o()o

Author's Note: A gianormous shout out to Archerlove for all her help with this chapter, you're incredible, sweetie! Thanks also to all my amazing readers out there in PCLand, the positive feedback you guys give never ceases to make my day!

o(11)o

The impact knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping and choking, surrounded by cool fresh air that she couldn't draw in. Sasha shrieked against her chest and for a moment, Maire was certain that the pain stabbing through her back and shoulder was going to kill her.

Flecks of light sparkled in front of her eyes as she struggled painfully to her feet, muffling a cry against the top of Sasha's head.

From her place against Maire's chest, Sasha's cries had become coughing yawns and Maire felt a frantic stab of terror.

Smoke inhalation, she thought, and another round of adrenaline was dumped into her veins, lessening her pain and forcing her into motion.

Get to the hospital.

Blinking as the world swam in front of her eyes and Maire forced in a breath only to release it with a violent cough. She loosened her grip on Sasha and checked her over as best she could. The toddler was covered in soot, tearstained and shaking, but she wasn't bleeding and there were no burns that Maire could see.

The blood spattering Maire's robe and skin and the almost irresistible urge to crumple back to the ground told her that she might be a different story completely.

Hospital.

Maire saw a group of men gathered in front of what used to be her apartment, watching it burn, grimacing, she stepped into the light, drawing in a stinging breath to call for help. The cry died on her lips however as she saw one of the men light something sticking out of a large liquor bottle and lob it up towards her apartment.

A breeze blew around her and on the sound of the wind she could hear their laughter. Somewhere under the pain and fear, Maire felt a tiny spark of righteous anger but a wave of dizziness quickly swept the feeling away. She had to get help.

Quickly, she turned away from the group of men, limping away from the burning shell of her apartment, keeping to the shadows as best she could.

One foot in front of the other, keep walking. They didn't see us, they don't know we got out alive.

Struggling to keep a hold on Sasha, fighting the impulse to stop and rest, Maire was so focused on her unsteady stride that she didn't notice the man walking toward her until she ran into him.

"Here, watch where the fuck you're going!" he snapped and Sasha made a resentful noise at being smashed between her mother and this stranger.

It took a remarkable amount of effort, but Maire managed to lift her gaze from her bare feet and the pavement to look up at the man, who was blinking myopically at her through the thickest glasses she had ever seen.

"Please help me," she rasped, "I need to get to a hospital."

"J-Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, "What the fuck's happened to you?"

"Housefire," she said, "can you help us?"

The man ignored her question. "Why are y-you wandering the streets instead of waiting on an a-ambulance?" He asked, frowning at her.

"I can't go back," she said, feeling a treacherous prickle of tears behind her eyes, "If they see us they'll . . ." she stopped, her heart suddenly hammering, as footsteps clattered behind them.

They had found her!

She frantically wondered how far she could make it before her mutinous body gave out and left her at the mercy of the men who had burned her home down. Her guess was not nearly far enough.

Maire backed into the darkness, turning away and bowing her head so her hair obscured her face, praying that whoever was coming would mistake her for one of the many homeless that wandered the streets at night.

Resisting the almost overpowering urge to cough, she listened as the stranger exchanged a brief greeting with whoever had been walking by. The footsteps moved away and Maire turned back around, wincing as a barbed-wire laced cough tore its way out of her lungs.

"What the fuck was that a-all about?" the man asked gruffly, inclining his head toward the retreating form of the pedestrian.

"They don't know we're alive," Maire said softly, "They're trying to kill us."

The distant whoop of a siren made her jump and she looked longingly toward the sound, wishing desperately that she could be with them; with people she trusted would help her, instead of hiding in the shadows with a strange man. But they might still be there, waiting, and she would rather be in the company of a stranger who might hurt her rather than a group of men she knew for a fact would.

"K-kill you?" the man repeated his gaze suddenly intense, and Maire nodded.

"Please, can you help me? I need to get to the . . . oh God."

A sudden horrifying thought struck her and she shuddered with the force of it.

"They won't find any bodies," she murmured, pressing a hand against her mouth as her hope collapsed in on itself, "they'll know we're alive."

