Thank you to everyone who's read this story. It really makes me smile when I get on and see 10 replies. That's literally the most I've ever gotten. And this story is another huge marker as well, being that on my other stories, the furthest I've gotten is chapter 6 with Silver Doesn't Work. So, this breaks the chapter 6 barrier, and is by far my most successful story. Gotta love my other Saints fans. 3
I don't own anything I've written about in this story, except Brina O'Hara.
It might be explained in this chapter, might be the next chapter. I've given up on trying to map out where my story is going chapter by chapter and I've just gone to going with the flow. So whatever happens, happens. I could keep rambling on and on and keep you in suspense of the reuniting of Brina and Murphy, but I won't. So without further ado, here is
CHAPTER 7!
- Murphy's POV -
They bumped the curb outside of McGinty's as the car rolled up. Not even waiting for it to stop, Murphy jumped out and jerked the door to the pub, but found it locked. He pounded with his fist and yelled. "Doc!" Smecker joined him at his side as the door opened and Murphy rushed inside. "Where is she?" He hadn't seen Doc look so down before. The older man rested his hand on Murphy's shoulder and sighed. "Connor did a number on her. A blackened eye, her ankle is pretty bad. But she's alive, Murphy. She's in my office." Murphy slipped out from under Doc's hand and raced past the bar, past the bathrooms and found himself at the office door. He looked in, and saw her. Relief washed over him as he stepped in.
-Brina's POV-
She sat in the big chair behind the desk, remembering everything.
She looked in the vanity case again, finding a pair of tweezers, but nothing else of any use. If she was going to get out of this, it was up to her. And the first step would be the most simple. She crossed her leg to rest on top of her knee and picked up the lock. She saw the very tip of the bobby pin was sticking out of the keyhole. She carefully pinched the end between the tweezers. After a moment of jiggling and wriggling, she finally managed to extract the broken pick. She tossed the tweezers aside. Sitting in the quiet, all she could do was hope and pray for something small, compact, something easy to use as a lock pick.
She grabbed one of the suitcases sitting on the opposite bunk bed and rifled through it, tossing clothes, books, and toiletries everywhere. The same occurred with the remaining two cases. Nothing. She sighed, feeling defeated and kicked one of the cases. That was when she saw it. A small glint of light on white pages. Stretching as far as her chain would allow, she used a golf club and drug the book to her. Snatching it up, she rifled through the pages until she found a bookmarker. A paper clip. She slung the book aside and put her ankle back to her knee, beginning to fiddle. Taking the paper clip, she broke it into two pieces and stuck one piece into the lock. She turned, hoping she would feel a click or have some natural instinct to what she was doing.
No click, nothing came. What seemed like forever had probably only been 30 to 45 minutes, but she finally felt it. A small click with one of the ends of the makeshit lock pick. She carefully inserted the other and turned and pulled. Her heart lept with joy. She threw the two pieces of metal to the floor and took hold of the opened lock. She untangled it from the chains and shivered as the metallic clunk on the floor echoed through the room. She was mobile. She felt like dancing, crying, and singing all in one, but quickly regained her composure. The next big obstacle was the only door in and out of the room, which Connor kept padlocked.
She looked around and rifled through the random items in the room. Finally settling on a hulking, empty suitcase, she waited. It was usually around this time he returned with another tray of food for her. She heard the first door open. Only 10 steps to the door and he'd be inside with her again. She took a deep breath and hid against the wall, suitcase clutched close to her body. It seemed to happen in slow motion. The padlock clicked, the door opened. She rushed at him and barreled into him with everything she had. Briefly, she stood above him. He lay motionless on the concrete floor. She dropped the suit case and rushed up the stairs. The light was peeking underneath the door. A brief moment of panic struck her as she saw another pad lock, but quickly realizing it was just hung into the latch. This was it. Freedom. She pulled the lock from the hold and unlatched the door before pushing it open and stepping out into the sun.
There was a slight breeze that blew her hair, and the sunlight was almost blinding. Instinctively, she took off running. There was no time to waste enjoying the sun and sounds of the day. She had to get away. She ran as fast as she could back into the city. Hailing the first cab she saw, she ordered the man to take her to McGinty's. Doc was shocked and furious after he heard what had happened to her.
And here she sat. He had called Smecker to tell him she had come back. Numb, too tired and weak to cry. The sound of her name being called, softly, made her jump. She turned her head and saw Murphy standing just inside the door. Her heart swelled and tears began to come forward as she jumped up and ran to him. "Murphy." Chills ran rampant as she felt his arms close around her and pull her closer to him. He gently lifted her off the floor, then set her feet back down. She pulled away from the hug and pressed her lips against his before wrapping an arm around his back and resting her head on his chest. He cradled her head with his hand and kissed her forehead. "It's alright, darling. I'm here. I won't let that mother fucker lay another hand on you." She squeezed him tighter and tried to keep herself from bawling like a baby. All those thoughts were pushed aside when they heard a throat clear.
