I do not own Boondock Saints.

"Bitch!" the man shouted, punching Audrey on her collarbone. "Stay away from the whore!" He grabbed her patient by the hair and began dragging her away.

She took the blow. She was so angry it didn't register. "This woman needs serious medical attention," she shouted. "If you don't release her right now, I swear, I'll call the police." Her hands were curled into tight fists.

The man growled at her. "The police can't do a fuckin' thing. Stay outta my way." He pushed her away from him, so roughly she fell to the floor. He had his wife and pulled her out of the clinic with him.

She cursed at him in French. She used to wonder why she'd been made her learn it, but now she knew. It was so she could say whatever she wanted and no one would understand her. Boston had a lot more Spanish and Italians wandering around than French.

A hand grasped her shoulder. "Let him go." She turned to see Grace. "It's not worth you getting hurt," she continued.

"It is if I can help that woman," she said, starting to jerk away, but Grace's grip was firm.

"You're only a volunteer, Audrey," she said. "I know the nurses let you get away with doing a lot stuff you shouldn't be, but what if the pastor found out?"

"What the fuck does he know?" she hissed. "That poor woman…" Grace spun her around and gripped both her shoulders.

"You can't save everyone," Grace said, staring right in her eyes. Audrey glared ferociously at the ground, but she knew Grace was right. "Now get back to work," the blonde said. She did so.

The morning after St. Patty's day had her sewing up a lot of hung over Irishmen, beat up by their exploits the night before. It was very early in the morning, but she'd already had one guy stumble in, completely naked, with a plastic green top hat stuck up his ass. M.D.s handled that one.

So it was unsurprising that she didn't notice the two men in dirty bathrobes until it was time for her to clean them up. "Jesus Christ," she exclaimed when she saw Murphy half dragging, half carrying Connor into her suture room. She helped him get his brother up on the examination table. "Fucking Russians, right?"

"If your gonna say 'I told you so,'" Connor said, his accent thicker than normal, "I'll kick your ass, girl or not." She ignored him, instead examining the handcuffs on his wrists.

"Grace!" she shouted. "Could you help me with these?" She gestured to the handcuffs.

Grace popped her head in and saw the boys. "Oh my goodness!" she said. Quickly, she pulled a hair pin from her bun. Several curls fell out, but she ignored them. Instead, she unfolded the pin and picked the cuffs.

"Thanks," Audrey said, throwing the cuffs in the trash.

"You're pretty good at that," Murphy commented, playing with a cigarette.

"Don't light that," Audrey said, picking up Connor's right hand and gently examining it. His wrist was cut from pulling hard on the cuffs. It was also warm. "You look awful," she said, glancing up at him.

"You don't look so great yourself," said Murph, no longer playing with the cigarette. He had a yellow bag he was rummaging through now.

"What?" she asked, thrown by the unexpected comment. He touched his collarbone, reminding her of the incident earlier this morning. "Oh, that. It's nothing. Sometimes people don't want your help."

"Who was it?" Connor asked. His voice rougher than usual, and his hands balled up. His wrists must have hurt more than she thought. She tried to make her movements softer.

"Don't do that," she said quietly, gingerly pulling his hand flat. "I hope you gave 'em hell."

"I thought you didn't approve of violence," said Murphy.

"If they show up beaten half to death, I'll fix 'em up, but I have to, you know?" she shook her head. "You don't know. Never mind. The full explanation is too long and confusing." She carefully wrapped his wrist in gauze.

"They're dead," Connor said. Grace and Audrey both jumped. Audrey looked at Connor and their eyes met for a moment. Her went all nervous and fluttery in her chest, and she didn't like the feeling. Quickly, she dropped her gaze and went back to her work. She finished taping up the one wrist in silence. She was glad the Russians were dead, even though she knew that was an awful thing to think.

She picked up his other hand. For the first time, she noticed the tattoo there. It said Veritas. She looked up at him. "Truth?" Connor looked back at her, but he didn't say anything. Her heart did that uncomfortable thing again. This time her kidneys joined in.

"You know Latin?" Murphy asked. She went back to her work and her organs went back to normal.

"I was a classics major in college. We know Greek and Hebrew too," Grace said. Audrey looked at her friend to see she was helping Murphy with a few scrapes. "Audrey was a bio major, but she helped me study. We learned together."

She finished up the other wrist. "Let's see your head," she said, moving a step closer. She started to wash the blood away. There was quite a bit of it, but it was mostly dry. Head wounds bled a lot. She brushed some of his hair out of the way. "Won't even need a bandage," she said, finishing washing the blood off. "It looks a lot worse than it is. Why can't you walk?"

"Fell," Connor said. She stepped away and looked at his legs, and saw his left knee. She bent to examine it closer.

"From how far?" she asked warily, as she began to patch up his leg. Connor shrugged, but didn't answer her question. She finished bandaging his leg. "Put as little weight on it as possible today, but you should be fine by tomorrow. Honestly, you're really lucky."

"I don't feel lucky," Connor said as she and Murphy helped him off the table.

"You're alive," she pointed out. "You can stay here as long you want, but you can't stay in this room. I've other people to take care of."

"You're kickin' us out?" Connor asked.

"Yep," she said, smiling sweetly. "I'm sure you'll find something to do." They grinned and winked, their smiles far more mischievous than hers.

"Keep up the good work, girls," Connor said as they started to walk out.

"You guys be careful!" Grace replied.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Audrey.

Murphy shrugged. "Turn ourselves in."

Audrey nodded. Noble, that fit them. "Hey, next time we meet," she said as they were headed out the door, "let's nobody get hurt, alright?"

The MacManus boys laughed. "You two got a number?" Connor asked. Grace smirked and grabbed a pen. "Here," she said, writing it down on a pad of sticky notes advertising some drug company. "That's the only one you get, so don't lose it," she said, and stuck it to his forehead. "Now get!"

They laughed as they walked out. Audrey stood there for a moment, grinning like an idiot, when Grace suddenly turned to her. "Well, well, well," said she said to her friend. "What do we have here?"

Audrey frowned and started to get back to work. "What?"

"I always knew you'd find a man," Grace replied, "but I didn't expect you to find one without even trying." Grace sounded wistful. "You're so lucky."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, cleaning up her room a little. It didn't need to be cleaned, but she wanted something to do so she wouldn't have to look at Grace.

"Connor, silly! You aren't turning into Florence Nightingale on me, are you?"

She spun. "What? How is that relevant?"

"That's the nurse who fell in love with one of her patients, right?" Grace asked, fiddling with some of her curls. Audrey shook her head.

"No," she said. "Florence Nightingale is the nurse who believed God had given her a mission to heal the sick. She took care of wounded soldiers."

Grace looked at her for a moment. "Darn," she said. "I'm too late." Audrey stared at her, eyes wide, as the blond turned around and walked out.

"What the hell does that mean?" She shouted when she'd recovered herself.

"Language!" was the only reply she got.

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