They would realize that she and Sasha had escaped and they would check the hospitals first. Wherever she went, hospital, police, fire department, they would find her and they would kill her.

For the first time in a long time, Maire was at a complete loss.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks, "I can't let them find us."

The man was silent for several moments, his eyes narrowed behind the thick glasses, shaggy eyebrows furrowed. Finally, he nodded several times to himself and met her eyes.

"I'll get you where y-you need to go, someplace safe."

"There isn't anyplace." Maire shuddered as another nauseating wave of vertigo swept through her. The adrenaline was rapidly wearing off, leaving her lightheaded and exhausted. "They'll find us."

"Not where I-I'm taking you, they won't."

o()o

"Where are we going?" she asked.

It seemed like they had been walking for hours, and all of Maire's injuries were now loudly protesting every movement and breath. She had been keeping Sasha awake, afraid that if she fell asleep she wouldn't wake back up though the poor baby was as exhausted as she was, fussing sleepily against Maire's shoulder.

"We're going someplace safe," the man replied, "rumor has it that some d-dear friends of mine are b-back in town, they'll be able to help ye, if a-a-anybody can."

A stranger taking her to more strangers, the idea filled Maire with a new jolt of fear, what if he was taking her to one of them? She made it two steps away before her knees buckled. The man caught her before she fell, hoisting her back to her feet with a grunt.

"Now y-ye listen ta me, lass," he said, his voice stern, "There's few places in the city that's safer than where I'm taking you. You're j-just gonna have to t-trust me."

Maire didn't want to trust him. She didn't know him or what kind of a man he was, but another surge of lightheadedness made her realize she didn't have much of a choice. The darkness edging her vision was steadily seeping inward and it was getting harder and harder to hang on.

There was nothing else she could do, save for collapsing in the middle of the street and praying that a good Samaritan found her before a bad one did. She'd never find some place to hide now, not on her own.

Maire gave a defeated sigh and nodded, allowing the man to put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her as much as he was supporting her.

"That's a girl." He said, patting her shoulder gently. "You just hang on to that wee one of yours and I'll take c-care of the rest."

o()o

The complex they were in was neglected and falling apart, an old industrial building converted into shabby apartments. The floors were dirty and sticky and bold-colored graffiti covered most of the original paint, brazenly declaring old loves, bereavements and devotions of the people the building housed.

Maire could have sobbed with relief when the finally stopped in front of a door. The paint was peeling away, revealing several more layers of equally dismal color, and the apartment number had been hastily scribbled across the front with a black marker. Curiously, though, the door was free of the graffiti that covered the rest of the hallway.

The man squinted at the number before giving the door several hard raps with his fist. "You're on your own now, lass," he said quietly, turning around and ambling back the way he had come.

"Wait, where are you going?" Maire felt a flicker of panic amidst the exhausted fog in her brain.

"They don't need ta see the likes of me, t'would cause more heartache than good, so it would. Besides, ye know w-what they say, absence makes the spice of life."

Before Maire had time to absorb the man's parting words of wisdom, the door opened and a dark haired man peered out, his eyes widening as they swept over her.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ."

"He said you could help me." Maire whispered, blinking back the dancing spots in front of her eyes, her body wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer much longer. "He said I'd be safe here."

"Who?" Pressing a hand against the small of her back, the man nudged her inside, glancing furtively down the hallway before shutting the door securely behind them.

"I didn't know him; he said he was a friend of yours."

"We don't have friends." A brusque voice came from across the room and Maire turned to see another man sprawled on the couch, a bottle in his hand.

She had to be losing her mind, the events of the day had finally caught up and she was finally going crazy, delusional, it couldn't possibly be who she thought it was.

"Connor?"

What were the chances?

o()o

Connor's eyes widened as he heard his name, it only took him a moment to recognize the bedraggled woman.

In-fucking-credible.

Carefully returning his gun to its hiding place between the couch cushions, he got to his feet, coming to stand behind his twin.

"Est-ce que c'est que je pense qu'elle est?" Murphy asked quietly over his shoulder, discretely returning his own gun to the back of his waistband and covering it with his shirt.

Is that who I think it is?

