"Because that's the deal. Though they draw their strength from each other, they've become each other's greatest weakness. So the boys don't care about self-preservation? That's fine. But they need each other to exist, at this point. So, hurt one, you destroy the other. And how do you do that? You go after the baby. Big brother will break."
Author's Note: This is my first Boondock Saint's story. I had this idea one night and I decided to give it a go. Questions, comments, reviews, and critics are welcome. Especially reviews. I live for those things! Also, this story has been approved personally by Sean Patrick Flanery (Connor MacManus).
Disclaimer: I do not own The Boondock Saints.
Warning: Rated T for Teen. It may be considered M for Mature in later chapters for violence.
Brotherhood of Saints
Threats and Promises
By Candra Hastings
Lorenzo Frigida was not a happy man.
"Those Saints screwed it up again!" he hissed to the woman who sat on his desk.
She played with the hem of the short black skirt she wore. "You knew it would happen. That was the third deal they've showed up at this month."
"We need to end them!" Lorenzo hissed. "They're bad for business. They're scaring away our customers. Pretty soon, no one will want to make deals with El Diablos."
The woman eyed him with wide, intelligent green eyes. "You know you can't kill them," she reminded him.
"Why not, Anna? It'll be a permanent solution to an annoying problem. They're worth more to me dead."
Anna sighed and swung her legs around so that they brushed against her boss' thigh. "Because you can't make a martyr out of them. If you kill them, sure, the world may become a better place for you. But only for a short while."
"How do you mean?" Lorenzo asked, distracted by her close contact.
"If you kill the Saints, yes, the problem of them killing our men and costumers would be over. However, the people of this town... They love the Saints. Killing them would mean that their adoring fans would be after us. We can't have that."
"So? What can a few people do? How would that effect us?"
"What can a few people do? Lorenzo, sweetie, just two men have already caused enough trouble. Picture half of Boston filling their place if they were gone."
That got through to him. Lorenzo finally understood. The Saints needed to be eliminated, but not killed.
"Since you have all of this figured out, what do we do? We can't kill them, but they must be stopped."
Anna smirked. "We have to make them to want to stop. If the Saints just go away by their choice, then what can the people who adore them do? They'll blame the Saints for not being there. We turn the world against them."
Lorenzo eyed her skeptically. "You think you can... what? Get the Saints to retire?"
"I don't think so. I know so."
He scoffed. "Right."
"I can," Anna said confidently. "Once we find them, we break their will. Any man can be broken. And I know how to do it."
"And how do you plan to do that?" Lorenzo asked. Though he ran the drug business for his gang, he knew that Anna was cruel and manipulative. But she had never failed him. If there had ever been a problem in the past, she'd taken care of it. Still... they'd never had a problem like the Saints before.
"First thing is first," she sighed, rolling her shoulders in a lazy way. "We have to find out who they are."
"I can do that. I have a plan," Lorenzo told her.
"Good. We can start soon, then. Are you giving me full charge of this... project?"
"Yes, you have my upmost faith. But, my dear, what happens after we find out who they are?"
"Well, baby, that's the easiest part! We break them."
B~D~S
"Murph! Get the hell up, lazy bones," Connor barked while kicking his twin brother's mattress.
Murphy mumbled unintelligibly in his doze as he struggled to sit up. The darker twin rubbed sleep from his eyes and glared at his brother, who was lacing up his boots. "What the hell do yah want, Connor?"
"We've got business. Smecker sent a text. Said somethin' is goin' down tonight."
Murphy woke up a bit when he heard that. "Like what? Another drug deal?"
Connor nodded. "Yeah, sounds like. Smecker said an informant told him that there was a small one goin' down on the south side."
"What time?"
"Eleven thirty," Connor replied.
"And what time is it now?"
"Six thirty. Yah slept all day. Why?"
Murphy rolled back over in bed, pulling the covers over his head as he buried his face in the pillow. "Because I'm takin' five more minutes," he mumbled drowsily.
Connor snorted. "Oh, no, you're not." Picking up one of Murph's boots, he chucked it at his lazy brother.
Murphy yelped in surprise when it hit his back. "What the hell, Con? Can't yah see I'm gettin' my beauty sleep?"
Connor rolled his eyes. "No amount of sleep could fix that," he said, gesturing to his brother, who was still curled up in bed.
Murphy sighed, sat up and stretched. He could feel his joints pop as his muscles loosened. It was when he caught his brother staring at him that he stopped. "What?"
"Nothin', I guess," Connor shrugged. "It's just, you've been talkin' in your sleep an awful lot. And when yah finally get up for the day, yah seem tired."
Murphy frowned. What could he say? He couldn't tell his twin that he'd been having nightmares. Ever since Rocco had died, his dreams had turned to nightmares. When his eyes closed at night, he relived that horrible day. Rocco fell back, chest bleeding. Connor screamed while Murphy had thrashed against the cuffs binding him as he struggled to his friend's side.
