All rights to whoever. I don't think I could get more apathetic with my disclaimers.

The speed at which Ericka's facial expressions changed was remarkable. At first was dawning comprehension, followed by shock, which was followed by irritation, which transitioned into resignation. But fear was never there- the one emotion I was sure would appear on her face.

This girl amazes me.

She took a deep breath, nailing us with the same piercing gaze she had given at the hospital. "So, cut to the chase. Are you guys the Saints?" We nodded. She bit her lip for the briefest second before continuing her interrogation.

"First off, how did that girl in the ER and her brother become involved with y'all?" I smiled at the use of the word 'y'all' as I vaguely wondered where she had picked that up- it wasn't exactly a colloquial term here in Boston.

"The brother sort of sought out our help- thanks to Roc, here. We didn't know fully what was going on, just that we had an opportunity to scope out a bad guy. We didn't find out until we got there that Jose and his sister was supposed to be executed because they didn't want to push or hook for the guy anymore." Ericka's face bordered on disgust and shame. I wondered if she knew she was the one who had beat Jose up- though judging by the guilty look she gave me, I was pretty sure she was. "It was just right time, right place. I'd hate to think of what would have happened if we hadn't been there."

"What happened to her, do you know?" Murph cut in. "Maria looked like she had been beaten within an inch of her life."

"Fairly accurate description." Ericka shook her head and sighed. "She'd taken quite a beating before she was shot-"

"I didn't think we'd hit her when we started shooting!" Murph's voice shook slightly.

"Hon, I'm not honestly sure of when she was shot- and in any case, I'm fairly certain that you didn't shoot her on purpose, if you did indeed shoot her at all. However, it doesn't much matter now because she's hospital with her brother, safe and bullet free. So calm the fuck down, boy."

Muprh looked as if he wanted to punch a wall- and judging by his jerky movements as he lit a smoke, it was possible he might. He took in a deep breath of nicotine, trying to calm his frayed nerves. I leaned over, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt his whole body shaking- glancing down I saw he was bouncing his leg up and down rapidly.

"Calma mo dheartháir. Beidh gach go breá." Calm my brother. All will be fine.

Hearing reassurances in Gaelic always seemed to soothe him. As he stilled his fidgeting I felt a small surge of pride- Murph had always been a nervous ball of energy- I was the only one who knew how to keep him in check. Another one of those twin things.

Murph turned back to Ericka, who had been gazing at the nutrition facts label on the can of beer she was drinking, apparently picking up on Murph's 'gonna break some shit' vibes. "Guess you're right." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

Ericka looked up from her beer. "Happens every now and then." She offered him a kind smile as she shrugged. Her face turned serious again. "Well, how long have you guys been doing this?"

"A few months at the most." Murph frowned. "Since Saint Patty's day, I believe….Yeah. Something like that."

"Why did you start in the first place?"

"Couple of Russian mafia fucks took a bar fight a bit too seriously and showed up at our apartment." I was surprised at how nonchalant I was. Could be talking about the weather for fuck's sakes. "It was either them or us, and well, we're a bit selfish."

Murph shook his head at me. "Best use of a toilet I've ever seen. Still can't believe you survived that fall."

"Fall?" Ericka cocked her head slightly.

"This stupid fuck jumped five stories, using one of the Russian Mafioso's as a landing pad."

"You just fuckin' remember this stupid fuck saved your ass." Murph took a swipe at me but before we had a chance to fall into one of fist fights, Ericka gave a loud cough. We sat back promptly in our chairs waiting for the interrogation to continue.

"Alright, alright- why do you keep going after mafia members and the like?"

"God." The simple answer didn't seem to surprise her.

"Figured as much. You both have saints tattooed on your necks- Speaks volumes about your beliefs." She took a swig of her beer. "Well. What are your conditions?"

"Conditions?"

"You know, for taking someone out." She waved her hands as she talked. "I guess that question sounds a bit tactless, but what's the deal? Does God send a monthly postcard? 'Greetings from Heaven, take out these guys.'" I bit back a laugh, not wanting to incur the wrath of my twin.

