BDS FF Story:
Disclaimer: Ok, ok so I don't own the Boondock Saints or their characters. Yeah I wish I do. But hey, I own my own characters so good for me!!!! (Yeah I'm weird, right? :P )
Summary: Connor and Murphy go after a well known drug dealer who was linked to a 15 year old kidnapping case. But when they find him and the girl, they realize that their trouble has just begun and that as long as they have the girl, they have a price on their heads as well.
A/N: This is my first BDS story so be nice! Bare with me here cause it's a bit hard to write the way they would talk but I'll try. I'm using a few Irish slang phrases here and there but overall I'm just writing plainly. I hope you like it so please read and review and tell me what you think. Criticism is welcome but please no flaming, if you don't like it, just tell me but don't yell at me! But anyway---- enjoy!!!!
BTW: This story takes place a year after the movie, so they are obviously the Saints but they have moved to New York. They are wanted by the Boston police but they have managed to keep a low profile so far; still being the Saints but not so publicly. And that's it, I guess. If it doesn't make sense to you-- well that's too bad because it's my story!!!! But please, by all means, tell it to me in your review. Anyway---- ENJOY!!!!
Chapter 1: A New Day, A New Problem:
It was a cold and overcast morning, an unusual occurrence for the beginning of September. Murphy MacManus shivered as he stood by the window and wondered why the weather had taken such an abrupt turn from the day before. Murphy took out his last cigarette and made a mental note to buy another pack when he and Connor passed the local news stand on their way to have their ritual morning coffee.
"Ughh," came the disgruntled reply of one Connor MacManus, half-hidden under the sheets and covers of his bed. He groaned again and put his pillow over his head in an attempt to block out any kind of light around him.
Murphy chuckled and blew smoke rings into the air as he watched his brother groan and curse the coming day and the pain that grew in his head. After taking the last few drags, Murphy stubbed out his cigarette in the nearest overflowing ashtray and made his way to Connor's bed. He knew well that waking his brother was no easy task, especially when his brother had the hangover from hell.
"Come on, Connor," Murphy said, tugging on his twin's covers and shaking him with his free hand.
Connor grunted loudly and pushed Murphy away, causing him to tumble backwards and land on his ass. A little annoyed but still chuckling to himself as Connor muttered curses in his half-awake state, Murphy stood and grabbed a pitcher of water off the table. Standing directly over Connor, Murphy held the near-full pitcher of water and slowly poured it onto his twin's head.
"Aye! Fuck!" Connor bolted up in his bed at once, throwing the laughing Murphy an angry glance. "What'd ya do that for ye eejit?!" He ran a hand through his dishevelled and now wet hair and began to dress himself.
Murphy didn't answer but began to do the same, finishing before Connor. As he watched his twin dress himself slowly and carefully, he remembered the event's from the night before and couldn't help but chuckling to himself. He and Connor had gone to the bar, much like they did every night, and after a while, a very good looking girl had come in alone. Connor, who was already a bit buzzed, tried to hit on her but failed seeing as she was only interested in the big burly biker with the countless tattoos. The rest of the night was spent drinking himself into a stupor and getting himself so drunk that Murphy had to half-drag, half-carry him home.
Now Connor looked like the combination of death warmed over and road kill that was repeatedly run over by trucks. The pain that throbbed in his head was almost unbearable but it was nothing that a few aspirin couldn't fix. Finally after getting himself dressed and ready, he eyed his brother who had been leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. Connor took his wet pillow and threw it, hitting Murphy square in the face.
"Hey!" Murphy exclaimed, pushing the wet pillow away and throwing it to the ground. He wiped his face with one hand and smacked Connor with the other. "Fuckface!"
"You're a fuckface ye eejit!" Connor retorted, kicking out his left foot and catching Murphy in the shin. "Stop hittin' me!"
"You stop hittin' me!" Murphy cried and jumped onto Connor, knocking them both backwards onto the floor.
In minutes they were rolling around on the floor, hitting each other and yelling at each other, even pulling on each other's hair once. A few punches were thrown and fewer actually reached their target. They continued to fight but after another few minutes of yelling and cursing, the fight stopped when both Connor and Murphy smacked their heads into each other's when they attempted to head butt one another.