She looked and saw a man. He wore a nice suit, had an almost bony face, long sandy blonde hair that came down just past his ears. She almost felt like cowering behind Murphy. He simply smiled and took a small step forward. Murphy spoke first, "Brina, this is Paul Smecker. He's with the FBI or some high fluting shit like that. He was helping me look for ya." Smecker gave Murphy a short smart assed grin before returning his attention to Brina. "Brina, I'm glad you're back. I was wondering if we could talk about what happened?" She looked to Murphy, hoping for some shred of advice. He shrugged, "It's your choice. You don't have to do it right now, but the sooner, the better." She bit the inside of her lip and stepped forward. "Only if you both go check out my apartment first. I'd feel better doing it up there, but I don't want to go in alone." Smecker curtly nodded and held his hand out towards the stairs. "Ladies first. We'll be right behind you."
They climbed the stairs, Murphy and Smecker quietly pulling their guns out as they reached the door. She used the key to unlock it, and pushed it open. Murphy held a hand out to her as the two men went in first. She waited until Murphy returned and nodded his head, "It's okay." As she walked in, it all felt violated. He had gotten in through the window, he had taken her from here. She wrapped her hands around her arms, still feeling a cold chill from the open window. She walked up to it and closed it before sliding the lock through it. She turned around to head back to the living room and bumped straight into Murphy, a small scream startling them both. He stepped closer to her and cradled her face in his hand, "Brina, you don't have to do this. I can tell him to go away, and he will. It's up to you. Your call, your decision. And I'll still be here with you, no matter what you decide to do."
Taking a shaky breath, she put her hand on top of his and put on a small, brave smile. "I'll do it. Just let me get a shower first?" It was a stupid feeling, to feel like she had to ask him if it was okay. He returned her smile and nodded, heading back out to the living room, closing the door behind him. She stripped her clothes off and grabbed her bath robe before heading into the bathroom. She reached in, turned on the hot water and stepped in, giving no care or notice to the burning feeling on her skin. Grabbing her bar of soap, she scrubbed and cleaned herself thoroughly, then washed her hair, not wanting to feel grimy or gross anymore. Halfway hoping that by removing the dirt, it wouldn't have happened. It would all be washed away down the drain, never to be thought of again.
- Connor's POV -
Sitting across the street in the shadows, he watched his brother and both their friend, Smecker, storm into the pub. Betrayers. The both of them. "I was right there. If that bitch hadn't jumped me, she'd be dead. Murphy, heartbroken. Smecker, depressed because he couldn't save her. They're all a liability. Right down to Doc." Whether he was speaking to an unseen person, or to himself, he couldn't decide. Half of the time he felt crazy, and the other half, he seriously considered suicide. But the thoughts of his poor, dear ma kept him from leaving. As suddenly as he had lit up his cigarette, he tossed it to the concrete and stepped on it, smothering it out. He booked it across the street and pulled open the door to MCGinty's. Doc was nowhere in sight as he strode straight for the staircase leading up to the small apartment. The door was shut, and he heard Smecker and Murphy talking.
Silently, he reached down for the doorknob and turned it, pushing the door open slowly. Not seeing the men in the immediate vicinity, he took a step in, and pushed the door closed. He heard the cock of a gun and sighed before he turned to face Smecker, "Connor." He smirked at the older man and leaned against the door, "Smecker." Paul's gun didn't falter as he moved closer to Connor. "Put it down, Connor. I don't want to have to hurt you." A laugh emerged from Connor as he took a step closer to Smecker. In an instant, Connor had caught him by surprise, smacking his hand, sending the gun flying. He headbutted him and pushed him to the floor. It was like a lion stalking its prey as he circled Smecker, finally jerking him up by his collar. He held him still with one hand and grabbed his own gun with the other. He cocked the hammer back and pressed it against the back of Smecker's head.
"And a shepherd I shall be. For thee my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand, that my feet may swiftly carry out thy command. So I shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. En nomine patri, et fili-" A heavy thud hit him against his head, and he fell to the carpet, his eyes closing.
- Murphy's POV -
Smecker was keeping Connor busy as Murphy pulled Brina out of the shower. He held a finger to his lips, signaling her to be silent. He hid her by the dryer, as far away from the mess as he could get her, then returned to the door headed into the living room. He saw Smecker on his knees, back to Connor, and heard Connor praying. It was different. He was using a singular version. There was no 'we' or 'our'. It was all up to him. Making a split second decision as Connor was ending the prayer, Murphy grabbed a heavy vase off the table and smashed it over Connor's head, knocking him out cold. He helped a bloody Smecker up to his feet and went to get Brina.