Murph leaned forward in his chair, voice low. "We seek to take out evil. The corrupt- the ones who have no hope of changing, who use other people to their advantage, who have lost sense of right and wrong- they are the ones we go after. We want to rid the world of the filth that roams free."

He let a moment of silence pass. "Take it or leave it, however this is our purpose in life- our calling. If you can't wrap your head around it, then I suggest you forget about us three and go about your life, doing as much good as you can. I trust you wouldn't tell anyone about us."

Ericka quirked an eyebrow. "You underestimate my ability to comprehend the strange and unusual." She spoke calmly, but her words were tinged with undisguised irritation-Every word was punctuated with the emotion. "I can wrap my head around having faith. I can wrap my head around answering to your calling. I can't wrap my head around the fact that you're telling me all of this as if I'm like your best fucking friend or some shit. I thought I'd have to fight you to the death for information, and you just come right out and say it. Shocking, really."

"Well, Connor here trusts you. I trust his judgment- it's never wrong."

"Ah. You mean that 'intuition bullshit' as he so eloquently put it." She said pointing at Roc.

"Hang on- You followed us?" I asked, slightly alarmed by the fact we hadn't noticed her.

We must be slipping- or just getting too damn reassured.

"Yup. How's it feel?" She smirked as she took another drink of beer. "Oh, and by the way Rocco, learn some fucking volume control. I swear to God all of Boston heard you shouting plans to whack and dispose of my corpse." Murph half coughed, half laughed, covering up by lighting another cigarette.

Roc looked ashamed. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking get it. Just looking out for yourselves." Her face softened. "Alright. I'll tell you what. You guys are bound to get hurt at some point- Be it during a job, barfight- whatever. You can't exactly walk into the ER with a gunshot wound and not have questions asked. From now on, consider me your personal medic."

"What makes you so fucking qualified? You're just a nurse." Roc spit out the words with his thick Boston accent, not realizing who exactly he was dealing with.

Ericka merely chuckled. "Hold on a minute, Roc." She got up from the table and disappeared into the living room returning to us a few moments later with a slim leather book in her hand. She threw it down in front of Roc, and gestured with her hand. "There are my fucking qualifications. Go on. Open it."

Roc opened up the first page, scanned it, and then handed it off to Murph and me. His face was bright red and he refused to look anywhere but his beer bottle.

I felt the surprised look on my face, but I couldn't wipe it away. The first page in book was a copy of Ericka's military service record- Apparently she had been a staff sergeant in the us army, job title being combat medic. On the next few pages were all of her awards, and achievements. Apparently she was sent overseas twice during the gulf war- each tour lasting a year, and then did several small stints at other bases in the Middle East.

In other words, she's seen her fair share of shit.

"Wow." Was the only thing Murph could manage.

"What? So shocking that tiny little me has service time?" She seemed a tad amused.

"No…it's just that it looks like you've seen a lot."

Her face darkened as she crossed her arms. "I have, Murph. I've seen and worked on many good men and women and I've seen them die." She cringed, though I was pretty sure she wasn't even aware of the action. "Makes you grow up- nothing is more sobering than knowing you could have saved someone if you had known what to do." She pursed her lips, lost in her thoughts for a brief moment. I had the distinct feeling, once again, that I was indefinitely missing something.

"Either way, it's not impressive or important what I did- what's important is that I know my shit and I could very well wind up saving your life at some point- which considering your line of work, I'd say that's fairly probable. So. Do you want my help, or not?"

I didn't bother to look at Muprh. "Aye." I replied, looking her dead in the face.

She smiled a little. "Good." Her smile widened into a mischievous grin. "Well, now with that miserable little chat out of the way, how do you boys feel about a few rounds of Irish poker?"

Ericka POV

Well, I am now in league with the goddamned Saints (no pun intended) of South Boston. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I need another beer.

