AN: Yeah, I couldn't leave you all hanging. It's just getting to the exciting part. :3
Who was surprised with what I did to Romeo? Am I bad?
And what is with Blaise? How does she know so much? Who is she working for? In fact, who IS she? (obviously, aside from a writer and the daughter of a cop who was killed by mobsters and NOT Eunice Bloom as was previously suggested.) And is Connor putting his faith blindly in his brother, or is Murphy actually losing it?
I am asking these questions mostly so I don't forget what I'm doing.
Slainté!
Verse 4
They were aware of everything that was happening and yet they couldn't do anything about it. They could feel the poison slowing down their nervous systems. They could feel the paralysis creeping through their limbs. And they couldn't fight it. A natural, uncontrollable panic began to set in, but even that was felt as something far away and unimportant.
So this is what it's like to die...
They were still conscious when the guards found them. They could see the paramedics checking for vitals, feel the hands against their chests as the paramedics attempted to revive them. It was a strange feeling, a vague feeling seeing as they couldn't really feel anything through the chemically induced paralysis.
"Anything longer than six minutes and there's really no hope..." One of the paramedics said. To Connor, it sounded like they were all under water.
"Been at least an hour." The guard replied.
The paramedic shook his head.
Murphy felt the first twinges of claustrophobia as the body bag was zipped up over his head. He vaguely wondered if he would suffocate.
The inmates would rejoice in the morning.
They were rolled out of the prison and loaded onto the waiting ambulance. Two body bags on stretchers, bound for the morgue. The sirens wouldn't announce their passing.
Inside the ambulance, the body bags were unzipped and the second paramedic began administering countermeasures to the neurotoxin. Activated charcoal pills were slipped in the brothers' mouths and eased down their throats. IV lines were attached, pumping saline and antioxidants in an attempt to flush their systems. And the boys felt nothing.
"They ain't responsive yet." The paramedic in the back told the driver.
"How long's it been?"
"Uh..." A check of his watch. "Ten minutes."
"They should be coming out of it right away. Don't panic." The driver replied. "How're their vitals?"
"I ain't panicking, their vitals are okay, weak, but there, but the question remains, what if they don't come out of it?"
"Blaise'll deal with 'em comatose."
Murphy was properly conscious first. "Where?" He asked, struggling to sit up.
The paramedic in the back nodded to the Saint. "How're you feeling?"
Murphy smacked his lips. "Thirsty." He replied groggily. "An' I can't feel much of anything."
The paramedic nodded. "Yeah, that'll happen." He offered a grin. "We're almost at your destination, brother. You'll have to walk part of the way though."
Murphy shot a glance at his brother. "Conn?"
The paramedic frowned. "He's okay. He's just... not coming out of it as fast as you did."
Murphy had to fight with himself not to have a freak out in the back of the ambulance. Connor looked dead, despite what the beeping monitor attached to him said.
"Where are we going?" Murphy asked thickly, he was having trouble thinking, everything felt fuzzy and his lips and tongue weren't quite working properly.
"Safehouse." The paramedic replied. "I can't really tell you much. The less you know about how we're getting you to where you're going, the better."
"Still Boston?" Murphy asked, running a groggy hand over his face. Numb. No feeling in his fingers, it was an odd sensation.
"Obviously." The paramedic replied with a smirk. He wasn't Irish and he didn't have a Bostonian accent. Murphy wondered where he'd come from. And how Blaise managed to get involved in all of this.
"Here." The paramedic continued, handing Murphy a bundle of clothes. "Leave the jumpsuit in here, you don't wanna be stumbling through the alley in your prison orange, do ye?"
Murphy nodded and proceeded to slowly change his clothes. The paramedics chatted with one another quietly, giving Murphy a little bit of privacy while he changed, and Murphy had no desire to listen in on their conversation. He focused on getting dressed with no feeling in his fingers and he watched Connor carefully, fearing the worst.
The plan got complicated from the back of the ambulance onwards. The idea was that the MacManus brothers would slip out of the back and walk two blocks to their safe house when the vehicle stopped. The paramedics would claim 'engine troubles' and pull over. One would get out of the back to explain why the door was opening. The street where this was supposed to take place was a relatively quiet street. Very little traffic and so few people it wouldn't matter. It was on the way to the morgue from Hoag anyway, there was no reason for them NOT to be on the street.
Then they'd find the bomb.
By the time the explosion hit, the MacManuses would be inside, hidden.
Unfortunately, Connor still wasn't awake.
"I can carry him." Murphy insisted. "I've done it before."
"Shush." The paramedic said. They still hadn't been introduced. He was on his cell phone. "Yeah, B, we got a problem."
Murphy scowled and listened to the side of the conversation that he could hear.
"Connor ain't waking up." A pause. "Yeah, we've done everything properly." Another, longer pause. "His vitals are fine..." He pursed his lips as he listened to the increasingly irate woman on the other end of the phone. "No, he's just not snapped out of it yet." He cast an apologetic look at Murphy, almost afraid that someone was going to hit him. "We're still about ten minutes out. What do you want us to do?"
