Title: Among The Saints
Pairing: To early to tell, no twincest or anything like it
Rating: T - For language, violence and future content
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Boondock Saints" or any of it's characters, nor the saint's prayers etc. I do however have the right to any character made up by myself.
Summary: Takes place at the end of the movie, will venture back a lil from time to time. Will introduce a new character, female, that the twins knew from their childhood.
Authors Note: I don't try to write it in an "Irish"-style, so to speak, simply because I wouldn't be able to do it well. I'm Swedish, so writing in English is a task of it's own. Simple things such as 'aye', 'ya' and similar will however occur.
This is the first time I'm writing a FanFic, so bare with me - I am doing my very best! Enjoy!

The Boondock Saints: Among The Saints
Chapter one: For thee, my lord, for thee

Right before their speech started, while The Duke was speaking, a young woman watching them from above uttered three, whispered words.

Woman: "The MacManus twins?"

The cameras were to be put out, then they pointed their guns at the audience and started their… preach?

Connor: "Now you will receive us."

Murphy: "We do not ask for your poor or your hungry."

Connor: "We do not want your tired and sick."

Murphy: "It is your corrupt we claim."

Connor: "It is your evil that will be sought by us."

Murphy: "With every breath we shall hunt them down."

Connor: "Each day we will spill their blood 'til it rains down from the skies."

Murphy: "Do not kill, do not rape, do not steal. These are principles, which every man of every faith can embrace."

Connor: "These are not polite suggestions, these are codes of behavior and those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost."

Murphy: "There are varying degrees of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth not to push the bounds and cross over into true corruption, into our domain."

Connor: "But if you do, one day you will look behind you and you will see we three, and on that day, you will reap it."

Murphy: "And we will send you to whatever god you wish."

The two boys joined their father, guns ready… it was now or never. There was no other option. The three started chanting – no surprise to one of the watchers. Of course, she thought to herself, the two will join The Duke.

Il Duce, Connor and Murphy: "And shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord for thee, power hath descended forth from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be."

Il Duce: "In nomine Patris…"

Connor: "et Filii…"

Murphy: "et Spiritus Sancti."

As the guns were fired, the young woman turned her back on the scene. She left, before panic erupted by the crowd. The back way open to her, she could avoid the waiting press. The day would come when she would face the three black angels… but now was not the time – they would have to make a swift escape to avoid the press themselves… as well as the police of course. Angela was not blind – they had had help to pull this one of.

Waiting the weeks it took for things to settle down, and the three keeping their low profile, it was in fact by accident she ran into one of the saints in a store close to her home. Connor. It was surprising to find him without his twin brother, but Angela wouldn't let this opportunity slip through her fingers. Escaping out to the ally, hiding amongst the shadows, when he walked by she simply pulled him in.

Angela: "So the saints dare walk the street," she noted sarcastically.

Connor: "Who are you?" He simply looked into her eyes.

Angela: "Who I am is not as important as who you think you are…"

Connor: "You must have a name."

Angela: "I will not tell you my real name, for see I have forgotten it myself… People know me by the name 'Angela'. Please, no smart remarks, saint."

Connor: "No smart remarks came to mind. What do you want with me?"

The woman moved up closer to Connor, removing the man's sunglasses so that their eyes truly me. Holding them in one hand, she stood up on her toes to reach up and whisper into his ear.

Angela: "Never shall innocent blood be shed. Yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river. The three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of god."

Her soft voice lingered in his mind, but then he made a move she had not expected. Forcefully she was pushed further into the darkness – pinned down against the brick wall.

Connor: "Do not speak those words so casually Angel."

Angela: "They were not casually spoken, dear saint. I was hoping to warn you and your twin brother, the duke too of course. You will soon find yourself framed for the death of an innocent man..."

She stopped herself as his hands clutched her wrists harder. If Connor was to get angry with her… then his fury was wrongly channeled.

Connor: "How do you know that?"

Angela: "I have connections. Or you could call me crazy."

Connor: "And who would believe such accusations?"

Angela moved her weight slightly under his body.

Angela: "Oh, naïve saint, the press is looking for a chance to paint you bad…much like many others. Some will not believe, others will."

The man seemed unable to reply at first, giving the woman a chance to eye him up and down as well as inhale the smell of him. Yes, there was a reason for all the female followers of the two twin brothers.

Angela: "What's the matter, Connor? Cat got your tongue?" Leaning in closer, she whispered the questions against his lips – half hoping to scare him back and allow her to leave.

Connor: "Not really, love. It's just not surprising. We knew the day would come."

His low, dark voice with its thick Irish accent sent chills down her spine.

Angela: "Thy will be done?"

The saint backed off – it was his time to eye the woman up and down with a crooked grin spread across his face.