The two grown men were now lying on their dirty floor, both clutching their heads, Connor almost passing out from the pain that was just added to his already throbbing head. A few seconds later though, they both started laughing, the fight already forgotten. Murphy stood and pulled Connor up along with him.
"Ya all right?" Murphy asked, smiling crookedly at Connor.
"Fine," Connor said. "Are we goin' or what, Murph?" He put on his pea coat that matched Murphy's and quickly put on his sunglasses. Murphy moved slower, taking time to put on his coat. "Oy Murph! Move yer ass will ya!"
Ignoring his brother, Murphy slipped into his jacket and followed Connor out the door. The street was pretty busy considering the hour but it wasn't nothing they weren't used to. Murphy paused quickly to buy his carton of cigarettes but he stopped when he read the headline on the newspaper. He grabbed Connor's arm and turned around. He nodded toward the paper and Connor read it quickly.
'CONVICTED DRUG DEALER SOUGHT FOR 7 YEAR-OLD KIDNAPPING CASE'
"Whad'ya think?" Murphy asked, his eyes hardening. "Good, huh?"
"Aye," Connor said, a serious expression crossing his face as he studied the headline. "Good."
Murphy bought the newspaper with his cigarettes and quickly the twins headed for Johnny's, the coffee shop they regularly went to. Sitting at the corner booth with their coffee and doughnuts, Murphy read the story aloud while Connor listened intently.
'Yesterday evening, New York police received an anonymous tip that known and convicted drug dealer Pazz McClellan was holding a young girl in his house. The girl, thought to be young Josephine Miller, was kidnapped from the Bayard's Orphanage when she was 12 years old and was never seen or heard from again. Police officials at the time first issued her disappearance as a runaway but when signs of struggle were found, it was ruled a kidnapping. A few years ago, the police closed the case when no evidence of Miller was found. But after receiving the tip that she might have been kidnapped by McClellan, the police reopened her case. The police searched the house but found nothing. The case is still being looked into so that the girl, if she is indeed with McClellan, can be found.'
"Christ," Connor muttered under his breath when Murphy looked up from the paper. "That piece of shite might have that girl!"
"And who knows what he's done to her if he has," Murphy growled, anger boiling inside him when he thought of the possibilities. "I hate fuckin' bastards like that."
"Aye, me too," Connor agreed. He leaned forward suddenly, nearly knocking his coffee over with his sudden excitement. "We should do something' then, right? Right?", he said when Murphy didn't answer fast enough.
"Right!" Murphy said, his excitement matching his brother's. "It's been a while since we did that. We could be doin' society a favour, y'know?"
"Fuckin' right, Murph!" Connor said, slamming his fist down onto the paper. "Fuckin' right!"
********
As the sun went down and the night arrived, Connor and Murphy worked feverishly and excitedly on their plan of attack. The growing popularity of the drug dealer story had everyone in the buzzing but the MacManus brothers were intrigued for different reasons. Their mission in life had become to help anyone and everyone by getting rid of all the evil in the world, one by one. And with the New York police more or less on their side, the media-dubbed 'Saints' were free to execute their calling and do what they saw as right and just.
In their ramshackle apartment, by the light of a few small lamps, the brothers sat at their near-broken table, surrounded by newspaper clippings, internet printouts, beer bottles and packs of cigarettes. Murphy sighed tiredly and pushed a few clippings aside so he could lay his head on the table. Connor looked up from the article he was reading and smacked his twin over the head with a rolled up newspaper.
"Come on, Murph," Connor said, half his attention on the article. "We got work to do."
Murphy groaned but didn't lift his head. "Connor--- it's fuckin' two in the mornin'. I'm tired, all right?"
"No!" Connor said strongly, slamming his fist down on the table so hard Murphy could feel the pain. "This is somethin' we gotta do, Murph. We can't just leave it now can we?"
Murphy sighed, nodding and sitting back down. Connor had a special hatred for drug dealers, more than the standard hatred they had as the Saints. Connor used to be very close to a woman that used to live across the street. She had met him when he saved her son from getting hit by a bus when he chased his ball into the street. They dated after that and Murphy was pretty sure that they were going to get married.
But one day, the girl's drug dealer ex-boyfriend came by to visit her and to try and get her back. He met the son first and convinced him to take a drug, telling him it was candy and that his mother wanted him to have it. The drug hit the eight year old boy hard and when his mother found him, he was almost near death. The ex-boyfriend had been waiting for her and after a struggle, she died from hitting her head on the edge of a table. Without any to call an ambulance, the son died.
