A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you to IrishSaints, Jade Opal and icydragon14 for reviewing and to all of you that are reading right now. I'm glad you are enjoying the story! It will only get better and better, I promise!

I made an OC CHARACTER COLLAGE for this fic, and I am very pleased with it. (I especially like Sean Flannagan's picture: it was almost exactly how I pictured him to be!) The link to the collage is located on my profile since I can't put direct links here. What is this collage, you ask? It's basically a pictorial list of the OC characters in my story! I will update new characters as the story goes along, but for now, these are the main OC's. I hope it will help with how you picture the characters when you read about them. It really helps when I'm writing! Let me know what you think of it, too! xx

Now, onto the story!

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Chapter 7: Secrets

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"Same Direction"

By: Hoobastank

Whenever I step outside, somebody claims to see the light

It seems to me that all of us have lost our patience.

'Cause everyone thinks they're right

And nobody thinks that there just might

Be more than one road to our final destination.

But I'm not ever gonna know if I'm right or wrong

'Cause we're all going in the same direction

And I'm not sure which way to go

Because all along

We've been going in the same direction

I'm tired of playing games, of looking for someone else to blame

For all the holes in answers that are clearly showing

For something to fill the space, was all of the time I spent a waste

'Cause so many choices point the same way I was going

So why does there only have to be one correct philosophy?

I don't want to go and follow you just go end up like one of them

And why are you always telling me what you want me to believe?

I'd like to think that I can go my own way and meet you in the end.

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"I'm hungry."

"Then go make yerself some food."

"Don't wanna. Do it for me, Con. And make it snappy."

"Fuck ye, ye lazy womp."

Connor and Murphy droned like so side by side, flopped upon the black leather couch in the smoke-filled living room. With their heads hanging loosely about their necks and limbs haphazardly sprawled everywhere, their glazed eyes remained glued to the television in front of them. From time to time, they would take sips of their bottled beer, take drags of their cigarettes and languidly scratch their stomachs. Since their current mission was put on hold until their father returned home, the twins thought that this was the perfect way to spend their time while they waited.

Murphy leisurely flipped through the channels one by one, grunting and rolling his eyes every time a soap opera would appear on the screen – which, to his utter annoyance, seemed to be every second channel. "Ooh, I love ye, Fernando, marry me!" he mocked with an extremely effeminate voice, with much distaste and disgust lining his tone and expression. With drama skills that would impress even the Queen, he began to hug himself. "I've loved ye from the moment I saw ye. I wanna love ye foreeever and eeever!" His mockery disappeared as quickly as it had come, and with a growl, he returned back to his normal Murphy self. "Fuckin' soap operas. I hate these shows."

In a laggardly manner, Connor twisted his head to face his brother. With an eyebrow raised and pursed lips, he stated, "Ye see, this is why you can't get another girlfriend."

With a silent, dismissive gesture from his twin, Connor rolled his eyes, reaching for the remote control. As if upon reflex, Murphy held it away, placing it high above his head. "I'm watchin' that."

"Ye just said ye hated these shows!" Connor tried another lunge at the remote, but was foiled once more as Murphy jerked it away from his grasp. "Gimme it!"

"Never said I wasn't watchin' it. And ye didn't say please." countered Murphy, still holding the blasted remote above his head while his eyes peered towards the television. With a gasp, he proclaimed, "Ooh, Bernard is going to propose to Cassandra! Look, Con!"

With a snarl, Connor rightly launched himself at his brother, holding his arm steady in order to snatch at the remote once more. Murphy tried his best to evade him as he sat on the couch, gripping the remote as tightly as he could. When Connor continued to struggle with him, Murphy held out his free hand, pushing at Connor's face. With an irritated grunt, Connor managed to twist his face out of Murphy's hand's way and…

"Ow, ye fuckin' bit me!" Murphy yelped, more in surprise than pain, as Connor pursued with his mission. Taking the collar of his black t-shirt, Murphy pulled his brother with all his might, sending them both to the ground with a huge thud. With grunts and curses, they began to fight and roll at the same time, hitting the coffee table, couch, and various other furniture within the room. In their struggle, objects broke around them, making a right mess out of the living room in only a few seconds.

