We Were Brave Like Soldiers
Archive: let me know first, yes?
Rated: R
Warnings: Rated for language.
Fandom, Pairing: CSI: Miami/Boondock Saints crossover, Gen: Calleigh Duquesne
Chronology: pre-Golden Parachute (episode 101), post movie. Set in early 2002.
Summary: It didn't matter though, because she was the Saints', and the Saints took care of their own.
Disclaimer: not mine, never was mine, never will be mine. all is a bunch of other peoples, namely Jerry Bruckheimer, Troy Duffy and CBS's. title comes from the Rob Thomas song "Ever The Same".
Beta: the ever lovely stereotypevamp.
Word Count: 8,400
Authors Notes: Oh gods, I'm sorry, but it bit and wouldn't let go. It started normal and all, but somewhere along the lines my style just got fucked eight ways to Sunday and turned on it's head.


"Get your fucken hands off her."

The man's grip tightened as he spun them both around, making Calleigh wince as her shoulder was jarred into a position it wouldn't normally go into. In front of them were two men. They were relatively average, nothing about them standing out at first glance. They were both smoking cigarettes, but the action looked second nature – like they were doing it without really thinking, like they might have even forgotten that they were doing it.

One had dark hair, the other light. Other than that, they looked the same, dressed in the same dark jackets – jackets? In Miami? Where were these two from? – tee-shirts, and ratty jeans. Their eyes, too, were the same piercing blue, and had a depth to them that took years to come by. It was a jaded look she'd seen before, one that told of too much fighting and too much death and having a tired soul.

"Back off, boys, I got her first," the man holding her growled out. Calleigh winced as he jerked her again, this time in front of him, so she was blocking anything they tried. She wished she had the guts to call him on it, call him a coward. But she didn't, so she stayed quiet.

"Did ya hear that, Con? He got 'er first," one of the two said, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

"Aye, I did." The other dropped his cigarette to the ground as well. "And now, we're tellin' ya to let 'er go."

Their first words had packed a punch – both of them saying it at the same time, as if they were used to speaking in unison, used to doing things at the same time. The way they could form the same thoughts like this was only compounding that.

She vaguely recognized the lit to their voice – Irish, if she could remember correctly. She didn't have much occasion to hear an Irish accent down in Miami – and it was strangely comforting.

The man holding her laughed. "Yeah, you and what army are gonna make me?"

The dark haired one looked at the other. "Oh, I dun' think we're goin' ta need an army, eh Con?"

The other shrugged. "Naw, don' think so, Murph."

With that, they grinned at each other and the next thing Calleigh knew, the man holding her was on the ground, his head smacking against the hard concrete, and she was being shoved out of the way. "Get away, now, miss," the dark haired one managed to tell her before joining the other over the man who'd had her.

"Be careful!" She didn't know what made her speak. "He's armed." She didn't know what made her warn them.

The lighter haired one – Con? – had his foot on the middle of the man's chest. "Oh, is that so? He makes a habit out of this, does he?"

"Looks to be so, Con," the other one replied. So his name was Con. And the other was Murph? "Grabbin' pretty women off the fucken streets. I wonder what he was gonna do with her?"

"Money –" Calleigh told them, her voice pleading. She didn't know where this was leading, but she knew it needed to stop. "The Department – he knows they'd pay out for my safe return."

Murph turned and eyed her. "No, miss, no matter who ya work for, there was only one thing on this fucker's mind."

Calleigh's skin crawled at his words, though it wasn't because of him. It was at the idea of what the man on ground would have done to her. "Please, just go. I'll call and get the police, they can take care of it."

"Oh, aye, and then he'll make bail and be right back out here, doin' the same fucken thing," Con spat. Somehow, and she didn't know how, she could tell the venom in his voice wasn't for her. It was for the inability of their system to keep creeps like the man on the ground off the streets.

"Well, what would you do then?" she asked, becoming agitated.

"The same thing we always do, miss," Murph told her, a slight smirk on his face. They spoke together, next.

"Kill the fucker."


"And you don't remember what they looked like, Calleigh?" Horatio asked from the doorway.

Calleigh shook her head from where it lay in her arms. She'd been sitting like that at the table for nearly an hour. She didn't know what she could remember, what had really happened. One minute a guy who she'd been trying to take down for several months on a drug related charge had her in his arms, getting ready to do who knows what to her, and the next she's against a wall, watching two men kill him. She'd told him that, two or three times now.

Murph and Con. Dark hair and light hair. Black jackets and cigarettes. Irish accents and smirks. A prayer, two shots, and pennies in the dead man's eyes.

Murph had stopped in front of her as they left – touched her cheek gently, softly, given her a half smile – and then they were gone, into the night.

Like ghosts.

She hadn't told him that.

"It was the Saints, I think."


"Sounds like you might be right, Miss Duquesne."

