Disclaimer- not mine. 'nuff said.

AN- Sooooooooooooo we've got one more chapter after this and we're done! Read and enjoy and pretty please review! :)

Connor POV

We spent two months driving up and down the east coast, never staying in one place for more than a night. I didn't sleep much and I know for a fact Murphy didn't; he tended to walk around with that dazed look all sleep deprived people have. We both had lost a lot of weight because of the constant stress and never eating (who has time to eat when you're running from the feds?) Neither one of us had shaved in attempt to better conceal our identities when we had to be around people. Murph didn't seem to mind much, seeing as how he had had a scruffy look most of his life anyways. Personally, having a beard was driving me absolutely insane, but it was one of those things I just had to live with.

Like fear. I sure as hell had been living with a shitload of that since before we even walked into that courthouse. Of course, there was the fear of being caught by police, fear of being struck down by God himself, and the fear of running out of cigarettes- Lord only knows how many packs we collectively went through. But the fear of the future was more overwhelming than anything else. Two months -two fucking months- on the road, and there was little indication that we were going to make it to Ireland anytime soon.

Ericka's whereabouts were still a mystery to me. I hadn't seen her since the morning of the courthouse and to be honest, she was the last thing on my mind at the time. Now, the what ifs and worries and regrets were constantly in my head; I was pretty sure I had some sort of brain tumor forming from sheer worry. The worst part was that Smecker refused to tell us where she was and to "Have a little faith" in him. I scoffed at the notion. Faith. Another word for foolishness if you ask me.

Murph tried his best to keep me in check. "I know ya miss her and ya miss home." He told me out of the blue one day when we were driving, somewhere between New York and Maine or maybe Rhode Island- I really never knew where exactly we were at a given time. I was shocked he was talking- we rarely spoke unless it was necessary. When you're stuck in a car for roughly thirteen hours a day, there isn't much to converse about. "You've got to hold out a little longer. You didn't really expect it'd be straight shot there, did ya?" I turned towards the windows, leaving him to drive with the crackling radio for company.

His question had hit a nerve."You didn't really expect it'd be straight shot there, did ya?" Actually, yes, I did. I had been under the impression (or maybe it was wishful thinking. Hell if I know….) that we were going straight to Ireland after the trial. After I learned differently, I thought it would only be a few days at the most. But two months of nonstop driving and cheap motels?

I wasn't sure how much more I could handle.

I sprawled out on my bed in our motel room for the night. It was cleaner than most of the places we had stayed out, and there was the advantage of being able to smoke in the room. Thank God for the simple things.

Murphy flipped through the tv channels without much interest. Finally he shut the damn thing off and started pacing the room. "I'd kill for a Guinness right now. Fuck, even a Coors and that shit's like water…." He muttered, probably not even aware that he had spoken aloud.

"Aye, me too." He shrugged a shoulder in response, as if to say Oh well. It was….weird to see Murphy so calm. I mean, he still fidgeted and twitched, still paced and chewed on his fingernails…. But for the most part, he was quiet. He hadn't cracked a joke or a smile in weeks. It was really starting to bug me.

There was liquor store down the road from the motel. An idea formed in my brain. "Feel up to a beer run?"

Murphy stopped his pacing for a moment. "No, Connor. That's a retarded idea."

Murphy? The voice of reason? What in the fuck? Hell must have frozen over.

"C'mon." I chided. "Thought you were the spontaneous one of us."

I breathed a sigh of relief as he rounded on me. A reaction. That's good. "Are ya fucking stupid? We're two of the most wanted people in the states right now, and you feel like waltzing into a liquor store? I mean, really? Are ya mental or something?"

"Point proven. You win." I said clenching my jaw, knowing damn well he was right. I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillow, trying hard to ignore the strange smell it had. I heard Murphy sit down on the bed across from mine, bed springs creaking loudly.

"Connor. Sit up." He commanded. I threw my arms over my ears, signaling I wasn't in the mood to talk. I felt my arm being tugged away from my head.

"Get up, Connor!"

"Get the fuck off me!"

Knuckles to the side of my face and a knee to the back. Ouch. Murphy really meant business here."Okay! Fine! I'll fucking listen, just get the hell off of me!"

I heard him snort. "Nope. I'm staying right here." He twisted my arm behind my back forcefully. I winced as I felt a muscle protest under the strain. "Seriously, Murph-"

"You're gonna fucking listen to me, because I'm getting really tired of this moping around, woe-is-me shit! We knew all of this was going to be awful and tiring and bloody and the worst thing we would ever do. And we knew that we'd be on the run for a while. But for God's sakes, you know as well as I fucking do that God wouldn't have fucking picked us if we couldn't handle it. Now, put on your big boy pants, suck it up and fucking deal with it. Got me?"

