Waking up after fainting has never been my favourite thing. You wake up disoriented then you have to figure out how you got where you are and the events that led up to losing consciousness. It's one of the more unpleasant feelings in life.

I woke up on a hard mattress. I'm not one to be judgmental though. After running from the Italian mafia for the length of time I have, simply waking up in a bed is a privilege. I kept my eyes closed as I went over the events that led me here.

I had been saved by two men. Irish if I remember correctly. But that doesn't mean that the Italians weren't still after me, this just meant that now their after me for having minimal knowledge of a previous assassination and now I am potentially suspected for the death of 5 of there street soldiers. Why didn't they just let them kill me? Don't mind my angst but what good did saving me do for them.

I sighed and opened my eyes, I might as well wake up and face my circumstances before I lose the courage and pretend to go back to sleep. The ceiling said a lot about the apartment as a whole. I didn't need to look around to know I wasn't in a good part of town. In the ceiling alone there were tons of cracks that would promise leaks if it were to rain.

"She's up, Connor get yer ass in 'ere she's awake!" The man with the brown hair came into my line of vision looking down at me. He gently grabbed me under my arms and propped me up.

A blonde man was sitting at the table taking a pull from a cigarette a Guinness in his other hand resting on the table. He was watching me carefully.

"Fine where I am Murph, the lass' scared enough with ou' the two of us in 'er face" he said eyes meeting mine then looking over my face, seemingly assessing the damage there. I must look horrible; the Italians had been more then rough about their business with me.

"Hi" I managed to get out, my voice cracking and hoarse.

The brown haired one, Murph as he had been called by the blonde man, smiled at me.

"She speaks!" he laughed. "What's yer name lass"

"Francesca" my voice still hoarse but sounding better.

"Well Francesca I'm Murphy and this 'ere is my brother Connor." He looked at a loss as for what else to say.

I didn't blame him. He must have tons of questions, many of which I don't want to answer. These men saved my life, with no reason. They went out of their way and saved someone who other wise would have been another name on the list of the mafias' casualties. They deserved honest answers no matter how hard the question.

Sighing I painfully swung my legs off the side of the bed. Making a move to stand Murphy jumped to my side, ready to help as Conner was quickly manoeuvring his way over to be of help as well.

"I'm fine honestly." Releasing a shaky breath.

"No yer not, you've bin beaten an yer in no shape te be walkin'." It was Connor who spoke this time.

"I'm fine, really I just can I at least move to the couch, this is obviously one of your beds, I hate to intrude"

" Aye, it's me bed. I 'ave no problem with ye stayin' there ,but since yer insistent"

Each of the boys took one of my arms and helps me hobble my way over to the couch. I was hurt more then I thought I would be. My hip killed, I didn't need to see it to know that the steel toed boots had left a nasty bruise, and my right side was on fire, probably in the same shape as my hip. My hand when I looked at it had been bandaged, with splints to help my broken fingers repair themselves properly.

They set me on the couch gently, handed me a blanket and went back to the table behind the couch and continued what they had been doing before I woke up. They must have realised that I may need awhile to get a grip on my current situation.

I sat and thought, they were conversing lightly with each other while enjoying a beer and smoke, they quickly became pleasant back ground noise to my thinking. I came to the decision I was safe for the time being. Many people would be worried about their safety, these men obviously carried around guns, and were capable of killing. I had learned early in life that not all people capable of killing are bad. These men had not yet given me reason to believe them able to kill without reason, these men so far had only proved themselves good, and I would treat them as so until they proved themselves otherwise.

On first impression I could already see the difference between the two. They seemed to be related some how they're movements seemed identical and their relationship close. But there were obvious character differences. While Murphy seemed spontaneous, social and humorous Connor seemed more reserved , thoughtful and mature of the two. Their different personalities seemed to balance them.

I let myself slouch into the back of the couch completely relaxed and at ease. I let my mind wander and numb itself. I was safe.

AN.
Still developing the characters just hang in there the story will pick up soon.
-Rankin