Calleigh spun around. "Right about what? And who are you?"

She hadn't meant for it to come out quite as snippy, but the last 24 hours had worn her down. Horatio had badgered her in the same way she knew he went after everyone who was involved in a crime. But she'd never been on the receiving end of it, and hadn't quite known why it worked so well. She still wasn't telling him anything else.

She'd been tempted to tell him everything, at the very beginning. It hadn't felt right, though, to tell anyone what she had seen. It seemed like she'd been allowed to stay and see some sort of ritual, something that few ever got to see, and it felt like something you just didn't speak about.

So she hadn't. Wouldn't.

"Agent Smecker, FBI. I run the Saints' cases. When you said that you thought it might be them, they called me in," the man in the door way told her, leaning all his weight on one hip.

"Oh." She didn't have anything to say to that. "Okay."

Smecker raised an eyebrow. "I have a few questions to ask you, if that's alright?"

Calleigh nodded, motioning to a stool near a table in the lab.

"Great," he said, settling on to the stool. "So they came upon you, in an alley…"


"Kill him? What? You can't just go around killing people!" she almost yelled, her eyes wide.

"They're not people we go around killin', miss, they're corrupt, lowlife, scum," Murph told her. The man on the ground was rousing.

"Did ya need anything out of him, before he goes?" Con asked her.

So polite, asking her about needing information before they killed him. She didn't understand it. They were going to kill him, and they knew it, and she knew it, but they'd wait a bit if she needed to question him. She managed to shake her head no.

"Alright. C'mon, then, you should go," Murph waved her back towards the street.

But she was frozen. "Miss…" Con tried. But she shook her head.

"No. If… If you're going to kill him, I…"

She didn't know what she was going to do.

Murph looked at her with sad eyes, eyes that made her shiver from the tiredness of the soul she saw there, but didn't force her to move. He and Con each grabbed a handful of the man's shirt, forcing him up to his knees.

Two guns were drawn, set against his skull. She closed her eyes, waiting. But instead of the sound of a gun, she heard a prayer. Her eyes opened. It was the two of them, together.

"And shepherds we shall be, for thee, my lord, for thee. Power hath descended 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."

Then the gunshots came, at the same time. She saw the body fall forward. One of them leaned over, rolling the body onto its back. The other produced pennies for the eyes.

They crossed him. She nearly laughed. So polite, so caring, even though they'd just killed him.

Con passed her with only a glance, but Murph stopped, touched her cheek, looked into her eyes again. "I'm sorry you had ta see that, love."

Soft, whispered words. Almost a prayer. And then they were gone.


Calleigh probably looked like a fish out of water. "What… I mean, how, I…"

Smecker smiled slightly. "You haven't told anyone what really happened, I know. But I know these boys. And I'm good at seeing what they did."

"Know them?" she blinked, still processing what he knew. He knew them? How? Or better yet, why?

"Connor," he tossed a photo on the table, "And Murphy McManus. Fraternal twins." He tossed another there.

She ran her fingers across their faces. "Con, Murph," she murmured at each in turn. They didn't look like killers, like people who could shoot someone in an alley and then walk away like nothing happened. They didn't look like the people she had to deal with every day. They weren't like the killers she helped catch. There was something different about them, and she almost wanted to laugh. They were different from normal killers. She didn't think she'd ever see a day when she didn't think all killers were the same.

"I see they've caught you too. Sweet boys, aren't they?" Smecker shifted. She could almost see the need for a cigarette in him.

"They're Irish?"

He nodded. "Came from Ireland. They base out of Boston, still, I think."

"They saved me. But… They killed. They do kill." She was confused. Very confused, in a way she hadn't ever been before. She was usually sharp, and usually got things quickly. But these guys were confusing in a way she couldn't grasp.

Smecker was leaning back in his chair, watching her brain sort the entire thing out. He knew that she was a cop, and that he couldn't trust her with much. She wasn't Irish, like Greenly or Duffy or Dolly, who wouldn't say a word if their life depended on it because the Irish stick together like nothing else the world has ever seen, even ducktape. And she hadn't known them long enough yet to reliably keep her mouth shut, though she would, because anyone who ever spent time with the twins fell for them and would take their secrets to the grave.

"They're vigilantes." It was really all he could tell her.

She nearly rolled her eyes. "I know that."

"Do you?" he asked, and she knew he wasn't telling her something by the far away look in his eyes.


She was nearly home when she saw them. They were leaning against a beat up car, smoking in their jackets and jeans, sunglasses back on their faces. She slowed her walk, wishing her arms weren't full of beer and that night's dinner.

She didn't even think about the fact she didn't really want her gun with her, because it never even crossed her mind.

She kept walking though, and didn't acknowledge them as she walked by. It turned out, she didn't need do.

"Some help with that, Calleigh?" Murphy asked.