After everything started to click- as in, when the gerbil got in the wheel, when the light bulb flickered on over my head- well, what else could I do? I knew I should have been scared shitless, should have kicked them out of my apartment and reported them. But there was something about Connor and Murphy that seemed good- so unbelievably good.

Murph reminded me a lot of my brother- he was so fidgety, like he couldn't sit still for more than a minute at a time. Something told me he couldn't resist a good joke. I looked at him, passed out on the living room floor- I was going to murder him if he threw up all over the rug like Eric did when I moved out on my own.

I snorted at the memory. At least Murphy can hold his alcohol. Eric was such a lightweight.

Speaking of lightweights…..I peered into the bathroom and found Rocco with his head on the toilet. I wasn't so sure I liked him, but I could learn to deal with him. Wonder if he makes decent Italian food, I wondered as I picked him up and patiently guided him to the couch, putting a trash can near his face.

I looked around for the last member of the Saints. I couldn't find him anywhere, so resigning myself to the cold as Murph was using my coat as a pillow, I stepped outside and found Connor resting against the metal railing, also without a coat. He wasn't smoking, and I didn't see a beer or other alcohol in his hand- he was just standing there. He looked almost stoic in the moonlight. I grinned to myself- he hadn't noticed me- too perfect.

Slowly I tiptoed behind him, and spoke softly into his ear. "You do realize it's ten degrees out here, right?" I laughed as I got my desired reaction out him. He jumped straight up and looked down at me- hand already at his empty holster.

"Ericka, Jesus Christ, what in the fuckin' hell-" He cursed in a few other languages. French, Spanish, German, and- My God, was that Russian? How many fuckin' languages does he know?

English, Latin- he spoke it at church- German, Russian, Spanish-more than likely- who doesn't know at least a tiny bit of Spanish nowadays?- French, and whatever he spoke to his brother in the kitchen- Gaelic maybe? So…seven or eight in total. Puts that one guy in my old unit who knew both Arabic and French to shame.

"Um, I'm sorry Conner. I didn't mean to startle you. Well, yeah I did. I didn't mean to scare you as badly as I did though." His eyes softened.

"It's alright, love. I was just…"

"Miles away?"

He smiled. "Something like that."

I looked out at night sky- it was unusually clear out. I felt arms wrap themselves around my shoulders. I looked up and found Connor staring out at sky with me. I sighed and leaned back into him. He rested his chin on the top of my head.

We stood there in silence for a long while. We watched as the sky faded from a dark blue into a faint pink and orange hue. It was then I noticed Connor shivering.

"You're s-s-sshivering." My lips were cold and numb. Connor looked at me, and shook his head. "C'mon. Let's get you inside."

He led me back into my apartment, rubbing my arms in attempts to warm me back up. I walked to my bedroom as he followed next to me, bodies violently shaking from being in the cold for so long. I pulled off my jeans and climbed under the covers of my bed, not even considering the fact Connor was in the same room as me. My head felt fuzzy.

Maybe the alcohol caught up to me… How many beers did I have? Did I drink that whole bottle of whisky to myself?

I must have a real drinking problem…

Connor interrupted me counting up how many drinks I had consumed. Kneeling next to me he gently pulled my hair out of the rubber band that had held it a tight bun all day and smoothed it out. He kissed my forehead. "Codail go maith, mo ghrá." He whispered as he rose from my bedside. I wanted to yell at him, demand that he translate what he just said- for all I knew he could be cursing me. However I felt sleep pulling me under, so I did the only thing I could do in my present mindset.

"Bleibst du mit mich?" Not entirely sure where the German came from or if was I speaking it correctly, I reached out and gently pulled on his wrist figuring he would get the message.

I heard him chuckle as he pulled away. The sounds of denim hitting the floor reached my ears. I felt Connor climb into bed with me, pulling me into his chest. I feel into sleep, aware of only the strong arms that held me, the smell of cigarettes and the stubble that brushed my neck.

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