Connor and Murphy had gone after the scumbag and killed him after he got out of jail on bail. But Murphy knew that his brother would never be okay even after they sent the evil bastard to hell. Connor had loved that girl, even if he never admitted or tried to hide it and no amount of killing or justice would ever fix that. Murphy knew that and he did all he could to help Connor.
"Okay," Murphy said, staring his brother straight in the face. "Let's do this!"
"Good," Connor said with a smile and then turned the papers he had just been looking at so Murphy could read them. "It says that the piece of shite lives right here in Boston. At the crappy apartment building' near the church. Y'know?" Murphy nodded and Connor continued. "He's been livin' there for three years. He had moved to New York--- 15 years ago. Now why do you supposed he did that, huh?"
"The girl," Murphy said, smiling as he caught on. "He kidnapped her and brought her to New York. What a fuckin' bastard!"
"Aye. But they never caught him. They never found the girl." Connor cocked his head to the side, thinking for a moment. "How much do ya wanna bet that he's got the girl and that the police were too daft to find her?"
"Me Life," Murphy said. He leaned forward, staring his brother in the face, his expression serious. "When you wanna do this, Connor?"
Connor smiled and his eyes lit up with an excitement that only Murphy could understand. "Tomorrow, Murph," he finally said, leaning back in his chair. "Tomorrow we do this."
"Aye," Murphy agreed. "Good."
********
"Ow! Watch yer fuckin' foot will ya?" Murphy cried loudly, rubbing the spot on his chest that Connor had kicked while crawling down an air vent. They had done this before and Murphy didn't like it.
"Sorry! And Shh!" Connor whispered. "We don't wanna get caught now do we?" Murphy grunted his answer and followed his brother as they slowly crawled down the vent. He accidentally kicked the side which made a loud, resounding bang. Connor turned to smack him. "Shh! Yer too fuckin' loud!"
"You shh!" Murphy whispered back, smacking Connor back. "Yer the loud one!"
Connor half-turned, a bit ticked off now and smacked Murphy across the head. Murphy growled angrily and jumped onto Connor, both of them in another smacking match. But then suddenly they heard the vent groan loudly and they stopped dead, both their faces in an expression of horror.
"Oh no…."
"….not again!"
The vent gave way fully then and both men felt themselves fall through the air before landing, hard. Murphy landed half on a wooden bench and rolled off, nearly ramming into a shelf filled with cleaning products. Connor landed on a hard washing machine, striking his head near the corner. For a few moments, both were winded and couldn't speak; the fall leaving them slightly stunned. Connor slowly and painfully rolled himself to his feet and shuffled over to Murphy, helping him stand.
"You all right?" Connor asked, giving Murphy a quick once over while rubbing his own head.
"Fine," Murphy replied, massaging his shoulder that took most of the impact. "Not broken but-- fuck! Rope woulda fuckin' helped!"
"Oh sure! Now you want the rope!"
"Shut-up!" Murphy snapped and surveyed the room quickly. They had landed in a small, empty laundry room. "Why'd we have to use the vents for?"
"Because we don't wanna be seen, eejit!" Connor said with a roll of his eyes. "Don't ya know anythin'?"
Murphy ignored him and looked around once again, casting a quick glance at the door. "Where's the scumbag live? Third floor is it?"
"Yeah," Connor replied, taking a quick look at the slip of paper in his pocket. "3F. Just down the hall." He took his gun from the holster strapped to his side, cocked it, put it back in and walked out the door with a look of determination.
Murphy did the same but halfway out the door, he stopped to look around the laundry room once more. "Who the fuck puts a laundry room on the third floor?" he remarked before following Connor down the dimly lit hallway.
The hallway was deserted and not a sound could be heard coming from any of the third floor apartments. Murphy thought that was weird since he and Connor's apartment was always buzzing around eleven in the morning. It didn't matter though. They were on a mission and nothing or no one could phase them.
Connor stopped in front of apartment 3F and listened carefully. He shook his head, indicating that no sound was coming from within. A whiff of something horrid coming from the other side reached them and both turned away, covering their noses.
"What the hell is that?" Murphy said loudly. "Smells like somethin' died in there. It's disgustin'."