She froze when he said her name. Slowly, after a moment, she turned to face the twins, who had straightened and were standing next to each other on the side walk, cigarettes rising to their lips in unison.

"You know my name?"

"Of course we do," Murphy told her, a grin on his face.

Connor rolled his eyes and smacked the back of his brother's head. "What?" Murphy asked, "Why wouldn't we know the name of the beautiful woman we saved?" He ducked a second hit and slid away from his brother.

Calleigh found herself smiling at their antics, and froze again. What was she doing? She should be calling the cops, getting them to come…

She blinked, watching as Connor and Murphy mock fought in front of her, cigarettes having long been dropped to the ground.

They didn't look like killers.

"So, help?" Murphy asked.

Connor rolled his eyes and stepped forward, lifting one of her bags – the heavy one, with the beer in it – from her grasp. When he saw what was in it, he grinned. "Well fuck me!" He glanced over his shoulder. "Murph, look what she got for us!"

Murphy peered into the bag before breaking out into a grin that Calleigh knew any woman in the world could fall for, herself included. "Beer! You milady, are phenomenal!"

Calleigh couldn't stop her laugh. "I was actually planning on drinking that myself, but…"

She stopped. Was she inviting them back to her house? Could she really be contemplating doing that?

She didn't know it yet, but she was already the Saints'.


When she woke up she was laying on her couch. The memory of the night before made her grin slowly. While the twins could hold their liquor well, it didn't take much for them to loosen up and become playful. She wasn't a light weight, by any means, but she didn't drink much at a time these days, not with her dad being what he was.

They didn't question the fact that for every drink she had, they had two or three. They didn't question her about anything, in fact. She found things out though.

She found out they spoke too many different languages, and that they switched back and forth between them with little trouble and did it almost unconsciously sometimes. Murphy was especially bad, as though sometimes he could think of how to say something in another language with more ease than he could the one's he grew up speaking.

She blinked a few times as the sun cascaded into the room from the large picture windows. A voice in the background slowly came into focus as she began to sit up.

"No, she knows. But I don't think she's gonna do anything."

She knew the voice. It was Connor.

"Really, Paul, I don't. She seemed content to just get drunk with us."

There was an exasperated sigh. "O'course we made sure she couldn't call anyone. 'er cell's off and in the oven and we unplugged the landlines, and the computer. We'd've noticed if she went to make a call."

Calleigh blinked a few times at that, though she supposed from their point of view, it made sense. She knew everything would be back the way it had been before she had a chance to look, though.

She slid down on the couch again. "No, no. One of us'll call later. Did ya show our photos around to anyone else at the station?"

"Good. Okay. And 'er boss didn't believe 'er, about us bein' the killers?"

There was a long pause. Finally Connor began to chuckle. "Fucker. O'course she was seein' things, just like the police were seein' pennies in the eyes o' the fucking dead."

Calleigh frowned at that. Why wouldn't Horatio believe her? She'd seen enough of the Discovery channel's programs on the Saints to know, in vague terms, what one of their kills would look like. The one she'd witnessed had been a pretty good fit.

Not, of course, that she needed anymore confirmation than the twins, who she'd drunk with last night, and who apparently knew how to take steps to insure they didn't get caught without harming an innocent. Of course, that made sense, as they were wanted in far too many places for far too many murders for her to comprehend.

And she had let them stay in her apartment.

"Yeah. One of us'll shadow 'er, for awhile. Make sure no one picked 'er up as a retribution target."

There was another, longer pause. "Fuck, really? You want us both to? One a shadow, the other actually with 'er? And you'll get the badges and that shit in order? Oh fuck, this is goin' ta be good."

Calleigh could hear the grin in his voice. She wondered what she had just gotten herself into as she closed her eyes again as Connor ended the call.


Calleigh walked into the lab with Murphy at her shoulder, looking for all the world like a federal agent whose only goal in life was to keep the person he'd been assigned to safe for the assigned amount of time. He was right behind her, watching the people around them carefully. Connor would be making sure they weren't being followed, and would then spend his day out in the parking lot. He didn't seem to mind the assignment, and when he'd held up a pack of cigarettes, Murphy had groaned.

Their fear for her being targeted seemed genuine. She didn't know just who would be going after people that the Saints knew, but she didn't question their fear. The sadness in her eyes when they talked about losing people they were close to was real enough, and she didn't really want to add to that, or end up dead. Not that many people did.

It had quickly been decided that Murphy would be the one to stick close to her, and Connor would be the shadow guard. She didn't know how they had decided or why they had decided, but both seemed happy with the decision so she wasn't going to be picky.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow at her when she came towards the desk and handed her Murphy's badge.