Connor: "Something like that. We appreciate the warning but I really need to get going…"

Leaving the woman behind, he disappeared to wherever he came from. Angela kept standing in the shadows several moments later. In her hands were his sunglasses and in her chest her poor heart was racing. It had been necessary to approach one of the brothers – but never had she expected such a reaction… from herself. Odd that he didn't question who she knew his name…

Returning to her home she walked straight back to her bed, leaving his sunglasses on her night table. It didn't take her long to fall asleep.

The weeks went by – Angela's words became true just a few days after the encounter. The media was going crazy with the news… had the saints been disgraced? Had they made a mistake? The woman hardly watched it, but it was there nonetheless. When almost two months had gone – the saints not found – a knock on Angela's door woke her from her sleep. Answering it in her pajamas she nearly fell over by the shock of who was standing there.

Angela: "Connor?"

The man did not answer but stepped right into the apartment, locking her door behind him.

Angela: "What bri…"

Connor: "The ones with blackened wings are now down to two…"

Walking past her, he went straight to the sofa and sat down. Removing his black coat he simply tossed it aside – not to utter another word. Angela was in chock. How? How could it be possible?

Slowly she walked over to him and sat down in one of the chairs in front of him – a wooden coffee table dividing the two. So the duke had fallen… he had been an old man, when reunited with his sons, but death was not to come so quickly. No one had told her of this.

Angela: "Where is your brother, Connor?"

It seemed strange to her that the either of two would travel without the other… especially in the time of a loss such as this. Moving slowly from her chair to his side on the sofa she put a hand over his.

Connor: "Murphy is still in the flat, sleeping for now…We're heading back to Ireland."

Angela: "You'll never be able to get out of the state, Connor. Not on your own… I'll call in some favors, and make sure you get there."

Standing up she was heading for the telephone, but soon found herself dragged back down into the sofa. It was understandable of the man not to believe her at first and the discussion was clearly not over.

Connor: "Is this your work?" He asked with sudden heat in his voice.

Angela: "Me? Why would you say that? I'm the one who warned you!"

With those words she got up once more, but halted in her tracks. Was he pointing a gun at her? Slowly she turned around – having been right.

Connor: "Why should we trust you?"

Uttering a simple "fuck" she did something that threw Connor of completely. With a simple kick the gun flew out his hand, landing in hers.

Angela: "Why do you refuse to believe me?"

Directly after that the door was kicked open – rushing in was Murphy with his gun pointed at her.

Murphy: "We have only each other. Lower your gun! Connor, you all right?"

Angela just eyed him, gun still pointed at Connor.

Angela: "Isn't this cute? I thought you didn't kill women and children… especially not innocent ones."

Man: "That's enough, all of you."

Angela and Murphy both lowered their guns – knowing that voice all to well. Connor had gotten out of his seat with a smirk across his face.

Angela: "Is that you, da?"

The two brothers stared at her with sudden surprise. Had she called him… da?

Il Duce stepped in from behind Murphy and before he could answer, Angela had pushed the younger twin aside and thrown herself around the man's neck.

Angela: "I am so happy to see you… So, so happy."

Words could not express how relieved she felt. He wasn't dead. However… she'd have to talk to him about this lil' check up among other things.

The Duke hugged the young woman back, simply smiling at her when she finally got off of him.

Il Duce: "Go take a shower, we're leaving as soon as you're done."

Angela: "So the part about Ireland was true anyway?"

Glaring at the fraternal twins she headed for the bathroom, after getting clothes from her bedroom.

Angela: "Your sunglasses are in there, Connor."

Murphy cocked an eyebrow at his brother, not speaking until he could hear the water running in the bathroom.

Murphy: "So you've more than seen her before, have you?"

Connor: "Da, is she our sister or…?"

Murphy: "Fuck…"

It was obvious the older brother ignored the younger one. The Duke had sat down in one of the chairs by the coffee table.

Il Duce: "You mean this young lady here? Na, you two have no siblings. Ailing O'Kelly is the daughter of a good friend of mine. She used to play with you when you were kids. Don't you remember?"

Murphy: "Is that… Ailing? Damn, she used to beat the crap out of me…"

Connor couldn't help but laugh – yes, now he remembered her. It'd probably be wise of him not to mention her little alias to anyone or she'd kick his ass. To Murphy he had simply said that a woman had been following them, their da had agreed on that they should look it up. Now it was all clear.

Murphy: "You thought it was funny back then too, fuck you."

Connor: "Hey, so did you Murph, when she went after me!"

After maybe twenty minutes the three was interrupted in their conversation as the door to the bathroom was crushed open. Out flew Ailing followed by a man dressed in all black. The young woman had put on a simple light green top, with simple and torn jeans. The man that had been fighting Ailing dropped to the floor – un-conscious.