"Come on," Connor urged. He looked from left to right before swiftly kicking the door in with his right foot. "Let's go!"
They walked slowly and silently inside and looked around for any signs of life. The apartment itself was messy with bottles and boxes strewn everywhere and ugly, stained furniture awkwardly set about. The horrid smell was stronger inside and they had to hold their breath to keep from throwing up. Something grazed Murphy's leg and he jumped, almost firing his gun. It was only a orange tabby cat that looked at him quizzically before scampering off down the hallway. Connor smirked but continued down to a set of doors.
"That one," Murphy said, nodding toward the second door. "It's comin' from there."
Placing their hands on the door and cocking their guns, they silently counted to three in their heads, simultaneously pushing the door open on 'three'. The sight that greeted them made them cry out in surprise. Lying there on the dirty bathroom floor was Pazz McClellan, bullet holes riddled throughout his body. The first shot to the heart had killed him but the killer was clearly gun happy and continued to shoot him well after he was dead. Blood was everywhere and the brothers had to be careful not to step on it.
"Damn," Connor said, kneeling next to the body to have a better look. "Some one got here before us. Shit!" He looked up at a dumbfounded Murphy, frustrated and confused. "Who'd do this?"
"I don't know," Murphy replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "He was a drug dealer, Con. A shitload of people were after him."
"Fuckin' great," Connor swore, standing quickly and turning away from the body. His eyes lit up suddenly as a realization hit him. "Murph! The girl!"
The sound of a gun cocking behind them interrupted Murphy's reply and both of them spun around quickly, coming face to face with a young girl with an angry face, pointing a gun at them. She was a short girl, easily under 5 ft and had dark, nearly black hair with faint purple streaks that ran past her shoulders. Her bespectacled eyes were vibrant and as far as Murphy could tell, two different colours. One was bright blue while the other was bright green. The glasses were huge, nerdy things and didn't fit her face. It made her look a bit scary and they had a hardness to them that Murphy couldn't quite understand. She wore jeans and a worn t-shirt with a brown leather vest over it and new-looking black and white converse. She held the gun straight and with confidence, her eyes darting back and forth between the two.
"Who are you two?" she asked, looking them both over quickly. "You don't look like dealers."
"We ain't dealers," Connor replied in an annoyed tone. He and Murphy still had their guns pointed up as well. "Drop yer gun."
"Fuck you," she said harshly and held the gun even tighter than before. Seeing such a delicate-looking girl swear stunned both Connor and Murphy. "Don't tell me what to do. Why don't you drop your guns?"
"Wait-- who are ya?" Murphy asked, eyeing Connor and slightly moving closer to the girl. "Are ya the girl? The--- kidnapped girl?"
She chuckled bitterly for a second before regaining her serious expression. "Is that what they call me? Well then--- here I stand, the 'kidnapped girl' at your fuckin' service."
"All right, all right," Connor said, holding up his hands in defense. "Relax, girl. No one wants to shoot anyone here." He eyed Murphy who was inching closer to the girl and tried to keep the girl's attention on him. "A girl like yerself shouldn't be holdin' a gun like that. It ain't right."
"Oh-- it ain't?" She mimicked mockingly, scoffing at his words. "I don't care what you think is right--- I'm a damn good shot."
"But you ain't got a good attention span."
She looked at Connor quizzically and was about to tell him off when she was suddenly grabbed from behind. Murphy had her in his strong grip with both arms tight around her and before she could pull the trigger, Connor shook the gun from her hand and put it in the waistband of his jeans. The girl squirmed and screamed, thrashing and kicking around and landing a kick to Connor's stomach. Connor grabbed her legs and gripped so tight that she couldn't move.
"GET OFF ME!!!! LET GO YOU BASTARDS!" she screamed, fiery anger blazing in her eyes.
"Relax! We're on yer side!" Murphy said into her ear. "We came to help you."
The girl stopped suddenly at that. "What do you mean 'help me'? You don't even know me!"
"Yes," Connor said and took out one of the articles, "we do." He showed the girl the article that had first captured his and Murphy's attention. "Look--- it says yer the kidnapped girl and that a drug dealer was holdin' ya here. 'Cept--- they never found ya when they came here."
"Looked?" She scoffed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Right."
"What?"
"Those idiots couldn't find a branch on a tree!" she said harshly. "I was drugged and thrown in the closet. The police didn't even set foot in the door. Some cops, huh?"
