Disclaimer: I don't own the "Boondock Saints", or any of its characters. There is no copyright infringement intended!

I do own the story itself and the characters of Ryn and Ayden McAllister, as well as other non-boondock saints characters.

It is based on the 1999 movie and my own imagination! Story is set in 2003, 5 years after the movie. The McManus twins are now apprx. 32 yrs of age, as they were 27 in the movie five years prior. Ryn is 23. Ayden is 26. I do not intend to rip off any other writer, therefore if this premise has been done before, I'm sorry, this is unintentional!

WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, ETC., SO READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.

All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please!

Sainthood

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Ryn stared out of the cold, frost-covered window pane that overlooked the busy streets of South Boston.

"Well", she thought to herself, "I'm finally here in South Boston; the closest thing to my Irish roots as I'm gonna get, short of going to Ireland itself."

Sighing loudly, she turned slowly around to look at the small apartment she had now claimed as her "own", so to speak.

To call it drab would be an understatement. The walls were a dull tan color, that looked as if fifty years and a half of the filth ago they had been a pale cream. It was a single room, though Ryn described it as a loft apartment when talking to her family back home; she thought it sounded better to say that than calling it as it really was. Now looking at it though, Ryn couldn't understand why for the life of her had she agreed to stay in this part of Boston.

There was a small tiled area in one corner of the room with a drain in the middle of it and a leaky faucet spouting out of the side of the building. Beside this was a toilet and a tiny sink with bad rust stains and on which the hot water didn't work. This makeshift bathroom was surrounded by a black screen that served as a some sort of a means at privacy. The north wall wasn't really a wall at all, not in the sense of solidity, but rather it was completely covered it windows that looked down into the busy street and alley below. It was on this wall that a row of dark cabinets with stained white Formica countertops, an old gas stove, and refrigerator stood. In addition to this was a blue laminate-topped card table with four mix-matched chairs that served as the dining room table, as well as a separation of the "kitchen" from the "living room/bedroom". To complete the room was a worn blue plaid sofabed, a low coffee table, a small set of drawers for storage, and an old television set that was placed on a rickety wicker table.

With a soft chuckle to herself and a shake of her tousled dark curls, she frowned at her own question. She knew exactly why she had agreed to stay in "ghetto-ville"; she needed this job, and she couldn't afford to let her cover as a P.I. get blown to shit on the technicality of her staying somewhere else instead.

No, this place would just have to do until the job was done. Hell, with some pictures on the wall, maybe a new throw rug, and some candles the place might even look halfway hospitable. Well, one could always hope right?!

Looking down at the silver and red Fossil watch that her brother had gotten her two years ago for Christmas, Ryn noticed the hands said it was only 3:30.

Damn. She had to meet her contact person at a quarter after five. What the fuck was she supposed to do until then. She could use a drink that was for sure. Hadn't she seen a little Irish pub not a block away from the apartment? She could swing in there, get a drink, settle her nerves before her meeting, and perhaps even get to meet some of the locals of the area, and all before 5:15.

Glancing up at herself in the cracked mirror that hung against the wall with the shower on it, Ryn let out a loud sigh. Obviously moving in and dusting the odd piece of furniture here and there could take its toll on a girl's looks. She looked awful, that much she knew from the pathetic excuse for a mirror that winked her image back at her from its banged up exterior. Well, she had time for a quick shower, and hell she might even get to put on some makeup for a change.

It was 4:13 on the dot, when Ryn stepped out of her building and into the cold Boston air. Her hair was still slightly damp and curling wildly about her face, the curls' dampness only causing her to shiver more in the cold. Pulling her bright blue pea coat tighter about her curvy frame, Ryn braced herself against the biting cold that nipped at her face as she tugged on a gray toboggan and tucked her hair inside. Well, hadn't she always wished for colder winters as a child growing up in South Carolina, and then later on as an adult in Savannah. It seemed now she had a cold enough winter to satisfy her wish.