Ailing: "Fuck, they are everywhere…" She looked up at The Duke. "Leave him, he's not worth it. Come on, let's go."

Murphy and Connor exchanged looks, but said nothing. Ailing went in to the bedroom and grabbed Connor's sunglasses and the only personal detail she had – the necklace carrying an angel that her father had left her. Putting her deep green jacket on the four headed out of the apartment and down the dark streets of Boston. The government and media had thought they'd leave town, but that's where the saints played them fool.

Murphy: "Who was that fuck anyway?"

Ailing: "Him? No one, a green hit man… He won't make it through the week."

Murphy: "Why would a hit man look for you?"

Ailing grabbed both twins by their arms, smiling deviously.

Ailing: "Because I made contact with your big brother here. You two have numerous prices on your heads… Either of you have a smoke on ya?"

Connor dug into his pockets and pulled out a ragged package, offering one to Ailing who accepted and put the cigarette behind her ear. Murphy took one as well, but lit it and took a deep drag.

Connor: "You're not gonna lit it?"

Ailing: "Fuck no, I quit a year ago."

Murphy: "Right…"

The younger brother pushed Ailing in the back so that she stumbled forward, but soon caught her balance.

Ailing: "Fuck you, Murph!"

As they kept walking down the street, the young woman signed for the three to follow her as she made her way into an ally. From that ally she found her way into a bar where people called out for her as they walked in. Ailing waved happily and greeted some more personally before the four sat down by a table.

Ailing: "Can't leave without a drink, can we boys?"

There they sat for maybe two hours just drinking and talking.

Connor: "Tell me, Angel, how long did you look for us?"

Ailing blew out smoke from her cig simply smiling, not even commenting on his lil' nickname for her.

Murphy: "She ain't gonna fucking tell us, is she?"

Connor: "Think not. I think she likes being a fucking mystery!"

Ailing: "Your language is so foul", she spit out in Russian.

Murphy took a drag of his cig, surprised that da was so quiet. However, the somewhat older man, seemed happy enough with his drink and just watching them.

Connor: "You're no one to talk," he shot back at her – also in Russian.

The three had been raised together and as the brothers started to take Russian Ailing wanted to do the same, every now and then joined by other friends, but only seven of them kids in their town had stuck through the entire Russian course. Ailing always insisted on learning as many languages as they, but had to quit long before they did. Though she spoke many languages it wasn't as many as Connor and Murphy.

They kept talking in Russian.

Ailing: "My language is as clean as white snow, compared to you two's."

Murphy: "Is that right? Then you should know that snow is filled with dirt!"

The three burst out laughing, Ailing putting out her cig.

Ailing: "Aye," she broke off in English blowing out the smoke through her nose. "I guess your fucking right, Murph."

Spending just a few hours with them made some of her accent come back, and the most used words.

Ailing: "I read about your lil' escapades in the paper, did you really set that Russian guy's arse on fire?"

Murphy: "Aye," he chuckled. "Well, I didn't – Connor did!"

Ailing: "Fuck me, you two are nutjobs."

Connor: "But that's why you love us."

Ailing: "Oh? Is that right, Casanova?"

Murphy and Connor exchanged a look, as if talking to each other through the eyes. That had always annoyed Ailing, but now she felt more nostalgic over it. It had been so many years since they had been causing trouble together back on Ireland. They had done it then too, talked without using their vocal chords.

Chuckling slightly the two finished their beers – without explaining anything.

Had they ventured down memory lane, perhaps?

Eyeing the two, Ailing followed Murphy's lead as he got up to buy something more to drink. Squeezing Connor's shoulder slightly as she walked him by, there were something sentimental in the way she acted.

Connor: "Do you gather something's up with her, da?"

Il Duce: "Most certainly. Could be nothing, my boy, you know how women can be."

Connor: "Aye, I'll drink to that! Hey, Murph, hurry the fuck up!"

Murphy and Ailing stood by the bar, being all silly, mainly pushing each other around, using old nicknames. As they stood there a drunken American man came stumbling up next to them.

Man: "Get out of my way!" He muttered and shoved Murphy straight in Ailing's arms.

Murphy: "Hey, take it easy, there's enough room for all three of us."

Man: "No there's not, fucking Irish people."

Murphy looked at Ailing with doubt written all over his face. This man told them this… in an Irish bar, in an Irish Neighborhood?

Ailing: "Fuck you," she made her way past Murphy and shoved the man backwards into the chair behind him. "Watch your mouth or get the hell out of here!"

Man: "You shouldn't talk so big, woman!"

