ANGEL OF THE BRONX
Based on the movie "Boondock Saints"

"Connor, it was- Who the hell are you?" Anna froze in the doorway. The man, who had previously been staring through the propped open slant of her blinds, turned towards her to reveal a thin, almost skeletal looking face, beneath a mop of brown hair. He was dressed in a plain, beige business suit tailored to fit. In fact, it almost concealed the firearm at his side were he not reaching towards her with an offered hand.

"This is Agent Smecker, Anna," Connor's voice suddenly sounded beside her, "H-he's here to help us."

Anna jumped, turning to see him slouched against the wall. His face was a shade paler then when she'd been home. He couldn't hide the grimace clawing its way across his face from her, nor the way he favored one side of his body over another. The stammer before only told her how much pain he was in.

"God damn it, Connor!" she exclaimed, their visitor momentarily forgotten, "Why the hell are you up?"

Grasping onto Connor's arm on his uninjured side, she gently pulled him away from the wall. She felt his weight fall against her despite his efforts and she strained to lend him her strength. Neither of the two noticed the astonished expression on Smecker's face as he watched them. An untrained observer might misread the reaction as one of romantic interest, but certain details to the contrary came immediately to light beneath Smecker's steely blue eyes and sharp intellect. That wasn't to say the agent could not deny a bond evident between the pair, but what astonished him most was how unclear it was. While Anna's reaction was sudden and intense, her eyes focused between the arm she held and the couch that was her target. Not once did she venture a worried glance to Connor's face to see his reaction. Had she done so, she would have seen an honest appreciation behind a face determined not to show pain. Yet Connor's face lacked a weary resentment that would be evident had the two been lovers. A resentment stemmed from some neanderthal instinct in the primitive brain opposed to help from the perceived weaker sex.

"If your not to busy watching, you mind getting your ass over here and helping me?" Anna's harsh voice broke through Smecker's revery as he saw a flash of irritation in her eyes. The agent stared at her, frozen in suprise for a moment, before quickly crossing the room to Connor's other side.

"Don't touch him!" Anna exclaimed sharply, as he reached for Connor, "Let him hold on to you."

Connor and Smecker shared a tell-tale glance as Smecker offered his arm to the younger man. Grasping onto it, Connor closed his eyes. Smecker felt a tinge of sympathy for the young man as the three slowly lowered him onto the couch. Leaning back, Connor let out a slight gasp that would have been a whimper to any other man. Stepping back, the agent watched as Anna continued her nursing.

Though it hadn't really surprised him, Smecker found himself pained by his friend's state. Connor had always struck him as...well, stronger wasn't the right word for it. Self-assured was better sounding. Connor was more tempered by his experiences than his brother, and generally in better control of himself. He was a creature of routine, which Smecker admired most about the lighter-haired twin. Yet, it also made Connor more vicious in a violent situation. The same routine gave him a cold, unfeeling edge which he could assume and remove at the drop of a hat. Even thrown into a chaotic situation, Connor could make the chaos routine.

In the few conversations he'd had with the twins since their first collaboration, Smecker had learned neither knew which was the technical eldest. Based on what he knew of sibling psychology, Smecker had always privately thought (and secretly hoped) it had been Connor. There was a protective quality to Connor that Murphy ever had. While he would never say Murphy wasn't protective of the innocent, Smecker had seen him take an almost adolescent thrill to the dangers of their mission. Connor always seemmed to be the one figuring out how to clean up the mess. Now, though, it was Connor being more or less protected. Smecker feared more damaging to his friend, however, was his failure at protecting his father and brother.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, woman," Connor's usual round of cursing sounded, "I'm injured, not a fuckin' invalid!"

Smecker frowned, taking note of the half-hearted tone. However, he couldn't be certain if it was simply Connor's way of showing he was suffering or if it had to do with his hostess. Anna let out an irritated huff of air.

"You're flirting with a fine line there," she shot back angrily before turning to Smecker and continuing, "As for you, I'll ask one more time. Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"

Smecker's frown deepened, the only evidence of his lack of practice having someone challenge him. Sullenly, he offered his hand to Anna.

"Agent Smecker," he said, "I believe you called my office once."

Anna glanced at his hand before returning her gaze to his eyes.

"Yeah," she said, "Now how did you get in here?"

Smecker squinted at her as though expecting her to say she was kidding. Anna simply crossed her arms tightly and looked at him expectantly. Realizing his hand was still up, he let it drop to his side before glancing over at Connor.

"I let him in," the younger man said, looking up at Anna. Smecker looked back in time to see one of Anna's hands clench into a fist.

Resisting the urge to ask Connor where he had found this girl, Smecker started, "I called Connor to share with him some..."

"It's alright," said Connor, noticing the agent's hesitation "She knows."

Smecker nodded, before turing back to Anna and continuing "Some information on his brother..."

"He's alive," both Smecker and Anna finished at the same time. Connor stiffened, looking between the pair of them in surprise. Smecker fixed Anna with a questioning look.

"How do you know that?" he demanded. Anna felt her face reddened at the sudden scrutiny given to her by two pairs of blue eyes. Suddenly she wondered in helping a criminal, how far she had fallen from her holier-than-thou pedestal. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

"I have connections around here," she said, her voice barely over a whisper. She glanced over to see Connor giving her an unreadable look, "A friend told me that Rocci's been calling in favors recently. Another said something big was going down and Rocci's..."

"You mean Marco Rocci?" Smecker asked, interrupting her. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach as he looked at Anna.

Anna nodded, continuing, "He said Rocci has his hand's in it," she looked at Connor, "The bastard's a thug and as much as he likes a fight, he like to play dirty more. My guess is he had his boys grab your brother to make an example of him."

" And how would you know that?" said Connor, anger evident in his voice, " Did you help him plan it out, perhaps?"

"Connor," said Smecker.

"What? No!" exclaimed Anna, at the same time.

" It just seems ya know a little too much on the workings of the mob for a simple accountant's daughter," Connor continued, his eyes flashing, "What did yer da do, smuggle money for them? Rub elbows with..."

"Shut up," Anna's tone took on a dangerous coloring. She took a step towards Connor adding, "You know nothing you selfish son of a-"

"Okay, that's enough," Smecker took as step in between the pair, grabbing onto Anna's shoulders, "Connor, that's enough."

Anna glared at him, shaking away from him as she took a step back. Her glare returned to Connor who returned one in kind.

" Rocci ordered a hit on my dad, you bastard," she said, "My dad had gone to the feds on him and both he and my mom died on the Hudson on my eighteenth birthday."

Connor's jaw half-dropped as a feeling of guilt washed over him. Suddenly, many of the odd pieces surrounding Anna's life begain to make sense.

"A-Anna...I...I'm..." he stuttered, trying to find the words to make things righ, knowing there were none.

"Forget it," she said, "The only criminal's I've aligned with are a pair of delusional vigilantes and dirty cop. If none of you want my help, then get the fuck out of my house. And let the door hit you on the way out."

With that she turned, storming into the kitchen. A chilling silence remained in her place.


A.N. : So yeah, sorry if this chapter sucks. Smecker is a hard character for me to pin down and since we're almost done I'm trying to tie up some loose ends. Anyway, so I'm planning a sequel for this story since there's no way to get all the bad guys and save/heal Murphy in the same story. So, I hope you'll stay tuned and enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated.

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