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

A.N. Yep, I'm cranking out the chapters this week (crosses fingers that it will last). Just a little note, this was probably my favorite chapter to write, so I really really hope you enjoy it! As always, reviews are appreciated.


The fading edge of the setting sun cast a ruddy glow along the edges of the neighboring buildings, reflecting straight through the narrow, double window of Anna's apartment. Eyes closed, Connor leaned back further in the couch, enjoying the soft warms as the lingering rays trickled against the back of his neck. Bending his head forward slightly, he allowed more skin to be exposed.

Opening his eyes, he glanced over at the stereo's digital clock. Anna had disappeared off on a rare quest to pick up Chinese from the only shop Connor had ever head of which didn't deliver. Though she said it might take a while, Connor noted she had been gone for fifteen minutes now. In spite of himself, he felt the corners of his mouth tighten in a dark frown. Shifting slightly, he turned his back on the stereo in an attempt to ignore the cause of his sudden rush of worry. Propping his feet up, he glanced at the door expectantly. The red sunlight cast a pinkish hue on the room's otherwise white furniture.

Connor shuddered involuntarily, closing his eyes again. He found no peace as images assaulted him, brutal and inescapable. Water dripped from an unseen faucet, splashing into a pool of pinkish fluid. Blood smeared across too pale skin, it's coppery smell almost tangible in the surrounding air. Hands and fists smack again him as his own remained bound to a chair behind his back, utterly useless. The fists soon changed into slats of wood and the pain grew, if possible, worse. The sound of steel and ripping fabric filled his ears as darkness descended around him. Cold and hot flashed across his skin intermittently accompanied by unpredictable thundering, which shook his body as it hurt his ears. Then, there was silence, a flash of light, and screaming.

"Connor! Connor! Connor!"

Conner jerked up, grasping the hand on his shoulder with bone breaking strength. A loud, satisfying whimper sounded and he glanced over at his would-be-attacker. Instead, his eyes locked on Anna's, currently filled with an odd mixture off pain and annoyance.

"You mind letting go?" she demanded through gritted teeth. Connor's brow furrowed and he glanced down to the the tips of her fingers, pale in comparison to his own darkened skin, sticking out from the encasement of his left hand.

"Connor," her tone was gentler this time, but no less authoritative, "Let go. You were having a nightmare."

Connor blinked, unconsciously releasing her hand. Anna pulled back instantly, cradling the limb protectively against her body. After taking a second to painfully flex her digits and deciding no permanent damage had been wreaked, she looked down at him with a worried frown.

"You alright?" she asked, watching as he sat up and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Fine," he replied gruffly, not meeting her gaze. He slumped over, burying his face in his hands. The dream had come on him so quickly, he hadn't even realized he dozed off. Even now it held power over him as phantom pains ached in startling contrast to the sharp throb of his actual injuries.

He barely noticed Anna leave the room, carrying the dropped bags of Chinese into the kitchen. He glanced up only at the sound of rushing water, adrenaline kicking in as he tensed at the sound. A minute later it was gone and Anna emerged carrying a small, clear cup of water. Taking a seat next to him, she leaned over with the cup raised to his lips. Her free hand hovered just next to his cheek yet didn't touch.

"Drink this," she ordered, her tone calm and detached. Connor glared at her.

"I'm not a fuckin' infant," he responded indignantly, "I don' need ta be babied."

Anna stared right back at him, unphased.

"Look at your hands, Connor," she replied, her voice still containing a mystical detachment. Connor balked but glanced down anyway. To his surprise, he saw that they were shaking.

"Now drink," said Anna when he looked back up at her, "Because I really don't want to clean up the mess if you spill."

Connor smirked at the half-hearted attempt at humor. Bending forward slightly, he took a sip. The cool liquid was a welcome relief to the back of his throat. Pulling up, he nodded at Anna and settled back down on the couch. There was a momentary pause as she leaned over to put the glass on the coffee table.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

"No," Connor replied. Anna nodded, settling back in the couch as well. Connor didn't know why, but he noticed she kept a strict couple inches between them. A small touch of guilt wriggled in his stomach.

"How's yer wrist?" he asked when the silence became overwhelming.

"It's alright," Anna replied casually, "How's your...everything?"

Connor chuckled slightly, glancing down at himself.

"Not as bad as it looks," he answered, "I'll be up an' out o' your hair in no time."

There was a slight pause before Anna replied softly, "Unless we find your brother first."

Connor blinked, whipping his head around to stare at her incredulously.

"Wot do ya mean unless we find me brother first?" he demanded.

"Well," Anna replied, looking at the opposite wall, "Knowing Rocci, I doubt your brother is going to be in any shape to take care of himself and I doubt you could do much better."

Connor had the nerve to look offended as he replied, "Ye don' need to be helpin' us, lass. Ye done more then enough already."

A long pause followed the statement. Connor fidgeted in his seat slightly, unsure if he had said something wrong or not.

"The first week after my parents died, I thought it had been a simple case of hit and run," Anna spoke up suddenly, "The second week, his office mailed me his stuff in a box, including some files labeled private. They were Rocci's books, kept off-line so they were easily destroyed. The name sounded familiar to me so I did some looking around. That's how I met Anthony and within an hour he pretty much had me convinced what had really happened to my parents."

She paused a moment, swallowing slowly.

"My dad was a good man," she continued, "He was careful. To this day I still don't know how Rocci found out he leaked information to the Feds," she looked over at Connor, and he was surprised to see her eyes not only dry but burning, " It took me three years to quell the desire to kill the son of bitch. Three years."

"What...what made ye change yer mind?" Connor asked quietly, surprised at the direction the conversation had turned, "Ye have ev'ry right ta hate him...ta deserve justice, vengeance..."

Anna glanced away, smiling sadly.

"To Me belongeth vengeance and recompense; their foot shall slide in due time: for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste. For the LORD shall judge His people, and repent Himself for His servants, when He seeth that their power is gone, and there is none shut up, or left'," she turned back to him, "Deuteronomy 32:35-36. Father Kaine had me look up that passage when I confessed to wanting to kill Rocci. I'm eternally grateful that he did. I still hate Rocci, Connor. I always will. But I have to have faith he'll get what's coming to him according to God's ordnance, whether it be in this life or the next. It's all the faith I have left."

Connor blinked, staring at her completely stunned. He had never really considered Anna would open up to him like that. There was no anger, maliciousness, or false piety in her voice as she spoke. In fact, the entire monologue had been delivered in an almost weary fashion. Not weary in the sense of a preplanned recitation, but rather an unburdening and sharing of a crushing load. Combined with the fact Anna was actually religious, Connor had no idea what to say.

"Why are ye tellin' me this?" he asked softly.

"Because I just realized it today," replied Anna, looking away again, " I've spent the last couple weeks wanting to hate you because I saw myself in you. I know that what I say won't change your mind about this 'holy mission' of yours; and I'm selfish enough to not want to go to jail, so it's not like I can use the cops to stop you. But Father Kaine was there for me when I needed it most. Knowing what I know, it would be wrong for me to turn my back on you now."

For a long moment, silence reigned in the room. It was heavy but not in an uncomfortable way. Rather, it was simply filled by Anna's words and the meaning behind them. There was still so much both of them could say, but neither knew where or how to begin. They even questioned if it was worth making the effort at all. Eventually, however, the weight became too much. Without another word, Anna stood up and walked off. Connor watched as she made her way to her room door, closing and locking it behind her. Sighing with relief, he stared at the door for a while, trying to process what had just occurred. The Chinese sat on the counter, entirely forgotten.

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