Where the badges had come from was still a mystery to her, one she wasn't going to press. The twins had shaken their heads when she'd asked, and she understood that, while they were willing to put themselves in danger, they wouldn't be putting anyone else in danger until they were 100 sure about her. When that would be, she didn't know. She didn't know how you decided to trust someone when you were wanted internationally, or how you decided who would be someone you could begin to approach.

She thought that, perhaps, being saved by them, and not telling the police what had really happened, was a start.

"Calleigh?" the receptionist asked, a smile flitting around on her lips.

"Look, Kate, I didn't ask for this. I was just told that they would be with me for a while, until they were sure that the killers weren't coming for me and that Chavez's people weren't coming for me," Calleigh told her.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "They?"

Calleigh smirked then. "There's more. You probably won't see them, unless there's a problem."

Kate rolled her eyes, but knew Calleigh well enough to know she wouldn't be getting anything more out of her. "Fine, whatever. Mr Connell, you're cleared for the entire building." She eyed the badge again. "I've never even heard of the division," she muttered as she handed the badge back.

Murphy took it and pocketed it. He didn't have to wear it. He nodded to Calleigh and she turned towards her lab.

She still couldn't get her mind around the whole situation, around the fact that the two men who had saved her were really the Saints and that they were now trying to protect her because someone out there was willing to kill the people that the Saints had claimed as theirs.


They were sitting at a café, eating breakfast, which the boys were paying for. They had just finished when Connor looked around for a moment, then laid two badges on the table.

Calleigh picked them up, eyeing them. Both were FBI badges, though the division name was unfamiliar to her. The pictures on them were of the twins in suits, though the names were different. Connor Mallory and Murphy Connell.

"Not twins?" she'd asked, curious. She wondered if they could act well enough to pass off as anything other than twins.

Murphy shrugged. "Too many sets of twins gets suspicious like and we look different enough so that we can pass it off, and if someone thinks we look too alike and all, we just tell 'em that fuck, they found us out, we're cousins."

Connor and Calleigh had looked at him strangely. "What?" he asked.

Connor burst out laughing and Calleigh had shaken her head. "Do you even need to breathe when you talk?"

Murphy had rolled his eyes. Once they'd settled down, she'd picked up one of the badges again. "So, what are these for?"

Murphy and Connor had shared a glance. "We're goin' ta be your protection detail, for a bit."

She'd raised an eyebrow. "And I need one because…"

"We saved ya," Murphy told her.

Connor rolled his eyes. "People'll know this, and they'll try and use you to get to us. And because that fucker we killed, Chavez, has people who'll blame ya," he explained.

Calleigh had frozen for a few moments, thinking it through quickly. She could see sorrow in both the twin's eyes. Partly for her, partly for people she'd never be able to know. She nodded.

"And they came from…"

The twins shook their heads. "Not yet, Calleigh," Murphy told her softly.

She'd nodded again, accepting the answers for what they were.


She had been expecting him to come down all morning. She knew that Kate had probably picked up her phone as soon as she and Murphy had walked around the corner and within ten minutes most of the lab had probably known that she had a guard with her from the FBI.

She had seen quite a few of her coworkers walk by her lab through out the day, though Delko and Speed hadn't come by, nor had Alex. She wondered if they meant that they were out on a job at the moment, or if they just trusted that she'd tell them when they saw her later.

Murphy had examined the guns with reverence, commenting on some of them, before he had checked out the rest of her equipment. He asked questions, and she answered in turn.

She could see him filing the information away in his mind, and knew she'd be going through the lab and showing him a few more things. Maybe that was the point of this. Maybe someone wanted her to teach these two what they were up against, show them how to keep themselves safe, even with all the new technology.

Now, however, she had to play her part.

Horatio came into the lab, glancing at Murphy with a casual eye she knew meant that he was assessing him. She smiled, motioning Murphy over.

"Horatio, this is Agent Connell, one of the men that the FBI has assigned to me. Agent Connell, this is Lieutenant Horatio Caine, MDPD," she introduced the two.

Murphy nodded to Horatio, but didn't extend a hand. He shifted and one of his guns flashed into view for a second, under his coat.

He and Connor weren't dressed like they had been the day before, in the casual clothing that had been so uniquely them, here in Miami. Instead they were dressed in dark suits, the preferred attire of anyone of occasional importance in Miami.

Horatio raised an eyebrow. "The FBI really thinks that this is needed?" he asked, his question more towards Murphy, and less towards her.

She answered anyways. "They're worried."

Horatio's forehead furrowed at that, though she didn't know if it was her answer or the fact that she answered instead of Murphy, but he nodded. "Welcome to Miami, Agent Connell."

Murphy nodded, stepping back to the wall where he had been standing when Horatio came in.

Calleigh smiled at Murphy as Horatio walked away and Murphy grinned back, and it was then Calleigh knew then that she would go to her grave with the knowledge of who these two were, and anything else they ended up telling her.