Connor nodded, frowning. "It is, aye."

Martin's Ma swayed precariously on her feet, the baby slipping a little in her grasp.

"Please," she said, her voice raspy and weak, "I need to get somewhere safe."

The baby in her arms wriggled sleepily, and sneezed, rubbing at her soot-blackened face.

"What the fuck do we do?" Murphy asked quietly, eyeing the child as though she might explode at any moment.

Connor opened his mouth to answer, but his words quickly turned to a curse as he reached out, barely catching the galya sliding from her mother's grasp.

"Please." The word was no more than a whisper as Martin's Ma collapsed onto the floor of their apartment.

o()o

"She can't fuckin' stay here," Murphy said, on a return trip from the end of the hall, "We need ta take her to a hospital or something."

Connor shifted the baby slightly on his shoulder, frowning at the puddle of slobber she had left on his shirt, before following his twin's gaze. They had checked the little girl over first thing, finding her whole other than a couple of scrapes and scratches. Her mother was a slightly different matter, however.

Clad only in a filthy, threadbare bathrobe, the woman was still unconscious, unmoving from the place on the couch where Murphy had laid her.

Through the grime and soot, they had discovered several nasty cuts that needed tending to as well as an array of bruises and minor burns. They had carefully washed and bandaged as many of the injuries as they could, sticking to her exposed skin only, both refusing to undress an unconscious woman.

"Look at her," he said, "what the fuck are we goin' ta tell the doctor? The nurses?"

"Exactly what happened, that someone fuckin' dumped her on our doorstep, just as she was."

"And their goin' ta fuckin' believe us? Get real, Murph, ye know better." Connor said, running a hand through his hair, frustrated.

For a moment, Murphy tensed, flexing his fingers crossly and Connor wondered idly what exactly he was going to do with the baby he was holding if his brother decided to sock him.

But Murphy shook his head angrily instead, turning away and resuming his pacing. "We could drop her off and leave, then."

"Go on outta that." Connor said raising his voice, and the baby stirred slightly, frowning sleepily at his tone. "Two days ago, we fuckin' killed the men that were tryin' ta murder her, and then today we just fuckin' show up and chuck her at the ER doors? We'd have police so far up our arse we'd be chokin' on 'em."

"Well, we can't keep her!"

"For Christ's fuckin' sake, Murphy, she's not some stray cat!" Connor felt his patience beginning to splinter and took in a deep breath "Look, all I'm saying is let's find out what the fuck happened to her and then get her someplace safe."

Murphy threw his hands into the air. "Halle-fuckin'-lujah, he sees the fuckin' light! That's what I've been try ta tell ye all along!"

"That's exactly what I've been sayin' ta ye, ye moron."

"Then why the fuck do ye keep arguing with me?" Murphy paused in his pacing, rubbing between his eyes with a sigh, and Connor stopped, blinking.

Why the fuck were they fighting?

"I don't have a fuckin' clue." He admitted, his anger slipping away, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He should have known, really. This happened more often than not when they argued and always had.

When they were younger, they would have scuffles that would leave eyes blackened, clothing torn, and lips split. When their Ma would finally pull them apart, boxing their ears as she did, they would find out they had been fighting about something they both agreed on.

"Fightin' just for the sake of being brothers," their Ma used to say shaking her head.

Dropping his arms to his sides, Murphy snorted, a grin replacing his scowl and Connor knew that his twin was thinking the same thing.

"Ye fuckin' eejit," he said, chuckling.

"Bastard."

"C'mon." said Murphy, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from their cluttered table and inclining his head toward the fire escape.

Connor followed, the baby still cradled against him, carefully ducking out of the window and out onto the ancient metal stairway.

The night was mild and a slow drizzle had started to fall. Under what little shelter the escape provided, his arm still wrapped protectively around the galya, Connor took the cigarette Murphy was offering him.

It took him a couple of tries to light the smoke one handed but finally he did, taking a deep drag. Carefully exhaling the smoke away from the sleeping baby, Connor looked up at the night sky, sighing. Beside him, Murphy leaned over the rusted railing, staring down at quiet the street below.

"What are the fuckin' chances?"

o()o