I do not own Boondock Saints. Italics indicate the words are either spoken in another language or are translations, depending on the language.

She was walking through a vast dark room. The only light came from a lamp in her hand. It revealed cots as she passed, and the injured sleeping in them. She could not see more than a few yards in any direction, but she had been walking through these cots for hours, and still hadn't found the walls of the room. It seemed limitless.

Every once in a while, one of the patients stirred and she went to their side to see what the matter was. She changed bandages and gave water, checked for fevers and cleaned infections. Not all the patients here were men, but none of them were sick from disease. They all suffered from wounds, as if the victims of some great battle.

Eventually, Audrey came upon a face she recognized. It was Murphy, and he was bleeding. She knelt beside him to see that his wounds had not yet been cared for. There was a bullet hole in his arm. Quickly, she set down her lamp and went to work cleaning and dressing the wound. "You're going to be okay," she told him, the first time she had spoken all night. He did not answer. "Can you hear me?" she asked, looking him over. "You're going to be alright." She finished fixing him up, and she tried to rouse him. "Murphy? Murphy!"

Then her lamp went out, and she was plunged into totally darkness. She reached out her hands, grasping for Murphy's cot, for anything solid and real, but she could not even feel ground beneath her feet. She opened her mouth to scream…

Something heavy sat on her chest, and Audrey's eyes shot open. She was looking into the large brown eyes of Rochester. She sat there, looking at her dog, as the realization sank in that she'd been dreaming. "I love you," she said to her brown, furry savior, and gave him a big hug.

She'd had the same nightmare the night before, only that time it had been Rocco she'd failed to wake. One of his fingers, a pinky, had been shot completely off. Again, her lamp had gone out and she'd been plunged into darkness, but last night a voice had boomed around her. She had been entirely unable to discern the timbre of the voice, or whether it was male or female, but the words had rung clearly through her. Destroy that which is evil, so that which is good may flourish. Then and now, Audrey had no idea what it meant.

She sighed and got out of bed. Putting a pot of coffee on, she looked around the apartment. There was almost nothing in it. Just two beds, one of which had Grace sleeping in it, a couch, and a kitchen table. She had a stove and a bunch of kitchen supplies littered all over the counter. "I really need to clean up sometime."

"Are you okay?" Grace said, sitting up bleary eyed from her bed. Her blond curls flopped in her face.

"Fine."

"Then be quiet," she said, falling back down on the pillow. Audrey frowned at her friend. She'd been visiting her uncle. She trusted Grace not to tell him anything she shouldn't, but Uncle Paul was smart. Smart enough to figure things out on his own.

Rochester barked, almost as if he was trying to piss Grace off, and she laughed, reaching down to pet him. Her eyes fell on yesterday's newspaper.

The front page story had been about the MacManus boys, and their ordeal with the Russians. The newspapers were calling the twins 'saints.' Her stomach had churned when she read it. The story set off alarms in her woman's intuition like a gun through a metal detector.

Something was beginning. Something destructive.

She sighed and tossed the paper in the trash. "Yesterday's news," she said, going to her tiny bathroom and taking a shower. By the time she was dressed, her coffee was ready.

She looked at the time and saw it was past noon. She was late for work. Audrey cursed violently. "Bâtards de rat d'âne de merde! Merde!"

"Soyez tranquille!" Grace shouted from her bed, stuffing the pillow over her head. Be quiet!

The phone rang. "Quoi l'enfer voulez-vous?" she shouted into the receiver. What the hell do you want?

"Woah! Du calme!" a man said on the other hand. "Tu parle francais?" Calm down! You speak French?

"Évidemment," she replied. She sighed. "Désolé. Qui êtes-vous ?" Obviously. Sorry. Who are you?

"C'est Connor," replied the voice on the other. It's Connor.

Her eyes widened. "Tu parle francais? Ainsi que russe?" You speak French? As well as Russian?

"Who is it?" Grace asked. Audrey ignored her for a moment.

She heard a chuckle on the other end. "Évidemment," he replied. "Quoi est tort?" Obviously. What's wrong?

