o()o

Author's Note: Don't kill me::ducks rotten fruit and sharp objects:: Don't kill me!
Nifty Fact for the Day: In the Boondock Saints movie, The word "fuck" and its derivatives are used a total of 246 times. At last count, GoC count was 322.

o(25)o

Murphy awoke with a start, eyes snapping open.

Something wasn't right. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew just the same. Propping himself up on an elbow he spied his brother hunched over the table, face hidden in his hands, shoulders shaking softly.

" Conn?"

"Fuck, I'm sorry Murph, did I wake ye?" Connor said, his voice muffled against his palms

Murphy eased to the edge of the bed and got to his feet, moving over to where his brother was sitting.

"Ye didn't." he said, placing a hand on the back of Connor's neck and squeezing gently. "What's goin' on?"

His twin looked up; revealing red-rimmed eyes, and then swiftly looked away. "Nothin', I'm fine."

Murphy raised an eyebrow, but remained quiet. Sometimes it took his brother a little time to warm up to the idea of talking about what was on his mind.

His twin ran a tense hand through his hair, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose, "What if it's never enough?" he said, his voice a ragged whisper, "where do we draw the line between doin' God's will and murder?"

Murphy froze. He didn't know what he'd been expecting to hear, but this definitely wasn't it. "Connor, what the fuck are ye talkin' about? The line is pretty fuckin' clear, if ye ask me, evil men, dead men."

"That's not what I meant. I mean . . . fuck!" Connor stood, shaking off his brother's touch and bracing both hands against the wall, his head down. "I don't fuckin' know how to say it!"

"Hey, okay," Murphy said, his tone softening, surprised by the outburst. "Just take a breath now."

His brother obeyed, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, "Fuck. I thought I had everything all figured out, but I don't. I don't want . . ." He took another breath, "I don't want to lose everything.

Murphy hesitated a moment, expecting him to continue, but Connor only closed his eyes and squeezed his temple with one hand "Connor, what the fuck are ye talkin' about?"

"I'm talkin' about Maire." Connor said, almost too softly for Murphy to hear.

"What?"

"I think I love her, Murph," he confessed, glancing quickly at Murphy and then back down at the floor. Her and Sasha both."

"Well of course ye do." Murphy said, nonplussed, "That's not really much of a revelation there, Conn."

Connor shook his head, turning to look fully at him. They were silent for several moments before he blew out a not-quite-steady breath.

"I'm not so sure we're doin' the right thing anymore."

His brother's words couldn't have struck Murphy any harder if they had been fists. He felt his jaw drop and his eyes widen. "What?"

"I want ta go back to the way things were, I want a life that doesn't revolve around killin'."

Murphy could only stare at his twin, Connor managing to do the almost impossible and leave him speechless.

"No," he finally managed to get the word past the anger and betrayal that were choking him. "No."

His brother looked at him sharply, brow furrowing, "Listen, I've given this a lot of thought and –"

"The fuck ye have!" Once the words started, Murphy found that he couldn't stop them. "Who the fuck are ye ta decide when we're done? The last time I checked ye aren't God."

"For Christ's sake, Murphy," Connor said, his voice rising, "I thought ye'd at least have the decency ta roll it around a little."

"Fuck you!" He spat, "Ye're off yer fuckin' nut if ye think I'm going ta be all right with this! What, did ye just wake up this mornin' and decide that ye were givin' up on everything we've been working toward for the last three years? That all of that work wasn't worth anythin'?"

"I just want a normal fuckin' life!"

"Well ye can't have a normal fuckin' life, Connor!" Murphy shouted, flinging his hands angrily in the air. He desperately needed something to hit. "We both knew that when we decided ta do this. It was a choice we both fuckin' made!"

"So what, now we're nothing but killers? What happened to not letting our lives revolve around this?"

"What happened sticking by your family?" Murphy shot back.

For the briefest of seconds, hurt flickered across his brother's face, then Connor's featured hardened, his eyes becoming disdainful. "Dry yer fuckin' arse. We aren't twelve anymore."