"That ain't right," Murphy said, more to himself. "They made a big enough circus about findin' ya and getting' ya back home."
"Home? Ugh---" She stopped and sighed. "Can you let me go now?" The twins shared a look and she sighed again. "I promise I won't run away, all right?"
After a few seconds of contemplation and shared looks, Murphy and Connor let her go and she stretched. They remained near her just in case she did decide to bolt for the door. She eyed them, giving them a slower and more proper once over. She raised her eyebrows when she saw that both men were dressed exactly alike--- right down to the scuffed black boots. She smirked, amused at how two grown men dressed exactly alike.
"So-- what? You guys related or best friends or in a boy band?"
"What?" Connor looked at her like she had sprouted a second head.
"You're dressed alike," she said. "That only works with two year-old twins in matching overalls. What's your excuse?"
"We're twenty-eight year-old twins," Connor said curtly and Murphy chuckled. "And you---little girl?"
"Fuck you, twenty-eight year-old twin," she said, her defences shooting up like stone walls around her. "I don't have to tell you nothing!"
"No," Connor agreed, "ya don't. But we could knock ya out and dump ya at the police station and let them have ya."
"Fine," she spat, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at them. "What the fuck do you wanna know?"
"What happened here?" Murphy asked. He nodded toward the dead body of Pazz McClellan. "You kill him?"
"No," she replied. "I should have--- years ago. Some people he sold drugs to paid him a little visit. He sold them some fake shit and they killed him for it. I was hiding in the other room but they saw me and I ran before they could catch me. They'll come back for me-- they don't want no witnesses."
"Is that why yer pointing' a gun at everyone who comes in here?"
"Hey-- gotta protect myself somehow don't I?"
"How old are ya?" Murphy asked. He took the article from Connor and read it over
quickly. A smirk appeared as he read her name. "Miss-- Josephine, is it?"
"Ugh, God," she muttered, grimacing. "It's Jo and shouldn't you know since you're so smart with your articles?" They didn't say anything and she shook her head with an exasperated sigh. "19."
"All right," Connor said. "At least we're getting somewhere."
"Who the hell are you guys?" Jo snapped as she began to grow increasingly annoyed. She had practically grown up around drug dealing and the business and she knew that not trusting strangers was one of the unwritten rules. And now that she had no gun, she was a bit worried but she didn't show it.
"I'm Connor and he's Murphy. We ain't the bad guys here. We-- get rid of the bad guys."
Jo cocked her head to side, suspicious. "You-- get rid of the bad guys? What the fuck does that mean? Are you the half-assed Irish mob?"
"It means we kill 'em," Murphy replied, ignoring her comment. His face was serious and it matched Connor's. It was no joking matter to them when it came to what they did and what they stood for. "We get rid of them so they don't get to hurt anyone else."
"Oh," Jo said as realization washed over her. "Oh, I get it now. You're those 'Saints' guys. The ones that are in the news all the time. And-- what? You were gonna kill him?" She cast a glance at the body of her captor and suppressed a shudder. "What were you gonna do with me? Huh? Hand me back?"
The question caught both men off guard. They hadn't really thought about what they would do if they actually found her. It was just assumed that they would do what was right and turn her in so the kidnapping case could be solved and the drug dealer killed. Not once did they stop and think that the girl might actually have an opinion of her own and not want to be found.
"Where else would you go?" Connor asked. "Yer free now. You can go back and live and be happy."
"Oh right," Jo said bitterly. "Because a fuckin' orphanage is all fun and games! You think they actually care about me? All they care about is the money they get for each kid that's in there! I'm gone-- as good as dead to them-- and I prefer that it stays that way!"
Jo turned quickly and headed toward the door in an attempt to storm out and get as far away as she possibly could. She didn't want nothing more to do with anyone and all she wanted was to get away so she could live her own life. She almost reached the door when she felt a hand close around her upper arm and pull her back. Connor had her and he didn't let her go this time.
"Ya can't leave!" he said, now openly annoyed. "Don't ya remember what ya just said? The men who killed him are gonna come lookin' for ya! We can't leave ya by yerself now can we?"
"I don't care," Jo spat. "I can fuckin' take care of myself! And besides-- aren't you gonna bring me back?" The burning fire in her eyes was enough to make Connor pause for a second. Murphy shrugged as an unspoken conversation passed between them.
