Disclaimer here (y'all know the drill by now.)

AN- So I opened up my email and was greeted by a whole slew of 'added to favorites/story alert' messages. This totally my day, you have no idea! =) Also, to anyone who had reviewed, thank you sooooooooooo much! (props to Saoirse Driscoll for reviewing almost every single chapter!) To those who haven't reviewed who would like to make my day, leave a comment! Please please please? *makes puppy dog eyes*

Apologies in advanced if this chapter seems so overloaded with information- I wrote it like that intentionally. Also, I wrote this chapter listening to Circa Survive's new ep called Appendage. If you haven't heard of the band, check them out. They are so inspiring. Anyway. Enough of my rambling- read on!

It was four am, and there was still no word from Smecker. Connor had fallen into a restless sleep and Da- or whoever the fuck he was- had yet to return, leaving me to pace the dingy motel room alone. I felt like caged animal- the room was too small, too confining. It felt like a prison cell- I mean, there were even bars on the windows. I need a smoke. I patted down the pockets of my coat for the fifth time, coming up empty handed. I let out a frustrated groan and instantly my thumb went to my mouth. Always out of smokes at the exact wrong time. Fuckin' Rocco, taking the last pack we had-

Guilt washed over me, thick and heavy, like a wet blanket. Rocco is dead. And it's my fault. I sat down in the threadbare chair by the window and watched the streets numbly. It was a still night. No wind, no rain, no fog, no one walking or driving around. It felt like the world had literally stopped moving- and somehow that seemed appropriate, all things considered.

Roc's dead. Ericka could be dead. Our long lost father appeared out of the blue- after trying to kill us. Connor is literally falling apart in front of me. I looked back over at my twin. He was curled up on his side, brow furrowed, fidgeting. I couldn't fathom how he must have felt.

Watching him lose his composure was wasn't frightening- it was downright terrifying to me. He was always the one who kept it together when shit hit the fan, who kept me from sinking- for Christ sake's, he jumped off a building to save me, it was pretty apparent he'd be there for me, come hell or high water. Now I had to somehow fill those shoes and keep the both of us afloat- and the idea of failing my brother the one time he really needed me wasn't one I could bear.

I had felt lost, watching him break down, fingers knotted in his hair and gasping for air, knowing I couldn't do anything but sling an arm around his shoulder and wait it out with him. "Why would God do this to us?" He had asked me, like I somehow had the answers. Truth is, I was asking myself the same thing. We had dutifully carried out our mission from the Lord, playing God with a gun, gambling on our very lives- and it had cost one, maybe two lives that weren't even ours.

Wasn't that enough for Him?

It was enough for me at least. I bowed my head and started ranting silently at the heavens. I won't do this anymore. Find someone else to be your scapegoat, your instrument, tool- what-have-you. This whole fucking thing has cost us the chance of ever having a shot at a normal life. It cost Rocco his own life- and he got roped into the shit on accident, more or less.

I stopped ranting long enough for the white noise of Conn's breathing and the room's old heater running to fill my ears. Otherwise, it was quiet, similar to the stillness of the world outside.

The silence of the room really pissed me of. Like God had put my call on hold.

Whatever. Fuck this. We're out, for good this time.

Another thought entered my brain. We didn't even get to Papa Joe. Anger started to swell in my stomach, sending uncontrollable tremors through me, my mind shifting gears. We'll fucking get him. We'll get him.

High pitched beeping came from the bed Connor was laying on. I jumped out my chair and crossed the room in threesteps. It was coming from Smecker's pager. I had to pry it out of Connor's hand; he had fallen asleep holding onto it.

I dialed the number, clutching to the grimy phone receiver. Almost immediately, someone picked up. "Who am I talking to?" came Smecker's voice. Vaguely I wondered if he was still dressed in drag- the sight of him in smeared makeup and a dress was an image that would be forever imbedded in my brain.

"It's Murphy." I sighed. "Tell me something good, man."

I heard Smecker hesitate. "Well, I wish I could, Murph. It's complicated."

"Complicated? What in the fuck does that mean?" I growled.

Connor stirred across from me, slowly waking up. "The fuck you talking to?" he muttered, pressing his palms against his eyes.

It was Smecker's turn to sigh. "Get down here as soon as you can. It'll be…easier to explain then." He sounded as tired as I felt.

"Fine. Just tell me, is she alive?"

His words sent a cold chill through me. "For now, yes, she's alive."

It must be bad. Really bad.

"Meet me in front of the hospital in Southie as soon as possible." He hung up, leaving me feeling sick. I took some comfort in knowing that she was in the very place she worked in- at least the night shift nurses knew what they were doing there.

