Disclaimer: I don't own, no harm intended.

Word Count: 2,378

Pairings: Conn/Murph in later chapters.

Chapter Rating: PG/PG-13? I'm not entirely sure. I know it's not too bad, though.

A.N: Why? Because, there aren't enough Rocco fic's! Rocco was my absolute favorite character - besides the twins, of course - and he's just hilarious! This will be a chapterfic, it will contain slash later on/twincest - whatever. It's not personal favorite, but I have big plans for it. I'm on a boondock high at the moment so, to any of you who also enjoy reading my Gossip Girl fic's: I will not be updating for a little while. I want to thank DeathsIssue for being a total life saver! I finally have a beta for my Boondock Fic's and I couldn't be happier! Hope you enjoy!

It had been a week since the MacManus twins' had felt the harsh rope grinding into their wrists and the hostile feel of fists colliding into every inch of their bodies. It had been exactly one week since Connor had watched Papa Joe Yakavetta walk down into his basement, pistol in hand and firing at will. The sound of the bullet crashing into Rocco, rang in his ears constantly day in and day out. The look on Murphy's face as he fell back onto the floor, whimpering and crying played on repeat in the blond's mind. Connor remembered Murphy nuzzling up to Rocco, complete defeat spread across his bloody face. His heart ached and his body felt spent. That night had taken a part of his soul and he could only imagine how hard it affected his younger twin.

Murphy hadn't eaten a full meal since that night. He refused to leave the dingy motels that Smecker insisted they stay in. He had told them they couldn't go home. There were too many cops hot on their trails. Connor knew Murphy would be better if they could just go sleep in their own beds. He wanted his brother to be okay again, he wanted him to stop beating himself up over what had happened.

Murphy hadn't said more than five things since they had arrived at this motel and Connor was starting to worry. The blond had never seen Murphy so distraught. He was unsure of how to care for his brother in this time.

The dark vigilante sat quietly at the small table in the middle of the room. His eyes scanned the off-white colored walls, seeming to search for something that wasn't there.

"Murph?" Connor's voice came out hoarse and cracked. With Murphy not talking, who would Connor talk to?

The smaller male nodded in recognition, turning his body slightly towards the other who was sitting peaceful on the perfectly made bed.

"Come 'ere."

Murphy instantly averted his eyes from the endless wall to his brother whose face was solemn. He stood hesitantly, walking so slowly towards the other, his feet almost drug on the maroon carpet. He fell onto the bed, his shoulders slumped and head hung low.

Connor snaked an arm around the small frame of his other half and pressed his forehead to the side of Murphy's turned face. "We're go'na go out tonigh'."

Murphy scoffed lightly, pulling away from his brothers' grasp, "I don' feel like it." He mumbled standing and walking towards the bathroom.

"Murph…" Connor spoke with sternness, "I want ye to go ou'. Just fer a few drinks."

Connor watched as Murphy's shoulder heaved with a sigh and he knew he had won. He didn't care that Murphy didn't want to go out, he needed to. He needed to keep his mind off of Rocco and away from that night at Yakavetta's.

The bar was full and it smelled strong of liquor and sweat. The noise was almost unbearable and Murphy silently begged his brother to let him go back to the motel. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be around so many people who he didn't know. This bar was so different from Doc's that it almost made him sick. He wanted to go home; he wanted to go back to how things used to be, before this message from God took place and before he signed his life over to the duties of the Lord. He wanted his brother back; he wanted his best friend back. He didn't know what he was supposed to do anymore. The urge to cry continued to rage inside of him. There wasn't a day that passed by without him thinking of Rocco on the floor, blood pooling from his gun wound. The ache in his chest made Murphy want to scream. He felt empty. His heart wasn't there anymore; his eyes looked but never saw, his mind stopped registering his surroundings. His soul was gone. He had never felt such pain in his life. He had always had Connor and Rocco, no one else. They were his only family and even though Rocco was so different than the twins, Murphy had accepted him in ways that even Connor found difficult. The long haired man could do no wrong in Murphy's eyes.

He was the real saint.

And now he was dead. Murphy couldn't help but believe he played a big part in his demise. He was the one who wanted to recruit the man. Connor had even told Murphy it was his idea. It all just made everything worse.

