Because I feel so absolutely terrible, I give you two chapters in one day! I hope you enjoy. I will gladly take any suggestions that you have concerning where you might like the story to go, since I'm not even fully sure myself.

Enjoy

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Once Eunice had informed the Hoag director that the MacManus brothers were steadily becoming more unstable and dangerous than they had been when they first arrived, he was only too happy to let her take them to the asylum. The transfer had gone without a hitch, though the brothers had a difficult time keeping their expressions appropriately depressed-looking. It was done in the early hours of the morning to avoid the media following them to a non-existent asylum. Eunice could hardly believe it. The dumbest plan in the world worked.

Now the twins, Eunice, Duffy, and Dolly sat in a sparsely furnished apartment on the outskirts of Boston, waiting for Smecker to show. They all knew that the plan had been pulled off perfectly, that no one suspected a thing. But they still couldn't help jumping at the slam of a car door three floors below, or glancing at the door warily when the voices of other tenants were raised in the hall. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, the only sound in the apartment's kitchen where they sat, other than an occasional sigh or throat clearing.

Finally, they heard a key scrape in the lock, and the door opened and closed. Paul Smecker came around the corner to the kitchen and surveyed the five people seated before him. He spread his arms wide. "Congratulations!" he said in that peculiar Smecker way, not exactly sarcastic, but not sounding fully genuine either.

"Congratulations yerself, back from the dead and all that," Conner said, almost sounding petulant.

"Now, boys," Smecker said, putting his hands on his hips like a mother about to scold her child. "You know as well as I do that it was necessary for me to disappear. Nobody knew, not even Eunice." The brothers reluctantly nodded, knowing that there were bigger things to talk about than their feelings.

Dolly shifted in his seat. "Someone's gonna find out sooner or later. The Saints can't just go missin'."

"Someone will find out as soon as they pull their first job," Eunice pointed out. "The Saints weren't ever meant to disappear entirely, only long enough to get clear."

Murphy nudged Conner, who nodded in agreement. Gone were the days when they could walk freely down the streets of Southie, long gone. All things considered, the Hoag would have almost given them more freedom than actually being free; they would never have had to disguise themselves or sneak around in the dark in the Hoag, given that they were let out of their cell. The Calling had never been easy.

"Well." Smecker clapped his hands together. "Let's not keep those scumbags waiting for your glorious return. If people will find out anyway, there's no need to let more innocents get caught in mob crossfire." He gestured broadly with both arms. "Boys, this place is yours, under the names of Frank and Jerry Kornerstone. I thought you might like another place, seeing as your old one doesn't have a working john." Smecker glanced amusedly at Conner.

"Much obliged," Conner replied.

"I'm not Frank," Murphy said. Conner rolled his eyes.

Smecker smiled, pleased with how everything had gone. He proffered his arm to Eunice. "We'll leave you two to make yourselves at home. Toodles." The former special agents exited the kitchen and the front door clicked open and shut seconds later. Duffy and Dolly got to their feet, pushing in their chairs.

"Good to have you two back," Duffy said, clapping Murphy on the shoulder.

The dark-haired twin nodded. "Good to see ye too." With a final handshake, both Boston detectives were gone.

Now alone at the door, the brothers looked around at their new home. A few feet off to the right was the open entrance to the kitchen. The entry way from the front door opened up into the living space, which had a couch, upholstered in an unflattering dark olive green fabric and obviously secondhand. A water-stained coffee table stood across from the couch by the wall under a window, holding an ancient television that turned out to be black and white when Murphy turned it on. Still, it was an upgrade; they hadn't even owned a television in their old place. At the end of the living room was a short hallway. The first door at the beginning of the hall opened into a bedroom that had a queen-sized bed under a window covered by yellowing blinds. A built-in closet took up the wall to the left of the bed. Conner pushed Murphy out of the way and fell back onto the bed, bouncing once or twice as if testing it.

"This one's mine, Jerry," he said, kicking his boots off and making himself comfortable.

Murphy scowled. "Why do ye get this one?"

"I'm older."

"Ye don't fuckin' know that!" And with that, Murphy launched himself at his brother, nearly breaking the bed as they wrestled. After a few minutes of grappling and swearing as only Irishmen can, Conner finally succeeded in kicking Murphy rather forcefully off the bed. Murphy picked himself up with as much dignity as he could and left Conner to his celebration.

The next door, only feet from the first, opened up into another bedroom. This room was smaller than the last. In the far corner, a twin-sized bed sat under a window. On the left side of the bed, there was a free-standing wardrobe. Footsteps behind Murphy told him Conner was done relishing his victory and had come to check out the rest of the rooms.

"Cozy," the lighter-haired brother commented, looking around Murphy's room. Murphy turned and smacked the back of Conner's head before checking out the last door. This opened up to a small bathroom that housed a toilet, sink, mirror, shower, and a small cabinet to store towels and the like.

Tour complete, the twins went back to the living room. Murphy sank onto the old couch with a sigh while Conner went back into the kitchen. "Bless his heart," Conner said, looking in the refrigerator.

"What's that?" Murphy asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Smecker stocked the fridge with Guinness!"

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