"We can't now," Connor said. "We found ya now and we can't leave ya. We-- we can protect ya from who's after ya."
"Aye," Murphy agreed. "You can stay with us. Until it's all figured out."
"What? Why?" Jo asked, suspicion in her eyes. She had never trusted anyone on her life before and she wasn't about to start easily now. "Why do you wanna help me?"
"Because," Connor said with a tight smile. "That's what we do."
"Oh well that's different!" Jo said with a roll of her eyes. Sighing and finally putting down her gun, she smirked at both of them. "So," she said with her eyebrows lifted and an amused smile dancing on her lips. "Are you guys gonna bring me in chains or am I allowed to walk by myself?"
Murphy chuckled aloud to himself and Connor smirked with no sound. The proverbial ice had been somewhat broken. It was enough for now. Connor took the bag that he had slung over his shoulder and threw it to Jo.
"Fill it up with whatever ya need," he said. "And fast. We don't got time to waste here."
"Fine," Jo replied, disappearing into the other room. She hated giving in so easily and she still didn't trust them but it beat watching out for herself alone and she was happy to get away from the apartment.
Murphy turned to Connor as she left the room. They didn't need to speak to tell each other how they felt. Both were hesitant about taking the girl in, especially after she had witnessed the drug dealer's murder. Sometime soon the killers would come looking for her which meant that they had to deal with whoever they were. It left both brothers with a feeling of apprehension and a sense that something bad was going to happen.
"Don't worry," Connor said to his more anxious and worried brother. Murphy nodded but didn't reply.
"Okay," they heard Jo say and turned to see her coming from the room, Connor's bag dragging on the floor behind her. She had put on a pea coat much like their's except that it had buttons on the flaps.
"What's that?" Murphy asked, pointing to the buttons. They were square and colourful. "Buttons?"
"No," Jo replied sarcastically. She shook her head and walked closer for them to see. "Of course they're buttons, genius."
Murphy and Connor leaned in to take a look at the buttons, both scrutinizing each one carefully. At the same time, as if they were connected in everything they did, they pulled back and shared a look before bursting into laughter. Jo looked annoyed and a little pissed at their laughter.
"What's so fucking funny?" She asked, her hands on her hips. "Do my buttons amuse you?"
"Aye," Murphy said, laughing. "The Beatles? Really?" He laughed a bit harder and half leaned on Connor who was laughing hard himself.
"So?" Jo said, more irritably. "Is there something wrong with The Beatles?"
"No, there ain't, lass," Connor finally answered. "But--- wearing buttons? Ye ain't in the '60s, y'know?"
"Yeah--- are you a hippie?" Murphy said, a playful smirk on his lips. "I've never seen a young lass like yerself be so obsessed with a band that she'd wear buttons on her coat!"
"Oh-- fuck yourselves," Jo spat, turning from them. Her anger only made them laugh harder and she stood, waiting for them to finish. "Don't make fun of The Beatles," she warned. "I'll shoot both of you!"
"Aye," Connor said after he and Murphy finally sobered. "I bet she would."
"Okay," Jo said, her hardness returning. "Where are you dipshits taking me?"
"Just follow us," Murphy replied. "And don't try to run, all right?"
Jo's reply was an annoyed rolling of her eyes but she nodded, a promise enough. Connor took a quick look into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear and then he motioned for Murphy and Jo to follow. Murphy made Jo go first, so she walked in the middle of him and Connor. Even though she became compliant and agreed to go with them, Murphy knew that they could never be too loose with their trust.
They exited from the normal entrance this time since they really hadn't done anything and because they had Jo with them. When they were safely in their beat-up old car, Connor sped off at an alarming speed. Jo sat in the back, slouched down with her legs up against the back of the passenger seat.
"Where do you live?" Jo asked as she watched the scenery pass by from the window. Murphy turned around to face her.
"We live in an apartment building'," he said. "It's about fifteen minutes away."
"Oh," Jo replied, more to herself. "Great."
The rest of the ride was relatively quiet, save for the radio station that flooded the car with music that Jo could care less about. But when her favourite Beatles song, Yellow Submarine, came on she reached over to raise the volume, receiving a weird look from both Connor and Murphy. But they let her be and for the first time since they met her, they finally saw Jo's full smile.