It was then that she knew she was the Saints'.


She was pouring Murphy and herself each a cup of coffee when Speed and Delko walked in. They both stopped in the doorway, looking between Calleigh and Murphy. After a few moments, in which Murphy raised an eyebrow at them and shifted subtly, Speed shrugged and walked over towards the cupboard where they kept their cups.

"Hey Speed," Calleigh greeted him, taking his cup and filling it. "Eric?" she held the pot up in question.

"Uh, yeah," Delko blinked and walked towards them.

Calleigh filled the next cup that Speed gave her for him. "How's your case? I hear you got two DB's today."

Delko nodded, seemingly over whatever had made him freeze before. "Yeah – over on the waterfront, under the boardwalk."

Calleigh hummed as she sipped her coffee. Speed glanced at her, then over at Murphy. "So, who's he?"

Calleigh smiled slightly. "Protection, from the FBI. Speed, Delko, meet Agent Connell," she waved a hand towards him. "Murph, meet Tim Speedle and Eric Delko."

Delko nodded, but Speed rolled his eyes. "Call me Speed."

Murphy nodded to them both, but didn't say anything. He did take the proffered cup of coffee, though.

The three CSI's spoke fro a while, about cases and lab politics. Ten minutes later, Murphy's phone rang. "Yeah?" he asked, answering it.

After a few minutes in which he didn't say a word he hung up and walked over towards the three watching CSI's. Putting his cup on the counter, he grabbed Calleigh's arm. "We need to go. Connor's spotted some trouble."

His accent was all but gone. He sounded like a Bostonian now, not an Irishman.

Calleigh didn't protest his statement, putting her cup next to him and nodding, but Speed and Delko did. "Hey, wait a minute," Speed said, frowning. "Where are you taking her?"

"Somewhere safe," Murphy growled out. "We don't have time for this. Let's go Calleigh."

Delko raised an eyebrow at that. "Calleigh? What's going on?"

Calleigh shook her head. "They're FBI, Eric. They known what their talking about. If they think I need to be moved, I'm not going to argue."

Calleigh knew that both Delko and Speed had never seen her back down from anything. She never gave up, or in, or walked away from a tight situation. She always just met it head on. But if Murph and Con told her to come with them, she was going. It wasn't a question, and she didn't even think about the fact that she would rather trust these two, killers by vocation, than anyone else.

She'd probably take care of the problem faster with them, anyway.

She gave her two coworkers a tight smile before she left the room, Murphy guiding her with a hand on her arm. She could feel their stares as she turned the corner, and wondered how fast the news would travel around the lab that Calleigh Duquesne had finally backed down from something.


When Paul Smecker saw the crime scene photos he knew, right away, who the killers were. It had the twins written all over it, from the pennies in the eyes to the arms being crossed to the way the crime appeared to have happened.

The thing about the twin's crime scenes, he knew, was that there was some overlying tone that you could never really identify, but you knew that it was there. Always questions that you couldn't answer with out questioning the twins, always something odd that put their crime scenes on a whole other level.

He glanced up from the photos in his hands, looking at Horatio. "What did you want to know?" He really didn't understand what he was doing down here. Sure, he was the head of the task force on the Saints killings, but that basically meant that they told the South Boston police to give him a desk and faxed him files every now and then – they weren't expecting miracles. And it would be one, for someone to catch the Saints.

"Is this them?" Horatio Caine looked like a man who believed in miracles, Paul decided.

With a roll of his eyes, he nodded. "That was the Saints."

Horatio looked at him for a few seconds longer. "How do you know?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Because I do. It's not a question of how." And it wasn't. Even if the boys hadn't called him to tell him what had happened – and that Calleigh was safe – he would have known. If you spent as much time as Paul did looking at crime scene photos of from their jobs, you learned to tell what they hadn't done with out really trying.

Horatio seemed to be thinking on his words, sounding them out. After a while, he nodded. "Do you know what happened?"

Paul shrugged. "Take me there."

So Horatio did. It took them less than ten minutes to get there, and Paul wondered if that wasn't what made Horatio so nervous, that it had happened so close to them. That the Saints and Chavez's men had been less than ten minutes away from the lab.

After looking over the crime scene for a few moments, Paul could see what had happened. The boys hadn't told him details – not over a phone, because that would be stupid, and the boys weren't stupid. He'd known that since he'd first met them, all the way back in South Boston, after they'd killed for the first time. Though it had been self defense, that time.

"They came from there…"


Calleigh and Murphy met Connor at the car. Connor gave them enough time to close their doors before he took off, heading down a side street. "They're close. I followed one of 'em back there, then came back to get ya. I saw one of 'em walk by, then another of 'em drive by. Someone from inside the station met up with a third."