I looked up and found Connor staring at me, face blank. His eyes were dark and distant, miles away. Without a word, we pulled on boots and coats, walking outside to the cold and still night.

Our car was sitting in front of the motel while Da's car was nowhere to be found. I didn't bother to question how our car got to us or where in the hell the old man went. I was grateful to finally be out of the stale room and to be going somewhere with a purpose. Connor climbed into the passenger seat, resting his head on the window. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, only half paying attention to the empty roadways as I drove. He looked like a man just waiting to die….so damn….sad. Dejected. Hopeless. The rings around his eyes matched Ericka's, and the bruises had fully bloomed across his pale face. I felt my chest tighten a little as I thought of what Connor might do if Ericka was indeed dying, dead, whatever. He wouldn't take his life, that much I was sure of. Suicide was a mortal sin, after all

Of course, so is killing a man. What do we know about sin when we bathe in it?

No, he wouldn't kill himself. He'd just wait for something to kill him instead.

I parked the car and got out, walking to the front of hospital. Connor sat in the car, unmoving. "Ya coming?" I asked, concerned. He nodded. "Yeah….i'll catch up with you in a minute." The dazed look on his face didn't make me feel any better, but I sensed he needed a few minute to screw his head back on-before be lost the last little bit of composure and sanity he had left.

I found Smecker standing at a payphone, chain smoking. He offered me a smoke as I approached and I gladly took it, grateful to have something to take off the edge.

Smecker started the conversation without beating around the bush. "Where's Connor?"

"In the car. He's, um, taking this all rather badly. Can't say I blame him."

Smecker nodded in grim understanding. "Well, perhaps it's best he takes his time catching up." He sighed and leaned against the payphone, getting to point of why we were here to begin with. "Ericka is touch and go at this point. She somehow contracted viral meningitis, which means any medication she's given is basically useless."

I felt the stupidity hit me. Meningitis. Of all fucking things. The signs- fever, vomiting, she had complained of headaches and flinched at bright lights. I should've seen it.

The news grew even worse as he continued talking. "She's been put into a medically induced coma, in the hopes that her body will be able to fight off the virus easier. It's impossible to tell whether or not she'll have normal brain function when and if she wakes up."

I was suddenly very glad that I had let Connor take his time in meeting up with Smecker.

"Also," he paused, looking rather sick. "The doctors say she was involved in some sort of physical altercation, which caused her to lose both of the fetus's-"

I choked, mind not fully processing his words. What the fuck did he just say? "She's pregnant with twins?"

Smecker looked sympathetic. "Was pregnant." he corrected me. "She lost them. Not that it mattered. If it wasn't that, the meningitis would've killed them anyways."

This is going to kill Conn. All in one night, his friend and his unborn kids- that none of us had known about- were dead. And his fiancé was in limbo, hovering between life and death.

"We should've dragged her here." I muttered miserably, looking up at the massive brick building in front of me. "She was sick, but we thought it was just the flu. And she was still going to work, she refused to stay at home and actually take a sick day…" I felt like I was uttering excuses, trying to find a way to pin the blame on someone else besides me and Connor when that was exactly where it belonged.

"Don't blame yourself, Murphy, not for Ericka's stubbornness," Smecker grabbed my shoulder, shaking me as he gave me a stern look. "That's how Ericka is, how she's always been."

"Uh….you know Ericka?" I asked.

He lit up another cigarette and nodded. "Yeah, I know her. She's my little sister." He snorted at the dumbfounded expression on my face. "I'm the brother formerly known as Phillip. Witness protection is an amazing thing." He made a face, as if to contradict his statement. "Haven't seen her or Erick since I supposedly died. Neither one of them know I'm alive."

"Erick died a couple years ago." I told him bluntly.

"Oh." He looked thoughtful. "Guess that's what happens when you're out your family's life for over a decade. You stay uninformed" He took another drag of his cigarette, making it clear that the subject was closed to discussion. "Well, it's up to you how much you want to tell Connor."

"Tell me what?" We turned to see Connor standing behind us, arms, folded over his chest. Smecker looked at me meaningfully, as if he was warning me to tread lightly. As if I needed telling twice.

I couldn't lie to Connor. But I couldn't tell him the truth either. He needed to see it for himself. "C'mon, Conn. Let's go see Ericka."

Smecker led us though the hallways of the hospital, to the glass window that housed the ICU. In one of the beds was Ericka, hooked up to machines, wires a seemingly organized mess. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Connor. He unconsciously pressed his fingertips to the glass, staring at her with an agonized look.

