bound by rope to two steel pillars, he was prepared much the same way Father Callaghan had been, helpless to stop what was coming to him. Adding a strike of his own, the two locked eyes, Darrell's gaze fierce and cold. "That was for Father C."

"You want to fight kid?" Price barked knowingly. "Let me loose and you'll see what I do to whelps like you."

But it was Izzy who only grinned a feral smile, showing teeth. "There's someone coming who has a prior claim, man. But if there's anything left..."

Darrell shook his head. "There won't be." Not after Boyle got through with him; he knew this because he and the SEAL were alike in many ways. Both ruthless when necessary, both willing to do whatever it took to protect their people. This man had hurt a friend; a brother.

This man would be dead by sunrise.

"I see you found him." Came a low drawl from the surrounding darkness. "Nice job."

Stepping out of the shadows like he was a part of them, Nick eyed the defiant man, taking in the bruise on his chin, the one darkening his right cheek.

The gang leader shrugged apologetically. "The boys got a little carried away. They don't like people who torture defenseless priests." The sneer in his voice speaking volumes about what he thought of men like the one danging from his wrists behind him.

Nick's answering grin as the two traded knowing looks was slow and feral. "I can understand that. In fact," he drove a fist into Price's stomach, eliciting a grunt of pain, "I have to say it's a sentiment I completely agree with."

Motioning for his men to follow, Darrell requested, "Leave some for us, if you can. We have a score to settle with this one." One never knew and it couldn't hurt to ask.

"I'll try. But I can't promise anything."

The gleam in both sets of eyes was ugly as a look of understanding passed between them. The younger man shrugged in feigned inconcern, sure in the knowledge that Nick would make him pay. "Hey, if not, don't worry about it. Just make him hurt like he hurt Father C."

The responce was deadly, the grin sending chills down the captive's spine. "Count on it."

The leader nodded, satisfied. "We'll keep guards posted along the perimeter, just in case. If something comes up we'll let you know."

Nick held out his hand, a real smile reaching and warming his green eyes for just a moment as he regarded the boy thoughtfully. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

Darrell clasped the proffered arm firmly. "Take care of Father C, that's all I ask."

Nick watched him as his gang rallied around him, following him out into the night. So young to know so much; to have experienced so much pain. But then, as Nick also knew intimately, life was often a hard teacher.

Time for payback.

 

Turning back to the man, Price, Nick regarded him for a quiet moment, gathering his anger and making it a part of him; preparing himself for what was to come.

"What do you want?"

Flinching at the familiar words, Phillip's words, Nick no longer had to fight to hold onto his rage, feeling it well up in him much the same as it had the night of the rescue. "You have no idea why you're here, do you?"

"None. But if it's money you're after..."

"I don't want money!" he spat furiously. "You're here because you kidnapped and tortured a man nearly to death. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Price sneered. "Not really. There have been so many..."

A fist to the jaw cut off whatever else he had been about to say and Nick confronted him. "Not like this one." Regaining control, the SEAL continued, no longer shouting. "You see this man was a priest. Special. He was my friend, a brother."

The thug opened his eyes, centered on the one word 'was'. He remembered the priest - barely - and, thinking he was no longer a threat to possible police trouble, spoke without thinking. If he had given any thought to his current situation, he would never have taunted the younger man so. "Too bad he died. A shame - I remember him. He begged so nicely...after enough incentive, of course."

The blow that followed that statement was fierce enough to drive the wind out of his lungs, leaving him gasping and retching, dangling in his bindings. The one after that furious enough to knock out a couple teeth.

Leaning in close, Nick ground out softly. "You should never have opened your mouth, you scum. I should go ahead and kill you now. Save the world some trouble. But there's someone else here who wants to have a word with you."

Spitting out blood, Price retorted valiantly, trying to ignore the breath on his cheek as the SEAL backed away. The terror the younger man was instilling in him. "Yeah? Who?"

Instead of responding to that, Nick answered coldly. "By the way...he's not dead. But then, Phillip's a lot stronger than you are."

Before Price could consider that, another man stepped out of the shadows.

The richly accented voice spoke low and almost cordially. "Hello Mr. Price."

"Do I know you?"

"No. We've never met. But you do know my godson."

"Yeah? Who's that?" Tired and in pain, all he wanted was to get it over with. Maybe then he could somehow escape this place, go home and pass out. Whoever these people were, they clearly had something they wanted from him. If they told him what it was he would give it to them!

"The same priest that you say begged so nicely." The backhand caught him as he snorted in derision, snapping his head back and sending a twinge thruought his back. When he glanced back at the other man only then did he bother to take a good look.

Older, possibly in his upper forties, it was hard to say, the gray hair made him look so much older. But there was no denying the fury in his eyes as the man studied him in return. It was then and only then that Price realized he may not be going home.

"Forgive me, I never did answer your question. My name is Derek Rayne. The priest you tortured is Father Phillip Callaghan. Think you can remember that?"

Price gasped in panic at the identity of his attacker, the full meaning of what was happening finally dawning on him. Arkady had rambled on about the powerful Dr. Derek Rayne, the Luna Foundation.

And the Legacy.

"Wha...what do you want?" Fighting the urge to wail, Price missed what Rayne did next. Only the light flashing off of the metal of the brass knuckles as he slid them onto his left hand allowed him any warning as Derek's next strike drew blood, sending pain shooting through the bruise already forming just under his right eye.

