Nicholas: Oh...um...this fic just entered my brain as I was turning on my computer and I typed it up on the spot. It may thus be riddled with more typos and errors than my other stuff, but my heart wrenches when I read it, so I only reread it once. I hope you enjoy this, I did something strangely poetic with the beginnings of the paragraphs. If you notice it, I'll give you a hug.

Disclaimer: Don't own it, but I do with it what I will because I want to and you can't sue me, so there!

Rating: M...slight language...dark themes...injury...just plain unhappiness.

Nothing else matters in the fight to stay alive. You push yourself as far as you can and that's as far as you can go. Blood doesn't denote that you have life. It is what you hold dear, and how hard it is to take that away that show how alive you really are.

Connor tried his damnedest. He felt like his tired frame was being crushed under the dead weight of his brother. The only thought he could form was 'O God please let him live. I don't know what I'd do without him.' Murphy may have stirred once or twice, but other than that he was completely immobile. Where were they? It was information completely out of reach for Connor. He was just dragging his wounded brother along, blindly searching for some help.

The wet feeling of blood seeping through the back of his shirt kept him awake and aware, no matter how his body was shouting for him to just lay down and sleep. It wasn't his blood, he hated to remember that. He just had to keep moving and he'd find some one, right? Just keep going…

It wasn't fair, what was happening. For the first time in his life, Connor questioned God. He felt his feet stumble beneath him but struggled to stay up. 'O God please let him live. Don't take him away from me.' His vision blurred for the umpteenth time, and he wondered why—having completely forgotten that he was bleeding from the arm. The only action his body could register was "help Murphy" because without Murphy, what point was there?

What if they both went together? They had to. There was no way Connor was going to live without Murphy by his side. Not talking suicide, but he knew in his heart that he wouldn't be able to take it. Which is why he was so afraid right then—with Murphy and his wounded stomach. He'd been stabbed three times right in front of Connor. It was the most horrifying thing either had experienced.

Just as Connor was starting to think this maze of alleyways he was tackling would give way to real civilization, he found himself trapped. A dead end blocked his path. "Fuck," he muttered desperately. His knees started to give, but he ignored it, adjusted Murphy's arms over his shoulders and began to turn around. It was a very hard task, and Connor couldn't manage it.

Just as his legs officially gave up on him, Connor's thoughts had completely stopped. He barely felt himself hit the ground compared to what he heard when Murphy fell on top of him. A low grunt was the only thing that told him that Murphy was still alive. With all the strength Connor could muster, he pushed Murphy over and rolled him onto his back.

What could he do? His mind was at a blank, much like his physical form faced with the brick wall that blocked his way. "Murphy," he muttered, his voice strained and impossible to force above a whisper. "God…if yer alive, tell me…please?" He clutched his brother's shirt and tried to force back his wrenching sobs. The pain in his arm now revealed itself as a dull stinging as his mind started to blur from bloodloss.

It wasn't fair. Connor knew this. He also knew what every adult figure had told him when he was a child. Life isn't fair, so live with it. He had lived with it. He had been able to then because he didn't have to deal with it alone. He'd always had Murphy and that was what made everything fair. They suffered together, but this…This wasn't fair and Connor hated every detail of this night. He lay his head down on Murphy's chest. He could hear the strained breath force it's way in and out of his brother's lungs.

The sound was the only comfort he had right then, so he devoted his attention to it. Nothing else in the world mattered not the distant sound of traffic or the dripping of water somewhere above his head. The inward outward force of his brother's breath was all he needed to hear right then.

Connor didn't notice at first when the sound of footsteps approached him. He didn't care about anything but Murphy. He prayed under his breath and kissed the bloodstained shirt below his head. Still, he didn't notice the pale figure join them in the alleyway, so far from city life that it couldn't be coincidence. He felt a hand brush over his hair lightly and that's when he looked up. Through eyes clouded by tears and loss of blood, he could see a pale face staring down at him.

"Everything is alright, Connor," it said, though it's mouth didn't move at all. Who was this? "It is not your time. Neither is it your brothers." There was a smile on the face that was neither male nor female. "Don't give up faith." And Connor fell into darkness.

The news the next morning showed an amazing story that had to be seen to be believed. It is alleged that the man he found the two in the alley was also stunned by an encounter from god. He stated that he saw a winged creature, humanoid and fair-skinned, kneeling down with the two wounded men. As the police took the scene, there was no "angel"—as he called it—to be seen, but the most intriguing thing occurred. Twin brothers Connor and Murphy MacManus sustained stab wounds and had both bled profusely. The amount of blood that trailed throughout the alley is astounding in the least. Apparently Connor carried his brother—who had endured a worse injury—fifteen yards before collapsing at a dead end. They were said to have lain there all night, but both have gone to the hospital and are currently in stable conditions. I think this is proof that God does in fact watch over his sheep.