Chapter Nine: All For One Jameson

Days had passed, each minute feeling like hours. Eve watched the small hand tick slowly over the face of the clock, thinking. She had found solutions to the worlds hardest problems, growing accustomed to the bitter loneliness and embracing it with open arms. Thomas was right about one thing: She would die alone. Figuratively. She would have no one to mourn her loss, but she would not be the only O'Reilly soul leaving Earth.

Eve hadn't set the date of death, yet, although she knew it was drawing closer. Things became more clear as the fog disappeared from her mind, but there were things that were still haunting her. Him. Murphy. He was the only one who had shown her love, and she could never block him from her mind. The more she tried, the more she realized it was in vain. When she died, it would be him she saw behind her closed lids, praying that the agony of this life would pass and she could move on to the next.

The longer she was away from him, the less the pain subsided. This agony her heart plagued her with grew only worse as she watched the seconds tick. Nothing could stop her from imagining his scent, his crooked smile still lingering in her thoughts. "It was so short, why does it hurt so much?" She begged God to answer this burning question, to free her from the memory of him and the love she felt for a man she knew so briefly.

She sat up, cradling her head in her hands, trying to physically push the badgering thoughts away. She conceded to her defeat and stood, trudging heavily to the door. "I need a fuckin' drink." She sighed and pulled the heavy door from its latch, the cool night air caressing her face gently.

It was a long walk to the nearest bar, but it was worth it. She'd give anything to forget him, even temporarily. She forced the door to the latch and placed the key in its hole, turning and locking it. As she turned her gaze upward, all she could think of was him. The beauty of the stars and shining moon could do nothing but make her heart heavier in her chest. Sighing deeply, Eve walked to the nearest bar she could think of, her feet thudding against the pavement. The Green Dragon wasn't too far from where she was, she'd walked a great deal farther than she'd originally thought, briefly taking a moment to realize that she knew exactly where she was.

The tavern was only up a few blocks, but looking farther down the street, it seemed like miles. Eve forced herself to pick up the pace, people and places almost flying past her. Each step brought her closer to forgetting. It wasn't ten minutes before the door handle was in between her fingers. Smiling slightly to herself, she pulled the door open and took a seat at the bar, ordering a Jameson. She took a drink and lit herself a cigarette, catching a glimpse of the man at the other end of the bar.

"No shit." She mumbled under her breath. "Please don't recognize me." She took another swig of her drink, praying that he left without taking notice. The bartender put another Jameson in front of her, and started to walk away. "Oi, what's this? I didn't order this, mate."

"No, the man at the end of the bar bought it for you." Eve's jaw slackened in disbelief as one word came to mind. Fuck. She looked to him, his hard gaze meeting her eyes. The smile on his face was unbelievable, chuckling to himself as he reached in to his pocket and set her rosary on the bar, sliding it to her,

"For if I ever saw you again, lass. I figured I would." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Why don't you come down to my side of the bar so we can have a little chat." Eve ran her finger over the silver and beads in disbelief. She knocked back the Jameson in her other hand, knocked back the glass that he'd bought for her and stood to leave, grabbing the rosary quickly. "You know he's here, Eve, and you know he will see you. Don't try to avoid him, it won't work."

Eve's lips curved in to a sneer. "Fuck off, Connor. I had a damn good reason to leave." Connor smiled, not at her, but at something happening behind her. She took his silence as an opportunity to leave and turned to face the door, but there was no door. Everything faded and left him behind, his eyes glimmering in shock and his own disbelief. "Murphy...."

"Eve. Never thought I'd see you again." His lips curved to form the same crooked smile that had haunted her, but something was different. It was wounded... That thought she could not bear. She touched his face gently, and he bent down to press his lips to hers. "One last kiss?" Eve could feel her knees go weak as his lips touched hers. He pulled away, solemnly. "Thank you."