Calleigh raised an eyebrow, but Murphy only nodded. He turned to look at Calleigh, who was sitting in the back seat. "It's goin' ta be messy. I don't know how many it'll be, but I imagine there'll be a lot of these fuckers. We can leave you somewhere safe."

Calleigh knew then that how far she went with them on this was completely up to her. They would never take her farther than she wanted to go. And something in Murphy's eyes as he told her this made her think that he was hoping she wouldn't want to get too involved, that something had happened in the past that made him hope it was just him and his brother dealing with it.

And something in his eyes made her grant him that.

"I'll stay with the car, and we can get out of there fast," she told them, and watched both of them visibly relax. She was sure, then, that something had happened once.

When Connor pulled over and parked, they all got out. The boys both grabbed black duffle bags from the back and quickly grabbed an outfit similar to the one she'd seen them in the first day. Once they'd changed – and they had very little modesty, not that anyone but she cared, on this street – they both pulled out their sunglasses and put them on, then lit cigarettes at the same time. She knew it wasn't a planned motion, but it looked like it. It told her just how close the two were, and how engrained these motions were.

They'd done this many time, by now.

She smiled, then, though a little sadly. "Be careful, alright?" she told them, even though she knew they'd done this far too many times to keep track of, and had come back alive. She made her mind forget the scars she'd seen as they changed, forget that they had been hurt before, that they weren't the ghosts that she'd first seen them as, untouchable to most of the beings on earth.

Connor nodded, Murphy gave her a smile, and then they were off. She wasn't parked far enough away to not hear the shots. They rang loudly, and it seemed like there were far too many.

She didn't know if they were from the twins, or the other people.

The twins would later tell her what had happened. They had come upon the eight guys as they were getting into two separate cars and they had ambushed them. Chavez's men fired on them, but the shots were easily evaded or went wide or something, and they came back unharmed.

They had been in and out extremely fast, and when they returned they were laughing. Of all the things that she had expected, it wasn't for Connor to reach over and run a hand through Murphy's hair and for Murphy to duck away, laughing, and then attempt to trip his brother.

She didn't know what she expected. She didn't think that they would come back feeling sorry for the men, or that they'd come back in a bad mood. She just didn't think that they'd be laughing.

It didn't matter though, once they got back to the car and told her it was taken care of, and that they were taking her home. It didn't matter though, when they came back, both of them unscathed, and told her that she didn't have to worry about those men any longer. It didn't matter though, because she was the Saints', and the Saints took care of their own.


The next day Horatio was waiting for her when she came in the building. Murphy was with her again, because no one knew if Chavez had more men, and they were still worried about people who were going after the Saints. She didn't know what they had said to each other when they were deciding who would go in with her, but Connor had talked in a low voice and Murphy had responded in the same tone and then they had both nodded.

They had agreed that Murphy should go with her. The reason they gave her was that her job was to figure out crimes and that they really didn't need to both be seen by her coworkers. She knew that there was another reason, and that Connor was the one who kept bringing it up, but she didn't know what it was.

When Horatio motioned her towards his office, shooting a look at Murphy, Calleigh had frowned slightly. "What happened, Horatio?"

Horatio shook his head, not saying a word until they got to their destination. Someone was already seated in front of the desk. She recognized Smecker immediately, and a smile came to her lips. She understood him, a bit more, now. She understood the look in his eye, at the end of their last conversation, somewhat.

The twins had gotten to her already, after all. She was the Saints' now.

"Agent Smecker. I'd say it's nice to see you again, but…" she trailed off, and everyone knew what she meant. But it wasn't. Because it meant that something had happened. It meant that Horatio believed her, if only a bit, now.

Smecker stood up, giving Calleigh a look she couldn't decipher. She could see some concern in it, some caring. He nodded to Murphy and he nodded back and all in a second, she understood their relationship a little bit more.

They weren't partners, not in the sense that the courts would see them. Murphy and Connor would be doing this, regardless of Smecker's help, and Smecker knew it. Instead, Smecker was helping them for the same reason she was, because there was something about the twins that caught you, something that made you negate on every oath you'd ever made and take one, and only one: help the twins, no matter what that meant.

She wondered what she would do for them, down the line. Smecker had obviously given up on ever doing his job long ago, had given up on ever being the type of FBI agent he had been once.

She wondered if that was what the rest of the FBI thought, that Smecker had finally come off his game. She smiled bit sadly at that thought, knowing he was at the top of it, and couldn't show it.

"I understand, Miss Duquesne," Smecker told her, then turned and looked at Horatio. "You called this meeting, Lieutenant."

Horatio's eyes had narrowed as he watched the three greet each other. He obviously felt he was missing something, though what he'd never know.

None of them were going to tell him, at least.

"Yes, I did. I thought Calleigh should know about what happened yesterday."

Calleigh furrowed her brow. "After Agent Connell got me out of here?"

