Hey guys – thanks so much for all the feedback from the last chapter! I love you all!

I hope you enjoy this one…

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Connor jolts awake to the sound of someone laughing weakly.

His hands grasp out desperately at thin air, while his eyes struggle to open, and he doesn't calm until someone reaches over and grabs his un-casted hand. The person immediately grips Connor's hand tightly, and suddenly everything is okay.

"Open yer eyes, ye eegit," Murphy says shakily, and Connor snaps them open, flinching and scrunching up his face at the invasion of light.

His brother is still there, and for a moment, things seem like they're going to be okay. Because Murphy is calling him an eegit, and he's right there, and Connor's broken wrist is only throbbing a tiny bit.

But then Connor blinks, and everything falls into perspective. Murphy is almost sitting up, the bed in a half reclined position, but he looks terrible. His face is pale and pained, an oxygen cannula sitting under his nose, and his hand is trembling where he's holding onto Connor. There's IVs in his hands, and wires sticking out of the hospital gown, and Connor doesn't like one bit of this.

When he looks down at Murphy's legs, they look bulky, because of how they're immobilized, but it's so wrong. Murphy is always the one who's jiggling his leg up and down, or bouncing his foot off the ground, or kicking out at something, or jumping slightly in anxiety.

Anything but this stillness.

Connor runs a hand over his face, still clinging to Murphy's hand, and grunts when he smacks himself in the face with his cast, "Wha—Sorry, I didn't mean ta go ta sleep. I—I didn't mean ta."

His eyes are still hazy with sleep, but Connor manages to make out the blurry figure of his Ma making her way over to him. She pulls him into a gentle hug as he stands up, and for a split second, he lets go of Murphy, and hugs her back with both arms.

I can't do this, Connor presses his face into her shoulder for a moment, and she lets him, I can't watch Murphy wasting away. I can't.

He wonders if she could sense his thoughts, because when they pull away, tears are shining in his Ma's eyes, something he'd only seen once or twice in his life. "It's okay," She murmurs, and nods at him, "It's going ta be okay." Connor doesn't think that he can reply without breaking down, so he simply turns away, drops back into the chair with a wince, and goes back to holding Murphy's hand.

"Ye didn't tell me tha' ye were hurt," Murphy says quietly.

Connor takes a second to process the question, and then lifts his head up to meet his brother's gaze, "What're ye talkin' bout, Murph? 'm fine."

His brother shakes his head, and coughs wearily before he speaks again, "No, you're not. Ye hit yer head, I can see th' cut from here, an' ye broke yer wrist. An' Ma told me tha' ye cracked two ribs. That's not fine, Conner, have some cop on."

"Murph, seriously, it doesn't even hurt that much. 'm grand, Murph, I swear ta God. If ye hadn't… If ye hadn't pushed me outta the way—"

Murphy's face suddenly is screwed up, and he shakes his head, "Don't say tha', Connor, don't ye dare say tha'. We're both here, an' that's that… 'm sorry about yer ribs an' yer wrist though."

Rolling his eyes, Connor ruffles his brother's hair, and grins, "Don't be fussin' over me, Murph, we jus' gotta get ye back ta normal so ye can get back ta makin' a fool of yerself in front of tha' girls, now, don't we?" Murphy swats his hand away, and for a second, things are okay again.

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Then, a doctor sticks his head into the room and says, "Mrs. MacManus? We have some more paperwork for you to sign, and then everything should be sorted."

Ma lets out a loud groan, but winks at the two brothers, "I'll be right back, boys, try not ta get inta any more trouble, ye little pissants."

The room goes silent as she slams the door behind her, already cursing at the doctor, and Connor grins at the closed door. "That's yer mother talkin', ye hear the mouth on her?" There's no answer, and he frowns, looking back at his brother, "Murph?"

"They're takin' me inta surgery tomorrow morning," Murphy chews on his thumb, and avoids Connor's eyes, something that he always does when he's nervous, "Ta start fixing me legs, my left one. In the morning, real early like. Ma told me."

This is the Murphy that Connor knows, the one who holds all his feelings in until they come rushing out. Murphy never likes to show weakness. He always waits until they're alone, just the two of them, though. Connor is slightly relieved in a way, because this is the Murphy that he knows, and he can deal with this.

Connor takes a careful breath in, "That's good though. The sooner they do it, the sooner we can go home. 's gonna be okay, Murph."