She could see the bar ahead of her, and she for once was extremely glad to see the dim glow of an Irish pub, even more so than usual that is. Running to reach her destination, Ryn pushed the heavy wood and glass door open and stepped into the welcoming haze of cigarette smoke and bad lighting. "Ahh", she thought, "now this is more like it. Not like those sorry excuses for an Irish bar back home".

Taking off her coat slowly Ryn, was about to make her way to the bar, when a cold shot of air ruffled her shirt and crept through the warmth of her blue jeans. Someone had come in the bar, and in a haste too. Before she could even step out of the way though, she felt herself falling to the floor, along with a heavy, black clad figure.

"What the fuck man? Don't ye fucking know that ye're not supposed to stand in a doorway like that?"

Her face pushed hard to the floor as the body struggled to get from off her back, Ryn looked back over her shoulder as she felt the anger well up inside her.

"First off, I'm not a fucking man. And second off, don't you fucking know that you shouldn't come barging in a door like a bat out of hell, on the slight chance that somebody might be standing near it…jackass."

The man stopped in his struggles as he lay motionless on her, before scrambling hastily to his feet and extending his hand to help her up.

"Christ, ma'am. I'm fucking sorry. I'm Murphy, by the way".

The voice sounded genuinely sorry, but Ryn was a natural hothead. 'Why the hell does this bastard think I want to know his damn name for', she silently fumed. As she felt herself being pulled up though and actually getting a chance to look at the 'bastard', she saw that getting to know him in any way, shape, or form might not be such a bad thing.

"Rr..Ryn", she stuttered out, her hand still firmly clasped in his. Looking down, she noticed a tattoo on his hand that followed his index finger. Aequitas. Ryn just stared at the hand.

"I got that years ago", he said in response to her stare. "It means…"

Ryn cut him to the quick, "Justice", she said, looking up at him sheepishly for interrupting.

Giving her a lopsided grin and a quick nod, Murphy pulled her along towards the partially empty bar.

"Hey McGinty, ye have a new customer here, and from the way she tripped up over her own name, she might have the same problem as ye do."

"Fuck…Ass. Mm--Murphy ye bastard. Si-siitt dow-wwnn, and leave the pp..poor lass alone."

Murphy gave a chuckle, " Yeah, yeah; and don't ye cross the road if ye cant stay out of the kitchen!"

A odd look crossed Ryn's features, " I think that you mean…", she began to say before she was interrupted by a husky Irish voice.

"And always remember that glass houses sink ships."

By this point, Ryn was beginning to definitely feel like an outsider on an inside joke.

Turning partially around on the barstool she now occupied, Ryn could see the outline of a long, lean man dressed in dark getup, almost identical to the Irish bastard beside her, making his way towards the bar.

"Ay, there ye are", Murphy said to the man, as he lowered the glass of Guinness he had just been given from his lips. "Where the fuck have ye been? Da has been callin' all day for ye. Said some shyte about having to talk to us 'bout home or something."

"I had some business to take care of. Christ, can't a man have a life around here without you and Da worryin' so. I swear Murphy, the way ye worry like a girl so much, I wonder if maybe Ma should have named ye Mary instead."

The chilled glass of beer was set slowly down on the counter, before its owner hurled himself from off the barstool and onto the man.

Murphy's legs shot out as they curled around the man's longer ones. Turning quickly to the left, Murphy brought the man's legs out from under him, causing him to fall hard to the cold, wooden bar floor. Taking the advantage of higher ground, Murphy jumped on top of the man, as he playfully slapped the man's head.

"This time ye gotta say two things", Murphy said triumphantly, a crooked, boyish grin on his face, "One, ye're sorry for that whole Mary shyte. And two, that I'm the older twin."

The man's tan face was flushed with amusement.

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry."

Murphy looked down at the pinned man, one dark eyebrow arched high over his blue eyes. "And…", he said expectantly.