"Give me the fuckin' remote!" Connor boomed as he gained the upper hand. Gritting his teeth, he pinned his brother down by his shoulders. Then, moving quickly behind him, Connor pulled his brother up, trapping his head in a tight headlock. As Murphy struggled and flailed his arms, Connor barked, "Murphy, ye bastard, I said…"

Connor wasn't able to finish his sentence. With a swing of his arm, Murphy's hand, which still held the remote, connected with Connor's forehead. As he bellowed and cursed in pain, he shoved Murphy's arm away, sending the remote flying towards the other side of the room. Twisting their heads, the two men followed the projectile's path, which ended…

…right in front of their father.

The twins eyed his black boots with a wince, then brought their gazes higher and higher until they saw his face. Il Duce stood stick straight, hands crossed in front of him. Taking another cursory glance at the wreckage that was now his living room, his blazing eyes landed on his sons. Face stone firm, he demanded in a sharp tone, "What the fuck is goin' on here?"

The room became so silent that crickets could be heard. Very loudly.

"Erm…" Murphy began, slowly pushing himself up from the ground. "We were…uh…"

"Redecorating." Connor offered as he stood, simultaneously brushing the dust off of his clothing. With this statement, he subsequently received an elbow in the stomach from his brother.

Obviously unimpressed by their response, they saw their father's lips curl into a snarl. "We're not goin' on that hit tomorrow until ye boys clean this shit up, ye hear me?"

Murphy's eyes widened in disbelief. "But Da…"

It was Connor's turn to shove his brother in annoyance. Through clenched teeth, he simply snapped, "Just shut the fuck up and clean!"

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"Ye gotta love that gun dealer."

"He's gotta love us. We're his best customers."

It was another chilly night in Boston as the brothers drove home, having been well supplied with weapons for the pending Yakavetta supporter hit. Thanks to their father and his connections, their stock of guns, knives, and rope (for Connor) were plentiful this time around, almost bursting out from their trunk and spilling over the backseat. Now they were finally satisfied with their goods to begin their actual preparations for the hit.

Murphy sat contentedly in the passenger's seat, examining his new Desert Eagle .50 with a smile comparable to a kid's in a candy store. One at a time, he would regularly fish at another weapon lying on the backseat, tongue in between his teeth as he grinned. His brother, on the other hand, didn't share his excitement. Connor tried his best to concentrate on the busy road ahead of him, but his mind was plagued with other thoughts. As if reading his mind, Murphy inquired, "What ye thinkin' 'bout? Ye look like ye just came back from a funeral instead of a weapon depot!"

Breathing out sharply, Connor glanced at his brother, and then turned his eyes back to the road. "Murph, I don't know how long I can keep up with this charade. We're making leads and shit, gettin' closer to findin' the bastards, but I just can't keep pretendin' to be a fuckin' agent anymore."

"It's been two fuckin' weeks for ye, Con!" Murphy snorted, looking at his brother as though he were daft. "Smecker's been doin' it for like twenty. Try to imagine yerself in his shoes."

"He ain't playin' a fuckin' role, Murph." Clearing his throat, Connor uncomfortably admitted in a low tone, "I just can't keep lyin' to Lourdes. She thinks I'm like a fuckin'…saint."

Murphy scoffed at the unintended pun, giving his brother a slap on the shoulder. "Hey, at least she doesn't think yer a fuckin' suspect in a fuckin' hit we didn't even do!" He rolled his eyes, letting out a breath exasperatedly. "The least she could do is give me credit for something that I did do. Like that hit I did on my own last month." A smile appeared on Murphy's face, leaning his head back on the headrest in bemused recollection. "Now that shit was brilliant."

"It's more than that, Murph." With a shake of his head, Connor's tone suddenly changed, his voice becoming audibly softer. "I'm startin' to get…attached….to her, or some shit like that. The more time I spend with her, the more I get to know her. Not the agent side of her, but more than that. The real her, ya know? And there are just some things about her life that I feel like I can relate to…"

"Oh fuck. Someone's goin' on Oprah."