"How do ye know tha'?"

"Cause I jus' fuckin' do. Look, this is jus' somethin' tha' we havta work through. You'll go in there, and they'll fix ye up, an' when ye wake up, I'll be right here. Easy peasy. Piece of cake. I know it's not nice ta think about now, but sure it'll be over this time tomorrow."

Murphy looks down at his motionless legs, and he sniffs, "Wha' if they can't fix them. I… I can't even feel anythin', Connor."

The statement tears at his heart, but Connor just forces his thoughts down, and says slowly, "But ye don't want ta be feeling them now, Murph, they'd be hurtin' like crazy. An' its jus' the drugs that they're givin' ye, ta help with the pain. 's gonna be okay. You'll get the feeling back, an' before ye know it, you'll be rushin' all over the shop like usual, an' annoying the hell outta everyone."

His brother is silent for a minute, just twisting the blanket up in his long fingers before he answers, "Ye sure?"

Connor nods without hesitation, and lets out a yawn. Murphy echoes him immediately, eyes drooping slightly, and he chuckles, "Go back ta sleep, Murph. 'm not goin' anywhere."

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Murphy watches his brother choke down the sandwich that their Ma had gotten him the next morning, and stares glumly out the window.

He isn't even hungry, like he normally is when Connor is eating in front of him, and there's a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Connor wines and moans to Ma about how awful the sandwich tastes, and she gives him a slap upside the head, and tells him not to act like a baby.

He can't even bring himself to laugh like he usually does when his brother is getting chewed out by Ma. Murphy just bites his lip, and shifts slightly in the bed. A jolt of pain runs through him, and he clamps down harder on his bottom lip to keep himself from making another sound. The pain meds aren't as effective that morning.

But Connor notices, and lets his free hand drift towards Murph, without saying anything. He reaches out to trace the patterns on Connor's cast, and looks at the clock again. It's seven in the morning, and Ma has only just come bustling through the door. Connor stayed overnight, lounging on a fold up cot that a nurse brought in for him.

Somehow, Connor had managed to be awake every time that Murphy woke up during the night, and he had been there every time a nurse had come into mess about with medicines, or check his temperature. Connor had been awake to listen to every moan of pain that Murphy had let slip out, and he had just sat there, and been Connor. And that's all that he had needed.

Before Murphy has a chance to say anything, like a comment about how Connor looks like a horse when he's chewing, or the state of Ma's hair in the morning, a doctor come striding into the room, followed by three nurses.

"All ready, are we?"

Connor's fingers curl around the edges of his cast, and dig into Murphy's hand, before he's carefully pushed to the side. Ma glares at the doctor, and pets Murphy's hair slightly before she too, steps to the side.

Murphy just sits there, feeling numb, and watching as the nurses bustle around him. He stares at Connor, who's clenching his jaw and looking like he wants to punch someone. He raises a hand in a wave, just as one of the nurses unlocks the wheels on his bed, and he starts gliding forward.

His brother nods back at him, the emotion in his eyes indescribable. Suddenly, Murphy doesn't want to leave the room anymore, he just wants to stay with Ma and an overprotective Connor. He wants to stay, he wants to stay, he wants to stay.

But he knows that he can't.

So Murphy keeps his face impassive as they wheel him though hallways and down corridors, but all he can think about is Connor's face, and the fact that he can't move his legs. He feels trapped, and there's nothing that he can do about it.

When they get to the operating theatre, he scowls at the sea of faces waiting for him, but doesn't make a sound as they grab the sheet on either side of him. Within seconds, he's been transferred, and he's lying on the thin operating table. There's lights in his eyes, and people talking to him, and all Murphy wants is Connor. He wants his brother to be holding his hand, or to just be beside him, he wants to look up and see Connor smirking at him.

But instead Murphy looks up, and sees the anaesthesiologist standing right over him, and there's suddenly a mask over his face.

He breathes in, trying not to hyperventilate, and squeezes his eyes closed when he feels a prick in his hand. A tear manages to escape out, and he can feel it sliding down his cheek. No one bothers to wipe it away, all too preoccupied, so Murphy lets another one fall.

He just wants it to be over already.

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I hope that chapter was okay. Would love to hear what you guys thought of this, and I'll try to have the next chapter up by the weekend.

Thanks for reading,

ArmedWithMyComputer xx