"Connor?" came a soft voice. I turned my head and saw Annie standing in the doorway of the ICU in floral printed scrubs, hair up in a messy ponytail. She nodded at me recognition and slowly walked up to Connor. She gently touched his arm. He flinched violently and reached for a gun that wasn't there. Annie didn't look the least bit phased, like she dealt with trigger happy men all the time. Then again, she was from the South, so she probably did.

"Do you want to see her?" she asked softly. Connor pursed his lips, nodding his head. "Yeah. Yeah, can I?" His eyes were focused again, shining urgently. Annie smiled at him. "Of course, hon. Right his way, c'mon on now." Connor followed her into the room, hands deep in his pockets. We watched through the glass as he sat in a chair next to her bed. He shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his rosary, clasping it in between his and Ericka's limp hand. He bowed his head and I watched him pray, lips moving feverishly.

Annie walked back out of the room and nailed me with an angry stare. She walked up to me and grabbed a hold of my coat. "Walk with me." She dragged me down the hall to a random door. She opened it and pulled me in, slamming it behind us. It was a supply closet, and a cramped one at that. We barely had room to stand a foot apart.

"There better be a damn good reason why you two are here." She spat at me in hushed tones.

"We're here for her!" I said, suddenly remembering she knew nothing of our second life- and I had no idea how to cover our tracks. Connor had always been the one with the gift of making up stories on the spot- usually all I had to do was follow his lead and we would be home free.

"You two should be on the run right now! The doctors think he beat the shit out of her, there's cops crawling around this place, they're going to arrest him on the spot if they find him here!"

"He wouldn't fucking lay a hand on her, none of us would! Fuck!" My hands balled up into fists. "You haven't seen him- he's in fucking shambles!"

"I know he didn't do it! I drove her to Papa Joe's for Christ sakes!"

My jaw dropped. "You did WHAT?"

"She called me, asked me for a ride, and you know what? I gave her one. Because she wanted to be there to protect you guys, to make sure the shit didn't hit the fan. And don't you even think of blaming me, if I hadn't given her a ride, she would have found another way and you know it as well as I do." She stared me right in the eyes. "You know what else I know? I know you two are the ones killing members of the mafia. What are y'all called in the papers? The Saints?"

Full blown panic set in. "How the fuck do you know? Ericka didn't tell you did she?"

"Yeah, but it didn't really matter. I figured it out when all of you pulled guns on me one night. C'mon now. I'm not stupid." She added sourly at my look of shock.

"Never said you were." My heart was pounding somewhere up in my throat.

Annie squeezed her eyes tight. "Goddamn, this is one fucked up situation."

"You've got that right…."I muttered, not sure if she heard me or not.

"Well. What are you gonna do? Because you can't stay here in Boston, it's too risky." I suddenly noticed how close her face was to mine.

"It'd be just as risky if we run. I'm sure Smecker will help us out somehow. But we're not going to just abandon Ericka."

She was silent for a moment. She took a hold of my wrist, gingerly feeling it. I winced, remembering for the first time in hours it was broken. "Feels like a clean break. This goes against what I was taught in school, but wrap it, put it up in a sling and avoid using it. It'll fuse back together on it's own. I'll swipe some painkillers for you, it's gonna hurt like a bitch while it's healing." She let go of my arm and then let out a breath, shoulders sagging, eyes suddenly sad. "You know, I couldn't handle it."

I frowned. "Handle what?"

"Being with a Saint." She said. "Know why I stopped talking to you after I figured out who you guys were? It wasn't because I was afraid of you. It was because I knew something like this would happen eventually."

I didn't know what to say to that. I knew she was right- hell, I had seen it that day in the church when Connor asked Ericka out on a date. I knew exactly where it would end up- disaster. And yet, the closer the two of them became as a couple, the more I began to care about her. I tried for indifference, but she just grew on me. She was like my sister in a strange way- I even referred to her in my head as 'the other twin' at times. And while it hurt to acknowledge that we should have never let her into our lives, it hurt even more to think of what life would have been like without her.

Annie gave me a weak smile at my silence. "You know, if you weren't a Saint, if you led a normal life, I would've dated you in a heartbeat. I think we might've been good together. But I'm not cut out for your kind of life." She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "It's a damn shame it has to be this way, Murph." She gently pushed me out of the way and left the closet.

Numbly I followed her back into the ICU, to Erick's bedside, taking a hold of her other hand. Connor was still praying softly. I watched him for a while, feeling exhausted. I had half a mind to tell him that praying was useless, that God didn't answer unless it was convenient for him. But it seemed to be keeping Conn going, giving him some reassurance. I wasn't about to take that away him- God had taken away enough from him. I laid my head down on my arms letting Connor's voice lull me to sleep, thoughts entering my head at random.

We never really had a choice in all of this.

Or did we?

Hell if I know…..Hell if I know.