"Holy shit! This is your apartment?"
Jo had just followed Connor and Murphy into their apartment and she was shocked at messiness of it. She was used to the apartment of Pazz McClellan and it was messy but this one was just overly messy. And even though she was often called a "tom-boy" and a "slob" by many people, too much mess kind of irked her. But she shrugged and dropped her bag on the beaten-up couch, walking around to get a better look at everything. The apartment was basically one big open space with two twin beds in the middle, a few chairs, a table and a small kitchenette. The little bathroom was off to the right and there was a pretty spacious balcony just outside the glass doors.
"Well," she said and turned to face them. "I guess it isn't too bad. But, uh--- where do you except me to sleep? You two gonna share a bed and give me the second one?"
Murphy chuckled and Connor shook his head. "No, lass," he said with a smirk. "You'll be sleepin' on the couch."
"Oh,---well! That's just peachy!" Jo turned and stared at the couch and muttering under her breath she whispered, "Bastard."
********
Late that night, Connor and Murphy sat around their rickety table, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. It was the next best thing to going to the bar and drinking and since they had to stay and watch Jo, they had no choice either way. Jo had nearly had a tantrum that night when Connor made the mistake of saying they had to watch her to make sure she didn't leave or do anything stupid. She nearly bit off his head and threw a beer bottle at him, hitting him square in the chest. But soon after plugging herself into her iPod, she fell asleep; one hand steadily on the holster that held her gun.
"Oy! Shit," Murphy exclaimed as he lit another cigarette. "I'm fuckin' tired."
"Aye," Connor agreed, nodding. He stubbed out his cigarette and chugged the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and burping loudly. He eyed Jo and chuckled at the way she was twisted on the couch, her earphones in her ear with the music playing steadily. "She's a tough lass ain't she?" he said to Murphy.
"Aye, and a bit insane too."
"She is, yeah."
Murphy stared at her, studying her as she slept. She looked completely different when she was asleep; peaceful and content and--- even beautiful. The hardness that was always on her face and in her eyes had disappeared and she looked like a girl her age should look like. Murphy felt sorry for her then as he watched her. He always had Connor growing up and he couldn't imagine what it was like to be an orphan, much less living with a drug addict.
"What, Murph?" Connor had been watching him as he watched Jo. Murphy just shrugged; he was feeling a bit uneasy and anxious.
"I don't know," he said with another shrug. "Con-- what are we gonna do with her? We can't just keep her forever."
"Fuck if I know," was Connor's reply. "I can't help feelin' like there's more to this, Murph. Some fuckin' dealers are after her and they ain't gonna stop lookin' for her."
"Aye. I don't think she's telling' us everythin'." Murphy's eyes narrowed as he looked at Jo once more. When his gaze met Connor's again, he sighed. "I guess we gotta make her talk."
"Aye, Murph. We do."
********
The next morning came quickly, the blinding sun shining through the window and hitting Murphy square in the face. He was by no means a morning person and the bright sun filled him with a great urge to hold the pillow over his head and sleep all day. But the events of the day before flashed through his mind and he shot up in his bed, his eyes landing on the couch Jo had been sleeping on. He rubbed his eyes vigorously to make sure what he was seeing was actually true.
"Fuck!" he cursed, loudly. He threw his pillow at Connor to wake him up. "Connor!"
"Wha-- wha--what?" Connor sat up, blinking rapidly to get the room into focus. "What, Murph?"
"Look," Murphy said, nodding toward the couch.
The couch was crooked and wrinkled from being slept on. The blanket was hanging half on the arm and half on the floor while the pillow lay beside it on the floor. Everything was normal except….
Jo was gone.
A/N: Well…. What did you guys think?? I hope you liked the story because, like I mentioned before, this is my first Boondock Saints story so--- it's prolly a bit rusty. I did put some of myself into Jo (Beatles obsession, height and some other things) although I don't have a coat with Beatles buttons--- sounds like a good idea though don't it? Oh yeah and the glasses are ones that I'm getting soon to kind of emulate Buddy Holly. Once again, yes I'm a bit crazy. And I always liked the idea of having two different coloured eyes so I gave them to Jo! Anyway, please please please please review so I know what you think! Tell me what you like, what to improve, etc. No flaming, just good criticism ok? Thanks!!!!