Except that it wasn't always Rocco who died every night. No, sometimes, to Murphy's great horror, it was his brother. Connor would be shot and dying and Murphy could do nothing about it. He would fight and thrash to get free, his wrists mangled by the metal holding them, but he could never save his brother.
Last night had been one of those dreams.
"It's nothin', Con. Just can't get comfortable is all," Murphy said. No, he couldn't tell his brother. It would only bother Connor that he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
But Connor knew his brother was lying. "You do know yah can talk to me about anythin', right? I mean, after we killed Papa Joe and Da went back to Ireland, you've seemed off."
When Murphy didn't answer him, he knew something was wrong. Connor got up and moved to sit across from him on the edge of his own bed. "Murph? Look at me," he commanded softly.
Murphy's blue eyes seemed so sad when they met his brother's matching pair.
"Connor, how long are we going to keep doin' this?"
"Doin' what?"
"The killin', and all o' that."
"Ya know why we do it. We have to get these people off the streets so that they can't hurt anyone ever again. That's too important to give up," Connor explained.
"Yeah, but what if..." Murphy trailed off.
"What if, what?" Connor snapped. "What are yah trying to say, Murph? Spit it out!'
"What if it's one of us who gets hurt, huh? Did you ever think of that, Connor? What if it's you?" Murphy spat back.
Connor reeled back like he'd been struck. "So that's what's got yah up and bothered?"
Murphy glared at his brother's insensitivity. "I'm not jokin'! What if somethin' happens to you and... and I..."
"Yah what?"
"And I end up alone..."
Connor didn't know what to say. He didn't know that this is what had been bothering his brother. He hated to see Murphy suffer for any reason. Connor didn't know which had been the worst day of his life. It was either when he had to burn his brother's arm with an iron while Rocco held him down, smothering his screams of pain, or when he'd had to break Murphy's hand so they could escape from Papa Joe's, the terrible feel of his brother's bones grinding under his boot.
Both thoughts caused him to shudder.
"Nothin' is gonna happen to me or you, Murph. I promise."
"But yah can't make that promise, can yah?" Murphy shot back.
Connor shuffled uncomfortably. He didn't like talking about any of this. "I saved your skin before when the Russians came, didn't I?"
"Yeah, and yah got hurt doin' it, too," Murphy pointed out.
Connor's eyes went to his wrists. Pale scars from where he'd torn his wrists up trying to get free to save his brother were barely there. "T'was worth it," he mumbled.
"Not to me," Murphy croaked, voice thick with emotion. Connor watched his brother. He could tell Murphy was trying not to cry. Whatever had been bothering him was really eating away at his nerves.
"Yeah, well, you're dumb," Connor shot back, voice softer than the words sounded. "We're both alive and unless-"
"Rocco's not."
Connor stopped in his tracks. "Is that what this is about?"
Murphy shook his head. "Forget it." He started to get up, but Connor's hand shot out and took his before he could.
"Murphy, stop. What's been bothering yah?"
Connor's pleading look had him spilling his guts, his deepest fears. "I keep seein' it, Con. Every night. Every night I'm there again in that basement and someone dies. An'... an' it's not always Rocco," he finished in a whisper.
Connor hated seeing his twin's distress. He moved to sit next to Murphy and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I'm not goin' anywhere. And neither are you, alright? I'm not gonna let anything happen to us, Murph."
Murphy leaned into his brother. They didn't really ever hug or anything, so he was enjoying the comfort. "I'm just... I don't think I could go on without yah, Connor..."
Connor smiled sadly, fighting the burning of tears forming in his eyes. "Well that makes two of us, then. Let's just make sure that we don't have to, right? We came into this world together, we'll leave together, as well."
Both boys laughed as Connor shoved his brother away from him playfully. "Besides, I think I'll end up taking yah out myself before anyone else has the chance if you get weepy on me!"
Murphy shoved back, a grin on his face. "Whatever! I could take yah any day!"
"Oh, is that right?" Connor asked before tackling Murphy to the floor. The two grappled and punched and wrestled with each other, each cursing and insulting as they did, but never really trying to hurt each other. Finally, when they wore each other out, an unspoken truce was passed between them as they untangled their limbs and laid out, panting for breath.
"Alright," Connor sighed heavily, trying to catch his breath. "Maybe you can hold your own."
"Aw, screw you."
They both laughed before picking themselves off the floor. Connor wanted to pull Murphy into a hug, but he felt that the fearful thoughts were now far from his brother's mind. Trying to comfort him further would only bring thoughts like that back.
"C'mon. We need to start getting ready for tonight," Connor said.
The two spent the next few hours getting dressed, raiding the fridge for anything edible, and getting their guns prepped and ready. When that was done and they were ready to head out when dark came, they pulled on their pea-coats. They'd done away with the masks. It wasn't like anyone would live to I.D. them.