Horatio nodded, watching her carefully. "The Saints met up with some of Chavez's men, a couple of blocks over."

Calleigh's eyes widened. "What?"

At that, Horatio seemed to relax a little. "That's why we're so worried. The Saints disappeared again, but eight of Chavez's men are dead." He paused, glancing at Smecker who was reading something out of a file and not really paying attention, then Murphy who was standing back against the wall next to the door. Finally, he looked back at Calleigh. "Do you know what you did to gain the protection of the Saints?"

Something about the sentence sounded made Horatio's face twist a little. If she hadn't had a part to play, Calleigh would have laughed. As it was, she knew that Murphy would get a kick out of telling Connor, later.

Calleigh shrugged. "I don't know. I'd never really thought of them much before they saved me that first time."

Horatio eyed her for a minute longer before nodding. Somehow Calleigh got the feeling this was an interrogation, just in a different room than usual.

Smecker stood then. "Do I really need to be here for this? I've got some cases to look over, some supposed Saints killings. Doesn't sound like they were, since the Saints were here last night, and even they can't be in more than one place at once."

He was an admirable actor, Calleigh mused. He knew when and where to interject himself into things to make them go in the direction that he wanted them and away from where he didn't.

Calleigh held out her hand. "I hope I won't be seeing you, Agent Smecker, but stay well until then."

Smecker shook her hand, a smile threatening on his face. He nodded to Murphy and Horatio in turn and then was out the door with out waiting for a reply as to whether the meeting was done or not.

It was now.


Three weeks passed. Chavez's men didn't make another attempt. The twins went out at night sometimes and the next morning there was another case for Calleigh to work, one that she and Smecker made sure to be careful about only knowing what everyone else knew on.

One of the twins continued to follow her, but not inside after a week or so. Instead they took turns outside, or they both came, and smoked while they waited.

Then one night they got a phone call from someone. She still didn't know who it was, though she had her suspicions.

"We got ta go, Calleigh. We need ta be in New York. Something's come up," Murphy told her.

She'd nodded, but didn't ask. They'd tell her what she needed to know, or what they wanted her to know. Nothing else. For her safety. Probably for her state of mind.

Connor stared at her for a long time before he reached out and pulled her into a hug. "If you ever need the Saints, they'll be there for you, you hear?"

Calleigh's eyes teared up at that. "God, boys. You're making me cry!" she told them, with a wet laugh.

Murphy gave her a half hearted grin. "We mean it, Calleigh. We don't take too many, but you're one of 'em."

Calleigh nodded, and was pulled into a hug by Murphy as Connor let her go. "I'll remember."

"Good," they said, together, and she laughed a little.

After a bit of silence, the twins were packed. Once their bags were by the door, they sat her down on the couch and kneeled in front of her. She didn't know what the significance of that was, but it seemed to mean something to them, seemed to be something that they only did for those they trusted.

"These," Murphy told her as they both handed her a gun each, "Have been used by us. If you get in trouble, use them. The Saints will still be protecting you, this way. And once they find out that these are Saints' guns, we'll be contacted."

"We'll come immediately, where ever we are. Promise," Connor smiled a little. He handed her a cell phone. "It's got our numbers in it. And Smeckers. We'll send you a new one whenever the numbers change."

"Keep it with you as much as you can. Use it, if you needed it, you hear?" Murphy stared at her until she nodded.

The twins looked over at each other, having a conversation she couldn't understand. Finally Connor nodded and Murphy gave a sad grin and they turned back to each other. "If you need anything from the Saints and you can't use that phone, contact Smecker. He'll get us to you as fast as he can," Connor said.

She understood. They were trusting her with the identity of the person who gave them their badges, the person they had helping them keep away from the police, the person who kept their information under wraps.

She knew then that they'd never thought she was going to tell anyone, but just in case, they had to wait. Smecker showing her their pictures meant that she had been trusted since that alleyway.

"What," she tried to ask, though she choked a little. "What made you trust me?"

Connor and Murphy looked at her for a long moment, sadness in their eyes. "You didn' run away," Connor finally told her.

"Aye," Murphy sighed. "You stayed and watched and didn't say anything about what we did to your boss. No mention of prayers or any of that."

"Just what they already knew," she told them.

The boys nodded.

Everyone stood, nearly in unison. Calleigh was a second or two later than the twins, but it was close enough. After a second she threw herself into Murphy's arms and he held her close. "It's not forever, love. Just for now."

"Aye." Connor smiled sadly and rubbed her back gently. " Just for now."

They left, soon after, leaving Calleigh to watch them walk off down the street with lit cigarettes in hand, coats on. She knew now that they wore the coats to cover the myriad of weapons they always had on them and she knew that they smoked in unison like that because they'd been sharing cigarettes since they were eleven and it was almost like if one of them had one, the other needed one.

