A/N- I have gotten myself into a slight Boondock Saints obsession… and will either do a bunch of one-shots or actually make a semi-lucid fanfic… we shall see… wherever this goes, I hope you like it. Note: I don't speak gaelic even though I'd love to, so the translations may not be accurate… just let me know and I'll change them

Leannáin na Naomh

Lover of Saints

By Blue Eyes At Night

Lover of Saints

They were the Saints. Those who claimed the wicked, who smote the evil of the world. They were infamous and famous…they were a thousand things. They were brothers, fathers, lovers, sons and friends to a thousand different people. But they had the most connections to one woman in particular. Perhaps the McManus' were not the most stable of people, but they were honest and true…and loyal to a fault.

Annabelle had learned that a long time ago, when she fell in love for the first and last time. Falling for a McManus was like falling off a cliff, it was a glorious free-fall…until you hit the bottom. And oh, was there a bottom. She had loved him fiercely, wholely, and deeply…and he had loved her just the same.

But she always knew, somewhere deep inside, that he was a restless soul. No matter how much he loved her, he would have to leave one day. It was his nature, his being…his calling even. And she understood callings…well, she understood him at any rate.

They were married young, almost too young. But they were young and in love…and for a few years they enjoyed it. Enjoyed him working dead-end jobs despite his brilliance, they enjoyed going to Sibeal's pub and getting drunk, and having sloppy drunk sex afterwards. They enjoyed pretending not to hear the slow tick of an imaginary clock that would one day send him far away. Perhaps for good.

When her belly started growing they were the most ecstatic people. No one glowed quite like she did, or smiled as widely as he did. No one could match them for enthusiasm. Annabelle's didn't even falter when the doctor told her she was carrying twins. Nor did it fault when she tripled in size, could barely walk, and relied on her husband for damn near everything.

Maybe she faltered in labor…but who could blame her? Her boys were born exactly as they lived: wildly. It was a long painful endeavor…one she probably wouldn't have made it through without being able to squeeze his hand and verbally abuse him.

When the boys came, they came within minutes of each other. One long and fair, one squat and dark…both perfect. He held one in the crook of each arm, inspecting them, checking them, and when he finally approved, he passed them to their mother.

"Here ye go, Ma…here's the little bastards that've been kickin ye all this time." It was the first time he called her Ma, but it stuck more perfectly then her name. He would call her that whenever they spoke for the next thirty years, until he finally returned to her and called her Annabelle again.

Ma didn't speak as she watched them, tears welling in her eyes. They'd given her hell for 9 months, and she assumed they'd continue doing that for as long as they lived…but for now they were perfect little angels.

Nodding to the blonde she whispered, "Connor…this one will be Connor."

Da smoothed the dark haired babe's head, "So, this is Murphy then?"

"Aye…what do ye think of the newest McManus boys?"

He smiled and kissed her, then laid a kiss on the brow of each boy, "I think they'll have to work their asses off to cause as much trouble as me and me brother."

Ma looked down at her boys as they wriggled and tried to nurse, and as they finally began to suck she looked at her husband, "Somehow I think they'll manage that just fine."

Smiling the deep, proud smile of a new father, Da settled back and watched his newborns nurse until they fell fast asleep. They were such tiny things then, but he loved them with such a powerful force already. He loved them fiercely through weening, through teething, through potty training, through walking…through the mischief they were quick to cause even as toddlers.

He loved his boys as fiercely and powerfully and wildly as he had ever loved their mother…and missed all three with the same deep, resounding ache when he left just after the boys' third birthday.

Never did he expect to get caught, to be put away. He wanted to be "Da" again, not "Il Duce". But he didn't get a choice, not for twenty five years. When he realized the two boys bloodied and beaten in the basement were his boys, he was mystified. Then he wondered how he didn't know all along.

There on Connor's face was his mother's cheek, her eyes…and on Murphy! Murphy was the image of his father. How did he miss such obvious clues?

As he stood and cupped their faces, staring into eyes which could not remember that he was the first human they ever saw, he found some particle of peace. He was Da again.

That night he called Annabelle, teasing her about losing the boys in a nasty part of Boston. He filled a hole in her heart that night. The hole of being so removed from the man she loved for so long. But he made a new set of holes, telling her about his vendetta and how the boys had joined him. Holes that wouldn't leave her until she could safely hold her men in her arms again. Holes that were made when she realized she was merely a mortal who loved the Saints.

A/N- well, this is Ma's chapter and hopefully a good way to start off. Look forward to Connor and Murphy having girls that need tragedy. Not going to lie, I tend to favor Connor but there's a wonderful Boondock Saints fic with the main OC and Murphy and I love it.

Revised already: found out Ma's real name ;-) thank you IMDB.

R/R!