The man quickly lifted his upper body off from the floor, as his legs swung over Murphy's head and crossed together, pushing Murphy's chest flat to the floor in turn. Now, it was the blond man who had the upper hand. He was obviously, Ryn thought silently, Murphy's brother. His twin brother at that.

"Now, now…looks like ye'll be the one saying that second bit, …Mary."

Murphy looked up at Ryn with an infectious grin, "How 'bout some fuckin' help here Ryn".

The blonde man looked up quickly, "Ryn, now is it?" Turning back to his brother, he grinned. "And who might Ryn be Murph, hmmm?"

"Why the fuck don't ye ask her yerself, Conn", was the reply he got.

Connor got up slowly off of his brother, pulling him up along too. "Ye're lucky this time, yer arse would still be down there on the floor, telling me how I'm the older twin, if I weren't so damned curious about her."

"Yeah right, just go sit the fuck down why don't ye. And stop talkin' 'bout the lass as if she weren't here."

Ryn just gawked at the two. My lord they were cute, she thought. And, they were pretty damn funny too.

"Ryn", Murphy said, drawing her from her daydreams, "this here is me twin brother Connor McManus. Conn, this is Ms. Ryn…".

Murphy broke off suddenly, and looked at Ryn expectantly, obviously waiting for her to fill in the blank of her last name.

"McAllister", she said.

"Aye, McAllister is it", Connor asked mischievously, cutting Murphy off from saying any more. "That sounds like an Irish name, if ye ask me Murph."

Ryn grinned at Connor, tossing her black curls back as she let out a laugh. "Well, it's Irish by decent. My great-grandfather was from Ireland. We're all true Southerners now though."

Murphy gazed at Ryn with a look on his face that she couldn't quite discern. Surprise? Curiosity? Maybe even attraction?

"Well now, is that so?! Once Irish, always fuckin' Irish is me rule! What part of Ireland was yer Gran'da from", Connor asked as he threw back a shot of Irish whiskey.

"He was from the county of Ulster."

Murphy shot Connor a look that was barely seen by Ryn.

"Ulster, you say", was all that Murphy said.

Ryn let out a sigh, "What is with you two? Do you have to flippin' repeat everything I say? Christ, its like being in a bar with two parrots".

"Oi Ryn, that's what the McManus twins do best ye know."

"Yeah", Connor chimed in, "we like to get inside one's head. Mess with it a wee bit".

Ryn just laughed at the two of them, it seemed that was about all she had done since walking into the pub. Well, at least now she was at ease for her appointment with her contact.

Oh shit! Her contact! What time was it?

Glancing down at her watch, Ryn saw that it was already going on five. Shit, shit, shit! She still had to make it down to the rendezvous point too. Standing up abruptly, Ryn turned towards the twins.

"I am sorry to just leave like this, but I have a business appointment that I have to be getting to. And I am already on the verge of being late for it."

Pulling her sapphire-colored coat back on, Ryn said, "It was great to meet both of you. If you guys are going to still be here after eight then I might catch you. I'm sure that after this meeting, I will definitely be wanting a drink".

Connor nodded his head, before adding, "Aye, we will be here. McGinty's on an Friday night, well what the fuck else is there to do".

Murphy didn't say anything, he just stood up and nodded towards the door. Ryn assumed he meant to walk her to the door, or something like that. Sure enough, he pulled on his wool coat and followed her outside.

Once out the door, he pulled a cigarette from the pack, before lighting it and letting it dangle from between his lips as he spoke.

"Like Connor said, we will be here when ye get done with yer meeting."

He seemed to Ryn as if he wanted to say something else, but hesitated. The tension was growing in the cold between them, causing Ryn to jump forward and take action. "I'll see you after eight then Murphy. You had so better buy me a drink tonight", she said with a wink before turning to walk briskly down the street and away from McGinty's pub.