"No," Murphy shouted, giving his twin a vicious shove that sent him crashing backward into the table. Empty beer bottles and cans spun all directions. "We aren't. We're fuckin' men and we have a fuckin' calling. And ye've lost yer fuckin' mind if ye think that fallin' in love is goin' ta change that!"

"What would ye know about it?"

That was all it took, "I fuckin' know everything about it! I had it all and I gave it up for this fuckin' mission, I gave it up for you." he roared, landing a right cross to Connor's jaw. Fuck, that felt good.

Before he had a chance to really savor it, though, his own head snapped back with the force of a jarring reciprocal blow, sending him stumbling backward, his anger alone keeping him from losing his footing.

"Christ, ye're such a fuckin' retard!" Connor yelled, his hands fisted so tightly that his knuckles were bloodless and white, "Danae was fuckin' . . ."

The words stopped as though they had been severed, and Murphy saw his brother's eyes widen in the instant before Connor looked away, his hand falling to his side. It was a diminutive thing, but Murphy caught the meaning of it as only a twin could. As only he could.

"What about Danae?" He asked, wiping at the blood that was dribbling down his chin.

"Nothing," Connor said, jaw clenched, "Drop it."

Murphy narrowed his eyes, his previously kinetic anger pooling into deadly calm, "Fuckin' what about her, Connor?"

Connor gingerly touched the side of his face, brushing over the bruise that Murphy could see forming there, and scowled. "I said, fuckin' drop it!"

"So help me God, if ye don't tell me . . ." His voice was low, but the warning therein was clear.

"Fine!" Connor exclaimed, gesturing crossly, "ye want ta know? It was Danae that Maire ran inta outside your door the day ye were released; she was there the whole fuckin' time. Are ye fuckin' happy now?"

"And when were ye goin' ta fuckin' tell me all o' this?" Murphy wavered for a minute between betrayed hurt and anger, staring at his twin.

"She didn't want ye ta know!"

"So ye lied ta me? Ye fuckin' decided what was best and fuck everythin' else?"

"Fuck you. Ye didn't see the look on her face. It was breakin' her heart ta even look at ye."

Murphy erupted into motion, finally deciding that anger would be easier to deal with at the moment than betrayal . Swiping again at his split lip again, he began to pace, the long strides keeping him focused on something other than beating his twin into a bloody pulp. "It wasn't your decision to make!"

"T'was better than watchin' the two o' ye go through all that again!"

"Ye had no fuckin' right!" Murphy jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction.

"No fuckin' right ta what?" Ta respect Danae's wishes? Ta give ye the chance ta heal in peace?"

With an angry growl, Murphy grabbed Connor's shoulders, throwing his twin off balance and pinning him against the wall, "Ye had no right ta deny me the chance ta talk ta her!"

Fingers digging painfully into Murphy's arms, Connor reversed their positions, slamming him against the wall hard enough to dent the cheap plaster before releasing him and turning away. "Fuck this, I'm fuckin' out o' here."

"Great! Go!" Murphy shouted furiously, past caring what he said or how it might hurt, "There's no fuckin' room for lyin' cowards in God's work!"

The sound of the door slamming was the only rejoinder to his words

o()o

"Will ye think of me from time ta time while I'm away?"

The ludicrousness of the question shook an unsteady laugh from her.

"Always." She whispered, "For the rest of my life, there won't be a day that goes by when I don't think of you."

It was the little things that got Danae through her day.

Brushing her teeth, making tea, folding the laundry, the unimportant tasks kept her feet firmly on the ground preventing her from getting washed away in the memories of last autumn.

From drowning in memories of Murphy.

The people in her life had no idea how much she missed the brothers that had, very effectively, turned her life upside down.

They would never guess that she still wore one of Murphy's tee shirts to bed, having found it stuffed in a corner after he had left, and that she had cried when she realized that it no longer smelled like him.

