A/N-Apologies for any grammatical and/or spelling errors. I've gotten really into this story, and wanted to post it ASAP. I'll go back and correct them later, I swear! All rights to whoever they belong to- I can only wish to write something as badass as BDS.
I was at McGinty's right at ten pm, dressed in (literally) my Sunday best. I felt like a friggen high school girl who was going on her first date.
Murph gave me hell as I searched the apartment for clothes that were clean. "Never seen you this worked up over a date before. Sure you're not turning into a sissy on me?"
"Piss off."
"No, no really. It's a bit of a change. Perhaps it's for the better." He glanced around at the shabby bachelor pad. "Ya know, this is place could use a bit of tidying up, don't ya think?" He sipped on a beer. "When you get home, why don't ya do the dishes or somethin' and make yourself useful. You know. Since girlie is your new thing now."
"Shut your mouth."
"Make me." His lips curled into a smirk. "You girlie girl."
The resulting fist fight did little to shut Murph up. As I walked out the door he yelled in an octave higher than his normal voice, "Be back by eleven or I'm lockin' your ass out!" It reminded me uncannily of how Ma used to yell at us when we were teens. Admittedly, her empty threats did little good- We hardly listened to her back then, and I'd be damned if I was gonna listen- to my own damn brother- now.
I scanned the darkened pub for her, anxiously. I rubbed the back of my neck- a sort of nervous tick, much like Murph's nail biting habit.
What if she's not here?
A firmer, far more confident voice sounded in my head. She's here.
I kept looking and in the very darkest and most hidden place of the bar- I found her, hair pulled into a bun, wearing green scrubs and with the unapproachable aura she had promised.
I made my way over to her. "This seat taken?" I asked nervously.
Ericka looked up at me and grinned. "Well…there was this guy that was supposed to meet me, but I think he stood me up. It's alright though- you're far better looking."
I felt the blood rush to my face, grateful for the bad lighting as I took a seat across the table from here.
She had taken the liberty of ordering my drink for me- A Guinness. A girl after my own heart. I popped the cap off the bottle and took a drink. "Thank you." I said.
She raised an eyebrow. "For the beer or the compliment?"
I laughed. "Both."
We talked for a long time after. She was far from the soft spoken and meek girl I had mistaken her for the night before- She was vivacious, fierce, and had a biting wit that could put my dear brother to shame.
Another plus- she was a movie buff. Just as Doc announced last call, we fell into a full on debate on the practicality of rope.
"It's fuckin' necessity!" I all but yelled.
Ericka slammed her palms on the table. "It's fuckin' for aesthetic purposes!" She was so into our faux argument- and I loved the fact she was so serious about it.
She had passion.
A breath of fresh air.
"Name one goddamn thing you would ever need a rope for."
I cleared my throat, trying hard to suppress the laugh as I recalled the first job Murph and I did. "Well, say you were crawling through an air vent, looking for some bad guys to take out, when the vent collapses and lands you in the very room you need to be in- and that rope just so happens to suspend you in the air, leaving you to take out the bad guys in mere seconds."
Ericka's laughter filled my ears. "HA! Only in the movies. That's some Charlie Bronson shit if I've ever heard it."
I felt my face break into a giant shit-eating grin. "My brother shares the same views as you do, that is on the subject of rope. Now your view on the Red Sox, well, that's debatable."
"I'm telling ya! The Royals are gonna kick ass next season! Who needs the Red Sox, man? You Boston fucks-"
Doc appeared at our table. "Connor, as much as I like ya, y-you and your lady friend n-n-need to- FUCK! ASS!" He composed himself before continuing. "Ya need to leave so I can shut the place down. You two are the only ones left."
I looked around the crowded bar- only to find it was indeed empty, and that the giant Guinness clock on the wall read 3am.
"Shit, I'm sorry Doc. We'll get outta your hair." We rose up from our seats, and absently I left money on the table for our drinks- only to find Ericka had already laid out more than enough to cover our drinks.
This girl is two steps ahead of me.
We left the bar, and started walking down a side street. I got the chills suddenly- ones that had nothing to do with the driving wind around us. Something didn't seem right, despite the fact I had greatly enjoyed my night.
I touched Ericka's arm and she halted her walking. "Hey, would ya mind if I walked you home? It's not safe for a lass to be walking around this late."
She raised her eyebrows. "I've managed to take care of myself thus far. I think I'll be fine."
I looked down at her and saw that she was convinced of her own safety. I bit my lip a little, and sighed.
"Alright… if you say so." My better judgment was screaming at me. I pulled out a piece of paper and pen out of my pocket and wrote my number down. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" She frowned as I handed her the sheet of paper.
"Paranoid much?" she tucked the paper into her coat pocket.
Without meaning to, I fell into a tangent- A real MacManus trait. "There are so many bad things out there- bad people." I looked her dead in the eye. "You really don't know."
Her eyes turned steely. "You have no idea of what I do or don't know." It wasn't a challenge- it was a statement of fact, and one I wasn't about to argue with.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I wasn't trying to call you ignorant or offend you. Really. I just…" I redirected my thoughts away from my dead on intuition- didn't want to freak the poor girl out and make her think I was some sort of freak.
You are a freak, Connor. You go around and kill bad guys for a living.
But the guys you kill are evil- bad, evil, corrupt men who have sinned.
'Thou shall not kill.' One of the ten commandments- and it's one that you have broken several times over now.
The internal dialogue raged on in my head, and with some effort I pushed it off to the back of my mind- at least for the moment.