Murphy touched the rosewood beads around his neck. Pray for a miracle.
"You can't come meet us. That ruins the whole plan!"
Murphy's eyes widened and he shook his head and hissed, "I'll fuckin' carry 'im."
"Uh-huh." The paramedic said. "Uh-huh." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, we have that too." A frown. "Sounds too risky, I can do that..." A hesitation, and then a nod. "Okay. You're the boss." He hung up.
"Change of plans, Murphy." He said with a wan smile. "Things are looking tougher."
The new plan was to load Connor into a wheelchair, wrapped in a dressing gown and Blaise would meet them on the corner to take them to the safe house. No one would question if she was pushing a sick-looking young man in a wheelchair. She paid enough to have as much privacy as she did. It wasn't until this was pointed out that it clicked in Murphy's head.
"We're going to Blaise's home?"
The paramedic shrugged as he helped the conscious MacManus brother change Connor into the white robe that they had in the ambulance. Carefully, they lifted Connor into the wheelchair they'd made sure to bring for just such an emergency and strapped him in.
Murphy had a flashback of Saint Patrick's Day a few years ago. Connor had saved his life by tossing a toilet off the roof of their then-home, and jumping with it. It was the robe, and the fact that his brother was unconscious that triggered it.
Murphy shook his head as the ambulance slowed to a halt.
"We're here." The driver said easily. "You okay?"
Murphy nodded. "Will be better once this shite is over." He admitted. "Wha' happnes t' you two?"
The paramedics exchanged grins.
"We run." The tech in the back with Murphy said. "We have it all planned out, don't worry." He offered the Saint a smile and his hand. "Was a pleasure workin' with you, sorry about Connor."
Murphy took the proffered hand and looked at his still unconscious brother. "It'll be fine once he wakes up." He said, less confidently than he intended. "But don't you go talkin' like he's dead already."
A nod. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"There's Blaise." The driver said with a laugh. "She looks like she's trying to hide from th' paparazzi."
"Over-dramatic as always." The tech said with a chuckle. He slipped past the Saints and opened the door. "All right boys, good luck."
Murphy had no trouble with the paramedic's help to get the wheelchair out and on the ground. Blaise was there immediately, and the door to the bus was hiding them from street view.
"Hey B." The paramedic said.
"If you see Smecker before I do, punch him for me." Blaise instructed as she planted a quick, chaste kiss on the paramedic's cheek.
Smecker? Murphy thought. Naw, can't be, we fuckin' buried him...
"I'll let 'im know it's comin'." The paramedic replied with a grin.
"You sure everything'll work okay from here?" Blaise asked.
"Get inside, and plug your ears." The reply came easily. "We'll see you later."
"Probably not." Blaise said with a smile. She turned her attention to Murphy. "Ready to die?" She asked.
Murphy looked up at the clear blue sky, taking a minute to enjoy the feeling of the light breeze against his face. "Seems as good a day as any." He replied.
Blaise nodded and crouched in front of Connor. "Oy, Connor MacManus. You wake up, boyo. Else you'll be in big trouble y' hear me?" She placed her hands against his face, tilting his head. She stared him down. His blue eyes were still glazed over and unresponsive. She moved her fingers to check for a pulse. "Yeah, he's fine." She said. "I can feel his pulse." She cast a glance at Murphy. "If I can feel it he's on the mend... He might throw up though."
Murphy let out a sigh on relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.
"Thank you." She told the paramedics.
The driver waved and the tech nodded. "Get outta here now." He warned. "Y've got about five minutes."
Blaise nodded and she led Murphy away from the street, pushing Connor carefully.
Murphy had no idea where he was. He'd never been in this part of the city before, at least not while he was conscious. He stumbled as he walked, the feeling in his legs not being entirely there.
"Fuck." Murphy cursed. "Where are we?"
Blaise chuckled and offered him a hand. "C'mon, there'll be time t' talk when we get inside."
The two blocks transformed the neighbourhood. Suddenly, they were in a nice part of the city. The houses along the street were all pseudo-Victorian style, not too close together, with huge shady trees in every yard. The house Blaise led him to was on the end of the block, well away from everyone else. It was stained a rich mahogany and the natural grains of the wooden slats on the walls showed through. All the trim was done up in a deep brown, so dark it almost looked black, and the yard was huge.
"This is your place?" Murphy asked incredulously.
"Yeah." Blaise said as she opened the gate. "Da' left it ta me when he was killed. Mum was well in the grave when it 'appened." She pushed Connor to the front steps. "Door's open, Murph. Open it and you can pull yer brother up the steps. I don' want you ta risk droppin' him."
Murphy laughed, he couldn't help it, and did as he was asked.
They got Connor into the house and settled on the couch without incident.
"We'll move him to th' bed after." Blaise said with a huff. "Coffee? Tea?" She offered.
"Yes please." Murphy replied.
They were sitting at the kitchen table sipping hot coffee and staring at each other when the explosion rocked the house.
"There goes the neighbourhood." Blaise mumbled as car alarms sounded and dogs began barking. She smiled at Murphy. "Welcome home.