Hey all. I know I'm a terrible person for not updating my already existing stories, but this idea popped into my head and I had to get it down.
Disclaimer: Anything that belongs to Troy belongs to him, and the rest is mine.
Please Read And Review
Enjoy.
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The room they shared was quiet. Through the thin wall on his right, Murphy could hear his father's light snores as he slept soundly in the next room. Murphy wished he could sleep that easily. His left hand ached, his head throbbed, and his whole body was just plain tired.
And then there was the ringing in his ears. It hadn't gone away, even though it had been hours. The silence in the dark room he lay in only made it worse, almost deafening. Murphy opened his eyes, but the gruesome scene that kept him awake still played before him in the darkness, replaying itself over and over…
… The door opens. Yakavetta steps in and pauses, looking at the three of them, cuffed to the chairs. A moment later, the mafia don steps forward, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He comes to a stop in front of the middle chair, to the right of Murphy. Conner reacts seconds before it happens, and Rocco slowly lifts his head. Although Rocco's long hair blocks most of his profile, Murphy can still see the split second of surprise on his friend's bloodied face before he is blown backwards by Yakavetta's bullet. The gunshot echoes in the small room as Yakavetta leaves. Conner is yelling, but Murphy can't make out distinct words. He frantically tries to get to Rocco, tipping his chair over in the process. He struggles toward his friend, who is gasping for breath.
"You can't stop; you'll get outta here. Don't ever stop." Then Rocco is still.
The shot was still echoing in Murphy's head, hours later.
In the silence of the room, he heard his twin shift positions on the mattress they had put on the floor.
"Conner," Murphy muttered, knowing his brother was awake.
"Hmm?"
"Can ye sleep?" Murphy fidgeted with the thin blanket that covered him.
"'Course not. Yer fuckin' talkin' ta me." Murphy waited, and then he heard Conner sigh. "No."
In the other room, Da coughed and then resumed his quiet snores. Murphy opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, unsure whether or not he should go on.
"Murph." Conner knew something was on his mind, and he knew that Conner had probably guessed what it was.
"It's our fault." The words hung heavily in the air between the twins.
Conner finally broke the silence. "Murph –"
"We shouldn't've let him come with us, Conn. We should've never let him join us." Murphy roughly rubbed his face with his good hand, unable to release his frustration. He sat up in the bed, carefully leaning back against the wall.
There was a rustle of bed sheets, and a moment later, the bed sank next to Murphy. He could feel the heat from Conner's body settle beside him. The bed springs creaked faintly.
"Rocco knew the risks," Conner said quietly.
"But he wouldn't've had ta take 'em if we hadn't let him come." Murphy ran his thumb over the Latin Aéquitas that was inked into the skin of his trigger finger. Justice would prevail, even if he had to do it himself. But that was a stupid thought. Murphy knew Conner would be right there with him.
"Murph, ye can't change what happened by blamin' yerself," Conner said firmly. "So unless ye have a fuckin' time machine, there's no point in beatin' yerself up over it."
"Well fuck, Conner! Ye can't tell me ye don't wish it had ended differently! Yer sayin' yer fuckin' okay with it? That – that Rocco's dead?"
Conner sighed. "'Course I'm not fuckin' okay with it, Murph. Yakavetta's goin' ta get what he fuckin' deserves. I'm only sayin' that ye can't dwell on what happened in the past, 'cause it won't do ye any good now."
It was Murphy's turn to sigh. He didn't want to admit that Conner was right, though he knew that his twin was already aware of what he was thinking anyway. Murphy ran his good hand through his short dark hair. "Fuck."
"Aye." Conner shifted, letting their shoulders touch. Murphy was grateful for the contact; he felt that it grounded him through his more level-headed brother.
The twins sat in silence, and though it wasn't a comfortable silence, it wasn't exactly awkward or uneasy either.
"Are we doin' the right thing, Conn?" Murphy pulled on the rosary that hung around his neck, clutching the cross in his right hand. He wanted Conner to say 'Course we are, wanted his brother to banish his worries that just maybe this wasn't what God had intended for them when they had woken up simultaneously in a holding cell, which felt like ages ago.
Conner finally answered. "Depends who ye ask. Smecker thinks we are. Da certainly does. But I'd bet all our dirty Russian money that there are good number of people out there who think we're just as bad as the fuckers we take out."
"I'm askin' ye, Conn."
"Aye," Conner said slowly, after a moment of thought. "I believe we are. 'The laws of God are higher than the laws of man.' I think the Father was right. We're doin' God's will, Murph."
God's will. Was it God's will to have a friend like Rocco die?
Conner spoke up again, reading Murphy's mind. "We might not understand now, but Rocco died for a reason. And we'll keep goin' for him because that was his will."
"Aye, we keep going," Murphy whispered. Rocco had died for a purpose, and at least part of that purpose was to make sure that they kept going. And, in a strange way, Rocco's death had brought him and his brother together with Da. Murphy sighed, and then smiled. "Hey, Conn."
"Yeah?"
"Ye remember the cat?"
The bed shook with Conner's silent laughter. "Aye, I do."
Murphy chuckled. "I can't believe that fuckin' happened."
"His fuckin' face was priceless. 'I'm hit! I'm hit!' Christ," Conner laughed. "What a fuckin' idiot. Remember that fuckin' joke he always told? The one with the genie?"
"Aye. Poor bastard. Remember the time he tried ta tell it ta that table of black guys? We had ta save his fuckin' wasted ass from gettin' killed!"
"And if I remember correctly, he punched ye in the face," Conner said, barely controlling his laughter. "That shiner of yers lasted a while, didn't it?"
"The idiot was still tryin' ta fight when I pulled him back, flailin' his fuckin' fists everywhere!" Murphy shook his head. "He never did learn how ta fight after a few drinks. Fuckin' great at gettin' inta trouble he couldn't fuckin' get out of himself, though."
"Aye. The fuckin' Russians case in point."
Murphy sighed, and they lapsed into silence once again. The next thing he would be aware of was his sore neck, after his head had fallen onto Conner's shoulder sometime in the night as they finally slept.
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I hope you enjoyed that =) Oh, and before I get any crap for it, Conner is spelled with an 'e'. Don't believe me? Check the movie's end credits. Or imdb . com. Please review! It would make my day. Love.