"I just couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. Granted, I've known you for all of a day, but I can tell. You're a good person. You save people for a living- that says a lot right there."
She cut me off mid-tirade. "You can't save every good person out there. Believe me, I'd know." She looked up at me. I felt a jolt go through me- her green eyes were such a distraction.
She placed her hands on my shoulders. "I'll call you when I make it home- in one piece." She stood on her tip toes and kissed my cheek. She smiled at me as she turned to walk away.
I put a hand on my cheek- right where her lips made contact with my skin. "Promise?" I yelled after her.
She held up three fingers without looking back. "Scout's honor!" She yelled as she turned the corner.
I watched her walk away, and stood silently. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up, taking a deep drag before I started my walk home.
My brain was on auto pilot. The route from McGinty's to the apartment was so engraved in my head; I could navigate it even in the drunkest stupor. I was surprised I hadn't worn a path in the damn concrete. Tonight, it wasn't a drunken stupor I walked through. It was the inner war that raged inside me- so frequent as of late- that distracted me from my walk. I had never bothered to question good and evil, the word of God, and never my instincts. Between my new career and this new girl, I was bound to either drop dead or drive myself mad. Both seemed likely.
What in the fuck are you thinking, letting her walk herself home? Do you want her to get raped or mugged?
Another voice in my head cut in.
She seemed so sure of herself though…
WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING? TURN AROUND- NOW!
She'd be so angry if she found you following her. Pissed wouldn't even begin to cover it.
But she won't be pissed if she falls into the wrong hands, the wrong situation and you save her from it.
"Fuck!" Instead of hanging a left on the street we lived on, I turned right and kept walking-listening hard for any sound that seemed out of the ordinary. Four blocks later, I finally heard something- proving my intuition right once again.
If it's my job to protect the innocent and the good, then apparently I suck at it.
My thoughts turned serious.
If Ericka's hurt, I will never forgive myself.
I ran like hell until I found the source of the commotion. I reached into my coat and pulled out my gun- one of many I owned. I rounded the corner and took aim- and then let my arms drop to my side.
Ericka- tiny little Ericka- was kicking some major scumbag ass.
One guy was laying face down in the street, while the other guy was getting the living shit beat out of him. I watched in awe as Ericka delivered a well aimed blow to the guy's temple, causing him to crumple to the ground.
"Holy mother of God."
Ericka looked up and crossed her arms, breathing normally.
She didn't even break a sweat.
She sauntered over to me. "So, Mr. MacManus. Care to explain why you followed me home?" She glanced at my weapon, voice suddenly sarcastic. "And do you even know how to shoot that thing?"
I nodded my head. "Yes, I can shoot a gun, quite well if I say so myself." Her eyes pierced me. I held my hands up and dropped the gun at my feet. "And I'm sorry I followed you home. I just had this gut feeling." My voice trailed off. She rolled her eyes at me.
"Look, I'm sorry, I really am. I just couldn't let you walk alone in good conscious… though apparently you can take good care of yourself."" I waved to the two guys on the ground, who were still alive, judging by the rise and fall of their chests. "What were they trying to do anyway?"
She laughed. "Tried to sell me some drugs. I doubt they're legit dealers- just a couple kids trying to support their bad habits. They looked pretty damn young. Anyway, I decided to rough 'em up a bit- hopefully knock some sense into them." She paused as she looked at my facial expression- one of sheer disbelief.
Ericka seemed to lose her self-restraint then. "Look, it's not like I pulled a Saints on them, okay? They'll wake up roughed up but they'll be fine. Stop looking at me like that!"
I cocked my head at her, intrigued. "Same principle, isn't it?
She waved her arms, hands clenching to fists at her sides. "I suppose." I could see her breath as she spoke- reminding me of how cold it was outside.
"Alright, no more talking about ethics or debating if good guys are bad." I reached out and touched her cheek. "Let me walk you the rest of the way home. Please?"
She sighed, and playfully punched me in the arm. "I guess. You'll just follow me if I say no."
I put my arm around her shoulders and held her to my side as we walked. It was strangely comforting to me.
The inner battle started again.
Don't get too attached. Sounds like she's not fond of the Saints.
I ignored it until we arrived at her apartment. She turned to me as she stood on the bottom step. "Would you like to come in…?" She was just tall enough to look at me without looking up at me.
I swallowed hard, fighting the male reaction of, "Fuck yes, let's do it!" I wanted to see this woman again.
"I better not. Got some business to take care of tomorrow." I picked my words carefully. "Heading out of town for a few days." She nodded her head.
"When will I get to see you again, my fine Irishman?" Her lips twisted into a smirk, evidently finding her words cheese-tastic.
My stomach turned over. "Soon," I promised.
The whole world stopped for a few brief moments as she leaned forward, lips parted. I met her halfway. Her hands were in my hair as I wrapped my arms around her tiny body. Heat rose up to my cheeks; my head was light.
Never in my life had I ever experienced this feeling- the world could have been crashing down around me and I wouldn't have cared.
As we broke apart, my heart was pounding and I had to fight to not pull her back to me. I wanted her- and not just in the sexual sense. I wanted all of her.
She smiled as she walked into her apartment building without a word.
It wasn't until I was home in my apartment- with my gun, and the ID's of the two punks Ericka had beaten the crap out of- that I found a note in my coat pocket. Written on a napkin from McGinty's in neat cursive was a phone number with the words, "Call me, Irishman. Ps- The name is Engel. Thought you'd like to know. "
Engel. Figures her last name translates to 'Angel.'