Connor shot his brother a wary look. "Look, it's not like I'm fallin' in love with her or anythin', it's nothin' like that…"

"Oh, so ye just want to 'get to know her' better, aye?" Murphy nudged him with his elbow, raising his eyebrows repeatedly. He then pursed his lips in question. "Wait, so that means you still haven't had sex with her?"

"I'm serious, Murph!" Connor snarled, giving his brother a shove. He shifted through his emotions, trying to find out exactly how to explain them. "It's not as easy as it seems. It's just that…I know I'll give a shit if something actually happens to her, ya know? Kinda like how I would care if we had a sister. She's a good person, and she doesn't deserve the shit that she's been goin' through."

"Well, givin' a shit about someone is good, bro." Murphy gave a shrug, breathing out. "But ye gotta remember what's at stake here and what yer doin'. Hate to break it to ye, Con, but ye two aren't friends, as much as ye'd like to believe it. Ye barely know her and her lot of agents."

"Aye, I've thought about all that." Connor retaliated quickly, feeling his defenses rise. "I just feel like something's up, somethin' 'bout her agents…"

"Well, that's the lesson for ye. Ye shouldn't quickly trust these agents, any of 'em," Murphy twisted his head face his brother, "…no matter how pretty they may be."

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As Lourdes drove home from another long day, she contemplated about her meeting with Smecker. To her confusion, she found that his mannerisms became quite unusual when she spoke of the Saints. With regards to that, she suspected that it was merely because he was the head of that investigation and that, even after a year, the Saints were still on the loose. She couldn't even fathom the shit that Smecker has probably been given for his unsuccessful attempts to apprehend them, especially when they continued their killing spree. Though, when she began to question 'Patrick Connolly's' background and track record, Smecker rightly tensed, as much as he had tried to conceal it. Her natural instincts were well in tune, so much so that she could almost see the beads of sweat, brought about by nervousness, forming upon Smecker's forehead.

"I chose him specifically for this case, especially since he's been only working for a short while." He had said simply, folding his hands in front of him.

"For a while?" Lourdes raised an eyebrow, her suspicions getting the best of her, "How long would that be, exactly?"

"Just a little over a year." Smecker had answered vaguely, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

And Agent Connolly had said he had been on the force for three years, she recounted to herself, becoming even more unnerved by this information. Maybe he had only been working in Boston for a year. Is that what he had meant?

Before she could contemplate this any further, flashing headlights appeared suddenly to her right, catching her off guard. With her quick reflexes, she steered out of the car's way just in time, before it sped off further into the night in hazardous zigzags. Instantly pumping her brakes, her car came into an abrupt stop, just before it came dangerously close to hitting a lamppost. As she recovered from the near collision, muffled noises came from the dark alleyway to her right side. Seeing that the lamp-lit streets were deserted, her defenses were on high, immediately going for the gun in her holster. Feeling that it was safer to remain in her car, she kept silent, sinking deeper into her seat as she heard,

"And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee

Power hath descended forth from Thy hand

That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.

So we shall flow a river forth to thee

And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

In Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti."

The sound of silencers followed, making Lourdes jump on her seat. Her instincts heightened, she crept out of her car, keeping her back close to the vehicle as she twisted her head to face the alleyway. She could make out three figures within, huddling over the body as they placed something upon the victim's face. Seeing that they were preoccupied, Lourdes quickly grabbed her CV radio and hastily whispered for backup. As she turned around, she saw the three killers walk away, disappearing deeper into the alleyway. Finding that she couldn't just let them leave, she appeared from behind her vehicle, holding her gun straight in front of her as she shouted, "Freeze!"

With her command instantly gaining their attention, the trio turned simultaneously, guns drawn. Lourdes swallowed, using all her courage to keep her weapon pointed at them. Remaining behind her vehicle, she cried, "Drop your weapons now!"

She didn't think for a second that they would listen to her. Though, to her surprise and utter relief, the figure on the far right lowered his gun, and then motioned for the other two to do the same. As the three backed away, the figure furthest from her left kept his gun up, though not directly pointing at her. Before she could react, they disappeared into the adjacent alleyway, with rosaries swaying furiously in front of them.

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A/N: So, what'd you think about that? Don't forget to check out the OC CHARACTER COLLAGE link! It's on my profile once again. xx Till next time!