- Brina's POV -
A small pool of blood had collected under Connor's head where Murphy had smashed the vase on him. She stayed stuck to Murphy as the two men spoke, trying to decide what to do. She turned to them and caught Smecker's attention, "I think he needs to go to a hospital. He might have brain damage for all we know." Smecker sighed and lit a cigarette, "Brina, there's probably some things you don't know. Bu-" She leaned forward, making herself face to face with Smecker. "I know they're the Saints." He smirked at her and gave a nod, "Smart girl. I'll take him back to your guys' apartment and make sure he's comfortable, but can't leave. Try to figure out some way to get you three safe. In the meantime, business as usual. Don't worry about him, I'll have it covered." She nodded as he jumped onto his cell phone and instructed for a pick up. She looked to Murphy and smiled, feeling as alright as she had in days.
Within 30 minutes, three detectives, who knew Murphy and Connor, hauled Connor out of the apartment, and everything was quiet again. They were together, and for a minute, everything was alright as they hugged each other. They moved into the bedroom where Murphy held her, and they laid in quiet, just happy to be with each other. The sun was going down over the city by the time they realized they were hungry. He looked down at her and smiled, "What do you want to eat?" It felt strange, to go from being served prison food and being chained to a bed, to going straight back to normal every day life. Laundry, shopping, 'What's for dinner?'
She was hungry, but didn't feel like eating. Giving a hesitant shrug she sighed, "I guess Chinese. Wontons and vegetable lo mein." He nodded as he headed to the kitchen. She laid back in the bed, remembering the kiss Connor had forced upon her. It was wrong. All of it was terribly, horribly, incorrect. It infuriated her that Murphy acted like nothing had happened. Just another night in. Her thoughts were broken as he walked back into the room. "Brina, why are you crying?" She bit her lip. She had done so good with not crying like a child over the situation, and now that she had a minute alone, she broke down. She sat up and wiped her eyes dry, feeling his weight on the bed as he sat down and wrapped an arm around her. "Talk to me." She shrugged his arm off and scooted back on the bed, resting her back on the pillows. She looked out the window and watched the cars drive by on the street below as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Murphy, you haven't once asked me if I'm okay. If he did anything, if he hurt me, if- how I'm dealing with this. You've been quiet all day, literally." He sighed and scooted a little closer to her, putting his hand on top of hers.
"Brina, I just...I want you to talk about it when you're ready. I can clearly see he hurt you, based on your face. The bruise on your eye, it tells me he hit ya. At least once. But it's the look in your eye that's worrying me. I don't want to push you to talk about anything you're not ready for. It's not that I don't care. I do. I could kill him myself, but I won't. Because it's not his fault. Not really." Her head whipped to him, her eyes opening wide with shock and betrayal that he would say such a thing. She jerked her hand away from his and crawled off the bed. He followed her with his eyes as she walked around the room. "Not his fault? What did he have a bad home life? Get beat up a lot when he was a little kid? Daddy drank too much and one nigh-" He lowered his head, looking at the floor as he spoke, interrupting her tirade. "He's sick. Not some cold or flu sick, I mean, really really sick." He raised his head and looked at her, tears almost threatening to fall.
"He's got a brain tumor. I'd love to kill him for what he did to you. Believe me. But he's my brother." She calmly walked over and sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, "I'm sorry." She sat still, curiosity over coming her, finally leading her to ask him. "What kind of brain tumor?" He turned slightly and looked at her as she raised her head back up, looking into his eyes. "It's a meningioma. On the frontal lobe. It affects his reasoning, behavior, memory, personality, decision making, mood, and judgement. I first noticed it after we killed Yakavetta. He was getting sloppy, careless with who and when he killed. But, like a good little soldier, I was right there beside him, backing him up 100%. Me and Doc finally convinced him to go see a back alley doctor. No insurance, no names, just cash and answers. Only we weren't exectin the answer we got." She licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak when a knock came at the door. He stood up and walked out of the bedroom. Her thoughts were going ninety miles an hour.
A tumor. One tumor could have possibly caused everything that happened. Only more confusion fought its way into her brain as she wondered about Connor, did she pity him, hate him? Murphy called that dinner was ready, jerking her out of the maze in her head as she headed into the kitchen.
BOOM! Told you all that I would explain why Connor's been suck a butt head. :P There you have it. Chapter 7. So I hope you like it, I'm going to try to work on Chapter 8 soon and get it up ASAP. Read and Reply, lovelies. :-D