"I believe the responce when my godson asked that question was 'they already have what they want'. And so do we." Derek was quick and a sickening cruch was heard as the metal covering Derek's hand cracked ribs. One more blow broke them, Price crying out as the older man grinned ruthlessly, drawing back. "I believe the other question he asked was 'why are you doing this'. The answer to that one is simple, Mr. Price. I protect my family - anyone harming them will answer to me. Just as you are now."

"I did what I was told! I didn't know who he was!"

"Or care, apparently. But then, it shouldn't have mattered. You beat and tortured a priest - a man of God! When he begged you for mercy you laughed. You felt no remorse!" Derek circled him, waiting for an answer. When one never came, the metal decended again.

"Your friend...he said God knew...what was happening. Would...your friend want...this...?" At that shocking comment, Derek paused. "Does he know what you're doing?"

Guilt halted the metal for a moment as Derek weighed the man's words. Phillip would not be pleased if he had known what Derek had wanted for this man. Wasn't that why they made sure he would never know what happened here tonight? And Lissa, safe at home, playing with Cassie - what would she say to the sheer brutality of what her father had done here? Or gentle Rose? Giving everything she had to save lives, not to take them.

"Derek..."

Nick placed a hand on the precept's shoulder, speaking gently. "He's right. Phillip wouldn't want you to do this. I've had my revenge, now you've had yours. Let him go, Derek." As the hand lowered slowly, Nick took the brass knuckles from him. "Let's go home."

Silently, defeated, Derek nodded, turning to Price one last time. Clearly the man was in pain, his eye was swollen, almost shut, there were bruises and cuts from where the weapon had landed and Derek had hit him; both knew that at least one rib had been broken and more cracked. Price looked at him, his focus wavering as the other man demanded, "Tell him...tell Arkady...tell him I'll be waiting for him."

The two men left, Nick lagging a little behind. "Go on. I'll be there in a minute."

As the precept numbly headed for the car and out of earshot, Darrell stepped out of the shadows. Once more locking gazes, he and Nick confronted each other.

"I don't care what you do to him, " Nick confessed, weary to the bone. "I won't tell you what to do. Kill him or let him go, it's up to you. I've had my fill...and Derek's been through enough. For me, vengence is satisfied."

"Father C?"

"He knows." Nick nodded grimly, placing a hand briefly on the boy's shoulder. "Price knows who Phillip is. I don't think he'll forget again."

Clasping the older man's arm, the leader spoke gravely. "You kept your promise. The boys and me - we'll take care of the rest."

Taking in the fierce light shining through the boy's eyes, Nick almost told him not to do it. But every member of this gang, this brotherhood, had faced danger and possible death every day. Making hard choices and being faced with terrible decisions was a way of life growing up on the streets. Who was he to tell Darrell not to do what his rage was telling him? After all, wasn't that what he and Derek had just done?

Nodding slowly, the pain speaking clearly from his eyes, Nick returned the clasp on the leader's arm. A small, sad smile quirked the corners of his lips for one brief moment, understanding clear between the two. "Take care, my friend."

"You too, brother."

 

The SEAL left, driving back to the island, back to a life of privledge and easy times.

Well - maybe not all easy times.

As soon as the car lights faded in the distance, Darrell led his boys back into the warehouse, grinning in feral pleasure at the sudden understanding lighting up the thug's eyes. Noting the way the man squirmed in fear, wincing in pain as his body protested the movement, the boy toyingly tapped the length pipe he held against the palm of his other hand.

Looking the injured man up and down, from head to toe, surveying the handiwork, he tilted his head back thoughtfully. This man Price still had much to answer for.

"You and I have a lot to talk about."

 

 

Epilogue...

Knocking on the door a few days later, Nick poked his head inside as Phillip's voice filtered into the hall, "Come in."

Spotting the priest curled up in the sun streaming in the sitting window of his room, reading a book, Nick asked quietly, "Got a minute? I...need to talk."

"Sher." The book all but forgotten, Phillip eased off the ledge stiffly, beckoning his friend in with a smile. Taking a closer look, Phillip had a shrewd notion to what this was all about and, with a second glance, walked to the chest at the foot of his bed. Opening the heavy lid, the former priest wordlessly withdrew his collar from it's resting place. "Now, " he asked him softly, perching in a chair as Nick sat on the edge of the bed, "what's wrong?"

Instead of fastening the collar in it's rightful place, Phillip had draped it across one knee, the material a sharp but comforting contrast against the denim of his jeans. Nick never knew he had kept it.

"It's about..." Suddenly Nick couldn't tell him; couldn't bear to face the accusation he would find in Phillip's eyes.

"It's about what happened, isn't it?" Phillip guessed. "About Arkady?"

Unable to look up from where his hands rested in his lap, Nick begged, "Phillip...I..."

But in the end, he didn't have to tell him, Phillip already knew. "I know, Nick." He intoned gravely and instead of hearing the condemnation in the soft lilt as he half feared he would, Nick felt the gentle touch of hands on his. "I know what happened tha' night you and Derek left..."

"That's it then, isn't it?" Nick rose to leave. No need to ask how, Phillip wouldn't tell him.

Phiilp's voice stopped him at the door. "Nick?"

"Yah?" Now the axe would fall and he would pay for what he had done, condemning the man who had almost killed his brother, condemning that man to death.

But there were depths to his gentle friend that the SEAL never knew existed; depths that shamed the priest deeply even as he embraced them. Drawing in a calming breath, the soft reply was totally unexpected.

And completely liberating.

"Thank you."

the end

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