"-rph? Murph?" Connor seemed to yell through the bar.

The dark haired twin lazily looked away from the walls in the pub, his eyes hazed with confusion.

"Come on."

Conner gripped his brothers' bicep with a firm hand, guiding the smaller man to the bar. They both took a seat and Connor ordered two Guinness's.

As the bottles were heavily set onto the countertop, Murphy felt Connor's arm wrap around his shoulders.

"Ye need t' lighten up." He stated, taking a long swig from his brewed beverage.

"'m fine." Murphy grumbled, following suit. The beer was refreshing. It cleared his throat and sent a chill up his spine. He felt as if he hadn't had a drink in months.

"I know ye ain't, I don'know who ye think yer try'na fool but-"

"Con, can we not talk 'bout'it?"

Connor's sapphire eyes met the mirrored ones of his brother and his mouth fell shut. He nodded in agreement, tightening his grip around Murphy's shoulders. He couldn't help but feel as if his brother were leavin' him. He had never felt so distant from his twin.

The night carried on with little conversation. Connor would say something he thought was witty and he'd get a grunt or a half-hearted chuckle as a response. The blond watched as the younger male kept pouring back beer after beer. Soon there were 9 Guinness's lining the bar in front of the two. Connor looked at his own empty bottles and only saw 4. Maybe taking Murphy out wasn't such a great idea.

The brunette swayed lightly on his bar stool, a small grin plastered on his face. He felt good, he felt alright. He wanted to get back to the motel and sleep. His body screamed for relaxation.

"Conn…" His voice was slurred. Too slurred for only 9 beers, He thought vaguely to himself. "Hey, Conn." He placed a hand lazily on the shoulder of his brother who quietly paid the bill.

"Ya, Murph?" The blond replied, taking his change from the bartender.

"I want te go home."

Connor looked at his brother, whose eyes were clouded over with alcohol. The serenity that played on the slightly younger twins face made the corners of Connor's mouth twitch. Murphy was so innocence, so untouched…so broken. "We're go'n." He replied lightly, wrapping an arm around the small man's waste to keep him steady.

The motel was only a few blocks away from the bar, but it took almost twenty minutes for the twins to get back. Murphy stumbled the whole way. His ankles kept crossing over one another, causing the man to trip. Despite the firm grasp Connor had on his brother, he couldn't keep the brunette on his feet.

Murphy leaned on the door of the twins' motel room as Connor fished the card key out of his wallet.

"ye okay?" The blond asked, gently sliding the plastic into the door handle.

Murphy unnoticeably nodded, pulling away from the door frame as it opened. He swayed back and forth as he stumbled over to his bed, and fell face first into the comfort of the sheets.

Connor studied his brother with a smile on his face, at least he'll sleep good tonight, he silently said to himself, as he stripped his jacket off and laid back onto his own stiff mattress.

Murphy could feel the rope digging into the tender flesh of his wrists. The more he struggled the worse it felt. But, he couldn't help himself. He watched as Yakavetta walked with pure hate gleaming in his eyes. The gun in his hand rose into the air and all Murphy could hear was Connor's pleas.

"God, No!"

The ear shattering volume of the bullet flying from the barrel screamed into Murphy's head. He watched helplessly as Rocco flew backwards in his chair, landing with a loud THUMP onto the ground.

Murphy gasped, sitting upright on the old mattress. His body was covered in sweat and his breathing hoarse. He could feel his heart beating in his ears, his temples throbbed and his head ached. He darted his eyes towards his brother who was sound asleep in the opposing bed.

This was the first time Murphy had ever woken alone from a frightful dream.

"'bout time. I've been waiting for your ass to wake up."

Murphy's breath caught in his throat as the familiar voice rang high in the air. I'm still dreaming, He whispered in his thoughts.

"You two Mick's haven't been do'n too well, huh?"

Murphy slowly averted his vision from his sleeping twin and almost cowardly brought them towards the deep Italian accent. Tears stung his eyes as he took in the calm, serene look of Rocco, who was sitting at the small table in the middle of the room. His feet propped up in a chair.