The meeting was to take place in an ally on the south side. When the Saints got there, four men were already speaking to each other in hushed tones. They were all middle-aged and rough looking. Still, the twins knew they could handle it.
"You would think these idiots would get the message to stop doing stuff like this," Connor commented quietly.
"Aye," Murphy whispered back. "But it seems to me that not many criminals are the brightest bulbs in the box."
"So if you ever decide to switch sides of the law, you'd fit with the lot o' them just fine, yeah?" Connor teased.
"Screw ya."
Connor had to suppress a laugh. "Alright. Let's do this fast and get back on home. My show's goin' to be on by the time we get there."
"What show? Passions?" Murphy asked innocently. He knew very well that Connor had an addiction to Hawaii Five-O.
Connor rolled his eyes while they pulled their guns.
The twins didn't need to count to three to know when to go. Ever since they were babies, they'd always been able to do things in near synchronization. They could just feel it in their bones. It was a natural force, like gravity.
Side by side, they charged into the ally and like ghosts in the night, they swept through the shadows, overcoming their foes before they even knew who was there. Each gang member dropped to the ground, their lives ended and delivered for judgement.
Until all but the carrier was standing. He made a move to run, but the MacManus twins stopped him. They placed the man on his knees and stood behind him together, guns pressed to the back of his head.
"And Shepards we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, so that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command.
And we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be.
In nomini patri, et fili, spiritus sancti," the Saints recited their family prayer before pulling the triggers.
When the last man dropped dead, they set to work crossing them and placing the pennies on their eyes. After that, they hurriedly went through their things and took what money was there.
It was when they were back home that Murphy pointed out what had bothered him about the whole event. "Did yah notice that none of them had guns?"
Connor frowned as he pulled off his shirt and sat down on his bed. "I did... But like yah said, they probably weren't the valedictions of their high school."
"Right, but every other drug bust we've done, at least one guy had a gun. But not this time. I mean, they didn't even pull a knife or anythin'. They didn't even have a knife. They were unarmed..."
Connor shrugged. "And maybe they were just stupid, Murph. You worry too much. Why don't you get some sleep? We can worry about it tomorrow, yeah?"
Murphy frowned before stripping his shirt and tossing off his boots without another word. Connor knew he'd upset him when the darker twin turned his back on him when he lied down and curled up in bed.
Connor sighed and headed to the other room. He flopped onto the couch and flipped the TV on so he could watch his show. Trying to be thoughtful, he turned the volume down as low as he could and still hear so he wouldn't disturb his brother's precious sleep. Murphy really needed all he could get.
Though McGarret was dodging bullets on the screen, Connor just couldn't pay attention. He kept thinking about why Murphy had gotten so annoyed with him. He hadn't wanted to cause an issue, but he wanted his brother to relax a little. Yes, they'd had their close calls in the past. As long as they were careful though, as long as they watched each other's backs, nothing was going to happen to them.
Connor wouldn't let anything happen to them.
Connor gave up on the show and flipped the TV off. He headed to his room, shuffling in the dark to his bed. Before he got in, he walked over to the bed next him.
Murphy was sleeping soundly. Connor watched as his chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath. A warm feeling surrounded him. This was all he wanted, for his brother to sleep in peace for at least one night.
Smiling to himself, he got into his own bed and pulled the covers over his head. He allowed his breath to warm the enclosed space, lulling him into a doze...
It was not ten minutes later that Connor was pulled from his sleepy state by whimpering sounds. He flipped to his side and spotted Murphy in the dark, fidgeting in his sleep, his body trembling.
Connor got up and crouched by his brother's side, listening closely to him talk in hushed tones in his sleep.
"No, please," Murphy begged in his dream, his voice broken. "Not him. Not my brother! Please, no! Take me, instead..."
Connor didn't like the sound of that. Murphy was in no way a weak person. Something in his dreams had him begging and on the verge of crying.
He knew he had to fix it. Gently as he could, he laid down behind his brother, pulling him close. One hand ran his fingers through Murphy's hair. Instantly, Murphy stopped shaking.
"It's okay, Murph. I'm here. I'm always here for yah."
"We're not five anymore. Yah don't need to baby me," Murphy mumbled, half asleep.
"I know that, yah idjit, but you're still my brother," Connor said firmly, accent thickening as emotion of protection overcame him. "And I'll always be here for yah... Always."
It was quiet for a while, and Connor thought that Murphy had fallen asleep. He was surprised when he heard a whisper in the dark.
"Thanks, Con."
They never told each other they loved each other. It was just a brother thing and it just didn't happen. They didn't really have to because they already knew. Still, sometimes there were moments where a brother almost said the taboo words. The teasing brotherly love was their way of expressing it.
So instead of saying those three important words, he simply said the equivalent, which was, "Shut up and go back to sleep."
Murphy couldn't help but smile. Then he slept soundly through the night.