"Ça ne te regarde pas," she murmured tiredly. It has nothing to do with you.

"C'est bon," said Connor. That's good.

"So, how are you taking your new rise to stardom?" she asked, switching to English.

"What rise?" Connor asked, changing languages with her. "Everything looks the same to me."

She gave a small chuckle. "Good to know. If your head got any bigger, your neck would break."

"It's Connor, isn't it?" Grace said. Audrey turned to see her getting out of bed and walking over.

"What, me?" Connor asked, mock-indignantly. "Murph's the one with the ego!"

She laughed, hearing a muffled, "Hey, keep me outta this!" in the background.

"So," she asked, getting down to business, "Why'd you call? Decided you wanted that penuche?"

"No…" Connor said, dragging out the word.

"For Christ's sake," she heard Murph say. "Give me the phone!" There was the sound of a struggle, during which Audrey couldn't help grinning.

"Boys!" she shouted into the receiver. "Behave!" Grace was standing next to her, giggling like she could guess what was going down on the other end.

"Sorry," that was both of them. She realized they must have the phone between them. "Audrey, we want to know why someone was trying to kill you."

The good mood instilled by the conversation evaporated. It must have registered in her expression because Grace moved towards her. Audrey maneuvered the phone so she could hear too. "Why?" she asked. "What the hell does it have to do with you?" She tried to make her voice sound harsh and angry, but it wavered slightly.

There was a pause on the other end, and she could just see them looking at each other. "We can't discuss that over the phone," Murph said finally.

"Well, neither can we," she replied, and hung up. Rochester barked at her and Grace gasped. "What?" she asked, looking between them. Grace gave her a scornful look. Amazingly, so did Rochester. "Shut up," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

The phone rang again. Grace snatched it up and held it to her ear. She didn't say anything, but let Audrey listen too. For a moment there was silence. Then, "Hello?" it was Connor.

"Maybe they just dropped it on the counter or something," said Murph.

"Audrey?" Connor asked. "Are you there?"

Grace took pity on them, sort of. "No," she replied.

"Grace?" Murphy asked. Grace started to giggle.

"Is that really the reason you called," Audrey said, breaking into the conversation.

"We're just tryin' ta help you," Connor said. "Why don't you tell us where you are and we'll meet-" Murphy interrupted him.

"No, we can't leave. What about Rocco?"

Audrey hesitated, and thought over their options. "We could come to you," said Grace quietly. Audrey started and stared at her friend.

"Excuse us a moment," she said. "Why did you just suggest that?" she asked in Hebrew.

"Maybe they can help. Don't you trust them?" Grace asked in the same language.

"I don't trust them! No trusting!" She gulped her coffee.

Grace glared. "This is my life too. Let me make my own decisions."

"We're safe," she said. "We don't need any help."

"Maybe I don't want safe. Maybe I want answers," Grace said. She was glaring at her, her blue eyes uncharacteristically hard. Audrey opened her mouth to argue, but she wanted answers too. And the boys…

"They can't help us," she said.

"I think they can," Grace replied, and then turned back to the phone. The argument was over, and Grace had won. Audrey shrugged. If she remained on her toes, this could work. "We can come to you," Grace repeated, this time in English.

They argued about it for a while, but they did it in Irish. It reminded Audrey of what she and Grace had just done. Eventually it was decided and they gave her an address. Grace wrote it down and everybody hung up.

Audrey sighed and rubbed her temples. She should be going to work, but she was so late, she was sure to be fired. Ugh. "I need to find a real job," she muttered.

"Whatever," Grace said, standing straighter. "Let's just go." She dressed and showered quickly, managing to look fabulous in fifteen minutes. For her part, Audrey pulled a gray hoodie over her head, and attached Rochester's leash to his collar. It was about time he met the MacManus boys. She was beginning to like them too much for her own good. She needed to see what Rochester's opinion of them was.

Grace looked at Rochester and smiled. "It's about time."

Ugh! Languages! I actually know some French, hence the attempt. I would have attempted some Hebrew too, but their alphabet and mine are not the same. Italics are just simpler. You guys can use your imaginations right?

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