"Don't look at me like that, Murph." He threatened, bringing himself in an upright position, "Get over here and have a beer with me."

Murphy closed his quivering mouth that hung open. He pushed his body from the bed and gradually made his way to the table, taking a seat in the chair that Rocco's feet had just occupied.

Two Guinness's sat unopened on the table top.

"Eesh, man, you look like shit." The shaggy haired man said with a small laugh, handing the beer to his closest friend.

Murphy took the ice cold beverage and absent mindedly opened it, never taking his eyes from the man before him.

"You need to snap out of it!" Rocco exclaimed, clapping a hand on the brunettes shoulder, "Have a drink and calm the fuck down."

Murphy played with a smile on his face and took a small drink, "Ye look good, Roc."

"You don't."

"Yeah…well…"

"What's this shit, huh? Why you actin' like you don't know me?" Rocco sat back in his chair, taking a long drink of his beer.

"'m just…surprised te see ye."

"Don't be!"

Murphy sighed and relaxed his stance, looking back at Connor once again, who had not stirred.

"Took you fucking long enough to come around! I almost gave up and left." Rocco laughed once the twin brought his attention back to him.

"Where would ye'of gone?"

Rocco bit into his lower lip and smiled coyly, "You shouldn't ask me questions."

Murphy bowed his head silently, sipping on his drink.

"What the fuck, Murph! Seriously, man, this whole…" Rocco motioned to the disheveled twin, "Has got to go!"

"I miss ye." The Irish man whispered, leaning his elbows onto the table, "I don' know how to…"

"Talk to your best man? Oh c'mon, tell me how you've been."

Murphy chuckled, "Not good."

"I can see that."

"How're ye here?"

"I came back to check on yous twos. Thought maybe you were do'n better than I expected. But, fuck, was I fucking wrong. You need to stop this feeling guilty bullshit, lemme tell ya that."

Murphy brought his Aequitas tatted hand to his face, absently rubbing his cheek, remembering the feel of those hardened fists repeatedly plowing into it. "Ye look good as new." He mumbled, noting Rocco's full 10 fingered hands.

"Yeah! I feel good as new, too, which is all the more reason for you to get the fuck over whatever is makin' you act like this way."

Murphy brought his eyes to the others and couldn't help but let out a heartfelt laugh. He had missed Rocco's remarks and harsh ways of showing affection. He had missed being in his presence, feeling good about everything and feeling at home.

"Wha's it like?" Murphy started, "Be'n dead?"

Rocco sighed deeply, running a hand over his mouth, "Uh, well…it's just like bein' alive, only you're less important. No one can see ya."

"Why can I?"

"Murph?" Connor's sleep filled voice ran through the air, startling the younger twin slightly. "What are ye do'n?"

"He can't see me." Rocco whispered, picking up his beer and standing from the chair.

Murphy eyed him curiously, "Why not?"

"Wha'?" Came Connor's reply. Murphy looked at the blond who was now sitting on the edge of the mattress, running his hands through his hair. The brunette turned his attention back to the Italian but all he saw was an empty chair.

"Just…uh…" He looked at the beer in his hands, "hav'n a beer."

"Ye need te sleep." Connor commented, walking towards his brother. He eyed the younger man skeptically, taking in the almost full beer and the sweat that lined his brow. "Ye don' look good."

Murphy scoffed lightly, "'m fine."

"…Murph. Ye know Roc wouldn't want te see ye like this."

Murphy couldn't help but smile sheepishly, "Yea."

"Nothin's yer fault." The blond started, rested a hand on the others shoulder.

The small framed man cleared his throat softly, setting the beer down onto the table with a small thud, "Don' worry, Con. 'm ok." He then stood from his position in the chair and lightly placed his hand over Connor's, "'night." He whispered with a smile, walking back to his bed.

Murphy allowed himself to relax into the sheets and sighed almost enjoyably. He welcomed sleep that came quickly and silently prayed that his dreams would be nightmare-free. He had a funny feeling they would be.

A.N: I really hope you guys liked it. It'll pick up it's pace with the next chapter. Again; Thanks so much DeathsIssue, you are a sweetheart!

xo,