Murph and Rocco were passed out on the couch. Rocco had his head all the way back, mouth open and snoring obnoxiously loud. Murph was curled up in a ball- it was the way he had slept since birth. For his tough guy demeanor, he let his emotions show through in his sleep. I would hear him wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath and drenched in a cold sweat. His nightmares had become much more frequent since we did our first job-taking out the Russian underbosses. I took to leaving a pack of cigarettes and lighter on the table by his bed- my way of saying I understood. I hated that we couldn't verbally express our feelings. The connection we had as twins allowed us to know exactly what was going on with the other- but that didn't mean it would hurt to talk about it. Murph was stubborn, insisting he was fine if I asked.

I stood in the kitchen of our one bedroom apartment, watching them for a while. I still couldn't grasp our new career as God's hired hit men. However convicted Murph was in the whole thing, I had a hard time accepting it. There was a difference between killing in self defense and killing because you enjoyed it.

Did I find pleasure in taking the life of another man?

The adrenaline rush, the danger- that aspect I loved. And I loved the fact that ultimately we were making the world a better place- taking out scum that roamed free.

But seeing the blood of someone else on my hands- that I wasn't so sure I could ever fully accept.

I hope the good Lord knows what he's doing, because I sure as hell don't.

I crossed myself, and then turned to the coffee maker. I couldn't function until I had my morning cup (or three) of coffee and a cigarette. I poured myself a cup and picked up yesterday's newspaper that I had been too drugged up to read, leaning against the counter.

"What fuckin' time is it man?" came Murph's voice from the couch. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, hair sticking up at weird angles.

"About 1 in the afternoon. Got a bit toasted last night, didn't ya?" I smirked into my coffee cup as he stood up and immediately sat back down on the couch.

"Fuckin' shit. My head feels fuckin' terrible."

"I'd be surprised if it didn't. That guy had a pretty good left hook."

"How did that fight even start? One moment, me and Roc were drinking, the next that bloke was throwing punches!"

"Well," I said as I took another drink of coffee, "I think you called the packers queer."

Murph's jaw dropped. "THAT'S WHAT THE FUCKING FIGHT WAS OVER?"

"Yup."

"Fucking Christ… Some people get so damn offended."

I set down my cup and the newspaper. "Thought you liked offending people?"

"Not when I can't take them in a fight."

I threw a bottle of Tylenol in the direction of the couch and walked to the bedroom to find clothes. The bottle landed on Roc's forehead, prompting him to sit bolt right up with the words "What the fuck?"

"Hurry up. We've got somewhere to be."

Murph raised an eyebrow. "And where is that?"

"Church."

We entered the church, shivering from the harsh cold outside. Roc stormed off after his rude awakening, swearing up and down that God would understand how a hangover would hinder one's ability to pray, leaving me and Murph alone. Murph even protested going.

"Connor, are you sure this can't wait? My head is fuckin' throbbing."

"I haven't been to church in a week. Need to make up for it."

Murph sighed, and fell silent. He understood- we never went to church without the other. One of those weird twin things.

We sat down in pew in the front, pulled are rosaries out of our coats, and bowed our heads. I heard Murph saying his prayers in a hushed whisper. I closed my eyes and clutched tight to my rosary. My thoughts from the morning came to mind.

"Breathe into me Holy Spirit, that all my thoughts may be holy. Move in me, Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy." I spoke in Latin- the only time it seemed appropriate to speak the archaic language was within the walls of a church.

Murph stirred next to me, and rose from the pew, evidently finished. I heard a softer voice behind me whispering the same prayer I had been in the middle of. "Attract my heart, Holy Spirit, that I may love only what is holy. Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy." They waited for me to continue.

I swallowed and then continued. "Protect me, Holy Spirit-"

"-that I always may be holy."

"Amen." I looked up and peered over my shoulder. A dark haired female sat behind me, her head bowed. I tucked away my rosary, and turned fully in my seat to stare at her.

She looked up at me, and I was suddenly unaware of anything around me but her. Her dark hair flowed in waves, her skin was pale and flawless, and her eyes- my God, her eyes- were the most beautiful things I had ever seen- bright, intense green. Circles were dark underneath them, but it hardly took away from her beauty- if anything, it enhanced it.

"Well, look who it is." Her voice was deep for a woman's- but strangely soothing, like a good harmonic line in a piece of music. "Connor, isn't it?"

I nodded my head. Who the hell is this chick? How does she know my name?

"I'm afraid I don't recognize you, 'mam. How do you know me?"

She smirked. "You bought my glass of whiskey last night.:

"Ericka?" Her smirk widened into a grin.

Wow. In the bright light of the church, she looked much more…. Alive. I suppose the bad lighting of the bar and being doped out of my mind on cold medicine hadn't really let me get a close look at her.

I cleared my throat. "Well, what are you doing here? Didn't know you Germans were devout with your church going."

"We're not." She chuckled. "I just needed to have a conversation with the good Lord."

"Are you Catholic then?"

"Ha! As if. " Her laugh was a tad loud, earning a disapproving look from a passing priest. "I don't really have a set denomination. A house of God is a house of God- and this church just so happens to be on my way to work."

I glanced down at her outfit. She was wearing tennis shoes and scrubs underneath a long black coat. I forgot there was a hospital a few blocks from here.

And then before I could even process the words coming out of mouth, "Would you like to go grab a drink when you get off work?" My face reddened as I thought about what had just happened.

I just asked out a chick that I have talked to for all of ten minutes, in a church. I asked her to go out to a bar with me (very classy) while sitting in a church pew (very trashy), with a priest ten feet away from me. What the hell is wrong with me?

I must have a real drinking problem. Or a deathwish.

Ericka cocked her head to the side. She suddenly reminded me of a dog that was staring at its potential prey, determining if it was worth the hunt.

"Sure."

I blinked. "Sure? You're sure?" I stumbled over my words like a moron.

"No, I'm just agreeing to it so that you'll get excited and all worked up only to be disappointed and crushed when I stand you up." She tapped her forehead with her ring finger. "Yes, I'd love to get a drink with you after work." My mouth feel open, and I lost the ability to speak for a few seconds.

Did that really just happen?

She stood up, and exited the row. I stood up and followed her. "Um, you didn't tell me where you want to go, or what time you get off."

She looked back at me briefly. "Same time, same place. Look for the girl wearing green scrubs with an aura of absolute irritation on account of her job. You'll find me." She turned around and continued walking. I watched her as she opened the heavy doors to the church and stepped into the cold.

I stood there baffled. Same time, same place?

Oh. McGinty's. Duh.

Someone clapped me roughly on the shoulder. "So, tell me brother, how do you do it?"Murph looked amused. I shrugged, still dumbfounded by the turn of events.

"Guess girls like the accent."

Murph snorted. "If that were the case we'd both have women flinging themselves at us left and right." He turned serious as we exited the church.

"Sure you want to get involved with someone right now?"

I lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag. "Chances are we'll have one awesome sex filled night and then never talk to each other again. No harm in that."

Murph lit up his own cancer stick. He knew me better than anyone, and knew the words I just spoke were pure and utter bullshit. I didn't sleep around with random women. It was downright disrespectful in my opinion. The one time I had a one night stand I was a wreck for weeks after the fact. It drove me insane that I had sunk that low. Don't get me wrong. The sex was great- I did some insane things with that particular woman that were downright sinful- but it was just sex. Without that spiritual connection, it seemed so…. Meaningless. I hadn't touched a woman since then.

Murph decided to let it go. "Right. Either way, use your head." He walked ahead of me now, taking another deep drag. "Not just for your sake..."

The unvoiced words hung in the air.

But for the Saints' sake.