Nobody would never know that he still haunted her dreams, leaving her to wake just before dawn, her tentatively healing heart laid open once again by thoughts of what might have been, but could never be.

Her friends had no idea that she dreaded going home. She had gotten so used to him being there, to them being there, and her house still seemed lifeless and empty without them, even after all this time.

They had no clue that she still carefully practiced the German that Connor had been teaching her, no matter how crude the phrases were.

No one would ever guess that she was anything other than fine. She smiled just as warmly, laughed just as much, and was just as calm and levelheaded as ever.

But at the end of the night, when there was nothing left to do, when all the little things were finished, Danae was just as wounded and just as incomplete as the day they had gone, leaving her behind in the snow.

Now, she looked up from the vegetables she was cutting, startled by the sound of someone knocking on her front door. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she padded through rooms, flipping on lights as she went. Pulling open the door, she froze, certain that her heart had stopped too.

Murphy.

He looked like hell, a dark bruise spreading along one side of his jaw, blood crusting on his lips. His face was haggard and tense. His eyes were shadowed by dark circles and the unhappiness she there made Danae's chest tighten painfully.

"What's happened?" she whispered, almost afraid to form the words, fearful of the answer she would receive.

Murphy swallowed, jamming his hands in his pockets and staring down at his boots for a moment before meeting her eyes squarely.

"We need ta talk," he said.

o()o

"We need ta talk."

He had been leaning against her doorframe, waiting for her to get home from the park and the closed expression on his face sent a bolt of apprehension through Maire.

Nodding, she fumbled to door open and gestured him to enter.

"Have a seat." She said softly, easing her napping daughter, worn out from her adventures at the park, out of her arms and into the bed.

Connor shook his head. "T'is better if I don't." he said, not meeting her eyes.

"Okay," resisting the urge to fold her arms over her chest, Maire frowned at him, "What's going on?"

Staring down at his boots, he sighed heavily, "Listen, Maire, I'm sorry, but I can't see ye anymore."

His words were like a slap to the face, "What? Why?" It was halfway through the questions that she remembered to lower her voice, glancing over toward where Sasha slept

"It's . . " he began, then faltered, "it's complicated."

"You're serious, aren't you?" She studied him, the man she had grown to love replaced by a stranger. "Connor . . ."

"Don't do this," he glanced up at her, then quickly away, pressing his lips into a fine line, "just trust that I'm doin' what's best for the both o' ye."

Not good enough.

Maire's temper ignited, sparked as much by Connor's infuriatingly vague answers as by her own heartache. "Look at me," she demanded, waiting until their eyes connected again, "what the hell is this all about?"

"I told ye, it's complicated."

"Screw that!"

"Damnit, Maire, don't make this any harder than his has ta be!" he snapped.

She stared at him, chest heaving, too incensed to respond. How dare he come into her home, discard her with no reason and then ask her not to make it difficult?

"You bastard."

"You don't understand," the tendons in his neck stood out as he clenched his jaw, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Of course I don't understand! How could I possibly understand when all I get from you are secrets and lies?" She was fighting to keep her voice down, but gradually losing the battle.

"I don't think ye're one ta be passin' judgment about that," he shot back, eyes suddenly hard.

Like a balloon pushed too far, Maire's anger burst and tears flooded her eyes. She couldn't win. Every lie, every omission had been to protect him, and he could only throw it back in her face. "Get out of here." She whispered, turning away from him.

Behind her, Connor cursed softly and she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Maire,"

She jerked away form his touch as through she'd been burned. "I said get out!" she cried and across the room Sasha awoke and began to wail.

Going over to her daughter, Maire buried her face in Sasha's neck, jumping as her door slammed and Connor's sudden absence filled the room. From the far wall, one of Martin's pictures crashed to the unforgiving concrete floor, the frame shattering.

For a moment, mother and daughter were both silent, then Sasha whimpered and her cries began anew, drowning out the softer sound of Maire's own sobs.

o()o