"Murphy, I didn't want to hurt you the way I did. I just... I was out of choices. I would be the death of you, really. I would." Murphy raised his eyebrow and smirked. "No, really... I would be. I have to explain something to you, and Connor. Then maybe you'll understand why I left." Murphy took a seat at the bar and motioned for her to take a seat next to him. "Bartender, three Jameson, please." The bartender nodded and filled three glasses, set them in front of them and walked off, obviously more intrigued by something else. "I'm not who you think I am." She sipped on her drink. "I didn't think I'd have to tell you, honestly I figured I'd be dead by now, but I'm not. But now that you're here, I might as well..." She took another drink and gingerly set the fragile glass on the wooden bar. Eve took a deep breath and began again. "My name is Eve O'Reilly, like I said it was, but my father is Duncan O'Reilly, the creator of the Irish mob." Their hands fell to their guns. "Before you shoot me, there's more." She reached for her cigarettes, taking one and lighting it. "I was sent to kill you by my father. That's why I left the way I did... I couldn't do it, I didn't want to in the first place, and then you and your father were so... Kind." Eve took a long drink of her Jameson.

"So you left because you couldn't do your job?" Murphy asked angrily. "I mean, I'm thankful to still be alive, but you don't think we could've handled ourselves? That's bullshit, Eve."

"As long as they didn't know where you lived, they couldn't hurt either one of you. It's my life or yours, I picked mine. Boston needs the Saints much more than it needs the daughter of a monster, but before you get angry at me, just realize that I was thinking of you and your brother." Murphy's agitated expression faded. "But there's still more to this tale. My father wasn't always like this, it was only after failing in Boston that he became power hungry. He used to be a good father, he just wanted something new, something that wasn't Ireland. Not long after losing his job, he met Yakavetta, that slob. He was introduced to money, power, and crime. When I got shot, that wasn't the first time that you'd met me, but the second. I was at the Yakavetta trial, the girl that your father commanded to watch the brutal slaying, that was me. I saw you both, and I was so young, so unaccustomed to murder, but I knew that Yakavetta was scum, and that he deserved what he was getting... After the trial, my father took his money and set up his own shop, and when you and your Da got closer to him is when he sent me. So, I'm gonna kill him." She finished nonchalantly, sipping on her drink.

"You're gonna what?" Connor asked in disbelief. "I'm sorry, did I just hear you correctly? So much for honor thy mother and father." Eve scoffed.

"As if there's much to honor in that man." She took a drag of her cigarette, smiling as the smoke filtered from her lungs. "But yes, you heard right. The O'Reilly's have been sentenced to death, and if I die with them... Well, if you wanna make an omelette, you have to break a few eggs, right?" She smiled.

"Eve, it makes me a bit uncomfortable to know that you're okay with dying." Murphy mused. "But then again, I guess you have to be, but I won't let you go in alone." Eve's stared sharply at Murphy, not saying anything. "You can't stop me. I'm going with you, whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it, Murph. Thanks for the concern and all, but you're not coming with me." Eve knocked back the rest of the whiskey and stood, ready to leave, but Murphy and Connor both grabbed her forearms and forced her back to her barstool.

"Eve, you might not like it, but we are going with you." Connor said, trying to reason. "You're giving yourself a death sentence going in alone like that, when it's partially our fault your in this mess."

"How the hell is it your fault?" Eve protested.

"We existed? Fuck, I dunno, but it was us that you were sent to kill, so where is it right that you have to die alone, if you die at all. We're going with you, deal with it. And you can go back to Murph's bed, no more lonely nights for you, Missy." Connor smiled, almost child-like, but Eve had been defeated. She could overpower them about as well as she had killed them: She couldn't. She sighed and placed her head on her hand, looking like a child who was told that they couldn't have a toy. Connor looked back at her, musing over her silent tantrum. "And more than that, we have better guns than you." Eve growled under her breath, glaring at the two brothers who had made it impossible for her to leave. Through all the bad that had come of this, one good thing came with it; Eve's heart no longer felt anchored down.