A few seconds of silence passed before I broke out into laughter. "Big boy pants? What the hell, Murph?"

"Aw, shut the fuck up." He rolled off of me and plopped onto the bed, the mattress dipping a little to his weight. "Ericka said it to me once, it seemed appropriate somehow."

I sat up, still chuckling. "Think Roc would have liked the bit about 'woe is me,' sounds like something" that would come out of his mouth."

Murphy's lips curved upward. "Must be channeling the spirit of our favorite Italian, eh?" He sighed and rubbed his eyes, the grin on his face fading as quick as it came. "Sorry for going off on ya." He muttered, eyes looking a little glassy and bruised from lack of sleep.

"Nah…you're right. I needed to hear that." He snorted and reached for the pack of smokes lying on my bed. "Where do you think Da is?" I asked. We had separated from Da after a week on the road, hoping to take a little heat off of us. The cops were looking for three guys, not two.

"As far as I know, he was on his way back to Ireland. So probably at Ma's by now." He lit and took a contemplative drag. "Twenty seven years. I can't imagine that." He said quietly.

"Hey Murph? Why do you think Smecker won't tell us where Ericka is?"

He pulled a face. "Well, I didn't tell you because it wasn't really important at the time. But…. Smecker is her brother."

Whoosh! His words went right over my head. "Come again?"

"Smecker is her brother. He's the one named Phillip that she thought had died in a shootout. Turns out he's been in witness protection all these years. I don't know the details, he let it slip the night Roc died." It was strange hearing him say that Rocco was dead. He had never really acknowledged it out loud before, always skating around the topic or inferring it. He shrugged. "I'm sure she's fine, Conn. He'll look out for her."

I lit up my own cigarette, not knowing what to say. There really wasn't much to say.

The pager started beeping. We both jumped up and started to dig around for it. "Where the fuck is it?"

"I don't fucking know! You had it last." Said Murphy, tearing through a bag.

Oh yeah. It was in my coat pocket. I fished it out and dove for the stained motel phone, dialing the number on the pager's screen. Murphy crouched down next to me, holding his ear close to the receiver. Smecker's voice greeted us, sounding as snarky and pompous as ever. I was surprised to hear someone actually talking to us, instead of a thirty second message like what we had been getting.

"How are we holding up, gentleman?"

"Pretty shitty." I said flatly.

Murphy gnawed on his thumbnail. "Yeah, tell us something good, man."

He chuckled. "You need to be at the New York harbor in three days. I'll have someone waiting for you there, and from there you'll hop on a ship and be home free."

Murphy let out a rather loud yelp. "Yeah man! That's what I like to fucking hear!"

"I figured as much." Retorted Smecker.

"Who's meeting us there? Anyone we know?"

"Of course. I wouldn't leave you with strangers." I heard him grinning through the phone line. "This will be the last you hear from me- hopefully we never have to speak to each other again. Not that I don't enjoy your company, but…..you two don't do any favors for my reputation."

"That's a damn shame." I said. "I know Murphy here thinks the world of ya…Oi! Ya fucker!" Murphy threw a sharp elbow into my side. Okay. Gay joke. I deserved it.

"Is that so?" I had sudden mental image of Smecker putting his hands on his hips. "Because I have a source that says otherwise…." Murphy looked up at me innocently.

"You told me ya didn't fuck her!"

"Well. I lied." He said simply, beaming with manly pride. He tugged the phone closer to him. "Tell Annie I said hello, well ya? I actually miss the girl."

"Well, that girl misses the hell outta you. She wouldn't shut the fuck up about you the whole time-" There was a loud smack sound- it sounded painful. "Ow! Phil? What the fuck was that for?" That voice sounded awfully, achingly familiar.

"Ericka?" I asked cautiously.

"Yep." I felt a wide smile creep across my face. "Aingeal. How are you? I miss you."

"I miss you too, Conn."

"What? You don't miss me? You bitch!" Murphy cut in playfully.

"Oh yes, Murphy. I miss you too." He grinned widely as I nudged him in the ribs. "Good enough for me."

"Anyways, boys." Said Smecker, cutting in. I heard Ericka cursing at him in German; apparently he had tugged the phone away. "New York Harbor. Three days. Be on the lookout." He paused. "It's been a real pleasure working with you two." The phone clicked before we had a chance to say good bye. I put the phone back on the table and stretched out on the bed. Murphy jumped up as if he had been shocked with a jolt of electricity; hurriedly he grabbed his coat and started for the door.

"The fuck are you goin?" I asked.

He stared at me like I was the world's biggest dumbass from the door frame "The fuck you think?" he pulled on his coat forcefully, face lit up by the boyish grin on his face. "Going on a beer run."