Once they were out of sight, she went into the kitchen to grab a beer. That was one thing she was going to have to cut back on, the amount of beer she drank. She'd drunk more in the three weeks with them than she had in a long time.

But she wouldn't start tonight.

Her eyes widened when she saw the note on the shelf by the beer, and picked it up, eyeing it carefully. She knew it was from Connor, by handwriting, since it wasn't quite as messy as Murphy's.

Next time you're in Boston, go see Doc McGinty.


She hadn't seen the twins in over a year when she walked into the bar. She'd gotten two new cells phones and a few letters from all across the states, and even one from Canada. No pictures and not too much information, but enough to tell her that they were alive and still knew who she was.

She hadn't needed to use the cell phone, or the guns, though she'd been tempted to use the guns once. Instead she'd slipped away in a way she wouldn't have been able to before she'd met the twins and followed them on a few of their missions.

She took her sunglasses off as she pushed the door of the bar open and looked around. The bar was worn and somewhat torn, but it had a feeling that reminded her of the twins. Sort of rough around the edges, but comforting somehow.

Some of the people at the bar turned to look at her, and one of them stood, as if to come over to her. Instead of letting him come closer, she shifted the same way Murphy had all those months ago and let one of the guns the twin's had given her show for a second.

She didn't pause in the motion but stepped forward, to the bar. The old, gray bartender came to get her order, and she ordered the same beer she'd been drinking ever since the twins had left, which of course she'd be complaining to them about as soon as she had the chance.

Her choice got her a few speculative glances before she rolled her eyes and looked up at Doc as he gave her the drink. "How long am I waiting for the twins to come in?"

Doc gave her a long look before he shrugged. "They w-w-were in last night."

Calleigh nodded and the bartender walked away. A few seats down, one of the men who'd heard her question was eyeing her. This time it was for a different reason, but she didn't like it all the same.

She ignored it though.

It wasn't too long of a wait. She was on her second beer when the twins came through the door, Murphy laughing and Connor rolling his eyes. They both froze for a second when they saw her, before they launched into motion.

"Calleigh!" Murphy cried, swinging her off her stool so fast she barely had a chance to set her drink down.

Connor wasn't far behind, reaching up to kiss her cheek while she struggled in his twin's grasp. She laughed. "Boys!"

After a few minutes they settled down, Calleigh on the stool between them. The others at the bar had watched with awe on their faces at the twins actions towards her. Murphy order them both beers and Connor looked over at her. "So Calleigh. Tell us, what brings you through here?"

Calleigh shrugged. "Vacation time."

Connor laughed and Murphy shook his head and threw an arm around her shoulders. "Well then, guess it's up to us to show ya the city, yeah?"


They did just that. She spent a week and a half with them, though they did have to leave one day and didn't return until late the next. They left her for a few hours every now and then, but they took her with them on a few other occasions.

The men at the bar nearly worshiped the ground she walked on. They didn't know who she was, or where, exactly, she had come from, but seeing a southern beauty walk into the bar and get such a reaction out of their local heros had firmly placed her into a category all of her own.

She stayed with the twins in a small loft apartment near the bar. It was a lot nicer than their last one, they told her. She didn't want to know what the last one was like if that was the case.

They took her to the airport after giving her a new phone and another gun and a few knives. They were like little kids on Christmas when they were giving her these things, and she had to smile that their enthusiasm. She knew she'd have no trouble getting them on the plane, not with the pass that had showed up in her mail a few days after the twins had left.

She hadn't asked, but she knew it was from Smecker. It allowed her to bypass all the security at the airport. It wasn't something she had thought still existed, not after 9/11, but she didn't question it.

After all, it was what was allowing her to get her gifts from the twins home.

She was waved through security after showing her pass, but the twins were just waved through. She wondered what it would have looked like to a superior, the guards just waving two men through the security gates, no questions asked, no idea looked at.

Then again, if said superior was Irish, he'd be waving too.

The twins waited at the terminal with her, and when she was called to board, they hugged her tight.

"Don't forget, Calleigh, you're ours now."

She didn't know which one told her through her tears, and she didn't care.

She knew it came from both of them.


When she returned she didn't say a word about her vacation. Delko asked a few times, but Calleigh would just smile and shrug and when Speed pressed she'd arched an eyebrow and walked away.

Horatio didn't say a word, but he watched her closely. She knew he knew something was up, something was off, but she also knew he knew she'd never say a word.

After all, she was the Saints' now, and he knew that.

Everyone at the lab knew it, even if they never said it.

It took her a while, but eventually she decided to get a tattoo. She figured something that tied her to them, a symbol that said it all with out her speaking, would be a nice touch.

She got a saint, in the small of her back.

Every now and then she'd twist and her shirt would ride up, and she could see every eye in the room go to the tattoo. No one ever asked her about it, or commented on it.

After all, they already knew she was the Saints'.