The man grabbed her by her wrist and pulled her up close. Ailing stared him blankly in the eyes but had no time to react, Murphy was up close next to her, pushing the man to the floor – forcing him to let go of Ailing who could tell Connor were stirring not far from them but was held back by The Duke.
Ailing had another guy coming her way as Murphy fought with the one who had started the fight. As the slight thinner guy aimed and threw a fist at her, she simply ducked forcing him down to the ground with his own weight and strength. Giggling she urged him to come back up and take another shot. Which he did, launching himself at her, Ailing once more moved to the side – allowing him to land on one of the tables. As it broke the guy Murphy was fighting lost concentration, giving the woman an open spot. Without mercy she pushed her heeled foot down on his groin which made him scream like a lil' piggy.

Murphy: "I'd say they're not gonna cause any more fucking problems around here!"

Ailing: "Are you sure?"

Without any warning she soon found herself lift off the guy, held down by Connor, he hissed in her ear in Irish:

Connor: "I think that's quite enough for tonight, Ailing."

Murphy had gotten back to his feet, wiping some blood out of his face. Naturally he fought more hand to hand which usually resulted in a bruise here or there. The two guys got themselves together and retreated through the door, like wounded dogs with their tail between their legs.

Ailing pushed her elbows into Connor's chest, the pain made him let go. With a glare at him, she joined up next to Murphy, pulling a napkin from the bar. Dabbing his lip slightly she couldn't help but grin.

Ailing: "It's been years since I were last in a bar fight, Murph. You have very bad influence on me."

Murphy: "Thank you, that's very nice. Blaming me for your big mouth…"

Ailing: "Shut up…" She was interrupted by her cell. "O'Kelly? … Jimmy, my savor! … Aha… Nah, it's me and three other passengers. … Don't ask. …"

With a grateful smile she went over to there table to get her jacket, signaling that they were to be on their way out of there.

Ailing: "Because, I don't want you to lie if someone ever ask you who traveled with me. … Yes, it really is that important. … Nah, they don't dare complain about comfort. …"

Dancing out the bar, Connor looked over at his father who simply shrugged. Who knew what this woman was up to? Instead the saint turned to his younger brother and walked up closer to him.

Connor: "How do ya feel about going home?"

Murphy: "Dunno… It feels fucked up."

Connor: "Aye, but it feels damn good too."

Murphy got a smoke from Connor and were about to answer him when an almost giggly Ailing rushed up in front of them.

Ailing: "Well come the fuck on already! We're leaving in half an hour…"

With that stated she stopped a cab that would take them to their next destination, all three huddled together in the cab – their bags in the trunk. No one said a thing until they reached a small runway. On that runway a pathetically small cargo plane had been parked.

Murphy: "You've got to be kidding me? That's our ride over to Ireland?"

Ailing: "Aye…"

She had hurried out, almost stepping on Connor and Murphy in her rush, and waved happily at a guy who most likely was the captain.

Connor and Murphy looked at each other and shook their heads with crooked grins, not saying a thing about… well, anything. What could they say? Ailing could just as well have left them behind.

After a while all three were huddled together inside the cargo area, the captain – Jimmy – ready to go. The Duke sat up front next to the captain, Murphy was soon knocked out cold leaving only Connor and Ailing awake. They sat there together, Ailing huddled up with his arm around her for comfort and warmth. When they had been in the air for about 30 minutes, Connor broke the silence:

Connor: "So what kind of strings did you have to pull?"

Ailing made a face of discomfort regarding the question.

Ailing: "Jimmy here is an old friend, he was heading home… we were in luck, he could've already left." She looked up and met his gaze. "Jimmy doesn't know that you're 'the Boston Saints'… Well, he's not completely stupid and could probably see more then a resemblance… As long as he doesn't ask, he's in no trouble."

Connor: "Jesus fucking Christ…"

Ailing: "Can you guys still say that?"

Connor: "Actually don't know… It's not like we speak to Him, Ailing."

Ailing: "Well… you've always cursed like that, I guess that… if God did mind, he wouldn't have given you this task."

Connor didn't answer, but leant back and closed his eyes – as if saying that this discussion was over.

Ailing: "You can't go on forever, Con…"

His eyes snapped open and with heat in his muffled voice he interrupted her:

Connor: "Look, lets drop this now. Fuck, me and Murph haven't even had this conversation yet." He sounded rather stressed. "We have faith Ailing, you sho…"

This time it was Connor who was interrupted. The young woman leaning against him put a finger over his lips.

Ailing: "You'll wake up Murph…" She simply smiled at him, as if saying 'don't worry, I understand'. With that, she huddled up closer against him, wrapping his coat around her and closing her eyes.

Connor looked at Murphy – happy that they were still together through it all. The time that had passed since St Paddy's day had surely been… chaotic. Rocco's death, the return of their father… but between the two, nothing had really changed. They relied on each other no matter what. Smiling ironically, Connor too leant back and closed his eyes a second time – hoping to catch some sleep.